Essence of Evil

By Barbara Ann Derksen

Evil pursues Christine, in this the second book of the Finders Keepers Mystery Series. Retreat is not an option but her move forward makes her vulnerable to the very evil that took her parents' lives. Faced with yet another missing child, she embarks on a search that takes her out of her comfort zone to question her chosen career, her abilities, and her belief system as she helps stricken parents find closure. Christine finds herself confused about her growing interest in Jeremy but she is distracted by the essence of evil that surrounds her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Ann Derksen
• Release date: May 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310444081

Barbara Ann Derksen

With a plethora of writing under her belt and a variety of genres, Barbara Ann Derksen receives encouragement from 4 and 5 star reviews, the eager anticipation by readers for the next book, and a new reader discovering her existence.Born in Canada, Barbara lived in the US for 12 years. There her writing surfaced as she worked under contract as a journalist for six years with over 2500 articles published in newspapers and magazines during that time. She began attending Colorado Christian Writer's Conferences and each year, under the tutelage of great Christian writer's like James Scott Bell, Angela Hunt, and others, she honed her skills and then published her first book in 2003.With 19 books to her credit, one currently inactive and awaiting revision, each one surpasses the last, according to her readers. The new series has given them something to think about as she delves into the world...

Book preview

Prologue

Christine Smith stretched her arms to touch her headboard, slowly opening her eyes to the bright sunlight streaming through the slats in her blinds. Her head sank further into the pillow as she arched her frame toward the warm, furry body at her side. A stroke to the soft coat of her dog elicited a grunt in response as she rolled to cuddle her best friend. Come on, boy. Let’s go for a run.

She gently shoved the large animal off the side of the bed. Chief, a search and rescue dog, landed with a thump, a whoosh of air indicating his lungs had connected with the floor. He continued to lay where he landed. Good thing the distance is short. Come on, get up. Need to run. Christine jogged in place by the dog’s side, reaching her hands toward the ceiling. Do you know how long it’s been since the dream hasn’t interrupted my sleep? I feel as if I’ve slept for three days. She peered out the window. Such a beautiful day, too.

Jogging clothes hung on the hook behind her bedroom door. Nightwear landed near the hamper as she tugged a sweatshirt over her head and stepped into fleece pants. We’ll need to dress warm. There's snow everywhere this morning. Christine scrounged some extra heavy socks from her drawer. Chief, although on all fours, stretched his front legs by leaning as far backward as he could without losing his balance and then the dog performed a perfect lunge forward to stretch his back. Looks like Yoga to me.

She started to trot down the hall. Maybe we need to pay a visit to Denny’s facility for a refresher today. A cursory check at the peep hole in her front door indicated a clear path to the park … at least as far as I can tell. She moved toward a sofa table, popped the drawer open, and retrieved her spike, the weapon she used between her fingers ... just in case. She never left home without it.

The code she pushed deactivated her alarm. Christine grabbed the remote to activate the yard system, and opened the door. She sucked in a deep breath of cold morning air as she quickly viewed her property and the street beyond. She grumbled, her voice low, to the animal as he nosed past her. One day, I won’t need to be so careful.

Two weeks had passed since she’d had a client. Not a concern, thanks to Mom and Dad’s legacy, I can be lazy once in a while. She started down the driveway. She jogged backwards a few feet and used the remote to activate the yard alarm. Just in case.

Turning forward again, she trotted after Chief who had already reached the park. He sniffed at everything above the ground, but his body language told her he knew exactly where she was at all times. He seems more protective now than when we began to search for Nathan Brent. I think he’s learned something.

Keeping a steady pace and her breathing deep, Christine continued to ponder the recent rescue of Nathan. A short visit yesterday confirmed that moving back with his mother … finally … had been positive.

A smile crinkled the corners of her mouth. I love it when a plan comes together. She jogged in place for a few seconds, waiting for Chief to complete his mark on a nearby tree. Who’d have thought that working with Jeremy would be a good thing? For both of us.

Chief completed his task and the two of them took off, racing as fast as the slick sidewalk allowed. Her muscles warmed up and became as lithe as they always did when she took the time for a work-out. The cold air whipped by her face.

The sky had turned a clear blue. Her frosty breathe hung in the air. The absence of a breeze made the morning run a pleasant experience. Christine and Chief covered their two mile course before turning around to head home. Halfway back, she heard the caterwaul in the distance. Wonder who forgot to turn their car alarm off. She slowed to a steady jog, cooling down in the process.

