Where is She Now?

By RC Drake

It takes a twisted mind to maniacally plan and carry out a murder, perhaps the vilest of all criminal acts. Such a calculating person can kill in cold blood and easily justify their actions, at least in their own mind. Paydon has lost a loved one to murder, and he wants vindication.But how can a callous creature, whose lust for blood knows no bounds, and seemingly has no objective other than to kill, be stopped? Paydon hopes that a failed justice system will find the killer. Otherwise, he will have to exact his own form of justice and take an eye for an eye.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RC Drake
• Release date: Jun 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781470099619

Book preview

Where Is She Now?

Synopsis

Once again, Vicki was searching for the man of her dreams. She had conquered more men than seemed possible for one so young, most of them had never been aware they were being pursued with such intent. Wise beyond her years and well versed in the art of seduction; she was a lethal beauty whose outer perfection in dress and style were mere camouflage. She was a huntress of lonely hearts, with skills of persuasion which had been honed to a razor’s edge. Many intelligent and of course wealthy males, had succumbed to the wiles of this she-devil.

Her sights were now focused on her next target and she was moving in at a slow and calculated pace. Her goal would be achieved, for certain, because she never gave up. She was relentless in her efforts and failure was not a word to be found in her vocabulary. Many men had tried to escape her wiles, but eventually, all had succumbed. No matter what barriers they placed in front of their hearts, or their wallets, in an effort to protect themselves; she knew how to erode them.

Vicki knew exactly how, and when, to strike. She was like a poisonous viper waiting for its prey, calculating, and extremely patient. She knew eventually her prey would acquiesce to her wiles. After all, she had never failed before.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1 - The Meeting

Chapter 2 - The Trip

Chapter 3 - A Loss

Chapter 4 – Letting Go

Chapter 5 - The Note

Chapter 6 –Going Home

Chapter 7 –Mountain Man

Chapter 8 - The Estate

Chapter 9 - The Project

Chapter 10 - Her Plan

Chapter 11 - Suspicion

Chapter 12 - Secrets

Chapter 13 - Alone

Chapter 14 - Confession

Chapter 15 - Awakening

Chapter 16 - My Message

Chapter 17 - The Gun

Chapter 18 - Last Snowfall

Chapter 19 – Blizzard

CHAPTER 1

THE MEETING

Everyone was shocked at the suspicious demise of one of the area’s most well-known and respected businessmen.

True, Burton Wilkenson was getting up in age. However, the rumor flooding the streets was that he had died while having sex with his new, much younger bride. The couple had only been married for a few short months, which served to add more fuel to an already out of control wildfire.

It was all just hearsay thus far, but an autopsy had been ordered, therefore effectively preventing my boss from printing his desired eye-catching headline of, Was it a heart attack, or murder?

In fact, the only diagnosis documented at the time of death was ‘natural causes’ by his personal physician. So until there was proof to the contrary his diagnosis would stand.

Very little was known about Vicki, Mr. Wilkenson’s new bride. She was obviously extremely attractive, as well as vivacious. She was also too young for the old codger, looking to be only around twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. Not much else was known of Mrs. Wilkenson, the newly wedded and almost just as quickly widowed, newcomer.

To date, sparse information was all the investigation had turned up, which succeeded in answering none of the innumerous questions that were being asked. The lack of information seemed to shroud the cause of death even further.

Gossip was flying. But with no hard evidence to prove otherwise, Mr. Wilkenson’s demise would remain as aforementioned, at least for now.

The few known facts surrounding the newlyweds’ initial meeting, and subsequent marriage, added more stigma to the current questionable situation.

The day Vicki initially met Mr. Wilkenson, had been a chance encounter according to the rumors. She had reportedly been experiencing some sort of car trouble outside the gates to his property. When she was first brought into the house by the guard from the gate, she appeared to be suffering from an anxiety attack while feigning heat exhaustion.

Shortly thereafter, a whirlwind romance of only a few days ensued, culminating with ‘I dos,’ and ending in what appeared to be wedded bliss.

Vicki met the family physician shortly after the wedding, as Mr. Wilkenson had several health issues, heart as well as blood pressure problems being among them. His physician and longtime friend, Doctor Perry Rutledge, was almost a family member himself. He was at the estate several days per week and knew the entire staff by name. He had been invited to dine with the couple on several occasions.

