The Twisted Society: The Twisted Society, #1

By Robert Hayek

Kristle Webb has always been an upstanding defense attorney. But now she has to deal with her toughest challenge ever. She must defend her estranged half-brother Rob Tanner when he is accused of killing her father.

 

Now she must put her grief aside to prove to the world that her brother, a rogue to many, is innocent of this horrific crime. All the while, she must deal with Megan Clayton, her former friend, and the district attorney who wants to send Rob to jail for the rest of his life.

 

The Twisted Society deals with the intertwined lives of three people and all the people they associate with. Can Kristle save her brother and defeat her arch rival? The battle in the courtroom begins!

• Language: English
• Publisher: RB Hayek
• Release date: Jun 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735583723

Book preview

Chapter 1: The Frame-Up

He stood on the sidewalk impatiently. There was nothing worse in the world than waiting for some other person to come get you. Time was very important, especially when it came to espionage.

The man standing on the sidewalk was Rob Tanner. He was not an enormous man at about five foot eight; he was of average height, as one would say. His brown hair curled up just above his white forehead and now almost covered his face, thanks to the wind. He sported clean-shaven cheeks that he appeared to groom every day.

It was still early morning, approximately six o’clock, which made what they were about to do a little easier. At six very few people were at work, but the ones who were would not be paying attention to three people walking in. They would be too tired to even think.

A car pulled up to the sidewalk. The door opened and Rob stepped inside. He sat in the uncomfortable passenger seat and scowled.

What the hell took you so long Sabrina? asked Rob.

Sabrina gave him a look of contempt. A beanie covered her light blonde hair, and she sported black clothing like Rob, with gloves for good measure.

Shut up, you little shit. I’m here now, she spat.

Your good looks and tits are such a waste when you can’t get that brain going, replied Rob.

Your existence is a waste, you dick. Now shut the fuck up and let’s do this, she countered.

Rob stayed quiet for the moment. He and Sabrina had been friends, or at least not enemies, for a while. They’d met when he tried to hit on her once, many years ago, only to later learn she was a lesbian. It intrigued him. He was curious about that lifestyle and was not a homophobic piece of shit like his father.

Speaking of his father, that man was the reason they were on this job to begin with. Jeremiah Tanner had sent them to gain valuable trade secrets from a rival. They had one more guy to pick up.

Sabrina eased the car and rolled it to a complete stop. The side door opened and in stepped a large black man with long, braided black hair and a beard covering his face. He was intimidating, as he must have been at least six feet tall.

The man extended his hand to Sabrina and she returned the gesture, shaking it.

Hunter.

Sabrina, she replied.

Hunter turned to Rob and his expression changed. He looked at Sabrina.

Who the hell invited the little white bitch? Hunter asked Sabrina.

Who the hell are you calling a little white bitch, you Jamaican-looking wannabe rapper? Rob snapped back.

Oh, and he’s a racist too! Let me guess who you’re voting for in this year’s election? Let me guess, Make America Great—

Guys, stop. We have a job to do, and I need you both focused, Sabrina snapped.

Rob and Hunter looked at each other and then at Sabrina. Hunter sighed.

All right, Hunter said. The pretty one has a point.

This pretty one will beat your ass if you don’t shut up, Sabrina said.

Hunter laughed. It was a laugh very obnoxious to the ears. Rob glared at Hunter and privately thought about fighting him, but he knew that probably would not end well.

We got a lively one. Hunter beamed.

Sabrina ignored Hunter and drove on. They had a destination, and it was simple: Webb Enterprises.

Webb Enterprises was owned by William Webb, one of the wealthiest men in Orange County. He was also Rob’s stepfather, but not really. Webb was Kristle Webb’s father, and Kristle was Rob’s half-sister because they shared the same whore of a mother. That whore had run out on Kristle when she was three to be with Rob’s father. Then she ran out on Rob when he was seven to chase some cabana boy in Cuba, or Miami, or wherever the hell the whore had gone.

Rob did not really have a relationship of any kind with Webb. He knew of the guy and had spoken to him once or twice. But then again, Rob and Kristle were not close either. They had met a few times, and that was it. There was nothing there. She was a thriving defense attorney, and he was a troublemaker. Well, that troublemaker was doing work for another powerful man.

Jeremiah wanted the three of them to gather valuable intelligence from Webb Enterprises so he could take out the competition. They would eventually move onto Pennington Industries, the other rival company, run by a piece of shit from Texas named Alan Pennington.

