The Attorneys Wife: A Geronimo Deacon Jones Novel

By JC Bennett Jr.

From the first victim, a longtime friend of hers, she knew she needed other victims. It is the first time she felt alive. It became a need, a desire that she couldn’t let go. It also excited her husband as well. Helping her with his power, each killing made her want more. She kept them, loved them, and killed them. They were unnoticed until Detective Geronimo Deacon Jones came into the picture. He needed to find them as much as they needed to kill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669820512

JC Bennett Jr.

Being an avid reader, the author always loved well-written books, so he decided to write one himself. For years, he couldn’t get started. Waking up in the middle of the night he the character Geronimo Deacon Jones. After retiring, he had the time, and then the words began to flow. He is and can now call himself a published author. He is looking forward to writing many more.

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Copyright © 2022 by JC Bennett Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 04/12/2022

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I t

was well past midnight when he had drunk himself to sleep. Detective Geronimo Deacon Jones (Deacon for short) was awakened by what he thought was the pounding in his head. Reaching for the aspirins that he kept handy he noticed the clock said 4:43, and he assumed it was AM. He realized that the pounding wasn’t only in his head but there was someone at his door. Struggling to stand, he made his way to the door with the assistance of anything that did not move, anything he could put his hands on to help balance himself. Screaming, he yelled, I am coming damn it. Keep your pants on. He knew who it was before he even peeked through the peephole, and just as he had thought, it was his partner, Samantha Rollins (everyone called her Sam). She was a very good detective, twenty-nine years old, a beautiful female, smart as a whip, and she knew it.

When he opened the door, her first words were, I could have shot your eye out through that peephole.

He responded by saying, Please do, and put me out of my misery.

You wish, she said, but I will not let you get off that easy. She pushed her way inside, practically knocking him down. She went straight to the coffeepot. Frowning, she said, "Go take a shower and try to wash the booze stink off of you while I make us some coffee. You and I both need caffeine.

Come join me, Deacon said.

Sam’s patented answer was always the same, Your heart couldn’t take ten seconds with me, so you are going to be washing your own back, and you may never get any help the way you smell.

Trying to laugh through the pain, he staggered toward the shower.

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Deacon always thought he had a reason to drink. He was thirty-five, been married twice to who he called twin devils. Neither one could handle his long hours and love for the job. He felt he had not hidden that from either one of them, but they both continually nagged him about it. That was not the only reason he drank and drank heavily at times.

Growing up, he had spent most of his time in his bedroom. He had been raised by his mother and sister, never meeting his father. His mother very seldom mentioned him, and when she did, it was in anger. He had left before Deacon was born, stating that he could not raise another kid in this crumbling society. In his mother’s words, he was a lazy ass. She often told him, You are just like your father," yet how would he know since he had never met him? He was about nine years old when school was let out early one day due to an emergency. Normally, his sister would have walked him home, but she was almost fifteen, boy crazy, and went to a different school, so he assumed she was either with some boy or she hadn’t been released from school like he had been. There were far more days he walked alone than his mother knew about. He was okay with that because it gave him time to think, and he was able to kick a rock or two along the way just as little boys were supposed to do. Normally, he would wait for a while outside until she came along, but that day, he had decided, Why wait? He would walk home and take his time. It wasn’t but a few blocks, and he knew he would be fine. Walking with her, it would normally take ten minutes, but that day, it would take him at least forty-five minutes if not more. There were a lot of rocks between the school and his house. He also liked to stop and look around because, even at nine, he seemed to have a knack for noticing things others didn’t. Walking with his sister, he wouldn’t be able to take the time to explore, so that day was a treat for him. No one was expecting him home.

Arriving home, he reached under the rock by the sidewalk and pulled the spare key out from under it and opened the door. Immediately, he heard his mother screaming his name, Geronimo! Geronimo! How did she know he was home? Confused and scared, he ran to her door. When he opened it, to his surprise, there was his mother, naked, lying on her back and still screaming his name with the deacon of the church on top of her, also naked all but his socks.

Mom, Mom, he screamed, are you okay?

His mom, caught by surprise, turned toward him with her hand over her mouth, saying, Oh my God! Yes, I am fine. You shouldn’t ever open the door without knocking. Now get the hell out of here and go to your room. I will be there in a minute.

