The Hangman Box Set

By WL Knightly

3 Mystery books for your reading pleasure.

Silent Crime

This world is evil.

My mother used to tell me that evil only comes to those who are looking for it, and maybe she was right.

Corruption and death walk hand and hand in this town. I refuse to give in, but giving up seems to be my only option.

As a detective, I've seen enough killing for ten lifetimes, and now, leaving is the only way to keep my sanity.

I never thought that my last case while training my replacement would have a stranglehold on me personally.

It's like the Hangman is placing the noose around my neck, and the rope is only getting tighter.

Guilty Crime

With new victims in his sights, the Hangman will stop at nothing to get his revenge, even if it means dragging Detective Jake Thomas down with him.

After making it personal, Jake is even more hellbent on solving the case, even if it means delaying his early retirement.

But when his only informant skips town and Jake finds most of the truth has been buried, not only with missing case files but in his own mind, can he and Detective Jo Calloway unlock the clues they need to bring the Hangman to justice before Chief O'Connor becomes the next victim?

Hidden Crime

Now that Detective Jake Thomas knows the Hangman's true identity, he's on the path to wrapping up the case, but when a revelation about Jo's family makes waves between them, will they be able to see eye to eye and make it happen, or will the truth put obstacles in their way?

When Kyle Young comes to town with an agenda of his own, it puts him straight in the Hangman's sights. Will the Hangman's revenge plot go as planned, or will he find himself with some unhealthy competition?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BrixBaxter Publishing
• Release date: Dec 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393562481

Book preview

Description

Silent Crime

The pension is earned, and it’s time to retire.

Time to leave the darkness behind and make bribery and corruption a part of the past.

No more trying like hell to keep his nose clean.

Detective Jake Thomas is done.

Or is he?

Moments before he walks out, his chief assigns him one last job.

Just a simple assignment to show his replacement the ropes.

But it’s never that easy.

When one of the city’s prosecutors is brutally killed, followed by the murder of a crooked cop, Jake and the rookie discover a new serial killer is on the rise.

It’s up to them to find the bastard before someone else ends up playing the Hangman’s deadly game.

And the evidence is stacking up—one letter at a time.

Chapter 1

Jake

During a sleepless night, Jake stared at the popcorn ceiling above him and thought about all of the shit happening in the world. As if to solidify every opinion he had, his phone rang, reminding him that he was right in the middle of it. He rose up and leaned across the woman beside him, their skin peeling apart like it had been glued together with sweat as he grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table. But he didn’t answer it right away. He laid back against his pillow, putting a little space between them so he could cool off.

Jake saw no need to hurry for bad news. It couldn’t be anything else. No one called in the middle of the night with good news. No, good news waited until morning.

He had already spent the past the four hours in bed. Two of those were spent fucking the blonde beside him, while the other had been spent trying to clear his head from the pallid stares of death. Those still, lifeless eyes haunted him.

It wasn’t as if he could really do anything to stop the evils in the world. Nothing was going to change because of him. Jake had once thought he was really going to make a difference as a cop, but with each dead-eyed stare, it became clear that it was an impossible task.

Are you going to answer that? asked the sleepy voice beside him. At least make it stop ringing.

He could silence it, but he didn’t. He took a deep breath and looked at her. She was no one to him. Just a piece of tail he’d picked up at a bar. But even though she meant nothing to him, she meant something to someone, somewhere. And he’d sworn to protect everyone.

Jake tapped the screen of the phone and brought it to his ear. Detective Thomas, he said, not bothering to look at the ID first. He had a pretty good idea it was his boss calling with more fuel for his sleepless nights.

Thomas, there’s been another homicide. I need you to see this. Chief O’Connor’s voice was gruff, the kind of voice you’d expect to deliver bad news and not lullabies. He had been with the force for a few years and had transferred to Spokane from New York after the last chief retired, even though he wasn’t too far from making his own exit.

I’ll be right in. He hung up the phone and placed it on his chest, not wanting to move.

You’re a detective? asked the girl.

Yeah, and you have to leave. I have to go in.

She rolled over and rested on her elbow. What kind of detective are you?

The kind who detects things, he said, getting up from the bed. He didn’t have time to tell her all about himself, especially since he never planned to see her again.

You’re funny. She moved to the edge of the bed, still naked, her breasts bouncing as she got to her feet. She had an amazing body, but he’d already fucked things up by forgetting her name.

He wanted to tell her that he was anything but funny, that he’d first have to be humored to be funny and that there was nothing humorous about getting called out of bed in the middle of the night to witness the atrocities that one human being had done to another. Instead, he pulled on his jeans and a white tee from his top drawer. As long as he threw on his blazer, he’d look like a professional, or at least enough like one to those who cared.

By the time he looked up, she had put on the dress he’d picked her up in, a tight red number that showed just the right amount of her ample cleavage and long legs that were perfect for wrapping around his waist.

Are you going to call me? she asked.

Sure, I’ll see you at Blue’s sometime. It wasn’t a promise, but it made her smile.

Okay, Detective Jake. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and while it was nice, he had no interest in any form of romance. Bye. With that, she walked out ahead of him, and he let her get ahead while he checked for his keys, his gun, and his badge. Jake had everything he needed.

