The Assassin's Beginning

By C.S. Michaels

When two detectives knock on Cameron Blake’s door on an early Sunday morning, they tell him the worst news imaginable: His parents and sister have been brutally murdered. Devastated, he tries to cope with the loss of his only family, hoping the murderers will be caught. When the justice system lets him down, Cameron and his new girlfriend Jade decide to take matters in their own hands, which changes their lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.S. Michaels
• Release date: May 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370090594

Book preview

Chapter 1

The continuous pounding on the door woke me from a deep sleep.

Turning over, I looked at the clock on my nightstand and saw that it was eight thirty in the morning, which didn’t endear me to the person that was knocking on my door. Normally, eight thirty wouldn’t be so bad, but it was Sunday morning and I wanted to sleep so I wasn’t about to get out of bed no matter who was there.

Ignoring the knocking, I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, figuring the person that was knocking on my door would give up and leave, but then whoever was at the door continued pressing the doorbell over and over. Taking the pillow, I pressed it against my ears, trying to ignore the irritating sound of the doorbell.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work and I could still hear the constant ringing. Lying there, I couldn’t figure out why someone would be so persistent. Whoever was knocking on my door better have a damn good reason for disturbing my sleep.

Sitting up, I rubbed my temples, trying to soothe the aching headache that was plaguing me. The pain that emanated from my head was self-inflicted and no amount of rubbing was going to make the throbbing go away. I had been drinking all night with friends and I was now the proud recipient of a massive hangover.

Swearing to myself, I promised that I would never drink again, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep that promise for long. In fact, I would be surprised if I was able to keep that promise tonight.

Before I answered the door, I needed to find some aspirin, hoping that would ease my headache. Getting out of bed, I shuffled along the carpeted floor to the cold tile in the bathroom. Rummaging around the drawers and cabinets, I found a bottle of extra strength aspirin.

I didn’t have a glass so I just popped the pills in my mouth and swallowed them, leaving a horrible, gritty taste, which almost caused me to throw up. I quickly turned on the faucet and bent down, trying to get as much water into my mouth as possible, hoping to rid my mouth of the horrible aftertaste.

The pounding on the door continued so I yelled, I’ll be there in a second!

Looking in the mirror, I saw a man that looked tired and hung-over with puffy red eyes. I was six foot two and weighed two hundred and ten pounds with very little fat on my body thanks to playing a lot of basketball and racquetball. I was thirty-three years old so my hair was still a dark brown color, although I did find my first gray hair the other day. My eyes were a mix between blue and green and my nose was slightly bent from being broken in a basketball game when I was younger.

As I leaned on the sink with both hands, staring at myself, the banging continued so I decided I better get dressed and see who was at the door. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why they wanted me so badly.

My friends wouldn’t be pounding on the door like that. They would be calling me on my cell phone or texting me, which made me wonder if they might have already tried that and I didn’t answer. If it was an emergency and they couldn’t get a hold of me that would explain the pounding on the door.

Going over to the dresser, I picked up my phone and checked for messages. Not seeing any, I didn’t think there was an emergency from any of my friends so that made me even more curious about the banging on the door.

Seeing a pair of jeans on the floor, I put them on and threw on a shirt that was lying next to it. Rubbing my hair, I walked to my closet and got out a Kansas City Royals baseball hat and put it on.

Putting my hand in front of my face, I smelled my breath and as I suspected, it didn’t smell good. I thought about brushing my teeth, but figured I would just head downstairs and see who was at my door. If they had to smell my bad breath, then it served them right for waking me up.

Hopefully, it wasn’t a hot woman because I didn’t look or feel the best. Something told me there wasn’t a hot woman knocking on my door this early on a Sunday morning so I wasn’t going to worry about it.

I lived in a nice two-bedroom apartment in a suburb of Kansas City. The two bedrooms were upstairs and consisted of the master bedroom which had a bathroom connected to it and a second bedroom that I used as a guest room. There was also another bathroom upstairs which was perfect for any guests that stayed.