Confused, he went to his room, closed the door, and sat at his desk, wondering what was happening. He had heard about sex, so he knew that was probably what they were doing. But why was his mother having sex? He had a lot to learn. Soon after, he saw the deacon practically ran to his car. He hadn’t even noticed it when he had come up. He would have to do better than that if he ever wanted to be a detective. That was his dream.

His mother came into his room just wearing her robe. What do you think you are doing, walking into my room without knocking? she asked. Before he could even say anything, she added, And why are you home from school? It doesn’t let out for a few more hours.

Before he could answer, she walked out and slammed the door.

Later in life, things finally had fallen into place. One was that his mother loved Westerns. They would spend hours watching the same ones over and over. Even though she knew the Indians always lost, she would still cheer them on and seemed to be disappointed when they lost. She once told him, My favorite Indian is Geronimo. That is why he had been named after him. He had also realized through the years she also liked to scream the name while having sex. It wasn’t the last time he heard the name Geronimo when she had company, but he never ran to save her again. The image was forever in his mind. He also realized he never saw the deacon again. He often wondered whether the deacon could have been his dad, or his dad was a deacon. Neither was ever revealed to him. They had stopped going to church after that day, and soon afterward, they moved to a small town named Jacksonboro in South Carolina. His sister was not happy at all with her being a sophomore in high school and had gone to the same school all her life. Soon she was going to have to go to a school in a town where she had no friends. Jacksonboro was about forty-five minutes south of Charleston, South Carolina. It was perfect for Deacon. He was able to spend his teenage years in the woods, alone and constantly exploring. What more could a boy want than to roam the woods?

His sister moved away after graduating high school, back to where she had friends, and sadly, his mother had passed away when he was in his twenties. This was all the excuse he needed to drink. He hid it well during his early life.

He had already started to fulfill his dream of becoming a detective. After graduating high school, he had become a police officer for the Charleston County Sheriff’s Department and doing all he could to become a detective as soon as was possible.

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Deacon had turned the shower as hot as he could take it to try and get the kinks out -his body was stiff-before turning the shower to all cold to help wake himself up. After a couple of minutes of the icy water, he was wide awake. Stepping out, he wrapped a towel around himself and looked in the mirror. He needed to plan a haircut soon since the shagginess had taken over, but at least he felt clean. While brushing his teeth, it dawned on him, he didn’t know why Sam was here. It must be important for her to drag him out at this time of the morning.

She was on the phone when he walked out, and it was a one-way conversation because all she was saying was, Yes, sir, repeatedly. He could only think of one person she would be that polite to, and that had to be the chief, Charles Durant.

The chief demanded respect and very seldom did anyone cross that line. He very seldom raised his voice, but when he did, others listened. He was very good at his job, and he had earned it. He made sure it didn’t matter who it was, from the mayor down, he would do what he felt was right, and that didn’t always sit well with the politicians. He had been on the force for thirty-five years, so he knew everyone, and they knew him. Married with three grown children, he was looking at retirement soon according to his wife. He didn’t like the idea, but he had promised his wife long ago that if she stood by him once the kids were out on their own, they would take time for each other. He couldn’t put it off much longer.

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Sam and Deacon got into Sam’s Yukon. She never allowed him behind the wheel and especially after he had one of his nights although he tried his best to get into the drivers’ seat.

Not happening, she said.

He knew she was right, but he wouldn’t ever admit to that. He had practically downed the first cup of coffee, trying to clear his head. Sipping the second cup, he just sat waiting for Sam to tell him what was going on. He was an expert at getting his head together after a night like he had had. Where are we going? he asked.

We have a meeting with the chief, the mayor of Charleston, several other detectives, and the FBI at 7:00 am.

Turn around. I would rather do anything but this, he said.

If I must be there and suffer, so do you. There has been another body found, and it seems to be connected to a case of the missing girls we came across a few weeks ago. This one would certainly cause a lot of heat, she said. She is a seventeen-year-old runaway, and her father is a congressman in Georgia. She has been missing for two years now. She left when she was fifteen. Now she was found tied to a tree, naked, partially mutilated, in the woods off Highway 17. She was found two days ago, and it has taken this long to identify her.

Why haven’t we heard about it before now? Deacon asked.

It was just outside our county, and the FBI was just called yesterday. They wanted to keep it quiet until they were sure it was connected to their case. Since the other county doesn’t have much of a department, they are wanting to get us involved.

Hell. I don’t like this. They will just try and use us for crap work.