After listening in on the radio for the location, which was deep in the woods about half an hour away, he finally reached a brick house where cop cars from the neighboring county had already grouped like a clusterfuck on the street and driveway.

Pulling behind the other squad cars, he parked his ’67 Camaro. The car looked a lot nicer in the flashing blue and red lights that made the flat black and primer paint job almost appear cohesive.

Sir, I’ll need you to wait out here, said one of the uniformed officers.

Jake held up his badge and kept walking past him. He went right in the front door to find a crowd of officers and the forensics team already hard at work collecting evidence.

As he waited for them to take their photographs, he looked around the house. A box of toys sat in the living room near the sofa, and behind him was a photo of a little boy with fat, apple cheeks and a cheesy grin. The victim, who was still kicked back in what had to be his favorite chair, was the kid’s father. Jake let out a sigh.

He’s divorced, and the kid lives with his mother, said a voice beside him. He turned, and the officer shook his head. Doesn’t make it any less a shame, does it?

Any idea what happened here? My chief didn’t offer any details. Jake could tell right away that the crime was out of his jurisdiction, and that was why he didn’t recognize too many of the officers around him.

Most likely homicide, but they tried really hard to make it look like a suicide.

Chief Harrison from the next county walked in with a smug look. Detective Thomas. I thought that was your car I saw out there.

Yeah, she’s a beauty, isn’t she? I haven’t decided what color to paint her. Jake knew the chief was about to kick him to the curb, and he didn’t waste any time.

Well, perhaps you can go home and think about that. This is a Stevens County matter. Tell O’Connor we don’t need any help up here.

Suit yourself. I’m just here because the chief asked me to be. Even though he thought it was a waste of time.

Well, we have it under control. Harrison hiked up his pants and took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his brow.

Good to know. You boys enjoy yourselves. He was content to leave the carcass for the hungry. He’d had his fill for way too many years, and since he’d just qualified for his pension, he was going to retire early and try to find something that didn’t keep him up at night.

As he walked out the door, Chief Harrison had to get in one more dig. I hope that pile you’re driving gets decent gas mileage.

Instead of responding, Jake waved a hand at them and fought hard not to put up his middle finger, which would no doubt land him in a cell somewhere in Stevens County.

Jake made the drive back to Spokane and took a detour for breakfast at Speed’s, his favorite mom and pop diner on the edge of the town. Then he went to the station and found Chief O’Connor had already made it to work. And he didn’t miss Jake walking past his door.

Jake? he called to him as he passed.

Jake huffed, knowing O’Connor wouldn’t be happy to see him back and because he didn’t want the lecture he was about to receive. Jake stopped in his tracks and took two steps back to stick his head in the door. Yeah?

How’d it go? You’re back a little earlier than I expected.

Yeah, Chief Harrison sends his regards, but he said they had it under control.

So, you left? Boy, you really do give up easily, don’t you?

It was their jurisdiction, and you knew that when you sent me out. He’d been busting Jake’s balls since he’d put in his notice four days ago.

They don’t have a detective, so I thought that you might want to help them out.

Jake walked inside the chief’s office and shut the door, hoping things weren’t about to get ugly between them. As if I don’t have enough killing around here to keep me busy? The crime rate had exploded over the past year, and with the drugs, robberies, and other dirty dealings, he had his hands full.

Chief O’Connor held up his hands as if to diffuse some of the growing tension between them. I just can’t believe you aren’t interested.

That’s because you really don’t know me, Chief. In the past few years since they’d met, the chief had never gotten to understand Jake fully. It didn’t bother Jake since he had one foot out the door already.

You’re wrong, the chief said, folding his hands on his desk. I do get where you’re coming from, but I’m trying to light a fire under you. You need something that will revive your spark. You need to do something that will remind you why you got into this line of work to begin with.

With the corruption around here, I’m not sure anything can do that. I’m sick of it. Jake didn’t have to go into how much corruption there was in the town and with the town politics. O’Connor had learned enough in his few years as chief to know how rotten the system was.

A man could get a slap on the wrist for killing mothers and their babies, and people could be caught red-handed and let go because of who they would support in the next election. There didn’t seem like there was much hope.

Jake shook his head. Stop trying to light a candle without a wick. I’d be out of here next week if I could swing it, and as soon as you find a replacement, I’m gone. Nothing is going to change my mind.

Well, not so fast. I happen to have a job for you before I let you burn out and fade away. He picked up his office phone. Meg, could you send Officer Calloway on down, please?

What’s this? Who is Officer Calloway?

You’ll see. The chief kicked back in his chair, his bald head shining like a freshly waxed floor.

All of a sudden, there was a thud against the door. Jake reached over and opened it to find a wide-eyed blonde, whose spring green eyes were as sunny as her smile. Sorry, she said. I fell into the door. She closed her eyes and gave him an apologetic look. Scratch that. I mean I’m here to see Chief O’Connor. He called me down.

Jake’s first impression was that this little lady couldn’t be his replacement. She looked better built for being a Sunday school teacher in her flowy yellow top and heels, or perhaps someone’s trophy wife, but a cop? He gave her a hard look, staring through her, which made her smile fade. At least until O’Connor called out from behind his desk, Officer Calloway, please come in.

Jake stepped aside and held the door so she wouldn’t trip over it again, but inside, all he could think was that his chief had to be kidding.

