ISOLATION

By Tabitha White

Angie's owed over $50,000 in child support. After the law fails her she blackmails her ex-husband. Unwittingly she ends up entangled with a sinister mobster and unravels an insurance scheme on behalf of her ex. She's been placed in check by his illicit affairs and faces retaliation from the mob if she exposes the insurance fraud. She calculates a devious plan to collect and serve him justice.

Angie’s life splinters into a thousand fragments when she tragically loses her home to foreclosure and auction. She attempts to secure evidence to blackmail her ex into paying $50,000 he owes in child support. She discovers a money-laundering operation and believes he’ll pay.

However, she uncovers mafia involvement in the money-laundering operation persuading her to search elsewhere for a financial solution. The next day her ex-husband disappears. 

While searching for blackmail evidence Angie reveals Craig’s illegal involvement with the judge, insurance fraud and a social security theft ring which puts federal agents on Craig’s trail and that of his unsavory family. 

Out of shear desperation Angie accepts mafia money which ties her in and reveals a more sinister purpose. The following week when Craig’s found slumped over on the strip in Las Vegas his fractured legs resemble those of a marionette and his fingertips ground hamburger. 

Chase the bounty hunter offers her a job amid his questionable involvement in Craig’s disappearance. Together they form Lip-Stick Bounty Hunters where Angie’s employed to solve thousands of idle child support cases. 

In the end a $1,000,000 life insurance policy surfaces naming Angie as the beneficiary, right before Craig’s killed. Angie’s alibi, a night out with the mafia henchman, Anthony, is rock solid. ISOLATION ends as a classic who-dun-it with viable alibis for the 5 people with sinister motive. 

ISOLATION offers hope to readers with mounting child support arrears who need bounty hunters offering ‘teeth’ in collecting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tabitha White
• Release date: Sep 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536575323

Book preview

Chapter 1

February 5, 2012, 12:01 P.M.

If anyone knocks on the door Lance, don’t answer it! The infuriated neighbors want justice, vigilante style! Angie said leaning forward with a stiffened neck.

With the auctioneer’s microphone electrified a metallic screeching sound sealed Angie’s fate - the end.

Amplified and ready to commence the auctioneer said, Check 1-2, check 1-2.

It’s getting packed out there. I thought the six inches of snow we received last night would keep people away. The temperature hovers at four degrees and they still came out in droves. Angie said peeking out the window.  

I can’t face those people I have no answers, Craig and Martin did this.

The auction spectator’s footsteps fell on crisp snow and emitted a thumping sound that pecked away at Angie’s frail nerves. Rioters filed in for a shot at the house once owned by the prick that held them hostage in their insurance policies.

"Mom what’s going on? Lance said creeping away from the window.

Amid a crowded lot of angry rioters, the auctioneer began, First up today the Freeman home. Do I have eight thousand dollars?

The crowd settled while the tone of their angry banter softened, however, no one offered the auctioneers’ starting bid.

I’m at eight thousand, n I wan eighty five hundred, bid on eighty five hundred, I’m at eight thousand n I wan eighty five hundred, I’m at eight thousand bid on eight five hundred. Can I get eighty five hundred, do I have eight thousand?

Voices dropped to whispers in the crowd.

Eight thousand! jeered a voice while holding up his paddle.

Sold to paddle number 314 for $8,000! said the auctioneer.

Heads turned to see who bid on the home and found a man, shrouded in black, exiting the scene with light footsteps that echoed in the crowd’s ears like an ax to lumber.

Does anyone know that guy?

The day Craig Freeman allowed the auction gavel to fall on the family he’d abandoned, provoked Angelina Steadfast-Freeman to vow she’d see him wasting away multiple sentences. Craig and Martin Freeman, both in their mid-twenties, swindled longtime friends and neighbors out of their homes and livelihoods, robbing Angelina of her of dignity.

Lance your dad and Martin have stolen those people’s means to survival. They want blood; our blood because we’re here in the house of the man who robbed them!

The neighbors reviled her ex-husband, Craig, and his brother Martin. He and his business-partner brother had written their workers' comp insurance policies and bullied them when need for making a claim arose. Out of fear of raised premiums policy owners settled with the injured employees out of their personal savings bankrupting them. Both brothers appeared stout in stature, and exuded an obvious love of food and drink. Craig sported brown locks, Martin with heavy thinning blonde hair that formed a horseshoe on the lower third of his head. Craig enjoyed a love of cigarettes. 

Mom, if they’re angry why don’t we give them what dad and Uncle Martin took from them? Lance asked.