The closer she got to home, the louder the wail. Her pace accelerated. Chief began to grumble, low in his chest. Can’t be. I wasn’t expecting anyone. She ran faster. The alarm grew shriller, startling the few remaining birds in the area. A neighbor's glare greeted her as she exited the park gates.

Who’d set off her warning system? With her parents’ killer on the loose, searching for her, the added security had become a necessary intrusion in her life. She inched toward the stone wall at the park entrance, all the while scanning the neighborhood for an unidentified visitor. No one. The only other person in sight was the not-too-friendly occupant of the house across the street. Standing on his front porch, he shook his fist at her. Shut that thing off. I need my sleep, he yelled … as if I intentionally set it off.

Not another soul graced the landscape in front of her house, but a large box the size of a small appliance stood inside her fence. Someone’s been here. She continued to gaze from yard to yard and down the pavement, looking for anything to indicate who'd left the package. She slipped her hand into her pocket for the remote to turn the discordant sound off. He must have wondered why an alarm went off.

Chief walked closer to the container. He sniffed. His sorrowful whine filled the air around her. What’s wrong, boy? She glanced at the man still standing in his pajamas on his front porch. The scowl, fixed on her actions increased a sense of rebellion. She pulled the spike from her pocket and proceeded to pry the lid off the box. He'd better understand I can protect myself. The first flap loosened as well as the other larger one.

An unpleasant odor emanated from inside, combating the fresh, crisp air. She flipped the flap open. An involuntary scream erupted from her throat. She screamed again. Her body slumped to the ground. Chief stood beside her, his stance in protective mode. He emitted a vicious snarl at the neighbor approaching from across the street. Her awareness of anything other than the smell dimmed as a black coffin closed over her consciousness.

****

The boy scrambled around the corner, grabbing for a handhold. The brick facade of the first building filled his fist. His feet tripped over themselves in his hurry to exit where nightmares were made. Damn. His mind uttered a few other expletives as he raced for a place to hide. His heart beat thundered in his chest preventing him from catching his breath. As terrifying as his life had been for the last ten years, the sight he ran from was his worst nightmare.

He rounded another corner, side-stepped a pedestrian, and slipped into the nearest shop. He looked behind before he closed the door. His eyes slowly scanned the street roaming over each pedestrian and parked car. He slipped toward the nearest corner letting the door swing shut. The boy struggled to take a deep breath. He kept his gaze casual, breathing slowly in and out. He pretended to look at some of the items on the shelves. With caution, he moved to one side of the entrance. His eyes slowly grew accustomed to the interior lighting as he glanced around. What is this place, anyway?

Shelves stocked with all sorts of books lined one wall. A couple of the designs displayed a cutout right in the center of the front cover. They were colored brightly, a few with fancy doodads and some with pictures. He noticed a rack nearby held packages with decorated sheets of paper and another shelf held pages of stickers. He was familiar with those since his dad bought some for him to keep him quiet.

Dad. Yeah, some father image. His chest tightened. I overheard dad tell someone over the phone that I'd been taken from my real home. A whole list of emotions traveled across his brain, fear being one of them. The idea that someone is watching me hasn't left me alone since.

His dad had needed someone younger, and asked the person on the phone to arrange it. That meant he was no longer loved as the man had told him all those years. The adult had stopped coming to the child's room at night weeks ago. At first he had been relieved. He began to miss the attention.

The boy glanced toward a woman as she walked through the door into the shop. The bell announcing her presence made him jump. The old lady zeroed in on what she wanted as she headed for the shelves of books. Her wrinkled hands grabbed one book and opened the cover. Blank. The pages have nothing on them. He shook his head and moved cautiously toward the window closest to him. This would be a good spot. The street is visible from both directions. If anyone saw me in that warehouse ....

His memory drifted to the deadbolt, the one that had locked him inside all those years. He remembered when he had reached a hand to grab the doorknob; his fear had forced him to pull his arm back as if something had bit him. The punishment for disobeying was always severe. Terrified eyes glanced left and right. He was alone. The man had gone out right after the phone call. He left instructions to clean the house. The boy had rushed through his chores. The plan to step through the door was in place.

The warehouse sat at the back of the yard. He decided that if he wasn't allowed in that building … dad probably was hiding something. I was right ... but nothing in his deepest imagination prepared him for the sight that filled his eyes. His trek into the freezer he'd found inside acted as a starting pistol for a race to safety.

He shuddered. The memory was indelibly etched on his brain. He shook his head. Do kids even talk like that? His dad insisted he read every book he brought home from the library. The boy never knew why.

His current surroundings came back into focus as the steady rhythm of foot traffic passed the little shop. I can't stay here all day. A short, round lady approached.

