Vigilante Blood

By Joshua Martin

Welcome to the city of Greenville, where murder is never what it seems. Detective Lynn Pocker and her team are battling crime on several fronts: two serial murderers and a secret organization that has been pulling the strings of crime and justice for decades. Our heroine will have to fight this and her own personal struggles as she herself becomes ensnared in the game of foxes and hounds.

Lynn could feel her pulse quicken, her face flushing. Taking a few deep breaths in and out, she tried to gain control of her emotions. She took a quick sip of her hot lavender tea. A tornado of questions and emotions twirled within her mind. Everything she thought she had known, everything that she had buried when she entered the academy, things she had thought that had been locked away in her heart were resurfacing. The light of this newfound truth exposed her to new injuries.

In her rising anger, she cried, "This can't be! I saw his bullet-riddled body. Jay is dead, and that's the end of it! Whoever this, this asinine animal is doesn't know who he is dealing with."

Does she have what it takes to rescue her town? Is she willing to do whatever it takes to get her happy ending? Or is this the beginning of the end for Greenville's infamous detective?

Lynn shouted "GVPD!" and ran into the room. No one was there. She proceeded down the hall, searching and calling. "Selena, I know you are here! Let's finish this here and now!"

Nothing but silence answered her call.

She went back to room 284. Lynn had seen a lot as a detective, but she had to vacate the room for fear of vomiting.

In time, everything is revealed, but does the truth really set one free?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798885059862

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 Joshua Martin

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2022

ISBN 979-8-88505-985-5 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88505-986-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Acknowledgments

In dedication to Teresa Anderson-Epps, a lifesaver.

Special thanks to my Lord. To my parents, friends, and family members who encouraged me in my journey. A very big thank-you to my personal editor and chief, Renton Novak.

Finally, to you, my readers, thank you for your patronage. I hope that reading this gives you some sort of adventure without having to leave the comforts of your home.

In memoriam of Rose Becker, 1931–2021, missed and at peace.

What you need to know: the world is not what it seems. You may think that your city, state, or country is led by your government officials, or even perhaps by the elusive 1 percent. You, my darlings, are all wrong.

The world over is run by a secret organization. This organization is responsible for

everything

that happens on a global scale. Now, before you start jumping to the conclusion that the organization is one major cohesive unit—which it is, to a degree—in actuality it’s broken down into local chapters, state confederations, and national juries. The latter two aren’t as necessary to know about at the moment but will come in handy for future references.

Local chapters are responsible for the day-to-day operations of your city or town. That covers everything, from your local town-council elections to school lunches and crime. Yes, even, crime. Crime is necessary to the world order. It balances out capitalism so the rich have something to fear and gives socialism an edge that even in an ideal society things will never truly be just.

The hierarchy within local chapters is the following:

The Tsar is head of the entire local operation. Everything deemed important by the Queen is sent to the Tsar for a final decision. The Queen is the mediator when conflicts arise within the group of agents; they also maintain the inventory and accounts of the local operation. The Master oversees the agents and only interferes when necessary. The Master carries out the orders of the Queen.

The whole local operation is supposed to stay anonymous in all their works. The agents have no connection with other agents; they receive instruction from M and will on occasion meet Q. Consider yourself lucky if you never have to meet T.

Important: the Greenville chapter is corrupt, and things are not as they should be. Caution to you, dear reader: don’t go to Greenville!

Quick recap: In the previous book, Blood Letters, the serial murderer Selena Miller was placed in protective custody with her intended victim Sarah Burns. The wily detective Lynn Pocker and her retinue waited for Selena to strike. Just as Selena was about to strangle the irritating Sarah Burns, Lynn and her subordinates barged in to save Sarah. Lynn tried to negotiate with Selena; however, Selena ended her life, leaving her vendetta unresolved. Our heroine has been receiving notes from M that has left her spooked.

Prologue

A storage facility in an underground Russian bunker. The letter that was never sent.

11/3/08

Dearest Lynn,

Before I tell you the absurd truth about who I am and who I work for, I want to express my feelings for you.