Angie and her eight-year-old son Lance found themselves homeless and alone. Lance appears as a confused and restless eight-year-old with a bottomless-pit for a stomach. Angie, lanky at 5’9" with wavy brown hair she always pulls back on the upper one third of her head, carried the cross of justice on her back.

Nervous, Angie peered out the window and said, Honey it’s not that simple, I wish we could son, I wish we could. Why aren’t they leaving? 

Looking toward the ceiling amid rigid muscles Angie said, Lance do you hear that?

Hear what mom?

Shh stand still. Do you hear that? Footsteps! They’re on the roof. That angry mob wants revenge! We need to leave before all hell breaks loose!

Each sound ramped up Angie’s nerves.

Of course Craig eludes responsibility and I’m left holding the bag before the angry mob.  

Angie jammed what little dignity she had left in a gray tweed suitcase. Had Craig show up to gloat, she would have shot him at point-blank range. This would have negated her chances of collecting the $50,000 in child support arrears. If Craig had paid the arrears it would have saved her home from judicial foreclosure. Besides, shooting a man went against her religious upbringing.  

Angie eyed their lone option and said, We need to make a quick exit out the back door Lance; pay attention. When I open the door, run! We need to leave!

Run where? Lance asked.

The car. Your father ripped off those people out there; he stole their dignity! Brilliant, a hard-life lesson discussed with an eight-year-old! Do you have everything? You hold on to my hand tight and when I open the door run as fast as you can to the car.

You’re scaring me mom. Lance said as he began to cry.

Angie glanced at his eyes, then away again and said, Honey it’s okay. We need to leave and we need to do it right now. We can do this together, okay. It snowed last night and a thin layer remains over the ice; please try not to slip Lance!

Okay I’m ready. I’m scared though mom. Lance said.

Okay ready here we go.

Angie grasped Lance’s hand with her right hand and with rigid fingers held on to what remained of their existence in her left.  

A sharp adrenaline spike charged through Angie’s body as they exited normalcy. Reaching for the half-handle on the door of her Buick with no time for prayer, she tugged on it like a gentle giant.

Lance put your seat belt on now! Those people out-front want blood. Your father built his company on the sweat of their backs while ripping them off and we stand as the lone prey in their crosshairs right now.

Lance looked at Angie with curious eyes and asked, What does that mean?

To hell with it you’re not in your seat belt that’s just fine with me, it’ll have to wait! We’re getting out of dodge before they bust out my car windows.

In the neighbors eyes Angie was guilty due to guilt by association. They all turned their backs on her and Lance during desperate times, leaving them homeless amid a fierce blizzard. A February Arctic cold snap hung low over Farmington Hills, Michigan paralleling the indignation on Angie’s face.

We’re leaving! That angry mob may torch my car. Shit! Lance hold on! Bald tires don’t fail me now!

Slamming it in reverse Angie and Lance slid sideways down the steep driveway and caught the vengeful clan off guard. The rioters swarmed toward her car as she bolted down the street before they could demand restitution or worse yet retaliate against them.

Craig and Martin committed the crimes; not Angie; yet many questioned how she did not know about Craig’s unscrupulous business dealings.

"We made it mom! Lance said.

Hang on baby! We’re getting the heck out of dodge.

The neighbors came out in droves and jeered on seeing a foreclosure notice taped to the door. The auction sign, pounded into the frozen dirt sealed their fate with many sharp clanking whacks blow-by-blow with a twenty-pound sledge.

Where do we go? I don’t know what we should do. Angie said as anger welled inside her.  

Lance, mindful of trouble lurking inside his house, as his father, absent for some time, saw less and less food each time he looks in the refrigerator. Furniture in the house became firewood. Their professionally decorated home, a traditional two-story, boasted marble windowsills and fine linens. Currently, rooms echoed in loneliness, except the living room which boasted a fireplace.  

Mom can we go somewhere and eat? I’m getting hungry. Lance said repositioning his eyes toward the floor.

Give me some time to figure this out Lance; what should we do? We need somewhere to stay tonight.

Angie appeared guilty because of her insensitivity and determination. Aiding this falsity were subtle truths that she’d grown up fast orphaned young. As a young adult, Angie shutout the volume of the ruckus and focused inward. Her introversion and reliance on acute senses saved her during dark formative years.

I can’t see anything because of the blizzard? Lance said.

Short on patience Angie said, Please give me some time to make sense of this right now Lance. I can’t even see the road right now.