Being replaced by a bubble-headed blonde didn’t make him feel any more vital to the department, and he had a feeling O’Connor was trying to scare him into staying. But what did he care if the future of his position was left to her?

Jo, I’d like you to meet Jake Thomas. He’s going to help you get your feet wet around here, but don’t get too used to his sunny disposition. The chief’s voice dripped with enough sarcasm to almost be offensive. He’s the man you’ll be replacing.

Hello, Jake, she said, holding out her hand. It’s so nice to meet you. She cracked her gum, and the Chief and Jake exchanged a look as he reached out and took her soft hand.

Fucking great.

Chapter 2

Jake

Even though he had already had his fill of early morning breakfast, he couldn’t get enough of the coffee at Speed’s. Their rich, dark brew had given him the energy he had needed to function on a daily basis for as long as he could remember. So as he drove that way, Jo wrung her hands together in his passenger seat.

Are you taking me to check out a case? she asked, cracking her gum for the fiftieth time.

Are you going to spit that out, or am I going to have to go into your mouth and get it? He gave her a hard look.

She rolled down her window and reached into her mouth to lose the gum. Sorry. I crack my gum when I’m nervous. She sat up straighter in her seat. You know, you’re a little intimidating with the whole dark eyes and bedroom look.

Bedroom look? What the fuck is that?

Your eyes. They’re dark and deep set. You’ve never heard of bedroom eyes? Your constantly furrowed brow makes you seem a bit moody, though. Unapproachable.

"Makes me seem? Trust me, sweetheart. It’s not an illusion. It doesn’t get better than this. I appear moody because I am. Unapproachable? Check. I’m used to riding alone, and I like my peace and quiet."

As if she didn’t get the hint, she reached up and ran her hand across the dash. This could be a beautiful car with a little work. My friend’s dad used to have one of these. He had just gotten it finished, and someone t-boned him and totaled it.

Thankfully for Jake, they arrived at the diner a minute later, and after getting out of the car, not waiting for Jo, he grabbed one of the local auto-traders as he walked inside.

Are you going to sell your car? she asked, catching up to him.

No, he answered with a blunt tone as he led her to his favorite booth. Before he could sit, Ruth Anne, the owner’s daughter, came over with his usual cup of black coffee.

I see you’ve got a passenger today, she said. Is this your new girl, or—

Trainee, Jake said before Ruth Anne could embarrass them both. She’s taking over my spot so I can quit.

Jo stuck her hand out. I’m Officer Jo Calloway.

Pleased to meet you, said Ruth Anne, shaking her hand. Jake is one of our best customers.

That’s because it’s usually a quiet place to read my auto trader and forget about the ugly world around me.

Isn’t he a joy? whispered Ruth Anne, earning a giggle from Jo. May I get you something? Coffee, tea, a nice big slice of apple pie?

The two were seriously interrupting his quiet time, and he couldn’t wait until the next two weeks were up and he didn’t have to deal with Ms. Sunshine anymore.

Oh, pie sounds nice. Jo turned to him. Have you had the pie before?

He gave her a blank stare, and she pulled her lips in tight as if she finally realized how annoying she’d been. Sorry. Yes, I’ll take a slice with a cup of coffee, please. Sugar and cream.

A la mode? asked Ruth Anne.

No thanks. Ice cream gives me a headache. As Ruth Anne walked away, Jo drummed her hands on the table until he cleared his throat.

Speaking of headaches, do you have to be making noise at all times? So far, it had been clicking gum and chatter, and now he could add drumming on tables to the list of her annoying habits.

She stopped. I never noticed, but I guess I do. I just have a lot of energy, and I’m excited. I’ve worked hard to be here, and well, I know a lot of the other officers think I’m only here because of my dad and that I’m just a dumb blonde, but I love my work, and this is a huge opportunity for me.

Who is your dad? He only asked because it seemed that she wanted him to, and he imagined he was one of the hot-shot attorneys or business owners of the community. Was it time for her to do some posturing to try and impress him?

But then she clammed up, bringing her shoulders up next to her ears. You know what? Never mind I said that. You probably don’t know him anyway. She quickly turned her attention to Ruth Anne, who brought the coffee. Thank you. Jo smiled before taking a sip.

He didn’t really give a shit about who her father was. All he wanted was for her to shut her pie hole, and when her slice was placed in front of her two seconds later, she wasted no time digging in. Thank God.

But before she could finish her next bite, Jake’s phone rang. He looked down to see the boss was calling yet again. He answered. Please tell me you’re not sending me to Stevens County again. Jake didn’t think he could survive the drive with Jo Chatter Box in the seat beside him.

No, said O’Connor. This is local. Too close for comfort, actually, and it just got called in. Tune into dispatch for the rest, but get there fast. The line went dead, and Jake got to his feet. Come on. It’s go time.

She crammed the last bite of pie into her mouth and quickly washed it down with the rest of her coffee. I’m ready. She went toward the counter, but Jake grabbed her arm.

Put it on the tab, Ruth Anne!

As they walked out the door, the waitress called out. Sure thing, Jake.

Driving across town, he put his foot on the gas, showing Jo everything that his car was made of. As he finally arrived at their destination, he turned into a high-end neighborhood on the edge of the woods to find a house that looked like it belonged on a cracker box somewhere. The fancy cottage-style home was lit up enough to appreciate the beautiful landscaping and the cobblestone drive that led to the crime scene.