Can I help you? she asked with a slight accent foreign to the boy. The boy peered at her from under lowered eyelids. I guess I don’t belong. Need to leave. No. Thank you. I thought this was another store I'm looking for. He moved toward the door. The woman smiled and returned to her place behind a counter. His heart picked up speed at the thought of being free to roam for the first time in his life, or at least, as far back as he remembered.

He stepped into the bright sunshine. I wonder where all those bodies came from? He shivered and then walked down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Not going there again. Won't be missed anyway. I'm in the way, he said. Maybe I'll search for my real parents. Where do I start?

Bet the police will be interested in the warehouse. They’ll never believe me. dad always said the cops only did things if you paid them. I haven't any money, but I should tell someone. Those were kids in there. Someone’s sons. At least the ones I noticed appeared to be boys. Ugh. He shuddered again. I won't be able to sleep tonight. The one with the missing hand seemed to be only about five or six years old. Maybe his parents are looking for him. Obviously mine never did. Why?

A tall man in a dark blue uniform headed toward him down the sidewalk. His heart thundered inside his chest wall. Droplets of liquid fear popped out on his forehead. A cop. His legs wouldn't move. Forcibly, he moved his body down the nearest alley and melted against the cold stone facade. Large orbs of terror perused the man as he walked slowly past the entrance to his hiding spot. A deep sigh and his body sagged in relief. Common sense told him his fear was exaggerated but dad had a friend who worked as a police officer. He liked to 'love' little boys, too.

Chapter One

John Belmont approached the prone figure slowly, cautiously. He craned his neck to inspect the woman lying crumpled beside the animal. Pretty thing. I heard she was a detective. Wonder what’s in the box. The edge of the woman’s property was as far as he would go. That dog won’t let me near anyway. The cops can deal with her … and the beast. He turned and jogged toward his house, every cell in his body on alert. Didn't like her gift, I'd guess.

He glanced over his shoulder back at the still body again before entering his home. Still unconscious. Stepping out of his slippers, he grabbed the phone, dialed 911 and waited. Hello. My neighbor has fainted on her lawn. I can’t get to her because her dog is protecting her but she …

The emergency operator interrupted to ask his address. Oh. Sure. 2739 Wellington Crescent. Her house is across the street. He walked over to his front window to peer through the sheer curtains. She’s just lying there. She received a box …

Sirens could already be heard in the distance. The operator asked about the contents of the container. I don’t know. His voice contained exasperation at what he considered a stupid question. The dog wouldn’t let me get close enough. But it contains something dead … maybe an animal. Whatever it is, it smells to high heaven. And she dropped like a stone when she saw it.

He hung up as soon as the operator decided he was a bystander and nothing more. He rushed down the hall toward his bedroom. Too much excitement for so early in the day, he groused to no one in particular. Better get dressed. Cops will be here asking the same questions that woman just did. He slipped out of his striped pjs, a gift from the ex-wife, and pulled on jeans, the same ones he’d worn the day before in the garden. He brushed a stray weed from the leg and grabbed a clean t-shirt from the dresser drawer. In the bathroom, two doors down the hall, he used his fingers to rub toothpaste over his teeth and tongue and then spit in the sink. Good enough for now. He rushed toward his front door forgetting to comb his hair.

He snagged a light jacket from his closet before stepping into the morning sunshine again. Lights flashed from a police cruiser and an ambulance. Two EMTs were bent over the woman, now lying horizontal on the damp grass. He noticed a hand move as she wiped a stray lock of hair from her forehead. Good, she’s not dead. How’d they get past the dog?

His stride brought him close to an officer holding the police mike in his hand. The younger man was relaying a short report about what they’d discovered to the dispatcher at the station. He requested the coroner.

That’d be me. John took his wallet out of his back pocket and passed his ID to the officer.

Never mind, Diane. He’s already here. The policeman released the button on his mike and checked out the stranger. Where’d you come from? You must be new to the department. Haven’t met you before.

Dr. John Belmont eyed the uniform for a moment. I actually haven’t reported for duty yet. Arrived two days ago and was just getting settled. Planned on coming down to the office today and introduce myself. I’m the one called the incident in.

The officer, a younger version of Tom Selleck, wrinkled his nose toward the box. I guess that’s why you surmised something was dead inside.

Dr. Belmont shifted his gaze to the object of interest. What’s in the package? How’s the girl? How’d you get her dog to cooperate?

One of the EMTs raised his head. His hand on the woman’s shoulder kept her still. The other EMT was taking her blood pressure. Just a fainting spell as far as we can tell. Christine and I are friends … and Chief. The dog wagged his tail. In fact, I sold him to Christine when she moved here a year ago and she still trains him at my facility. Chief trusts me not to hurt his mistress. Name’s Denny … Denny Houghton. He reached to shake the newcomer's hand.