Lynn, you amaze me every day! You are a talented, beautiful, energetic being. I have so much admiration for you. You, my darling, are a dreamer who fights for what she wants. I know that you will make those dreams come true. I am only sad that I will never be able to see how far you will go. Please know that even though I am no longer with you that I will always be cheering you on and that your name will be world-renowned.

Sweet Lynnette, I am a better man because I have known you. I love you, Lynnette Annabeth Pocker! I will continue to, till my last breath. You are the dawn of this abysmal life, and I just wish that we could have lived as man and wife, but the truth of the matter is it could have never been.

We are the same, you and I, to the marrow of our bones. Our stories, though, are light-years apart. My tale is short but needs to be told all the same.

At the age of eight, I was orphaned on the cold streets of St. Petersburg, Russia. It was not until a cold night when a large man tried to force himself upon me that I was rescued by my country’s youth recruitment services. For food, shelter, and training I would become a sleeper agent. This organization gave me my life back; they made me strong and independent. In exchange for their kindness, all I had to do was feed back information from whatever country I was to be sent to.

I was given a new identity: Jay Thompson. A career which I had been trained for since my allegiance to the cause. I would live an unassuming life with an unassuming identity; no one would suspect an art dealer from Fremont, Nebraska! After being given my assignment, I did the one thing you never do in my business: fall in love. I saw my future with you—a quiet, peaceful life, you would paint, I would be your dealer, and our children would never know fear or hunger.

I had intercepted a known spy working for your country and had intended to ship him back to my country, but he had done his research. He knew of my love for you and that I wanted a normal life. This agent—M, he called himself—said he worked for an organization that could get me what I wanted in exchange for information on certain citizens’ whereabouts.

Not only had I committed treason but also I later double-crossed this M character in exchange for new lives for the two of us. I had it all planned. We would start off in New Orleans, then move to France, where your art would become the hit of the Western world. We would retire in Spain and see our grandchildren well into their adulthood.

Please know that I never intended for you to get hurt. My country is taking me into custody. I will be tortured, and if I am lucky, they will execute me shortly afterward. My last request that they have granted is to fake my death so that you can move on with your life. The police, my parents, and others involved are all actors; you will see a body on the coroner’s slab, but it won’t be me.

I am sorry for the pain I have caused you; I don’t expect your forgiveness. I just hope that you can move on and find someone more deserving of your love than I ever was.

With all my love,

Jay Thompson

Chapter 1

Greenville Police Department

November 1, 2013

Lynn could feel her pulse quicken, her face flushing. Taking a few deep breaths in and out, she tried to gain control of her emotions; she took a quick sip of her hot lavender tea. A tornado of questions and emotions twirled within her mind. Everything she thought she had known, everything that she had buried when she entered the academy, things she had thought had been locked away in her heart for all eternity all of a sudden were resurfacing. The light of this newfound truth exposed her to new injuries.

In her rising anger, she cried, This can’t be! I saw his bullet-riddled body. Jay is dead, and that’s the end of it! Whoever this…this asinine animal is doesn’t know who he is dealing with.

Her nostrils flared. The acid in her stomach had risen in her throat. She crumpled the note and shoved it in her pocket. Grabbing her teacup, she gulped the tea down, burning her throat. She didn’t care; she was heated.

Lynn slammed the cup down and stomped out of her office, letting the slated blinds bang behind her.

Vanessa looked at Lynn in shock. You okay, Detective?

Lynn did not respond. She briskly walked to the nearest exit, headed for the range.

Making her way down the steel stairs, her anger slowly ebbing away, she finally made it to the basement. Going past green flaked doors with brass knobs, the dead-case room, the morgue, the armory, and, finally, the shooting range. Lynn grasped the brass knob, her hand shaking. She wanted to curl up somewhere and cry, but in the same feeling, she just wanted to rip someone apart.

Swallowing her emotions and clearing her mind, she pushed the door open, forcing a smile on her face. Hi, Sam, how are you? Lynn feigned interest.

Sam, short for Samantha Graham, was the first female police officer in Greenville. She had paved the way for women like Lynn to serve her town and carry a gun like any man could. Sam had been a champion for women’s rights in Greenville; she had once organized a walkout in the sixties for women in the city to walk out of their places of work in demand for a fair wage; the protest lasted two days before the men of the town had caved.