When they found out, her body had been cleaned thoroughly, her body shaved head to toe. Her face, breasts, fingers, and toes had acid used on them. They knew it had to be a part of their case. The only way they were able to identify her was with dental records. Sam stopped talking and turned her head. Deacon knew cases like these always bothered her.

When she was able to speak again, she said, DNA was still being processed, but since this is a congressman’s daughter, it is being rushed. They knew it was her because of her extensive dental work, but they wanted to make sure before calling the congressman. She had been a beautiful young black girl and an honor student when she vanished. The records show that the only time she had made contact at home, she had called her mother. What was said, her mother wouldn’t say. All she would say was her daughter told her she was okay.

Deacon looked over at Sam. How do you know all of this? he asked.

Shaking her head, Sam said, Oh, I forgot you don’t look at your emails. We were both sent the file late yesterday.

Deacon sort of laughed, the best he could with a headache from hell. Well, why do you think I keep you around? You always tell me what I need to know anyway.

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Congressman John Sayers with his wife and attorney were sitting by the phone in Atlanta, waiting for the call. They had been informed the day before that there was a strong possibility that the body was indeed their daughter. They had already accepted that it was her but had hopes that it wasn’t. The phone rang, and they all looked at each other. The attorney answered the call.

Sayers residence. After listening, he said, Yes, I will tell them. Hanging up, he just looked at the Sayers, and without telling them, they knew. I am so sorry, he said. It is your daughter, Jessica.

Congressman Sayers didn’t seem to be surprised or broken up, but his wife, Mildred, broke down. She ran out to her bedroom and fell on the bed. The congressman went in to check on her and wanted her to take something to calm her nerves. He had already contacted their family doctor, and he prescribed Xanax, but she didn’t want to take anything.

Get out, she said. I just want to be alone.

Take this, he said. I am concerned about you.

Just please go away.

He walked out and sat down to talk with his attorney while she lay on the bed, thinking about the last conversation she had had with Jessica.

Mom, it’s me. I just wanted you to know I could not stay there because of Dad. I had to escape him. I will be fine, Mom. I love you. Then she hung up. She knew something had happened through the years but couldn’t admit to herself that her husband could be that man. She had turned a blind eye. She blamed herself and knew she had to say something. She would tell all that she knew after she buried her daughter.

The congressman sat there, thinking of the past. What would come out? Did Mildred know anything? He would need to make sure she was taking her medication before the detectives talked to them, which he knew would be soon. If she was medicated well enough, she couldn’t think clearly. His secret had to remain a secret. Besides, he was a congressman for God’s sake. He had started a successful law practice, so he knew that no matter what the situation was, for the right amount of money, it could go away.

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It had taken Sam and Deacon a little longer to get into the office since Deacon took much longer to get moving than usual. They knew the chief wouldn’t be happy about it, but they also knew they were the best that he had, so besides a frown and few groans, they would be okay.

Walking into the conference room, they got what they expected.

Now that the meeting is just about over and my prima donnas have decided to arrive, maybe we can find a killer, the chief said.

The first thing Deacon did was reach over and get a croissant and coffee. He never sat down when he was in meetings. He would always lean against the doorframe with his coffee. He knew he would have something to soak up the alcohol with because they always had food when the mayor was around. Thinking about it, he felt that was the only good thing about the mayor. The mayor and Deacon had never gotten along, but they tolerated each other.

Mayor James Tisdale was a mainstay in Charleston. In most elections, he had not even been opposed but this year, word had it that the opposition was going to spend a lot of money to see that there was a new mayor. He was the type that you either loved or hated, and there was no in-between. They all knew what the mayor was getting ready to say and would say for months to come: This is an election year. I cannot not allow a killer running loose in his city, you better find him soon. Do you have a suspect and when do they expect to bring this to a close? I want answers and I want them now.

The chief went through the motions by saying, I have my best detectives on the case, and I assure you they will find who is doing this. You will be safe come election day although he wished otherwise.

With that, the mayor stood up and went to walk out. Reaching the door, he looked up at Deacon in disgust.

Deacon smiled and told the mayor, Have a nice day now, you hear.

That got him another look from the chief. This meeting is adjourned. Sam, Deacon, in my office. Now!