John glanced at the EMT, ignored his out-stretched hand, and shifted his gaze toward the officer. And the box?

Come. Take a look. The Tom Selleck look-alike stepped the two paces needed to arrive beside the cardboard container that had perfumed the area with the odor of death. He stuck his right hand into his pocket and produced a tube of Vicks. His finger deposited a little under his nose. He offered some to the coroner.

No, thanks. I’m used to the smell. He fixed his eyes on the contents. Lying in the midst of foam chips was a hand, severed at the wrist, rather crudely, he thought. The palm was facing upward. Sitting, as if on display, was a gold wedding band, encrusted with a series of small stones that appeared to be diamonds. The lackluster finish indicated the ring had not been cleaned for some time. The hand, however, had been a recent amputation, he decided, as he examined the skin. I’ll transport the evidence to the morgue just as is.

He stared at Christine. Her eyes were clear, and focused on the cardboard container. My m-mother’s we-wedding band. I used to play in her jewelry box.

Denny glanced at her, concern wrinkling his brow. Haven't your parents been dead for over twenty years, Christine? Their belongings are in storage. Could someone have broken into the unit? He helped her to her feet. Steady now.

Christine glanced at her friend. When did you start working as an EMT?

If business at the training facility is slow, I fill in. You okay? He held her hand a few moments longer than necessary.

Christine nodded. An involuntary shudder traveled the length of her spine. I haven't been given any information about the storage locker. My lawyer dealt with everything after my parents were killed. She shifted her gaze toward the stranger she’d noticed when she jogged home that morning. Who’er you?

The deep timber of his no-nonsense attitude softened a little. I just happen to be the Coroner, newly arrived. A neighbor too … if this is your house anyway? He reached his hand toward her. Dr. John Belmont.

Belmont used his firm grip to let her know he was in charge. Christine’s voice was little more than a soft whisper. Nice to meet you. Yes, I live here.

I take it you weren’t expecting this box when you returned from your jog this morning. Does the package have a return address? He indicated he already knew the answer.

I doubt it. The hand appears to belong … belonged to a child. I find missing kids … adults too, It could be that’s the connection. Anyway, how this business ties to my parents’ death is the question. Apparently someone thinks they are connected. A lone tear escaped. Her hand swiped at the moisture. Poor child.

Belmont walked closer to the officer. You finished here? I’ll get my car and take this specimen to the morgue.

I don’t think so. The crime scene boys are on their way. They’ll have to release the box … er … hand.

Christine considered what was said and then discarded it. I want my mother’s jewelry. Do you have to take it with you?

The officer replied first. That bauble is evidence. You’ll get the ring back when we have all our questions about this crime answered. Something down the street caught his attention. Here comes CSI and the detective in charge I’ll bet. They’ll want to ask you a few things too. The ring stays with the hand for now.

Christine huffed her indignation. Denny placed his arm around her for a good-bye hug. See you at the center. Bye Chief. The dog wagged his tail from his position right beside Christine’s leg.

She reached down subconsciously to scratch the top of his head. Goodbye, Denny. Thanks for being here. She made sure Chief was out of the way as the ambulance backed up. It turned toward the downtown area. The roar of another engine filled the morning air. Sounds like a motorcycle.

Christine craned her neck to watch Jeremy Goodman park behind the unmarked police car. The tension in her body decreased considerably when he switched off his engine and removed his helmet. Her heart beat accelerated of its own volition when she noticed his stride seemed a little hurried as he approached.

Jeremy reached toward her. What happened? I heard the call come in over the cop scanner. You alright?

Christine’s smile was more of a grimace, but she tried to pretend things were fine anyway. I’m shaken up a bit I guess. I returned home after a quick jog this morning to find a cardboard box sitting on the lawn. I made the mistake of breaking the seal. Inside was a severed hand of a small child with my mother’s wedding band in the palm. I must’ve fainted. When I came to, two EMTs and a police officer was standing over me. By the way, the new coroner has moved in across the street. He was the one who phoned 911 apparently. She pointed toward Dr. Belmont’s house.

Sharing office space with Jeremy had evolved into a guarded friendship. They watched as the crime scene boys made sure that the area was restricted. Jeremy indicated the box with his hand. I assume they plan to take that and its contents to the morgue. He nodded in the direction of the police presence and then examined the strain showing on Christine's face. Boy, this opens a whole can of worms. Changing your name hasn’t done much good. Moving might be required after all.