He pulled over to the side of the road, not wanting to get blocked in.

I love this house, said Jo. It looks like something out of a fairy tale.

Yeah, well, let’s hope the inside doesn’t look like a horror movie. He got out of the car, and she followed, trying hard to keep on his heels.

One of Jake’s fellow officers and friends, Sam Finch, met him at the door. It’s bad in there. I’ve never seen anything like it. Some sick fuck did this.

Jake didn’t like the sound of that. A huge case might mean he’d have to stick around a lot longer. Has forensics made it in?

No. We’re first on. I told the chief to get you here faster with a little head start. They’re probably on their way though.

Who called it in? Jake asked, stepping around him.

Sam took a deep breath like he didn’t want to go back inside the house. Anonymous call. But that’s not the strangest thing. Wait until you see. He turned to Jo and raised his hand, putting it on her shoulder. Hold up, ma’am. I’m afraid you’ll want to stay out here. It’s a bloodbath in there.

Jo turned her eyes to his hand and then lifted her chin. For a moment, Jake thought she was about to put Sam in his place. I appreciate your chivalry, but I’m Officer Jo Calloway, she said, holding out her hand. I’ll soon be replacing Detective Thomas here, so please excuse me.

My apologies, said Sam, stepping aside. He gave Jake a scolding look. Replacing? You mean you’re leaving the department? Are you moving?

He may have forgotten to tell a few of his friends that he wasn’t going to be on the force anymore. I can’t talk about it now, Sam. I’ve got to go to work. He hurried into the house and stopped dead in his tracks as he looked over to the victim, who still dangled by his neck from one of the thick, wooden beams of his ceiling. There was blood everywhere, and the poor bastard had been stabbed multiple times. Holy fuck.

Sam came in behind Jake. I told you it was a sight.

Jake turned around to see Jo looking at the wall next to the man, and Jake’s eyes followed, seeing the wild display which looked like some kind of crazy art.

What the hell is this? She shook her head. "I mean, I know what it is, but I can’t believe I’m seeing it."

Hangman, said Sam. The man’s dog is also dead by the backdoor. I think that’s where the asshole got in.

While Jo gave a sympathetic moan about the dog, Jake had other things on his mind. What’s hangman? He had never heard of it before, and apparently, he was in the minority.

Don’t tell me you never played it. Jo looked at him like he had just told her he’d never eaten breakfast cereal. It’s a popular game. Like tic-tac-toe, you don’t need anything but a pencil and paper.

In this case, blood and a blank wall, said Jake. Consider me a fast learner.

Jo walked over to the wall, carefully minding any drops of blood on the floor. You see, you start off the game with a word. And you make a blank for each letter of that word, and then the opponent guesses. This one was a long one. He didn’t stand a chance.

In this case, the victim guesses, he said, still following along. This is just like Wheel of Fortune.

Her eyes lit with surprise. Right. But every time you guess wrong, you draw another piece of the little man. First, the head. She pointed to the circle drawn in blood as if she were a teacher standing in front of a chalkboard. Then the long line of the body, and then each arm, and each leg until you are hanged. Game over.

So, you have six chances. Again, Jake wasn’t asking, but Jo seemed pleased that she knew something he didn’t or, at least, something he hadn’t Googled yet.

Right! she said, seeming pleased. "You are a quick learner. Jake wasn’t sure, but he detected a hint of sarcasm for the first time from Jo. So now, we just have to figure out the word. I’m sure it’s a clue of some kind."

Yeah, I’m sure. Jake wasn’t as impressed as everyone else that the killer had so much fun with the man’s death that he’d made it into a fucking game. Let’s start getting some of our own photos, and we’ll figure it out when this poor bastard isn’t hanging from the ceiling. He had yet to see the man’s face, who was turned toward the opposite wall.

When he walked around to get a look at him, he found that one of his eyes had popped out. It dangled by a piece of meaty flesh. What the fuck? That wasn’t helping with the identification. He had to look around the room and finally found the man’s wallet sitting on the table next to a photograph of him and his dog on a much happier occasion.

The man’s winning smile and perfectly combed hero hair gave him away. I know you, Jake said to the framed photograph before opening the wallet. His face was one Jake had seen at the station multiple times a week. Elliot Gaines.

Elliot Gaines, said Sam, who looked like he couldn’t believe it.

More like Elliot Loses, said another officer, a rookie who had been hanging out in the kitchen. I think he shit his pants.

Jake didn’t like anyone making a mockery of the dead. This isn’t a joke. Have a little respect. He stared at the young officer who was immediately apologetic.

Sam shook his head. Damn, the house was listed under Marvin Drake. I just assumed it was him.

It’s an honest mistake, said Jo.

Yeah, that’s probably a landlord, relative, or lover, said Jake. Who knows?

Lover? asked the rookie. Are you saying he’s gay?

For fuck’s sake. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying we don’t know who this Marvin person is. But just because there’s a dead man in a house, it doesn’t have to be the homeowner. It’s best not to assume.

The young officer shrank a little and then walked outside as Jo and Sam exchanged a look that Jake didn’t miss. They thought he was being too serious, and maybe they were right, but he was sick to death of all the killing. No one took the value of life seriously anymore.