Webb Enterprises was on Jamboree Street, off the 405 Freeway in Irvine, California. The building was next to Hotel Irvine, the epicenter of the city, and conveniently near the Costa Mesa Airport.

The structure of the building was massive, with probably about twenty floors. They were to approach security, which was accessible via a card or a code. Jeremiah had somehow gotten hold of the codes and given it to them. As they drove up, Sabrina opened the window and placed a key card in front of the sensor, and the gate opened. Rob jiggled his foot as she did this, with a peripheral view of Hunter, who stewed in the backseat. There was something about Hunter that Rob did not trust. Hunter was not an employee of Tanner Enterprises, like Rob and Sabrina were. So what was his role here?

Rob pushed those thoughts out of his head as he looked ahead. He could not believe William Webb owned these floors. How the hell could he afford all this?

Sabrina drove carefully and parked in the visitor slot right outside the entrance. This would provide a quick means of escape should they need to make a getaway.

They exited the car and walked together toward Webb Enterprises. There were few people here yet, just as Rob had predicted. They all carried supplies in their bags. Rob had his trusty crowbar and a small tranquilizer gun; Sabrina had her knife, which she lugged around along with a small handgun; and Hunter had a handgun of his own. Rob still did not trust Hunter, especially when the man had a firearm.

He lowered his head to avoid his face being spotted by the security camera. Then he raised it just before throwing the crowbar at the camera and shattering it. Sabrina walked over to the electrical outlets inside and quickly disconnected the wiring, turning off the power. At this rate, no one would suspect anything other than a blackout. It happened, especially in California, and it would look innocent.

They jogged their way lightly up the stairs. A long way to go to the nineteenth floor where the encrypted information was.

When they got there, they found a locked door. Hunter extended his gun and shot off the handle, loosening the grip. Sabrina kicked it open, and they were ready. They crept through the hallway quietly until they came across Room 1919. It was where the records were, and the exact place they needed to be. Sabrina took out a key card, scanned it across the security panel and it turned green, allowing her access. She opened the door and the three of them walked in to find some screens and several tables and chairs. Otherwise, the room was empty.

Sabrina went to work, and Rob marveled at her skills. She was manipulating the security system to either shut things down or play with the interface. She was there because she was an expert hacker, while Rob was good at counterfeiting. Hunter was along because he was good muscle, Rob supposed.

It took about a minute, but Sabrina worked her magic and redirected the camera circuitry, and they were ready to go.

Top security? Piece of cake, Sabrina said.

Nice work, Sabrina, Hunter told her.

Sabrina shot him a perplexed look and walked across the room in search of something they could use. Rob scanned the place, looking for whatever it was they’d come here for. He moved over to the file cabinets and started scanning through them. Something caught his eye, and he pulled out a manila envelope.

Look what I found, he said.

Hunter yanked the folder away from Rob. His eyes lit up, and Rob noticed.

This is it, Hunter said. Files, financials, plans—everything is here.

What now? asked Sabrina.

We take the files, make it look like a break-in, and set the room on fire, Rob said.

On fire? That is an incredibly stupid idea, Hunter replied.

Do you have a better idea you braided bitch?

Sabrina cut them off. We don’t have time to snap at each other! We got what we came for. Now let’s get out of here.

Rob and Hunter stared each other down, then nodded in acknowledgment that Sabrina was right. They made their way out the door, Rob first and Sabrina and Hunter behind him. He closed the door.

Three security guards were on the floor, and they immediately spotted Rob.

Hey, you! Stop where you are, said one of the three guards.

Time to go, said Rob.

Rob, Sabrina, and Hunter ran away from the guards but stopped in their tracks when two more showed up. The guards outnumbered them five to three. Where the hell had these guys come from, and who had alerted them?

You’re surrounded, the guard in front said.

I don’t think so, said Rob as he threw a canister to the ground.

A cloud of tear gas exploded into the air as the guards coughed. The trio pushed through the guards and made their way to the stairwell. They had hardly arrived when they realized something was wrong. More guards were coming up the stairs and had them cornered. Now they had two choices: face them or go up.

Rob headed up the stairs, and Sabrina followed. Hunter trailed behind them, and Rob did not really care if he got caught or not. His only concern was escaping from these guards and maybe helping Sabrina. He had not gotten that far yet.

They made their way to the twentieth floor to see there was only one office—the office of the man who ran this whole shindig. As Rob pressed his hand to the doorknob, he found himself face-to-face with a woman.

She was a short, attractive Hispanic woman with curly brown hair, and she looked puzzled as the three of them stumbled into the room. Rob just stared at the woman for a moment.