When I first moved in, I hired an interior decorator so I had modern paintings on the wall, along with other knickknacks placed throughout the apartment. I wasn’t real keen on the knickknacks, thinking it wasn’t very macho, but the interior decorator told me that it added character. I wasn’t sure about that, but it was nice to have things like that, as well as paintings on the wall. I didn’t have any of that in my old apartment. Instead, I just had the bare necessities so my new place looked much homier.

Walking down the long set of stairs, I emerged into a rather large living room. I had a big flat screen TV on the wall with a sectional leather couch against the opposite wall. The dining room, kitchen and half-bathroom completed the main floor. There was a door on the other side of the bathroom that led to a two-car garage.

Another door, across from the bathroom led to a basement, but there wasn’t much down there except a weight set, a rowing machine and an exercise bike. Other than that, the basement was basically just a big open space. I had specifically told the interior decorator not to do anything with the basement. It was a great place to go when I couldn’t get to the gym. Not only that, sometimes I just needed to be by myself and in those instances, I enjoyed working out in my basement.

I lived rather modestly compared to my annual salary. My best friend Jonathon Riley and I owned a company that sold and installed IT equipment to various customers throughout the Kansas and Missouri area. We’ve slowly grown the company to over a hundred people now and we were quite successful. We had hoped to branch out into other states, but the opportunity hadn’t presented itself yet. However, that was fine because we were the number one company in the area, selling and installing a lot of equipment in both states. In fact, we were dominating the market in those two states.

Jon was the Chief Executive Officer of the company and I was the Chief Technology Officer. He focused more on sales and I focused on the technology and engineering, but we both had equal say in important decisions that affected the company.

He and I went back a long way so we worked well with each other. We first met when we were in the Air Force and stationed at a base in Florida. Both of us had joined right after high school. I had been in Florida for approximately six months after completing boot camp and technical school before Jon was sent there. After he was stationed there, we found out we were both from the Kansas City area and hit it off quickly, becoming good friends.

We both worked in a top-secret environment, mainly fixing computers and decided we liked that field. After we got out of the service, we both moved back to the Kansas City area and went to college together then started working for a local company as engineers, installing and configuring various systems for our customers.

Several years later we started our own company with Jon performing the sales while I did the technical work.

Since I was making good money, I could have afforded a lot nicer place, but I was a simple man and I didn’t like extravagant things. I put most of my money in the bank or invested it so I would be able to retire early. As much as I liked my job, I still looked forward to the day I could retire. I knew if I was smart with my money, I could probably retire in my forties, especially if Jon and I sold the company.

Mr. Blake! a man yelled through the door then followed with some more knocking.

I’m coming! I’m coming! I yelled as I made my way through the living room.

I had to hand it to the man at the door. Whoever he was, he was nothing if not persistent. It was obvious he wasn’t going away any time soon. Not only that, but it seemed to be extremely important. Otherwise he wouldn’t keep waiting while I took my own sweet time to answer the door. Most people would have left a long time ago.

Making my way over to the front door, I opened it up to see two men standing there wearing suits. That immediately struck me as odd because I didn’t see many people wearing suits anymore, unless I had a big meeting with one of our customers.

Initially, I thought it was some religious group wanting to convert me to whatever they believed, but then I realized they had called my name so I knew that wasn’t the case. Also, they weren’t carrying bibles and they certainly didn’t look like they were part of a religious organization.

One man was in his fifties with a full head of gray hair and a bulbous nose. Wearing a brown, rumpled suit, he was a couple of inches shorter than me and had a little bit of a gut on him, but considering his age, he looked to be in relatively good shape.

The other man was roughly the same height but with a slightly larger build. He was probably ten years younger than the other man and was clearly going bald. His blue suit looked like it had just come from the cleaners and was neatly pressed.

Excuse me, are you Cameron Blake? the older man asked.

Yes, that’s me, I responded.

Hello, I’m Detective Hardy and this is my partner, Detective Sanders, the older man said as he and his partner showed me their badges.

