Dying Vengeance

By L.A. Bird

Written by L.A. Bird, Ex-Crime Detective
Rachel is a dedicated registered nurse working in the mile high city of Denver, Colorado, saving lives and helping others during times of medical crisis. But when a frightening medical diagnosis of her own throws her life into chaos, she is faced with a moral dilemma rocking both herself, and the city, to their very core.
Detective Brian O’Reilly battles with his own demons, when a suspected child rapist and killer is set free to roam the city streets after valuable evidence is thrown out. Detective O’Reilly and his partner must track down more evidence to lock the killer back up before he victimizes another innocent child. But when an unsuspecting vigilante brings the city to its knees, the detectives are torn between the two highly publicized cases.
Do they pursue the murdering child rapist... or the vigilante?

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.A. Bird
• Release date: Apr 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311584212

L.A. Bird

L.A. Bird started her career as a Security Specialist in the United States Air Force, assigned to Panama and later Albuquerque, NM. After proudly serving four years in the USAF, she went on to serve as a Deputy Sheriff in Arizona for another 10 years. During this time she was a Patrol Deputy, Field Training Officer, a Detective investigating all crimes involving violence and property theft, and later a Patrol Sergeant. While working as a Deputy Sheriff, she attended Grand Canyon University earning a Bachelor's Degree in Public Safety Administration. Pursuing new opportunities, she went back to college and obtained another degree, this one in nursing, allowing her to work as a Registered Nurse. Six years later, while still working as an RN, she decided to pursue yet another passion, writing! Using her knowledge from both law enforcement and nursing, she created her thriller Dying Vengeance with plans to release many more Detective Brian O'Reilly stories in the future!

Book preview

Dying Vengeance

A Detective Brian O’Reilly Thriller

By L.A. Bird

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2014 by L A. Bird

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design

SelfPubBookCovers.com/shardel

Special Thanks to:

Carol Bird – Contributor

Christine Temple – Editor

www.loriabird.com

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my best friend, and fellow writer, C.A. Bird, for her countless ideas and encouragement throughout the writing of this book. Without her, this book would still be bouncing around in my head with no chance of escape. I would also like to thank Gail Albritton, RN for her expertise in helping me with all aspects concerning oncology and ovarian cancer used in Dying Vengeance. And to my biggest supporter, my son Sean Bird who allowed me a few minutes at a time to work on this book. That’s not easy for a 5 year old!

www.loriabird.com

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright Page

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

About the Author

Chapter 1

Denver, Colorado

Crouching down behind the large aspen tree, he tried to calm his breathing, hoping nobody could hear or see him. Covered in sweat, he was panting heavily after running through several backyards and hurdling two different fences. A small scrawny man, he wasn’t physically made for this, with barely any muscle on his 28-year-old, out-of-shape body.

He didn’t think he could go on much longer and his eyes darted around, seeking a place to hide.

Gentry was nearly overcome with fear. Looking up at the tree, he thought about climbing, but decided against it knowing he would probably fall. If he broke a leg, he would never escape. He glanced around the backyard and spotted a shed. If he could just reach the shed he might be able to lock himself inside before anybody saw him.

Suddenly a dog barked. Oh shit, they have a dog! He almost panicked, knowing the dog was a police K-9.

Run dammit, but he was unable to move… frozen in place. The barking of the dog was getting closer and he began to shake. Breathing faster, as the adrenaline pumped uncontrolled through his body, his eyes widened and his pupils dilated into huge disks trying to take everything in.

Gentry… we’re coming for you, he heard from the yard next to the one he was hiding in. They were taunting him, trying to get him to break free from his hiding place. Just give up and save us the energy of chasing you. We know you’re close, Gentry. Our K-9 can smell you and we’re almost there.

Shit! He leaped up and took off running toward the shed, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the voice. All of a sudden, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Feeling like he’d been hit by a freight train, he was thrown off his feet, his body slammed to the ground. His breath was knocked out and he was flipped onto his stomach, his face shoved into the lawn as his hands were jerked behind his back. He couldn’t breathe and struggled in an attempt to get away.