Whoa, wrong room, Rob muttered.

What is this? Who are you people? the woman asked.

Rob did not take his eyes off her and that distracted him. He felt a sharp pain across the back of his head, and the next thing he knew, he was falling to the ground fast. He heard what sounded like a scream, and Sabrina shouting. But he could no longer focus on any of that, as his eyes gave out and everything went black.

Later

Rob’s eyes flickered. He groaned as he rolled around for a few seconds, attempting to place exactly what had happened or how long he had been out. His vision felt hazy and he knew something had hit him. He looked over and noticed Sabrina, who was also unconscious. The room was still spinning.

Rob moved over slowly and attempted to nudge Sabrina. She groaned and stirred. He looked around the room and noticed a glaring omission. Hunter was not there, and neither was the hot girl from earlier.

But something caught his eye. From the corner of the room, he spotted someone else on the floor. Rob got to his feet and meandered over to where the person lay.

Once he got closer, his eyebrows rose as he realized who it was, and he placed both hands on his head.

William Webb was bleeding all over. Blood soaked through his black and white suit and down his face. His eyes were pasty and ghostly. It was obvious someone had shot him, but now Rob wondered who did it.

Before Rob could investigate, the doors broke open and several cops barged in. He turned around abruptly to find several guns pointed at him.

Police! Freeze!

Two cops flanked him with their weapons drawn. A third one trailed slightly behind them, and Rob recognized him.

Tyler? asked Rob in confusion.

God damn it, Tanner, said Tyler.

Tyler Pennington was a tall white guy with balding brown hair and a herculean frame that he had created in the military. He had a beard and small, beady eyes that were not proportional to the rest of his face. Oh, and he was also Rob’s brother-in-law because of the half-sister he rarely spoke to. Tyler did not like Rob. That was okay; Rob did not like Tyler either.

Put your hands up!" shouted one of Tyler’s fellow officers.

Rob smirked. Then he looked back at the body that used to be his stepfather and realized exactly how bad this looked. He turned toward Tyler.

Listen, Rob began, before you stupid cops unload several rounds into me, you got to know something. I am innocent.

You’re innocent of breaking and entering? Tyler asked.

Well, maybe I am allegedly guilty of that, Rob laughed. He pointed at Webb’s body. I did not do that, though. Someone else—

Put your hands up, Tanner. Now! That was a command from Tyler. The prick really enjoyed this. From his viewpoint, Rob saw one officer cuff Sabrina as she was getting up. Then, before he could react, another officer was on him, gun aimed, and he finally put his hands up.

Tyler walked slightly past Rob, looking at him, and then advanced toward the body. He shook his head sadly. Rob only watched as Tyler returned to him and grabbed him with his massive arm, choking him.

What the hell happened here, Tanner? he roared.

Rob gagged, while an officer tried to restrain Tyler.

I didn’t do shit, was all he could get out.

Tyler released his grip. There was a disconnect. He looked away and then Rob overheard him call the crime in, alerting others to the presence of a dead body. He turned back toward Rob and stood right in front of him, restraining his hands this time.

This is going to break her heart, Tyler informed him.

Who? asked Rob, feigning ignorance.

Your sister, you stupid piece of shit. Not like you give a damn, said Tyler.

Rob did not answer. He barely thought about Kristle at all, but he wanted nothing particularly bad to happen to her. 

Yeah, Tyler went on. You only care about yourself. You and your scumbag dad always causing trouble for the rest of us.

My dad? Rob asked, partially offended. "What about your father? The slimy Texas billionaire who has thugs run out and beat people up to gain an advantage."

Tyler punched Rob in the gut. That one hurt, proving that police brutality was effective. His cop brother-in-law showed him great love with that blow. Tyler turned to his fellow officers and motioned with his head.

Read him his rights, Tyler ordered.

Yes sir, replied the spineless cop.

Rob grimaced as the effect of Tyler’s fist kept hurting. He could not rub the spot because they’d cuffed his hands.

You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be granted to you by the court. Do you understand these rights?

Rob nodded gravely. The officer tugged at his back and led him out of the office. They walked down to the elevator as people filed in. From his vantage point, Rob could see Sabrina being hauled off.  

On the main-lobby level, the cops led them out of the elevator like common criminals. It was humiliating. They finally made their way to the front entrance, where several cop cars were waiting for them. The cop held on to Rob like the jaws of life, and he could not see Tyler anymore. He was not sure where Tyler had gone, and he did not care. There were other, more pressing things on his mind.