Perry had been slightly suspicious of Vicki’s intentions at first. However, she was soon able to weave herself into his good graces as she literally doted over her new husband. All seemed well in the Wilkenson household to old Dr. Rutledge so he quickly acknowledged her as ‘a good woman’, outwardly anyway. He did, however, reserve a few mild doubts in his subconscious, as a means of self-preservation. All wise men have an innate ability to know when a female seems too good to be true.

On the night of Mr. Wilkenson death, he was experiencing difficulty breathing. So naturally, Vicki called Perry since he was his physician, as well as a close personal friend. Burton had demanded that Perry was to be the only one to examine him. However, when he started experiencing pain in addition to his breathing difficulties, Vicki put in the second call to 911. She then phoned Perry once again expressing her urgent concern.

When Perry arrived, Vicki met him at the front door. She appeared distraught and immediately began explaining the rapidly deteriorating status of her husband’s condition. As they climbed the stairs leading to the bedroom where her husband lay, she told Perry how sorry she was for calling him out at such a late hour, but Burton had demanded that she call him. She was most concerned at the rapid pace of his worsening state since she had placed her call to him, so she informed him that she had also put in an urgent call to 911 as well.

Perry reassured Vicki that she had done the right thing, but he was certain that he would be able to take care of everything before the emergency team had time to even pull out of the driveway.

When Perry entered the room where Burton lay, he looked straight into his old friend’s eyes. The look of terror met him as Burton Wilkenson stared blankly back at him. He was pale and frail looking and barely able to lift his hand from the top of his bed where it lay. He slowly pointed his finger in the direction where Perry and Vicki were standing. Then almost immediately, his hand fell to his side once again, lifeless. Burton Wilkenson breathed his last breath as his heart beat for the final time.

Dr. Perry Rutledge pronounced the time of death, after his on-site examination. He was satisfied with a diagnosis of heart failure, especially due to the patent's history. Burton had been treated by Perry for many years for his failing heart; which only served to solidify his conclusion.

Perry phoned the coroner and he arrived shortly after the emergency team’s arrival. Vicki then explained to him, along with the emergency team, the events as they unfolded. The coroner questioned her as to why she didn’t call 911first. She then had to painstakingly explain that Burton had insisted that she call his private physician first. She maintained that she didn’t know what else to do. Her husband had demanded she call Perry first, so that was what she did. It seemed that though she had broken acceptable protocol Perry felt there was nothing more that could have been done. The coroner accepted the findings but reserved his diagnosis until an autopsy could be performed.

That was where the problems started to pile up for my boss. The front page spread the next day would simply read:

Prominent local Businessman found dead in his home.

That headline was far too commonplace for our illustrious editor-and-chief, Peter Lawton. He required eye-popping news for his front page. Common health issues were not glamorous enough for Pete, as we all called him at The Daily News.

Dirt, people, I need dirt!

Pete’s bellowing voice resounded through the entire building as he rounded the door to his office and then headed straight toward my desk.

"This headline stinks. It just doesn’t grab me, and I need my headline to jump off the page and scream, ‘LOOK AT ME!’ That’s what sells newspapers, people! And I might add makes our readers want to spend their hard-earned money, just so they can find out what smut is going on in our fair city. He shot me a facetious smile as he continued his tirade. So, if you enjoy having butter on your bread ladies and gentlemen, get me some DIRT!"

Pete paused barely long enough to catch his breath, and then he continued with his ranting, "Most importantly, that’s how I make money. So come on, people! After all was said and done, old man Wilkenson was well into his seventies. I mean seriously, how long was the old geezer expected to carry on anyway?"

As Pete finished his last statement he vigorously shook the ice cubes in the glass he held in his hand. The rattling sound almost rattled my brain as he continued to shake them. His ‘afternoon juice,’ as he called it, may have been a pick-me-up for him but it never did anything for me except perhaps give me a desire to pull my hair out by the roots. As I continued to hear the incessant clank against the sides of the glass, I felt as though I were going to implode at any moment.

When he had finally finished his rant, he threw back the remaining dregs in the bottom of his glass then placed it on the edge of my desk. Well, actually slammed it down would probably be a more apropos choice of verbiage.