As I checked out their badges, I immediately started getting worried. It wasn’t a good sign that two detectives were standing at my door on a Sunday morning. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong; at least I didn’t think I had done anything wrong.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember most of the previous evening because I had gotten really drunk so I started wondering if I did something that I shouldn’t have. However, the more I thought about that, I didn’t think that was the case. My friends had been with me so I assumed if I hadn’t gotten too out of hand they would have been calling me this morning. That made me wonder if there was some other kind of emergency and I started to worry that something had happened to someone I knew.

What can I do for you guys? I asked as I stood in the doorway looking at them.

We’re sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, Hardy said. May we come in?

Sure, I replied, seeing no reason not to let them in. I held the door open and stood aside, letting them both walk past me.

After they were inside, I motioned for the couch and asked, Do you guys want to sit down?

Yes, thank you, Sanders said.

I barely heard their answer as my mind raced, trying to come up with plausible scenarios of why they might be in my home. My first thought was that something had happened at the company, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be that would bring two detectives to my living room. Maybe something happened to one of our employees. If it caused two detectives to come here to visit me then I knew it was something bad.

Do you guys want something to drink? I asked, not knowing what else to say since I had never been visited by detectives before.

No thank you, Detective Hardy replied.

What’s going on? I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

They both looked at me as if they were debating on who was going to tell me why they were here. I knew I wasn’t in any kind of trouble because they would have been ordering me around if that was the case. Instead, they seemed like they didn’t want to tell me something which made me worry even more. Judging by the look on their faces, I knew it was something bad.

I’m not sure how to tell you this, Mr. Blake Hardy replied.

What is it?

Your parents and your sister have been murdered, he stated solemnly.

Chapter 2

Sitting there, I couldn’t believe what the detective had just told me. I was in a fog as I tried to process the information. My parents and my sister were the only family I had and now the detective was telling me they were dead. I just couldn’t comprehend the news.

What… What happened? I stuttered.

It appears to have been a robbery that went badly, Hardy replied.

Do you mean at their house?

Yes.

When did it happen? I asked, confused.

It happened early this morning. A neighbor was supposed to go golfing with your dad earlier this morning and noticed the front door was open. He went inside, looked around and saw what had happened then called the police. We were called shortly thereafter and went to the scene. We just came from your parent’s house.

I just can’t believe it, I said as I buried my face in my hands.

We’re very sorry Mr. Blake, Hardy replied.

Are you sure it’s my parents?

They told me their names so I could confirm that it was my parents, but they already knew. They had seen my picture throughout the house then ran my name in the system and got my address from the DMV. They assured me it was my parents and I knew they were correct. I was just having a hard time believing that something like that could happen to my family. It didn’t seem possible.

Sitting there, I tried to make sense of what I had just been told. I was hoping I would wake up and find out this was just a terrible dream, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, this was a horrible nightmare that was going to haunt me for years.

How did they die? I asked softly.

Hardy and Sanders looked at each other, looking as if they didn’t want to answer the question or hoping the other one would answer. Neither one of them spoke; which told me the answer must have been horrible.

Mr. Blake, we have some questions we would like to ask you, if that’s alright? Hardy said, clearly not wanting to tell me how they were murdered.

Do you know who did it? I asked, concerned with what happened to my parents and not about answering their questions.

We’re investigating every lead at the moment, Sanders replied.

So, you have no clue who could have done this, do you? I asked, pressing the issue as I started to get mad.

I didn’t say that.

You didn’t have to, I responded. Since you’re investigating every lead that means nobody is in custody. Isn’t that correct?

I’m not at liberty to comment on an on-going investigation.

That means no, I said, shaking my head. I just can’t believe this is happening.

Do you know if there was anything specific that a thief would target? Hardy asked.

Do you mean something really valuable?

Yes.

Thinking about that, I tried to picture everything in their house. They lived comfortably but not extravagantly. They were a typical middle class family. My dad was getting close to retirement, my mom had a part-time job that she loved and my sister was living with them while she was finishing her degree at a local college.