You know him? asked Jo. She had her phone out, snapping photos of the wall.

He’s a prosecutor. Jake turned his attention back to the photograph. Man, what the hell happened to you?

Chapter 3

Elliot

Elliot glanced in his rearview mirror and brushed his fingers through his hair, causing his dried hair gel to loosen up a bit. He had spent hours getting it right for the public eye, but since he was on his way home, it was time to cut the hero act and relax a bit.

With no family waiting at home anymore, he couldn’t wait to curl up with his dog and a nice glass of bourbon. He’d kick back in his favorite chair and then turn on another episode of Ru Paul’s Drag Race. Something totally fascinated him about the show, even though he could never quite understand the infatuation some men had with dressing like women.

He’d never been the least bit interested in his ex’s clothes, and he guessed that was a good thing since their relationship had turned so ugly in the end. They didn’t need anything else to fight about. He should have known it was doomed from the start, with him unable to share his tastes with her.

His dog had never judged him for bringing the occasional man home for a little experimental fun. Not that he was gay. No, he’d never call himself that or be seen in public with another man for more than a game of golf or to have a beer and talk about sports. It gave him a certain amount of pleasure to keep his dirty little secret all to himself.

He drove his Benz across town to the quiet neighborhood that he’d only moved into months before. It had taken him a year to secure it after his ex had taken him to the cleaners, but it had been worth the wait. Thankfully, Marvin Drake, one of his grandfather’s best friends had passed away, and the place had become available through the man’s grandson, Lonnie Drake, who had inherited everything. He’d also been one of Elliot’s first fans, the younger man having a crush on him since they were kids together.

He’d had to christen a few rooms with him, but as long as he topped, he was good with it. One warm, wet hole was as good as the next to him. And he could always close his eyes and pretend, especially if it gave him a chance to live in one of the better neighborhoods in the city.

Pulling into the drive, he hit the button on his garage door opener. He pulled in, stopping when the tennis ball he’d hung hit his windshield, and he turned off the car.

Usually, his dog was already scratching at the door and eager for him to open it, but not today. He hoped the little shit hadn’t eaten another pair of his shoes, and as he unlocked the door, he tried to remember if he’d closed his bedroom door that morning.

Hijinks? he called to the golden retriever who had been his best friend and closest companion for the past four years. He’d been with him through his marriage, the birth of his son, and the divorce. Jinks, if you’re up to no good, I swear you’re a goner. And if you eat my Gucci loafers, I’m having your teeth pulled. He had named the little mongrel Hijinks because he’d earned it as a pup, but lately, he had grown into a fine dog, friendly and loyal. Which was more than he could say about most other people he knew.

He pushed the door open and walked inside, looking across the kitchen bar to the living room. Jinks? He listened for the animal but heard nothing.

The house felt empty and odd, like something was out of place. Elliot got a bad feeling that something had happened to his four-legged friend. He stepped around the kitchen counter and then turned to go down the hall to the back door. That was where he saw him, lying lifeless on the floor in a puddle of blood, his golden hair orange from the stain.

Elliot screamed. He started for the dog but stopped in his tracks, not knowing if whoever had done it was still in the house or not. He put his hand over his mouth, and while every nerve in his body screamed for him to get out of the house, he turned and ran right into a tall, dark figure who hit him in the neck.

He stumbled back to see a hypodermic needle in the man’s hand, and he fell on the floor, landing just inches away from Jinks.

Sometime later, Elliot came to, his head not only spinning but throbbing with pain. He opened his eyes, unable to focus, but seeing a tall, menacing figure blocking the light from the front window. Help me, he said as he opened his eyes and found himself sitting in a chair, his shirt gone.

Suddenly, the person forced a rope around his neck. On your feet. Stand on the chair. The voice was deep and commanding.

What? I’m dizzy. Take my money, my car. It’s yours. His weak voice was scratchy, and his neck felt like it was still on fire from whatever had been injected there. He opened his eyes and tried to focus, seeing a man dressed all in black with heavy black work boots and a black hood obscuring his face.

Stand. On. The. Chair. The mystery man couldn’t be any clearer about his wishes.

Elliot wondered if this was some kind of revenge thing. Had someone heard about his lifestyle, how he used the men and blackmailed them to get the things he wanted? Or maybe it was about his work, how he’d taken bribes to misrepresent cases, and done dirty dealings to get his guilty clients less jail time. Whatever had gotten him ahead had been his focus in life, but that didn’t make him unlike others, did it? Everyone was out for themselves in this dog-eat-dog world.

I’ve got a lot of money, he said. I can pay you, fuck you, whatever you want. He wondered if it was some kind of sick game that Lonnie wanted to play. They’d talked about some of their darker fantasies, and Lonnie had always wanted to be tied up and forced. While Elliot didn’t share the same interests, he hadn’t judged the man based on his preferences. As long as Lonnie agreed to keep his secrets, he’d keep Lonnie’s.

Suddenly, the rope tightened, and the man came over and snatched Elliot from the chair, manhandling him like he was nothing but a ragdoll. After some force, he found himself getting pulled up onto the chair.

Okay, okay, he said as the rope bit into his skin. On shaky legs, he stood on the chair. Please. Please let me go.