Pete was a rather portly man with plump rosy cheeks, probably due to his excessive amount of the juice that he partook of on a daily basis. He was not a young man either, as he was pushing sixty, and lately, it seemed to be pushing back pretty hard. He was short in stature, but with a voice which could traverse the entire building and still be able to rattle the windows of the building next door.

And another thing, Pete continued, "What’s up with our stupid coroner, anyway? Every time some poor sap dies at home, he screams autopsy. Obviously, he believes foul play was involved, so why can’t I just run with a possible murder headline or even something like ‘questionable cause of death’. Either one of those would be far better eye-catchers for my readers. He ties my hands when he makes me hold my presses until all of his results are in. I mean, after all, we are printing news, and that’s always subject to change. That fool sometimes takes weeks to complete his investigations, which causes my presses to be at a standstill for that entire time. All that crap he insists on doing seems a bit over the top anyway if you ask me. I don’t see why we can’t just scream foul play, throw the old man in the ground and be done with it. Then I would be able to have a real headline, one juicy enough to sell some papers around this town for a change. Let him dig and find out what really happened later on. That way, I could even milk the second headline out of the deal. He’s dead! Slicing him from limb to limb just to see what stopped his ticker ain’t gonna bring him back to life. I say let me have my murder headline then sort the mess out. If foul play is involved in any way, the insurance company would come out smelling like a rose. They could postpone having to pay out to the poor bereaved wife. Hell, they might even be able to cancel payoff altogether."

He looked me straight in the eye like he always did when he was trying to make a point. Then he gave his fiendish grin like he knew something nobody else knew, while he casually said, Do you see what I’m saying?

He stood in front of me waiting for my response, as he always did, but I never gave one. Everyone else in the room readily chimed in agreeing with his assessment of the situation, as usual.

He finally turned away from me but continued with his speech, Maybe then everybody would be happy, except of course his pretty young bride. Now she wouldn’t fare too well if that happened. But let’s think about that for a minute folks. All of her inheritance would be ripped from her hands, and wads of money would just be blowing in the wind. Wow, now that’s a real front page headline and well worth printing. Besides, it would all work out for her regardless. Did anyone get a good look at her? With those curves and good looks, she‘s going to land like a cat anyway, feet first. She’ll end up on top no matter what the outcome is. Just wait and see. He raised his bushy eyebrows and said, "Hell, I don’t think any man could last more than twenty minutes with a tiger like her in his bed and not have a heart attack. I know I wouldn’t be able to survive a mission like that. Not to say that I would mind trying. Do you know what I mean boys? And, oh man what a sweet way to die."

With his last lewd remark, Pete turned back in my direction once again, flashing his dull yellow teeth. He gave out an uproarious laugh and then choked. He slammed his fist down on my desk while he collected himself, and then began laughing again. Of course, everyone in the office chimed in because Pete expected them to. I was quite certain all of the men in our office knew exactly what ole Pete was referring to. When he finally finished his spiel and stepped away from the front of my desk, I gave a sigh of relief.

Thank goodness, I softly muttered under my breath. I had listened to just about all of his ranting’s that I could handle for one morning. Hearing Pete’s bellowing voice first thing in the morning always made me want to run in the opposite direction, kicking and screaming.

My desk was the closest one to his office, which did me no favors. My spot was the first place he parked to vent each morning, and he always ended his ‘pep rally’ with boisterous exuberance. I was in the worst spot in the entire building, and being the new kid on the block meant I could do nothing to change my location or anything else for that matter.

I had been with The Daily News for two years, seven months and far too many days. I knew I was lucky to have a job due to the economy being in a dreadful slump, but I hadn’t received a raise since being hired and I felt I merited one. I was still the lowest paid person on staff and at the bottom of the totem pole. I knew the reason for that though, and it wasn’t because of anything I had done. It was impossible to get new employees to stay at this place. My boss was a very difficult man to work for. Just putting up with his demeanor was a job all in itself.

Several people had applied for a position with the newspaper office and some were hired. But even with the economy on the downturn, few stayed. Pete always managed to be unbearably irritating, so new employees usually ended up being unable to tolerate him for very long.