Knock it off, Gentry. You’re under arrest so stop struggling, said the calm, Irish looking detective now standing over him with his arms crossed. The detective squatted down in front of Gentry, his crystal blue eyes boring into him.

You were just formally introduced to my partner, Detective James Randall, he said, as he nodded toward the African-American detective sitting on top of Gentry’s back, and I’m Detective Brian O’Reilly. We’ve been looking for you Gentry. You’re under arrest for the rape and murder of little Marcus Jones.

Mike Gentry looked up at the detective with wide eyes and began to cry as the bigger detective placed handcuffs on him.

It wasn’t me!

You have the right to remain silent…

The Irish guy was reading him his rights but he wasn’t paying attention, having heard them many times before. He honestly didn’t care what the detective had to say at this point… he knew his life was over, and there was nothing he could do about it.

If he’d been a faster runner he may have made it to that shed.

***

Fairbanks, Alaska

Shuffling down the hallway toward the door, Alice eyed her bright blue, winter coat and began to pull it on. At 82 years old she finds that things take her a bit longer than they once did, but she has all the time in the world since losing William three years ago.

You girls don’t forget to make it to the beauty salon on time this week, she called over her shoulder.

Now Alice, in over ten years has any of us ever been late? Frances replied while pushing past Alice to get her own coat.

No, I guess not. But I’ll remind you that Betty was almost late to this here Pinochle game today. And she was the host! Alice chuckled as she pulled on her scarf and gloves.

That’s not true, Alice, Betty calmly replied with a sly grin. I was using the powder room and it just took me a few extra minutes to get to the door.

Margaret pushed her way into the foyer but found it more crowded than she would have liked. Now that she had to use this obnoxious walker she found she needed more room than her ninety pound frame had ever needed in the past.

You ladies give me some room. She picked her purse up off the entryway table. Alice I sure wish you would let me drive you home. It’s still cold out there and these streets aren’t as safe as they used to be.

Oh Margaret, how do you expect me to keep this girlish figure of mine if you’re always insisting I ride with you? said Alice. I’ve been walking these streets my whole life, but as always, I thank you for the offer, she responded, as she headed for the front door.

Ok ladies, I’ll see you next week at Frances’ house, she said as she opened the door. And Frances, no more spiking the cake. It never gives you an advantage of winning and it makes Betty more giddy than normal.

Bye Alice, all three women responded at once. But Alice was sure she could hear Betty saying something not so lady-like under her breath.

Alice loves these weekly games with her favorite girls, or she thought, as the kids would say, my BFFs. A tradition for the last twenty years, it has given them a much needed break from their everyday lives and dysfunctional families. And thanks to Margaret, it also gives them a chance to catch up on the local gossip here in Fairbanks, Alaska. Although Alice is convinced that Margaret tends to get a little creative with her stories when she runs out of true gossip… but so much the better!

Walking down 6th Avenue, Alice looked both ways before slowly crossing Bonnifield Street. She was in no hurry. With her home of forty years only a short distance away she knew she would be there in ten minutes. Although it was spring, she shivered and could feel the chill of the cold Alaskan air seeping under her winter coat. At five-foot-one and only one-hundred-twenty pounds, her coat thankfully reached almost to the ground. She grunted as she admitted to herself she would rather get her lost height back if she could.

When William owned the lumber mill, they had purchased their home in the nicest part of town but over the years the neighborhood had become run down and was now a collection of lower-middle class homes.

Continuing down the avenue, she could feel the breeze blowing in her hair trying to undo the beautiful, gray curls that have been her style for the last twenty-five years. But she’s not concerned, she and the girls will meet tomorrow at the salon to get their hair refortified and hopefully to hear a little more gossip from Margaret.

Approaching Kellum Street, Alice began to hear that horrible rock music all of the kids think is so cool these days. She could feel the base vibrating throughout her body as she spotted four teenagers sitting on the front porch of an old, brown, single-story house.

Turn the music up, dummy! one boy yelled at the other, trying to be heard over the noise.

It won’t go any higher jackass. And you call me dummy one more time I’ll kick your ass, she heard in response.