The man tightened the slack in the rope. Oh, you’re not going free. But if you play along, I might give you a quick death like your little Jinks out there. Refuse to play, and I’m going to make it slow and painful.

You’re crazy.

Let’s get started. The man held up a knife and sliced it quickly across Elliot’s chest. As the blood trickled, his attacker reached up and dug his gloved hand into the wound. Elliot screamed out.

The man walked over to the nearest wall, where Elliot had meant to hang his grandmother’s cuckoo clock. He brought his bloody fingers to the wall and drew a long vertical line, which he then made into an upside-down T by adding a base, but more like a reversed 1 as he added another line to the top.

Elliot shivered, not knowing what kind of sick joke this was or what the game was, but it looked familiar. As the hooded man stepped over to take more blood and quietly drew lines on the wall, Elliot knew what kind of game the man wanted to play.

Hangman, he whispered, thinking how he had always been good at that game. The man glanced over his shoulder as if Elliot had spoken his name, and suddenly, his hood made sense. He was the executioner, the hangman.

He turned back to his task, but as Hangman continued making dash after dash—soon ten, then more—Elliot couldn’t help but worry that he’d never make it out of this alive, and he imagined all the horrible things the man would do to him if he didn’t guess things right.

After the man had seventeen lines, he turned to Elliot. Now, you’re going to give me a letter. And if you’re right, I mark it down, and if you’re wrong, I stab you.

E, said Elliot, confident that the letter E was bound to be in a large word.

Good for you. Hangman dug into the wound on his chest and then turned to mark three Es on the wall.

Elliot realized, right or wrong, it was going to hurt. C, he said, not really trying. It was no use. The man wasn’t going to let him go. The faster he got this over with, the better.

Hangman shook his head and clicked his tongue. Then without a word, he reached out and stuck the knife into Elliot’s arm. He gathered the fresh blood and drew a circle for the figure’s head.

Elliot’s piercing scream rattled his own ears, and his throat felt like it was on fire. B, he screamed, desperate to be put out of his misery. But the man shook his head again, stabbing him in the shoulder.

You’re not even trying, the Hangman taunted as he drew a line down from the circle.

I’m not playing your fucking game anymore, Hangman, said Elliot. He was not about to go out like a little bitch, letting the Hangman have his fun with him. Kill me now, you fucker. Whatever I did to you, you deserved it. He thought of his son and how he’d never see the child grow up. There was a time when that sounded best for the child, but all he wanted was to see his face again. He couldn’t focus.

Pick another letter, said the Hangman. Before your next wound isn’t so superficial.

S, Elliot hissed out the letter. He hated the man. He hoped that whatever happened, he’d be caught and locked away until he rotted.

See how easy it is just to play along? Look at the word. You know it well.

Elliot could only focus on the pain as the Hangman dug his fingers into his wounds, soaking them in blood to write the letter in the space. Elliot’s vision clouded with the sweat that dripped down into his eyes. He rattled off another letter, L.

The man struck out, hitting him in the gut, and the pain was so terrible that Elliot couldn’t take it anymore. He sagged against the rope, his face turning red from the pressure. The Hangman drew another line on the figure.

G, Elliot said. Maybe the long word ended with ING. Not that he really gave a fuck at this point. He was just calling letters out as he grew weaker from blood loss. But he tried to stay on his feet. Thankfully, the chair was on solid, level ground, and it did not wobble beneath him. But then, just as quickly as he’d yelled out the next letter, the Hangman struck him again, this time aiming for his ribs.

Elliot felt the knife as it sliced against his bones, and he fought hard not to pass out. The knife hadn’t gone nearly as deep as he thought it had, or at least, that was what he told himself. He didn’t want to look. The figure on the wall now had a head, body, and two arms.

Elliot fought hard to speak. D. As in dead. He hoped the next stick killed him, but when it came, it came just as quick and hard, hitting him in the other shoulder, rendering yet another arm useless.

The Hangman gathered more blood and drew his line. He waited for another letter, and Elliot knew he only had one line left. He was done playing his fucking game. He had one more thing to say to the asshole, and then he was going to jump from the chair and end his misery. If he was going out, it would be on his terms. He looked up at the man. You—

Hangman kicked the chair from under him, and Elliot’s thoughts went from what he’d been trying to say to the fact that he hadn’t meant to call out the letter U. The pressure in his face became too much as suddenly with a pop, he turned off like a machine.

Chapter 4

Jake

After a long day of collecting evidence, Jake couldn’t wait to get back to the office so he could ditch Jo and go home for the day. He didn’t really have anything to do but sit in his chair and veg out in front of the tv, but that was better than sitting at the station and thinking about One-Eyed Elliot dangling from his rafters.

He didn’t want any part of the case, and first, he had to tell O’Connor to pass it on. Considering the ritualistic nature of the murder, Jake was sure they were dealing with a serial killer. Jo wasn’t ready for something as complex as that. Hell, he still wondered what someone like her, with her tulip-yellow blouse and skinny jeans, was doing becoming a detective. She should be out somewhere shopping or having a spa day, not looking at dangling eyeballs or taking photos of bloodstained walls.

She followed along, nipping at his heels like a yapping dog. Isn’t this an exciting case? she asked as they walked into the station.

Jake beelined for the chief’s office, ignoring her enthusiasm. When he got to the door and knocked, O’Connor opened the door. Well? Was it as bad as I heard it was?