All the older employees at our newspaper office had been with the company for several years. Most of them had no desire to better themselves because of a lack of motivation. Everyone seemed to be content simply trudging from one day to the next, doing the same menial tasks day in and out. Most were happy just making a living. But, to me, spending an entire day agreeing with everything Pete had to say just seemed wrong. However, it seemed that most employees had learned fairly quickly that to disagree with Pete meant your position with the company could quickly become fragile, at best.

Too much ado over a dead man, if you ask me, Pete thundered as he walked away from my desk and slowly inched his sizable bulk toward his office.

Our boss truly loved gore. It was his favorite front page news. We normally had plenty of scandalous subject matter available to us, just not today. So the news about an old man dying in his bed at home just did nothing to excite him.

Pete was not a particularly well-liked person as very few of the employees at the paper had any true love for him. He always seemed to manage, one way or another, to treat his staff with callousness or disdain. He was very impersonal in regard to their children, their home life, or what their future plans were. He basically just didn’t care.

The fact of the matter was someone had lost a loved one, even though it didn’t matter to Pete, not one iota.

It bothered me though, immensely. Mr. Burton Wilkenson had been someone’s father, husband, and friend. Now, he was gone and would be missed by his loved ones. I really hated my job.

Pete never made anything easy around the office, not for anyone. He had a way about him that could eventually wear anyone down. He was obnoxious to the core and actually seemed to relish in it. He had been born into money so he never had to worry about anything in his entire life. His family owned the newspaper building as well as the adjoining property, where two other high-rise buildings stood. When Pete’s parents died in a plane crash, he was still very young. He had been raised by his grandfather and when he passed away Pete inherited everything.

I guess his lifestyle had hardened him from a very young age. He never cared whose feelings were hurt or how much he upset the apple cart. He didn’t need money, he just loved it, but he loved dirt even more. His favorite type of garbage to print was anything bloody or crazy. Even facts bordering on being a lie were acceptable. Those sorts of stories were like crackers in Pete’s bowl of chili. The sort of thing that would make a normal person hold their breath, and quietly say, ‘oh no, not that,’ was manna to Pete’s. Gore and insanity were what he thrived on.

I, on the other hand, had grown very tired of the rat race and was more than ready for a radical change, job wise anyway.

I had been in Copiague, New York since graduating from high school. Plenty long enough for me to figure out that it was not my bag. I was tired of all the hustle and bustle but, even more so, of my job. I was so ready to get out of this place. My current position at the newspaper office had been my first and only job. I felt a real need for a change. I figured I was probably starting to experience burnout or, more specifically, Pete burnout. After all, I had been stuck at this desk since being hired, and I was beginning to feel as though things were closing in on me.

I looked over at my friend Jon. He gave me one of his usual sideways smiles and half-lifted his right shoulder. Something he always did when he was at a loss for words. It was his way of saying, ‘Oh well, what are we supposed to do about it?’

Jon was probably my best friend in the entire world. He had gotten the job for me here at the paper office, as well as helped me find an apartment. He had been a life saver to my Mom and me, literally, but that’s another story.

His current position at the office was ‘chief photographer.’ He made it no secret, to me or anyone else who would listen, photography was not his profession of choice, even though he was very good at it. He had spent many years working to get his private detective’s license, which was his selected choice of work. He had a great knack for getting to the heart of a problem, which made him invaluable at the newspaper. Pete had quickly recognized Jon’s innate ability for getting to the heart of anything even though Jon was unaware of his own attributes.

Pete had initially offered him a healthy salary, mostly for his indelible insight into the heart of a situation, but also for his photographic eye because he was quite good at taking pictures. Jon had been unable to decline the offer presented to him since private eye work wasn’t currently putting any bacon on his table.

Several weeks earlier, Pete and Jon had argued back and forth for a long time. Even with his office door closed, Pete’s thunderous rants came through loud and clear. Jon, who was normally very reserved, had simply received more crap that day than he was willing to tolerate and responded. As the shouting match continued between the two of them, Jon was heard saying, "If you don’t think I’m qualified to take pictures for this damn newspaper then why don’t you just hire a real photographer. I’ve told you multiple times before; I don’t want to take pictures I just want to do the investigative reporting. Why won’t you just let me do what I do best?