Yes? the frail woman asked from behind her wobbly wooden desk.

Sam was frail from years of active duty; though her hair had turned from a rusty color to a gray-and-white streak, her eyes, a mossy green, never lost their luster. The liver-spotted lady of ninety looked up from her book and smiled wearily.

Why, Lynnette, it’s about time you came down and visited this old side buster. Sam cackled gaily.

Lynn faked amusement. Yes, I mean to come visit, but people just have the indecency to be murdered. You know it’s just part of the job.

Sam cackled and then coughed, clearing her throat. Did I ever tell you about the time I single-handedly captured the red-banded bank robbers? Oh, those were the days when force could be deadly. She laughed again. ‘There I was, just minding my business when—"

Lynn gently interrupted, I am afraid I have an ulterior motive as to why I am here.

Sam gasped. How’d you know I just made peanut brittle? I can’t really eat it anymore since it causes my partial plate to stick to my actual teeth, but boy, it still tastes good when you suck on it.

No, sorry to say, but I need to soon renew my license to carry. Would you be so kind as to get the Smith and Westin 19?

Oh, yes, no problem. It may take me a few moments to get it. Not many people ask to use that one anymore.

Lynn felt bad for Sam. Sam kind of reminded Lynn of Calamity Jane. She had never gotten married, nor had she brought a child into the world. Sam lived in her own world of glory days gone by.

Lynn sighed. She at times wondered if she and Sam shared a similar fate. After rising to the top they would retire her to the building’s basement to look after relics of cases long since closed, left only with memories and dusty books to read to pass the time.

Lynn picked up Sam’s book she had been reading. Those Who Escaped the Noose. Lynn thought, No, I don’t think I’ll end up like Sam.

Sam emerged from the back room. Found it.

Great, thanks, Lynn responded.

Sam handed her the firearm with six rounds. When you’re done, dispose of the brass in the bucket and place the firearm on the table near the desk to be cleaned.

Lynn nodded and moved toward the range.

Get that bastard good now, Sam called after her.

Lynn made her way to the soundproof shooting cubby and pulled the door gently behind her. Pulling her protective eyewear on and sticking earplugs in, she filled the chambers of her revolver. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the assailant. Exhaling, she fired.

After staggered shots and the chambers emptied, Lynn took out the plugs and removed her glasses. A wrinkled hand clasped her shoulder.

Good shootin’ cowgirl, Sam cackled, pushing the red button near the range. The target was brought forward. Two in the head, two in the heart, and two in the groin. Sam laughed heartily. You won’t have any trouble getting your carry permit again.

Satisfied, Lynn made her way back up the stairs.

Quickly, Lynn walked past Vanessa, not wanting to be questioned about her previous mood. She made it to her office, closing the door gently so the blinds would not jangle. She turned to the 1990s coffeepot for a brew. The machine was old, but it at least made a strong cup of joe, which was what she needed to get this shock out of her system.

As the brown liquid slowly dripped from spout of the coffeepot, Lynn’s mind raced with what to do next, how to go about finding the truth and answers, and, most of all, how to take down M, the person who had caused her so much distress in just a few sentences.

Lynn made her way to her worn leather chair and collapsed in it.

In her stupor, she heard the analogue clock tick slowly, the steady drip of the coffeepot, and the rhythm of her calmed beating heart. Taking in several deep breaths, she knew she couldn’t do this alone.

Mustering her strength, she dialed Vanessa, who answered with concern. Are you okay, Detective?

Nessa, I need your help. Please come into my office. Lynn hung up.

Vanessa entered right away, closing the door behind her.

There were days Nessa wasn’t sure how to handle her boss. In her mind, Lynn was a basket of emotions; she was never sure which version of Lynn she’d meet. Vanessa liked Lynn as far as bosses went; Lynn was the nicest she had ever known. Women were often threatened by Vanessa’s beauty and sought to be rid of her when the opportunity arrived. Vanessa, though, felt alone at work. She needed a friend and hoped that Lynn would be that friend. Lynn did not seem the type to be concerned with the vainness of other women.

Vanessa was of Latin American descent. She had thick earthen hair that curled in the heat, with beautiful amber