The boys started laughing as one of them threw a bottle at the other, causing it to hit the side of the house, shattering, and eliciting even louder laughter.

Alice shook her head as she walked past the house. Boys like that should be out working to help provide for their families, she thought to herself, not just sitting around raising heck and wasting time. But she didn’t say anything of course, just continued her slow, slightly hunched pace down the sidewalk.

All of a sudden the night became quiet and Alice noticed the music had been turned off. She nodded her head in approval, thinking maybe the parents had finally stepped up to take control of their kids. Maybe they aren’t a lost cause after all, she thought as she pulled her coat tighter around her body…and then suddenly everything went black.

Fourteen year old Paul Mason witnessed the entire horrible event, but didn’t have the courage to try and stop it. He’d been bullied by these boys for his entire life and knew he could never say anything to them, or later to the cops when questioned. All he could do was stand by and watch as the boys turned off their music and began to walk quietly toward the elderly woman walking down the street.

Paul could see they were whispering to each other as they approached the woman from behind. One of the boys pushed another forward in the direction of the woman. He wanted to scream, to warn her, but he could barely think straight with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

Suddenly one of the teenagers ran up behind the old woman, cocked his fist and punched her as hard as he could in the back of the head. She was unconscious before she even hit the ground and slammed face first into the concrete sidewalk without any resistance.

The assailant was shaking his hand as if in pain but Paul could hear him yelling in excitement, Hell ya, I knocked that bitch out!

Damn, man, you did it. I didn’t think you would really do it, another responded in awe, excited by what he just witnessed.

Let’s get the fuck out of here before we get caught! yelled another in disbelief.

Laughing and shoving one another, the group ran down the street and out of view. They didn’t steal her purse or rob her, just left her lying there, her head in an expanding pool of blood.

And Paul knew why. He’d heard of this game. These guys were enjoying the new popular, knockout game that was sweeping the nation… and they had succeeded in bringing it to Fairbanks, Alaska.

***

Denver, Colorado

Look, I don’t think you’re a bad guy. I think you just got caught up in a bad situation. I’m here to help you so we can figure this out. Detective Brian O’Reilly sat at a small table in an interrogation room facing Mike Gentry. Gentry had his arms crossed and was leaning back in his chair. He was wearing blue jeans and a white tank top covered in grease stains and his dark brown, disheveled hair had pieces of grass in it. He wasn’t happy to be here and was obviously very nervous as his right leg tapped up and down continuously.

He stank of grease and sweat… and fear.

I didn’t do shit, said the man, looking toward the closed door on his right. His bottom lip started to tremble so he bit down on it and stared at the roof. A one way mirror was on the opposite wall with Detective James Randall watching from the other side. The detective had complete confidence in his partner but he wanted nothing more than to go into the interrogation room and ring the suspect’s scrawny, little neck.

Mike, I’ve been doing this a long time and I know a good man when I see it. I don’t think you meant for this to happen. We’ve been in this room together for six hours now and I know we’re tired, but we both know what happened to Marcus. Mike was beginning to squirm in his seat so Detective O’Reilly pressed him, I guess my only question for you Mike… is did you stalk the boy for weeks looking for an opportunity to take him? Or was it just an accident? Did it just happen? Because it’s one thing to stalk him and another thing for it to just happen.

No way! I didn’t stalk him, man. It was an accident. I would never do that. I just happened upon him and reacted.

So you’re saying it just happened?

Yeah, it just happened. I swear. And where were his parents to begin with? He was too young to be out there by himself, right? This is their fault too! screamed Mike, as he covered his face with his hands and started to cry, while he rocked himself back and forth in his chair.

Appearing very calm and compassionate, Detective O’Reilly placed his right hand on Mike’s shaking shoulder. I know Mike, I know. But on the inside the strong, intelligent detective was doing cartwheels. He knew he just nailed this scumbag, but he had to stay the course to get the rest of the confession. Thirty-six hours of non-stop investigation into the rape and murder of 6-year-old Marcus was about to conclude with this confession.