A light wallet aided in Angie’s doubt as she tugged on her bottom lip. The windows on the Buick began to frost due a leaky heater-core clouding her judgment even further. Her slumped posture spoke volumes of her few choices. Angie felt responsible for the neighbor’s financial demise, as she encouraged Craig toward the insurance business.

"Can we go to a restaurant Mom?  

Damn it! Two paychecks to pay the back taxes and the jerk didn’t uphold his end of the bargain and pay the house payment! Lance and I skimped and managed to survive until Craig stopped paying child support. Craig, the saboteur and Martin the maniac; drew the line in the sand long ago. Hell they’d of had us executed to avoid putting any child support money in my hand.  

Pounding her fists on the steering wheel Angie said, Craig you and Martin’s actions equate to terrorism! You both have evilness running through your veins?

Craig and Martin Freeman you will both pay for what you’ve done to us!

Amid tightening muscles, Angie drew her head back, while thoughts bounced about like the checks Craig had written. Desperate for a solution to their current dilemma Angie shook her head in denial.

I never thought I’d have to say it. We’re destitute! Where will we go?

Hello earth to mom. I’m getting hungry, let’s eat.

At first glance, Craig looked a bit rough around the edges. Motorcycles occupied the primary position in the hierarchy of his life. He’d disassemble an Indian Cruiser, reassemble and listen to it purr within a day. Craig’s extrovert personality resembled a savage politician that tried to disguise the hurt lying below a complicated shell.

Sister Luvia and a shelter; we’ll go to a shelter. How does a warm mean and comfortable bed sound?

At fifteen, alcohol sent his life careening out of control as his uncle had succumbed to it. His picture-perfect life shattered right before his eyes. At that point, his life spiraled out of control. Motorcycles became simple. Craig thrived on complex challenges. The complexities and intricacies of the insurance world proved a good distraction and created a business magnate, Craig.

That sounds good to me mom. Lance said smiling at Angie.  

Driving to the shelter the eerie sound of the ice-encrusted-snow began to haunt Angie. Her judgment, rather poor right now, one might even say a bit irrational reflects the unrelenting Michigan winter bringing about scarcity of beds in the shelters. Misery, shown by plentiful belt holes, reminded Angie she needed to bridge the gap. However, her religion frowns on stealing.

One step at a time before we celebrate. The weather service said a blizzard will encompass this area. Which means, the homeless people will flock to the shelters. Scarcity of beds spell trouble for us; we will have to sleep in the car.

Worry invaded Angie’s thoughts while driving, as the landscape became more claustrophobic, with thick lines of people gathering around the shelter. This part of town, ripe with rickety fences, granted her the dismal sight of a three-legged dog. A product of owner’s abuse, the dog scavenged the dumpsters for food.

We’re going to see Sister Luvia; good. She’ll get us some good food, she always does, right mom? Lance said digging for answers.

A distant stare with lowered brow overtook Angie’s eyes. Her pride lay crushed on the floor like a heap of metal at the junkyard. Recognizing her reputation in the community now resembled a shattered mirror, she ceded for the night.

Okay Lance we’re here. Let’s see if they have room.

Angie paused as her muscles jumped under her skin while her thoughts fixated on their source of suffering, Craig. She continued to clear the snow caked side windows and again paused. Her thoughts centered on the snow and its fickle qualities. Removing her glove, she picked up a handful of snow and stared at; in an instant, it melted from her hand’s warmth.

How ironic, this snow melting before my eyes mirrors our seemingly feeble existence.

Chapter 2

Mom where will we sleep tonight a shelter or the car? Lance asked.

Unfortunately it’s a car night. I know I’m not happy about it either. Shelters only allow people to stay every other night. Angie said.

Craig failed to pay Angelina child support even though a $120,000 inheritance from his father’s passing left him capable. Legal methods had run their course as Craig now had a corrupt judge on his insurance-racket payroll. Angie knew change of venue would only happen if she could bribe the judge.

Can you drive faster mom? I have to go pee.

Hold on Lance.

Angie worked at a bakery and looked for odd jobs to help keep food on the table and the utilities on. However, since foreclosure and the auction have occurred, larger problems loomed. 

Please hurry mom I have to go to the bathroom and it's beginning to burn.

I’m doing my best. We can go in the angry mom has left. Angie said, reassuring Lance.

They bolted from the car to the door. Inserting the key into the lock, it did not turn left or right. Angie tried again, it did not open.

I don’t believe this! Come here Lance.