They placed Rob gently into the squad car and Sabrina in the same one. The two of them shared a look of gloom, then Rob scoffed and looked out the window while several gawkers came outside to watch what was happening. A few more police cars and crime-scene investigators had made their way next to the building. His mind drifted into the abyss as the squad car drove off with the cops ready to book them for the murder of William Webb.

Chapter 2: The Defense Attorney

March 1, 2016

Kristle Webb arrived at her Newport Beach office at six a.m. When she left for work, it was still raining.

She strived for punctuality and always expressed that sentiment to her two employees. Her father had taught her the basic lessons of being on time and meeting your deadlines. It had helped her get through law school and allowed her to open up her law firm at twenty-seven. And it had not hurt that her father helped her set up. She ran this office along the Pacific Coast Highway for the last three years and had seen a steady rush of clients. Her reputation for winning cases got around the legal community, especially her battles against assistant District Attorney Megan Clayton.

Kristle was a pretty woman, according to what people said. Her husband always told her he had to talk to her the second he saw her. He had said nothing that sweet in a while, mainly because their schedules hardly ever let them see each other. She had long brown hair just down to her shoulders. Her face was small and round, with cheeks that seemed to get red easily because of her whiteness. The sun was not her friend unless she put on excessive sunblock. Even then, she burned like toast. Her father was William Webb, one of the three powerhouses for information technology in Orange County. Her mother was Veronica Vasquez, a Cuban woman who had decided she no longer wished to be a mother when Kristle was young.

She turned the key into the lock of her office gate, then pressed the code to enter. She sauntered into her office and threw her briefcase onto the table.

The rain pounded outside. It had rained for the last few days. She turned on the television, just to have it on in the background. It would be a couple of hours before her employees arrived. There needed to be a distraction, at least for her. She put on the local news, and the anchors were in the middle of a story.

In the wake of the recent passing of Orange County District Attorney Dan West, a special election will be held to announce his replacement.

Kristle listened to the news, but she paid no attention to it. She heard of West’s passing. There was something about a ninja woman killing him or something like that. The February Fifteenth Massacre is what the media called it. A few weeks had passed since the events had occurred.

She sorted some papers. There were so many of them. She had not noticed that two hours had gone by as she did her paperwork. Her two employees filed in. She waved to both gracefully.

Elizabeth Lizzy Kelly was a junior attorney from Notre Dame, with brown eyes capable of reading everything at double the speed of everyone else. Kristle had realized it when interviewing her. She was smart, beautiful, and resourceful. Kristle had hired her because she felt she and Lizzy had the same vision, a goal of protecting the innocent and the wrongfully accused.

Anisa Cruz, her assistant, was Filipino. She had long dark hair and hazel eyes, along with a perfect complexion Kristle envied. Anisa studied business at U.C.L.A. and would not become a lawyer. Kristle had hired her because she seemed able to do the job adequately, and so far she had. Anisa had started to work there shortly after Lizzy.

Kristle continued to look over the papers when Anisa knocked on her door. Without looking up, Kristle said, What’s up, Anisa?

Your husband’s on the phone and said it’s urgent.

Now Kristle did look up, curiously. Tyler never called her during work hours. He knew how busy she got and how he should not disturb her at the office. She gave him the same respect, especially since he had just started working as a patrol officer.

Patch him through, she instructed Anisa, who nodded in agreement.

Kristle waited a moment. Then she picked up the phone.

Pookie? What’s up?

She heard labored breathing on the other side. Tyler said nothing, and Kristle waited patiently. Something was wrong.

Is everything okay? she asked.

Kristle, it’s your dad, Tyler said.

Her heart stopped. She heard the words and processed them slowly. Something was very wrong, and she felt it in her gut. Tyler never called the office unless it was something urgent. Now he uttered the words she did not want to hear. She calmed herself. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something. Maybe it was something terrible.

W-what about him? Kristle stuttered, a vain effort to get the words out while remaining calm.

He’s dead, Tyler declared.

In her four years of marriage to Tyler, he’d never broken grim news well. He always just came straight out and said things without regard to the consequences. As he told her this, Kristle froze. She said nothing and just held her left hand to her mouth, trying to grasp the situation. Tyler went on.

We found him in his office. There was foul play. We had to arrest someone.

The words hit Kristle like a ton of bricks. Someone had killed her father. Who could do such a thing? Why would they do such a horrific thing? It horrified her and saddened her. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and the breakdown came more quickly than she’d expected. She tried to control her tears. Sniffled a little, she spoke up.