Yeah, probably worse. The Assistant District Attorney, Elliot Gaines, is the victim. I’m guessing it was a revenge scheme. And I don’t think this is a one-off. We’re talking serial-killer levels of fucked up.

Wow, one last hoorah. Good for you. O’Connor nodded and looked at Jo. How did you do?

I did fine. I have some photos on my phone if you want to take a look. Jo took out her phone and began looking for the photographs.

Good work, and yes, let’s see them. He took the phone when she finally offered it.

Damn, they weren’t lying. I would have joined you at the scene, but I’ve been talking to the mayor. He’s got his nose out of joint about reelections. He looked at the photos in disgust. What’s that? A game of Hangman?

Does everyone know that game but me? Jake asked.

It’s a classic. I used to play it with my wife. We turned it into a bedroom game. The chief smiled, and his cheeks reddened.

Spare me the details, boss. The last thing Jake needed was another gruesome image in his mind.

Aw, said Jo with a sappy look on her face. That’s so romantic. Unfortunately, our killer didn’t have romance on his mind. We’re certain that the game was designed for the victim to fail. This word was seventeen letters long, and the victim was playing the game under duress.

Seventeen letters are hard enough when you’re not about to die. O’Connor shook his head. This one is a real sicko.

Yeah, he also killed the man’s dog. Most likely when he broke in, of course.

Of course, said O’Connor, who looked up and gave her a long look. You seem quite comfortable, Officer Calloway.

Jake could already see where this was headed. Yeah, look, I don’t really want any part of this case, and I don’t think that Peaches here is ready for anything this in-depth.

Chief O’Connor swiped through the last of the photos. I don’t know about that. She looks like she’s doing well to me.

I don’t want to get too caught up in a stretched-out investigation, and I’d bet my pension this is a serial killer. If he keeps this up with his little games, I’m sure we’ll see a shit ton of evidence piling up. No thanks.

Then, let’s catch him before he has a chance to do this again, said Jo.

Jake rolled his eyes. I’m glad you’re feeling optimistic, sweetheart, but I don’t think you’re ready.

Jo stepped up, craning her neck to make herself as tall as possible. Let’s get a few things straight, hard ass. First, I’m not your fucking sweetheart, and second, I want this case.

Jake was taken aback by her persistence and ability to put him in his place. He certainly didn’t think she had it in her. And he didn’t miss the big smile on O’Connor’s face either. Sir, he said to the man before he did something stupid like give Jo the case. I’m against it.

Too bad, he said. It’s hers, and you’re on it too until you leave or change your mind about leaving. You’re a good detective, Jake. I need you.

I’m not going to change my mind. He knew O’Connor had his reasons, and the sly bastard wasn’t going to get his way.

Consider this your last job then, but you’re in it, like it or not. He looked over at Jo. Keep up the good work. Now, the two of you, get out of my office. And close the door behind you.

Jake figured the old man was ready for his afternoon naptime, and he didn’t have to be told twice to leave. As Jake stormed out and Jo pulled the door to behind her, he mumbled under his breath. Asshole. He hurried down the hallway, not realizing until he hit the front door that Jo was still following him.

Hey, where are you going? she asked with a scolding voice.

Home, said Jake. You should too. He imagined she lived in a fancy apartment somewhere. A nice big place with matching everything that her daddy had bought for her.

She shook her head. But I don’t want to go home. We still have a few hours of the day left. You can’t just leave early. We have a lot of work to do. I want to go over those pictures and find out what the word on the wall is.

That will have to wait until tomorrow. What are you in such a hurry for anyway? Go have your nails done, sip a bottle of wine, and celebrate you first big case. It will be here waiting tomorrow.

Her eyes narrowed. You know, I admit I might be a little awkward, but I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for.

Yeah, you look tough in those skinny jeans and heels. A strong wind could knock you over, Cupcake.

Whatever. I wore a blazer this morning, but I spilled my coffee on it.

Yeah, I didn’t miss your lack of grace falling into the door this morning. Is that your middle name? Grace?

So what if it is? She looked away, her anger growing. It’s a family name.

Do yourself a favor, Jo Grace, and wear flats. Unless you want to keep wearing those ‘fuck-me’ pumps. I’m sure you’ll win everyone’s respect in those. He turned and nearly ran into a man as he walked into the station, and after holding the door for him, Jake hurried out to his car.

All he wanted was to get away and clear his head, maybe have a beer and relax. The two weeks were not going to pass quickly enough, but with any luck, this woman wasn’t going to steal his sanity by then.

You know, she said, following him out.

He turned and sighed, throwing up a hand like he could give up. Jesus, do you ever take a hint?

Jo persisted. I had hoped that you’d at least be different. But I guess you’re just like all the other insecure men around here.

Insecure? He was not insecure, and she was way off. She didn’t know fuck all about him, and now, who was the one making assumptions?

Yeah, insecure in your masculinity. You think that by belittling me, it will take the attention off of your own flaws and failures.

Jake laughed. I don’t have any flaws, and if you want to check into my record, you’ll see I’ve been doing a good job.

Yeah, you always get your man, don’t you? I’ve read more about you than you think. But that’s not what I’m talking about. You’re a quitter. That’s your problem.