Angie rounded the side of her home and made haste to the back door. As she approached, she realized the former gold appearance of the doorknob and bolt lock now appeared matte silver.

Shit! That prick changed the locks!

Mom I have to go pee. Can you open the door?

Lance your dad changed the locks on us. You’ll need to urinate in the bush. I’m sorry son.

Angie repeated the word ‘no’ as if the anger imbued in it would feed her strength. Thoughts spun about in her head as she lowered herself to the snow covered wooden porch beneath her and asserted Craig a momentary victory. With a gleam in her eye, Angie managed to pull in a deep breath and became preoccupied with conquering Craig.

You vile human being, you got me this time. I promise you I’ll get you back in ways you can’t imagine.

As daylight transformed to dusk Angie’s palms began to sweat thinking about the impending snowstorm forecast for the night while staring point-blank at their sleeping accommodations; the Buick.

We’ll stay warm; she’s never failed me yet.

Thoughts danced in Angie’s mind about breaking the window to gain access however, a light wallet precluded her from this choice.  

A bit annoyed Lance asked, Mom we need to get in; do you have any ideas how we can get in the house?

I don’t know Lance your dad has changed the locks and he’s not answering my calls. Looks like we’re sleeping in the car again. Sorry son, I don’t have money for a motel.

I need my snuggle blanket. You know I don’t sleep well without it?

Angie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her chest tightened as her eyes changed dance partners between Lance and her feet.

I need my blanket. The soft blue fleece next to my cheek at night reminds me of grandma

Angies crumpled body posture spoke volumes as this blanket, made by her deceased mother, provided Lance comfort since birth.

Straightening her back and pushing up her sleeves Angie said, Well tonight I’m going to give you a new snuggle blanket. As you grow older it’s time for a new one anyway.

Can I have my new snuggle blanket mom? Lance asked.

Placing her hands on her lap Angie realized her apron from work sat tied around her waist. Pulling at the apron strings tied around her back as it unloosened Angie pulled it from around her waist and said, It right here. We’d better settle down for the night.

"Thank you mom, it’s wonderful. Lance said.

Lance immerged himself in his mother’s scent that had interwoven itself in the apron. He rubbed the soft cloth against his cheek and smiled as he released an appreciative sigh.

We’d better call it a night Lance. Tomorrow looks as busy as today and I need to figure out better arrangements for us.

Once inside the Buick again Angie wove her hands into her hair and pulled at the ends while her voice dropped. She glimpsed at the gas gauge a second time. Lance began to settle in with animated gesturing. Stretching out his legs and becoming comfortable in the car Lance began to tell Angie jokes. She chuckled, humoring him, while inside feelings of humiliation churned at their sleeping arrangements.

Goodnight Lance I will see you in the morning.

Goodnight mom.

The storm loomed overhead threatening a safe night’s passage into the next and kept Angie on edge most of the night. The thermometer showed the temperature sat at ten degrees below zero while the snow fell with fury. Angie and Lance lie there, defenseless, like bear-cubs in an exposed den.

How did you sleep baby? Angie asked struggling to swallow all remnants of the frothy film.

The stagnant air inside the old Buick resonated like acrid smog. Throat parched while trying to clear it Angelia had no choice, she swallowed the frothy mucus of the night’s slumber. With much trepidation, the gulp commenced. Looking to Lance as his red-rimmed slits began to let in a new day, pride once again took a backseat.

I slept good Mom, did you?

I did as well. Thank you my dear.

At once, her hand tried to reposition her disheveled hair. Bitterness crept in due to losing their home as strands of dead protein met her sweaty palm. Saturated with two days dandruff and oil secretions, her hair appeared grotesque and left her feeling angular. Ashamed and embarrassed she sat motionless as anger resumed its trump position. 

Looking at her smiling Lance said, Happy Birthday Mom; I love you.

Thank you honey; I love you too.

Sorry I did not get you a present.

I have what I want; you.

What force ripped the pages of my life and tossed them aside like a tattered Barbie? Life now resembles the hands of time spinning out of control leaving me directionless like a rolling soda can.

Feelings of inadequacy welled over Angie while pushing the hair across her slick forehead as she entered her insane reality. Wiping her dampened eyes, a sole thought invaded her mind, killing Craig, for the hand he dealt them.

$50,000 in child will change our lives and fails in comparison when you just inherited $120,000 and own your own business you filthy pig!

Lance, do you have to use the restroom?

Yeah mom, do you?

Yes baby. However, the library still isn’t open. 