How—how did it happen?

We found him with bullet wounds. Tyler was direct and to the point. Several to the chest. It was instant. But that’s not the most unnerving thing we found.

Kristle heard the words, but they seemed to waver in and out. She attempted to understand all this, but it still made little sense. What had caused someone to want to hurt her father? Now another thought crossed her mind. Could her work as a defense attorney have caused someone to get revenge on her through her father? She shook the thought from her mind.

Kristle? Are you there?

Yes, she replied. Please, go on. What did you find?

Well, Tyler said, there’s no simple way to say this. We arrested Rob.

Many things raced through her mind at that moment. Tyler arrested Rob? Did he arrest her half-brother? They rarely saw each other, but blood was still blood. She had attempted to reach out to Rob, to at least show some support. He’d rebuffed her every time. Something in his screwed-up mind blamed her for their mother leaving them. That made no sense, because Veronica left Kristle and her father to be with Rob’s father. If anyone should be angry, it was her.

Rob? she asked dumbly. What—what was he doing there?

That’s what we’re trying to find out. We saw him and a friend over there at your dad’s office. They broke in.

Kristle processed this. Why would Rob break into her father’s company? It made no sense. What was he after? Better yet, why go after her father knowing it might upset her? What did Webb Enterprises have that Rob could want? As she thought about this, Tyler kept speaking.

We have him in lockup, and we’re processing his arrest right now.

I’m coming over.

You don’t need to—

I’m coming over, Pennington!

Kristle only referred to Tyler as Pennington when she got mad. She grabbed her keys. She flew by Lizzy’s desk without saying a word. Anisa quickly put her phone away as she passed, but there was nothing else on Kristle’s mind other than her father. Her receptionist stared at her as she headed out the door without an acknowledgment.

Traffic picked up. The morning movement was heavy, but after about thirty minutes she arrived at the Orange County jail.

She entered the facility and cautiously approached security. Tyler had worked there previously, until his promotion, so she knew a few of the guards. The one at the gate smiled at her and waved her in after she flashed her credentials.

Tyler stood in the bullpen area as she walked in, and she melted into his arms. Without realizing it, she started bawling. He held her for a moment, patiently waiting for her to finish. She picked her head up and stared into his eyes.

I’m so sorry, babe, he consoled her.

Where is he? she asked him.

Kristle, you don’t want to—

Where is he?

Tyler reluctantly pointed toward the holding cells. Kristle kissed him on the cheek and walked past him in that direction.

The holding cells were dingy and disgusting, with vomit and garbage sprawled across the floors. She held her breath; a few drunks and others leered at her as she walked by. Finally, she got to the last cell and found her half-brother sitting there.

Hey, sis, Rob greeted her.

She searched for words. Her anger rose and she walked right up to the bars and stared her brother in the face.

Please tell me you didn’t do what they’re accusing you of doing, she bellowed.

He covered his ears.

What, no hello? Not even a hi? Or a ‘how did you end up in here, little brother’? 

Cut that crap out, kid. Tell me the truth: Did you do it? Did you kill my father?

I’m offended you would even suggest such a thing.

Did you do it?

She glared at her brother, who glared right back. There always had been tension between them. They rarely met—and when they did, it was to snap at one another. Rob angered her most of the time, and this was no exception.

Jesus Christ, Snyder, don’t get your panties in a twist, he remarked.

Did you kill my father? she insisted, slowing the words to make Rob feel even dumber than she believed he was.

Rob whistled a song that sounded like the annoying hymn on a Disney theme-park ride. It was strange and inappropriate.  

What do you believe? he asked her blankly.

She rolled her eyes. Rob snickered.

I want to believe that my little brother—

Half, he corrected her.

My little brother. She ignored him. Don’t interrupt me again, kid. I’d like to believe my little brother would do nothing to hurt me like this. But that brings me back to my original question, did you do it?

I didn’t do it, you dumb bitch, he snapped. "Why the hell would I waste my time killing your father?"

I don’t know, you stupid little twat. Why would you break into Webb Enterprises in the first place?

Rob went quiet. Kristle noticed how the smirk on his face had disappeared, as if someone had instructed him to not say any more. It was not just his silence but the way he went quiet that disturbed her. She prodded.

What’s wrong, kid? You realize now what you’ve done?

You don’t know a thing, Snyder, he replied.

Stop calling me that.

"Why? You look like a Snyder. I once knew this deformed chick named Snyder, and you remind me of her.