Christine inspected the technicians who probed the nearby grass for clues. I think they hope to find tracks ... anything to give them a trail to follow. She shuddered again. Standing tall, she glanced at Jeremy. I don't plan to let some thugs run me off my property. The alarm system stopped them from going any further. She perused the houses on either side of hers. I wonder if someone saw something when they looked out their windows to see what the commotion was all about.

Christine …

Jeremy … as soon as the police clear out, let’s go talk to some neighbors. Can't hurt to ask. Right now, I've got to change these clothes. She moved toward her front door.

Uh. Miss Smith. The police detective walked quickly to intersect her path to the house. I need to ask you a few questions.

Yeah, I figured. This is Jeremy Goodman. He’s an investigator and a business associate. Is a lawyer required?

No, you’re the victim here, not the perpetrator. Some clarification is needed, that's all ... about what happened. And why you think the package was delivered to you. The man was short in stature, but had a commanding presence. His black mustache wiggled as he talked. Christine was having a hard time concentrating on the words that leaked past the bristles.

Come into the house. We can talk while I give Chief some water and breakfast. We haven’t eaten yet. She took the key chain from the pocket of her jogging pants and began the process of unlocking her front door.

You are locked up like a fortress. What gives? The detective grimaced as soon as he realized Christine and Jeremy did not find the situation in the least funny. I’m Detective Jones, by the way.

Christine turned to face him. My parents were brutally murdered twenty, almost twenty-one years ago. The killer has not been found. I have the exclusive distinction of being THE eye-witness.

So you think the man's tracking you. He stepped through the portal behind her and in front of Jeremy. I only meant …

Never mind. Jeremy, why don’t you take a seat with the detective while I water and feed Chief? I’ll be right back. She strode purposefully down the short hallway to the kitchen. She could feel the eyes of the two men follow her.

Chapter Two

Christine listened as Chief lapped the water from his bowl. Tears filled her vision. She stared out the window framing the sun-filled yard behind her house. The space wasn’t large, but supplied an adequate place for her dog to run. She dropped her head, twisted it to glance at Chief again, and swiped at the tears leaking down her cheeks. A handy paper towel finished the job.

Her heart ached for the child who had been so brutally mutilated. Cruelty and perversion surrounded her line of work but … an image of Nathan Brent came to mind. What if he’d never been found? How do you tell a mother her child was murdered … if this kid is dead? Oh, man … that's too awful to think about.

Footsteps sounded nearby. Christine, are you ready to talk to the police detective? He needs to go but … you okay? Jeremy walked to her side.

Her distress was evident even though she tried to hide her sorrow from him. She sniffed, I will be. This is such a shock ... seeing my mother's ring after all this time. That severed … the hand of a child … Well. It’s just hard to imagine someone so cruel. Poor kid.

Jeremy patted her back. Come on. Let’s get this over. I have a few suggestions to increase security around here since you insist on remaining in this house. Been thinking about this for some time. He followed attentively behind Christine toward the living area.

Christine sat down on a chair facing the police officer. I'm ready, Detective Jones. She folded her hands on her lap and rested her back against the cushion.

Tell me what happened this morning in about as much detail as you can. He took a notebook out of his pocket.

Christine began. Her description seemed repetitious to her ears but the officer wasn’t the only one hearing her story for the first time.

Jeremy listened attentively. Did the security system work?

Yes. We thought a car alarm must have been set off. The closer we got though … well we found out it was coming from this house. So Chief and I raced all the faster to get here. That man, John, was standing on his porch scowling at us as we passed. He insinuated we’d set that noise off on purpose. He was angry because he worked late, he said, and I guess the steady siren woke him. Christine took a sip from the glass of water she’d brought with her from the kitchen.

Detective Jones paused in his note-taking to glance in her direction. What man?

Christine swallowed. The one from across the street. I think I heard him tell someone he was the new Coroner. She hesitated a moment. Hey. He said he hadn’t gone into the office yet since moving here so he wasn't working last night. She glared pointedly at the detective. The man's story is full of holes.

Yeah, well, we’ll be questioning him too. Jones glanced at his notes. You said you checked out the box and fainted. How do you know that’s your mother’s ring if you had such a brief glance at the contents?

Christine grimaced. Memories flooded her mind. Mom used to let me play with her jewelry. That ring was one of my favorite pieces. It fit my thumb back then.

Oh, I see. Sorry. I … er … The police officer looked at her with downcast eyes.

Jeremy stood beside the sofa. Detective, can’t this wait till later? Christine is clearly distraught.

He noticed her white countenance. "Christine, maybe you should