Detective O’Reilly stared at Mike with his clear, blue eyes, showing as much compassion as he could muster under the circumstances. He had a role to play but this was always the most difficult part of his job as a homicide detective. Acting like you cared about a rapist-murderer wasn’t easy but the detective knew it was necessary.

Mike, did you mean to kill him? Was that part of the plan? he asked.

No way man, I was gonna let him go when I was done. I swear on the Bible. But he started screaming and wouldn’t stop. I was just trying to make him stop and he wouldn’t listen, he cried. I barely covered his mouth but after a while he stopped moving. He just stopped moving, man, said Mike continuing to cry. I swear it was an accident. You’ll tell them it was an accident, right? he said with desperation in his voice. Right?

Of course Mike, you tell me in detail exactly what happened and I’ll tell them it was an accident.

Over the next twenty minutes Mike gave Detective O’Reilly a detailed account of how he kidnapped, raped and murdered a 6-year-old boy. And all along the detective nodded his head with sympathy to encourage this confession that ultimately would lead to the death penalty. Although Detective O’Reilly would have loved to give out the punishment right then, instead of waiting for the trial, he played his part skillfully. His partner jumped up and down, pumping his fist in the air on the opposite side of the one-way mirror.

***

The following morning, a beautiful spring day in Denver, the Chief of Police, Sam Price, was attending a speech given by the Mayor, and Sam’s mood didn’t match the beauty of the day. Sam hated this kind of political, publicity-stunt crap, but he wasn’t given a choice in the matter.

Ladies and gentlemen, I think you all know by now that I am a Mayor of action! I will not tolerate the likes of Mike Gentry walking our streets, or any other rapist or murderer who chooses to live in our fine city. I promised you I would put all our assets into the capture of little Marcus Jones’ murderer, and I have done exactly that! Speaking from a podium set up near the Lindsey-Flanigan Courthouse, Mayor Franklin Masters straightened his tie as he paused to give his followers a chance to respond.

To the delight of the Mayor, the crowd surrounding the podium began to applaud enthusiastically. The Courthouse, located near the Mayor’s office in downtown Denver, was the perfect place for him to make his speech, his decision proving to be a good one because it brought out the tax paying voters who worked in the downtown area.

I personally stayed in touch with the detectives of the Denver Police Department, working hand in hand, to make sure all efforts were being made to make this arrest. And we have succeeded! he yelled as he pumped his fist in the air, causing the crowd to roar to life again.

Rolling his eyes, the Chief watched the Mayor give his speech while he stood behind him observing. The Mayor was dressed in a neatly tailored, light gray suit with his power, red tie to add a little flair. But the Chief didn’t notice the tie when the Mayor smiled, because all he could see were his perfectly aligned, bright white teeth shining through his perfect, and probably fake, tan. With his light brown, wavy hair and athletic body, most would say he was the perfect image for the Mayor in the Mile High City.

The Chief couldn’t stand him and was happy to know the Mayor had plans that would eventually take him out of his current position in Denver. He knew the Mayor was more convinced than ever, especially after the arrest of Mike Gentry, that the three million residents within the Denver metropolitan area adored and worshipped him and would carry him forward to bigger and better things. The Mayor often pointed out his popularity to the Chief to keep him in line.

As you know, ladies and gentlemen, this case just proves my commitment to keeping this city safe and I pledge to you I will continue in this commitment. But I must remind you we have an election coming up in six months and you have to do your part to keep this city safe. And the best way to do that is to re-elect Franklin Masters as your Mayor! Together we can put more people like Mike Gentry behind bars where he can’t harm our children any longer!

Ending his passionate speech, the Major threw his hands in the air as a sign of victory to the delight of the crowd. He then turned around and shook the hand of the Denver Police Department Chief. He leaned in and whispered in the Chief’s ear, You tell that Irish detective not to mess this up. Get that guy charged and convicted before something goes wrong.

His name’s Detective Brian O’Reilly, sir, responded the Chief with a bit of a sneer.

I don’t care what his name is Sam, just get it done.