Jake resented her coming in like she knew everything about him and what his life as a detective had been like. Once she had a taste of what it was really like, she was going to have hard days too. You’re way off base, Jo. I’m not quitting because I’m giving up on a dream. I’ve just done all I want with this job, and now I’m moving on to bigger, better, less repulsive things. Tell me, did you like the smell of blood and shit back at Elliot’s house? Because I can think of a thousand ways that I’d rather spend the rest of my goddamned life. He walked up to his car, and she followed him all the way to the door.

Well, let’s hope that you never need help. A stubborn ass like you probably wouldn’t take it.

There were so many other things he wished to say to her, but it was all going to make the next two weeks even harder on the two of them. On that note, Jake said, opening his door. Have fun starting the case without me.

I will. And I’ll finish it without you.

You’d get yourself killed. The sad fact remained that he had two weeks to solve the stupid case so she didn’t. Besides, he wasn’t about to leave a case for her to finish and take all of the credit.

No, I’ll solve it, she said. Because there’s a lot more to me than you think, and you aren’t the first man to tell me I can’t. I proved him wrong too, in case you were wondering.

Look, princess. You’ve already made it clear that you have daddy issues. I get it; you want to prove to him and everyone that you’re not just another dumb blonde. But you should really stop fooling yourself before you go and do something stupid. Oh, wait, you already did that when you took this case.

My father had little to do with my life and my choices. And I earned my job and worked damned hard for it. I don’t have to do anything but my best, and I’m not letting you or any of the other good old boys in the office stop me.

She turned and stormed away, and he couldn’t help but watch her go. Until she stopped wearing those tight-ass jeans that fit her like a glove, no one was going to hear a word from her mouth. They’d be too busy thinking of all the ways they could get inside of her.

She wasn’t like most women cops he’d seen. Most were built for the job, with hard-ass tendencies, and they could chew you up and spit you out.

Jo was like a flower, too soft and delicate for her own good. Even flowers weather storms. The thought came from nowhere, but he was too prideful to hear it.

She was gorgeous, but it took something entirely different to be a good cop and not get yourself killed. He just didn’t think she was cut out for it. As he watched her push the door open to the station, with enough force to send it into one of her fellow officers, knocking him out of her way, Jake hoped she proved him wrong.

Chapter 5

Judge Ray Mathews

H ere is your coffee, Judge. Do you think you’ll be much longer? Judge Ray Mathews’s secretary, Linda, handed him a hot mug.

I need a little more time, dear, thank you. He wasn’t in any hurry. He had to at least make it look like he was deliberating on the case, even though he’d already made a deal on the outcome. It was a shame that some justice came at a price, but with his retirement coming in another two years and another failing relationship at home, he had to pocket every dime he could. Besides, it wasn’t like the victim was blameless.

Rob Montgomery had been walking home from an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting when he was struck and killed by Gary Forester. It could have easily been the other way around for some other unsuspecting person. The fact that Montgomery had been killed came as an ironic twist, since it was his own fault for getting himself into trouble over drinking.

If he had not lost his license, he would have been somewhere behind the wheel endangering others’ lives. Besides, he should have lost his license long before, but someone had shown leniency for his string of DUIs. Shouldn’t Gary Forester get the same courtesy? He sipped his coffee as he spun things in his mind.

Sure, he knew right from wrong and that Gary Forester should do time for what he’d done. He even knew that it was really a case of revenge and not some accidental occurrence of manslaughter. But even though everyone knew it happened because Rob had messed around with Gary’s daughter, the judge would have to side with the defense. He’d been paid to.

Finally, after another few minutes of taking his time, he got to his feet. Linda, tell the bailiff I’m ready.

The woman hurried from the room like a whipped dog.

As the courtroom was called to order and his name was announced, Judge Mathews took a deep breath. It wasn’t the way he’d started out his career, but being the good guy hadn’t gotten him where he was. Dirty money had.

He walked out to the standing people in the courtroom, ready to pass sentence on the guilty man.

You may be seated, he said. Since I took a little bit of extra time before my decision, I will not waste any more with a long explanation of how I came to it. He straightened the papers on his desk and looked out over the crowd. There in the front row was Montgomery’s wife and sister. Two women with records of their own. The little girl beside them, the victim’s daughter, had been in foster care once already because of the parents’ lack of ability to care for her properly, and he couldn’t help believe it would only be a matter of time before she was back there again.

On the other side sat Gary Forester, the fortunate brother of one of Judge Mathews’s golf buddies and heir to a fortune from the big industry that his family owned a part of. Good, hard-earned money. That was what he’d paid.

This is a terrible situation for everyone involved. Not only was one life cut short unnecessarily, but I see no reason for that to be the case twice. I hereby give a sentence of time served and probation of three years. He banged his gavel.

The room went nuts with sounds of outrage and despair, and Montgomery’s wife threw herself onto the floor and banged her fists.

Her sister stood up and screamed across the room at Forester. Congratulations. Your money served you well. You bought your freedom!

Gary didn’t even look their way, and his lawyer stood between him and Montgomery’s family.

Ray banged his gavel again. "Order! I will have order

Reviews for The Hangman Box Set

[Sheena Gurbakhash · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

this is only 3 parts of the entire story. It's really frustrating to think you are going to get the whole thing only to be left hanging. Really really annoyed!