I can’t think of anything that a thief would specifically target, I answered. I mean, they didn’t have priceless art or jewels in their house. It was just a typical house for people that were in their early sixties.

You can’t think of anything that would lead a thief to their house? Sanders asked.

No. I assume they stole all of the electronics in the house.

A few of the items were obvious. The TVs were disconnected and taken, Hardy answered. However, we’ll need help from you to do an inventory of the house, but we’re guessing they stole their money and any jewelry they might have had, along with some electronics. That’s usually what thieves steal.

They didn’t have a lot of that stuff around the house, I responded. They probably had less than ten thousand dollars’ worth of that kind of stuff in the house.

For a thief, that kind of money is still worth breaking into a house, Sanders replied. Most of them will sell the stuff as cheaply as necessary just so they can buy their drugs and get their fix.

Do you think that’s what happened here? I asked.

It’s hard to say at this point, Hardy said with a shrug. But it’s a possibility.

If they were there to steal whatever they could get their hands on then why did they kill them? I asked.

We’re still piecing that together.

I wanted to get back to how they were killed, but I was afraid to hear the answer. I hoped they had died quickly and didn’t endure a lot of pain, but I hesitated to ask the question, not knowing if I was ready to hear the answer.

When was the last time you spoke to your parents? Hardy asked.

Um, I think it was last weekend, I replied as I thought about the last time I talked to them. Yeah, it was definitely last Sunday.

Was that on the phone?

No, I went to see them.

What did you guys do? Hardy asked.

My dad and I met for a round of golf then we went back to their house for a barbeque, I explained.

Was your sister there too?

Yes.

Did they seem scared or concerned about anything? Sanders asked.

No, everything seemed normal, I replied, shaking my head as I tried to remember that day.

Did you see them often? he asked in the past tense, reinforcing the fact that they were dead.

Yes, we always tried to get together at least once a week, usually on Sunday. In fact, I was scheduled to go over there for dinner tonight.

What do you do for a living Mr. Blake? Hardy asked, changing the subject.

My friend and I own an IT integration company, I responded.

What’s your friend’s name?

Jonathon Riley.

What’s the name of the company?

I told him the name of the company and they started asking several questions so I explained how many people we had and a quick overview of what we did. He wanted to know how long we had been in business so I told them how we had finally taken the leap to start our own business and how we had grown it to the company it was today. I had no idea what my company had to do with their investigation, but I didn’t say anything. I just sat there and answered their questions.

Where were you last night? Sanders asked, getting right to the point.

I sat there staring at them, not sure if I had just heard the detective correctly. Was he really asking me where I was last night? He just informed me my whole family was dead and now he thinks I did it. Holding back my anger, I tried to remain calm as I thought about how to respond. I didn’t want them to think I was hiding anything but I also didn’t feel like answering a question like that.

Am I a suspect? I asked.

I apologize for my partner’s insensitive question, Mr. Blake, Hardy remarked. It’s just that most murders are committed by people familiar with the victims, which is usually a family member. It’s just a standard question we always ask.

Well, I’m offended that you would even think such a thing. I loved my parents and sister dearly and while I’m trying to come to grips with the fact that they’re dead, you ask me where I was last night.

Again, we’re sorry, Hardy replied. We would just like to know.

Should I get a lawyer?

Do you need a lawyer?

I can demand that you leave, I said as I started raising my voice.

If you would prefer to have your lawyer present, that is certainly your prerogative, but then we’ll need to interview you down at the station, Hardy commented. Is that what you want?

I sat there staring at Hardy and Sanders, not sure if I wanted to answer their questions here. I thought about telling them that if they wanted to question me they would have to take me down to the station then I would get a lawyer. The only thing stopping me was that I didn’t want to sit in a jail cell or an interview room the rest of the day. If that happened, I knew they could keep me there for a day or two and I certainly didn’t feel like sitting in a jail cell that long.

There was no way I committed these murders and I couldn’t believe they were wasting their time asking me these questions. They should be out trying to capture the real murderers and not sitting here thinking I killed them.