Angie started the car and drove down the street to the library. The Farmington Hills public library did not open until 9:00 A.M., yet the night’s slumber always gave way to nature calling upon arising. Their lone alternative; go behind the building. Skid row somehow had crept in without permission. It didn’t matter if someone saw them as they lost that luxury. 

C’mon baby we’ll go back here.

Angie’s positions herself behind the dumpster, Lance on the side of it. Squatting and releasing pressure the trickling urine splashing lightly off the ground hit her ankles and reminded her when she and Craig met. Rich sultry sounds of pistons firing as Craig pulled into the lot sent chills running down her spine. The Indian appeared spit shined like a marines shoes and his first truelove. Beneath his leather jacket laid the land of milk and honey. They first met each other in junior year.

Stopping at the drinking fountain Angie’s eyes met Craig’s that gave way to a deep impassioned glance. Self-assured in his demeanor Craig said, Want to share any of that?

Craig’s line dug deep and snagged hers; hormones I suppose. His masculine scent overwhelmed her senses as she welled with intense temptation. Amid a quickened heart rate, her flirtatious side awoke from hibernation and said Maybe. 

Looking deep into her eyes his leg brushed against hers tempting a lovesick teen. Angie’s palms sweat while expecting his next move as her desire for this seductive man grew with each passing second while she examined his strong physique. The scent of his Polo cologne sent her circuits popping like fireworks on a sultry summer night. Grinning with an air of perfection about him he purred, Well now, why haven’t we met before Sunshine. 

With minimal effort, a casual nod of Craig’s head gave reason for his hair to fall on his shoulder while his shrewd sailing eyes never rested in dangerous territory. Lust overtook Angie’s senses as quick as water cascades over Niagara Falls. Her body signaled no round-trip requested.

First on the agenda Angie kept her composure and said, Glad our paths crossed Viking. 

Can we cross our paths again after school Sunshine? Craig said.

Sure

An intruder pushed his way to the drinking fountain. As the cool water hit the metallic bottom of the fountain it splashed and hit Angie’s ankles as he said, Excuse me can I get a drink?

Angie wiped and tossed the paper in the dumpster and entered back into a grim reality. She wound out the outhouse visit by taking long strides over the puddle of urine as an unexpected release of tension occurred when thoughts of Craig trailed off. 

Come on baby.

Reaching for Lance’s hand their feet moved in unison back to the old Buick.

Breaking into song Lance chanted, Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear mommy happy birthday to you.

Kissing his forehead Angie said, Thank you baby I love you.

Walking past the side of the library Angie noticed the tire swing in the park across from the courthouse. It hung there lamenting in the hostile environment as its fibers began to show wear. She empathized with the tire swing feeling as betrayed as it did withering in the harsh environment forced on it.

Thinking about Grandma? Lance asked with a smile. 

Yes dear; thinking about your guardian angel watching over you.

Opening the door to the Buick made Angie cringe. Always a curious moment filled with doubt as the handle, broken in half from top to bottom, sent her heart racing with each attempt. Like a gentle giant, Angie grasped the remaining right half and gave a slight tug. The torture of answering whether they would gain access to their home rested heavy on her mind. Then stern logic would set in and caution would prevail. Tugging on it, exhaling, with a deep sigh of relief it opened - this time. Angie let her guard down for a moment.

See mom happy birthday. Lance said with a beaming smile. 

After we eat we’re treating ourselves to a shower this morning before court. Perhaps this time we will collect the $50,000.

Fifteen minutes of dry cereal resembling volcanic rocks left both Angie and Lance pining for better days.

Lance they have opened the library. Let's go inside and get ready to go.

Taking Lance and their bag of essentials into the women’s restroom, that slight tugging sensation began in her abdomen. Her mind searched for a moist sensation. In rapid succession like firing bombs, a slight backache and heavy breasts grabbed the reigns. Cramps began to heighten in intensity as the grim reality of their lives settled in.

Shit! Please not now I have no money how can I buy tampons? 

While Lance brushed his teeth, an inquisition began in Angie’s mind. With cramps growing in intensity she said to Lance, Keep brushing while I go to the bathroom. 

Okay Mom I will.

Like a prince born into royalty, except she lacked the ability to abscond, it had arrived.

Oh God why me?

Angie would have bargained with God that morning offering her Buick in retribution if given the chance.

Limited choices leave me ill equipped. What wrongs have I done to deserve this?

Hidden behind the veil of the stall door Angie shook her head in denial. Sweat began to pour from Angie’s skin as her mind searched in angst for answers to the problem beginning to flow before her eyes.

Think Angie