The Mayor then put on a show of smiling at the Chief while slapping him on the back in a show of support, while the photographer’s cameras clicked. The Chief responded in kind, with a big fake smile, and walked away grumbling under his breath.

Chapter 2

The call light went off again for what seemed like the twentieth time in the last five hours. Sitting down to begin charting on her six patients, Rachel looked up with obvious frustration at realizing he was pushing his call light yet again.

Are you kidding me? she said. I was just in there to refill his water jug for the tenth time. What is wrong with this guy? she thought.

Working the night shift for the past six years, Rachel had learned that most patients don’t normally sleep during the night. Most people assumed patients go to the hospital to rest, but Rachel had found out over the years, it just wasn’t true. The night shift does not sit around lounging and playing cards all night like the dayshift believes. They pass out medications, clean dirty beds, and in the case of jerks like this guy, act as servants to his every need. The more she thought about it the angrier she became.

She had started her shift at 7 p.m. and Rachel realized she hadn’t eaten, taken a break or even emptied her bladder for the last five hours. With all of her charting still remaining, she doubted she would get an opportunity any time soon.

This isn’t what I signed up for, she said to no one in particular.

Hang in there, girl, Jessica replied. It’s only twelve hours of hell, she chuckled as she snacked on her pretzels.

This guy is creepy and is literally calling every ten minutes.

Do you want me to answer his light this time? asked Nicole. She was one of Rachel’s closest friends, so Rachel isn’t surprised at the offer.

No thanks Nicole, I couldn’t ask that of you, Rachel responded as she stood up from her computer. But call me in five minutes if I’m still stuck in there. I’m afraid I might lose my temper with this guy and get myself in trouble.

Admitted to the hospital after taking a vicious beating from some punks, Eddie was enjoying his new status as a patient. He could basically get the nurses to do whatever he wanted. It was their job and he was more than willing to take advantage of it. Free food, ice cold water, cable TV, and narcotics pushed through his IV line were all he needed to truly enjoy his hospital stay. He wasn’t paying for it anyway, since he had no insurance and no income to speak of. Most of the nurses were pretty hot and he enjoyed their company. Whether they liked his company or not didn’t matter to Eddie, after all, he was the patient.

Rachel had taken care of Eddie for the longest five hours of her life and wasn’t at all surprised he had been beaten so severely. He was an obnoxious, 46-year-old man who made every effort to harass her just to satisfy his own sense of control. As a result of his beating, he had to have his spleen removed, suffered three fractured ribs and many other cuts and bruises. Some of the cuts required stitches. The surgeons wanted to keep him in the hospital for a few days to make sure he didn’t have any complications. Apparently they had never spoken to Eddie while he was awake. Had they actually had a conversation with him, Rachel was convinced they wouldn’t be so concerned with his well-being.

Standing up from her computer, Rachel walked towards Eddie’s room, nodding at Nicole, knowing she would come and bail her out if needed. She could hear the faint sound of a beeping IV pump in the distance and heard the bell of another patient activating their call light. She prayed the patient calling wasn’t hers because she was far too busy to deal with it. Reaching Eddie’s door, she applied hand sanitizer to her hands, took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and walked into learn of his new demands.

Eddie smiled at her with yellow teeth, his lower lip split and swollen. He had short whiskers growing all over his chin and cheeks, except for a small shaven patch on the left cheek where six stitches closed a deep, jagged cut. His almost bald head made the whiskers stand out even more on his skinny frame.

Catching her breath, Rachel could smell the foul body odor emanating from Eddie as soon as she entered the room. She kept the door open to allow some of the stench to creep out into the hallway and some fresh air to force its way in. She suspected the only clean parts of his body were those areas cleaned by the operating room staff.

Hello darling, he said as he sat up higher in his bed.

She noticed his gown was pulled up and his blankets were down around his knees, exposing his disgusting genitals. He continued smiling at Rachel when he saw she had noticed his exposed body.

What do you need Eddie? I’ve got a lot of work to do and I was just in here ten minutes ago, she said.

I know darling but I urgently need your help holding the urinal so I can pee. You don’t want me to mess the bed now do you?

"You only had your spleen