I didn’t kill them! I said a little louder than I had intended.

Sensing my frustration, Hardy said, Think of it this way, Mr. Blake. The quicker we can rule you out as a suspect the quicker we can focus on other people. We must eliminate as many possibilities as we can, as quickly as we can, so we don’t spend precious time investigating people that we shouldn’t be investigating. This is all standard procedure to help us catch the real criminals as quickly as possible.

Knowing he was right and that they were just doing their job, I tried to temper my anger since that wasn’t going to solve anything except make them mad and make them think I had killed them. I needed to cooperate if I wanted them to eliminate me as a suspect.

I was here with my friends, Jon and Tori Riley, I answered.

What time did they leave?

I don’t remember exactly, but I would guess around two-thirty or three o’clock this morning.

What were you guys doing here until that late? Sanders asked.

Tori made tacos for dinner, I answered. After that, we paid for a fight on TV then we sat around, drinking and talking for a while.

Will they confirm what you just said?

Of course, I answered, getting mad at the way Sanders asked the question.

What is their phone number?

I told them their home phone number and then they asked for their cell phone numbers so I gave them those numbers as well. Both were writing the numbers in their notebooks, along with the other answers I was giving them.

They asked me a few more questions and I answered them as honestly as I could until they closed their notebooks, indicating they were finished with their questions. Looking at them, I wondered if they were now going to take me in or if they were just going to leave.

Thank you, Mr. Blake, Hardy said. That’s all the questions we have for now.

What happens next?

We may have some more questions for you and if we do we’ll either come by or ask you to stop by the station if you don’t mind.

That’s fine.

Again, I do apologize for the inconvenience of asking the questions at this time. I know this is a traumatic time for you and I would like you to know that we’re only trying to do our job.

It’s fine, I responded, although I wasn’t happy with the questions. I understand you need to ask these questions to find out who killed my family. I’m happy to answer any additional questions you might have.

Standing up, they both headed to the door as I followed them. I wasn’t sure if answering their questions helped convince them that I was innocent, but they didn’t ask any more questions so I figured that was a good thing. Also, they weren’t handcuffing me and taking me to the police station, so I figured they were confident that I was innocent. Either that or they didn’t feel like they had enough evidence to arrest me, but I didn’t think that was the case. I’m sure they knew I wouldn’t give them an alibi that couldn’t be corroborated.

Thank you, detectives, I said as I opened the door. Please let me know if you make any progress in finding the person that did this.

We will, Hardy replied. Again, I’m sorry for your loss Mr. Blake.

Thanks, I responded. I hope you find the assholes that did this as quickly as possible.

Ignoring my comment, they stepped outside and I shut the door before they said anything else to me. Leaning against the door, I didn’t know what to do next. The three people I loved and cared about the most in this world were gone and I suddenly felt misery and heartache like nothing I had ever felt before.

Sliding down the door until I was sitting on the floor, I once again buried my head in my hands. It was difficult for me to believe that they were actually gone. I felt lost, not knowing what I was going to do without them.

Sitting there, I silently sobbed as I thought about them, knowing I was never going to get to see them again. That was the hardest part about all of this.

I realized my life was never going to be the same again.

Chapter 3

For a while, I just wandered around the apartment, not sure what I should do. Finally, I called my friends, Jon and Tori, and they rushed over so now I was sitting at the dining room table with them as they tried to console me the best they could. While we were sitting there talking, I was already on my fourth beer, trying to drown my sorrows.

I knew drinking wasn’t going to make me feel better, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was hoping the alcohol would dull the pain, but it didn’t do anything for me. If anything, I just became more depressed so I continued to drink, knowing that I would eventually pass out and the pain would be gone, at least temporarily. Unfortunately, the pain would return once I woke up.

As I took another drink from my beer, I was thankful that Jon and Tori had come over. Jon was my age with blonde hair and a youthful look. He could easily pass for someone ten years younger than his actual age. He had blue eyes and always wore small glasses. He