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It was time to start the hunt again. He knew his wife would be needing a companion soon. Jessica Sayers had been easy to find, especially when they had found out her father was abusing her. She practically begged them to take her in. His wife had created an online chat site for abused women, ranging from ages of sixteen to thirty-two. They now had over 160 members and, at times, more than that. It was an ingenious idea of hers. It made it easy to find women for her while staying relatively anonymous. It was much more dangerous and more difficult before, but this time, she could pick and choose. His wife was extremely picky and she normally would take months for her to narrow it down to a few girls. He then would look them over and chat with them himself. His wife’s desire to have a companion was getting more frequent recently. She loved women, possibly more than he did. He had been the only man she had ever been with. He knew that this could cause a problem, but he felt he could do anything and get away with it. He was smarter than them, he knew.

Jessica had loved them both, but she had wanted more freedom, and that could not be allowed. She wanted her father to know she had made it without him, and she would be okay.

Discussing it with his wife, she was excited that she would be able to feel the excitement of taking another life. It thrilled her more than anything she had ever done. To her way of thinking they had to keep their life going, and no one had the right to take it away. And it would be taken away if Jessica was able to get out and tell people like her father who she was and who she was with.

They had met the first time in high school. She had always liked girls even then. The girls would follow her around, wanting to be near her.

They had gone to college together, and after graduating, she went to work as a paralegal while he went to law school. They were in their mid-thirties. He had become a successful attorney and a senior partner in the law firm. Everyone wondered how he had risen so far in a short amount of time, but they also didn’t want to know. The word was that he owned judges, the district attorney, and a few other elites in Charleston. He dug up anything he could on anyone and used it against them when needed. His wife also volunteered her time to several different organizations around town.

His wife had accidently asphyxiated a playmate during a sexual encounter a few years back. Instead of being scared when it happened, she had been more excited than ever and wanted more.

Jessica would be her fifth victim, and each time she took a life it was more intense that the previous. Each was from different states and was returned there, tied to a tree, naked, and close to where they were from. Jessica would make national news though since her father was a congressman.

He was in the middle of a high-profile murder trial, and it consumed so much of his time that he was staying in an apartment his wife owned under her maiden name on Rainbow Row on downtown Charleston. The media was all over him, and even though it was close enough to walk from the courthouse to his office or apartment, he had to use a driver to take him around town just to drop him off at the apartment. The night his wife had taken Jessica’s life, he had been staying at the apartment. Late that night, his phone rang. Jessica hadn’t made it through his wives’ latest fun as she called it. He had to go home, prep her body, and take her to the woods. There was no time to return her to Georgia. So, he found a trail off Highway 17A and, just off the path, he tied her to a tree in a park and left her there knowing she would be found that day. He made it back to Charleston with just enough time to shower and go to court.

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The chief was sitting at his desk with both hands rubbing his temples when Sam and Deacon walked in. Sam had taken a seat, but Deacon was leaning against the door, coffee in hand when he looked up at them.

What have we got if anything? I am getting old, close to retirement, and I don’t need the stress.

Sam spoke up because she knew Deacon was just taking it in. We are going out to the crime scene this morning. Neither of us has had time to look over the case. We don’t think she was killed there, but it’s a place to start. We know that we have at least two other bodies that seem to be from the same killer, one was in Florida five years ago and another in North Carolina two years prior. We are checking with other states as well. The killer is careful cleaning the bodies. Without anything on the bodies, there is no DNA from the killer. Asphyxiation is what the three have all died of. We are planning a trip tomorrow to meet the parents in Georgia. Jessica was gone for two years, so we don’t expect anything to come of it. The autopsy will be completed by today, so we will be able to see if there was anything else that assisted in her death, such as drugs.

In other words, we have nothing, the chief replied. Looking at Deacon to see if he had anything to add, but Deacon just shrugged and drank more coffee.

Deacon was wondering why he hadn’t heard any of this himself, but he knew Sam. She had probably been working on this in the past couple of days.

We have calls in to get all that the other departments have on the other two girls. Maybe they have something we can use.

As they were leaving, Sam looked over at Deacon and said, Thanks for the input. She knew this wasn’t the part of the job that Deacon was good at, but she couldn’t help but say something. If it was up to him, he would just stay out in the field and let Sam handle the BS as he called it.

Deacon finally spoke up. We need to stop by the morgue before going out to the crime scene.

Since the morgue was close by, Sam didn’t have a problem with that. When they walked in, the medical examiner (ME) looked up, and Sam noticed her eyes lit up upon seeing Deacon.

Beverly Scott had been the ME for six years. She