The Game of Life or Death (Book 3 of the Detective Jacob Hayden Series)

By Charles Prandy

Detective Jacob Hayden is back in another heart pounding adventure that takes him on the most turbulent emotional rollercoaster ride of his life.

Detective Jacob Hayden is left reeling when he receives news that the Rule family, whom he’s known his entire life, has been brutally murdered. As he arrives at the gruesome crime scene, the sight of their lifeless bodies intensifies his determination to find their killer. However, things take a sinister turn when a thirty-year-old video tape surfaces, revealing a secret that challenges everything Jacob thought he knew about the family. To make matters worse, the Russian mafia is also after the tape, willing to go to any length to obtain it.​

As if the investigation wasn’t already complicated enough, Jacob must also deal with a mysterious individual known only as, The Game. This unknown adversary has been sending him threatening letters and challenges Jacob to a high-stakes game of survival, with only one person left standing at the end. With everything at risk, Jacob must race against time to solve the murders, uncover the family’s secrets, and outsmart his dangerous opponent in a deadly game of cat and mouse, or, as, The Game, would put it, Life or Death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles Prandy
• Release date: Dec 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215388525

Charles Prandy

I have a deep passion for crafting stories that seamlessly enthrall readers, transporting them into captivating worlds where time slips away unnoticed. My particular enthusiasm lies in the realm of suspenseful narratives, where I strive to keep readers eagerly guessing the outcome. Nothing brings me greater joy than receiving messages from readers exclaiming, "You had me on the edge of my seat throughout! I simply couldn't tear myself away." This is the immersive experience I aspire to create with every piece I write.

Book preview

Part One - The Previous Day

One

I just met the President of the United States for the first time. It was an odd encounter, given that I was the one who saved his wife’s life from Jack Smith. The First Lady herself never thanked me, but the President wanted me to know that they were truly grateful for what I had done. The Oval Office was everything it appeared to be in the movies. The President was nice and cordial, but the short meet and greet didn’t give me the impression that we were going to be the best of buddies. I was only there for about ten minutes, and then the Secret Service brought me back home.

The August humidity caused me to start sweating in the short few seconds I walked from the Secret Service vehicle to my front door. There was an envelope waiting for me on the doorstep that wasn’t there before I left the house. I picked it up and saw that my name was on it in cut out letters. My eyes suddenly grew wide. Being a homicide detective for the city of Washington, D.C., I’d seen my share of wackos and had heard pretty much every horror story imaginable. So, when I saw the cut out letters, I knew this couldn’t be good. I opened the envelope and found a letter inside. The letter was from the same nut that wrote me earlier in the year saying that I was going to be playing a game called Life or Death, and that the only way to win was to kill him before he killed me. This letter said basically the same thing.

When I received the first letter, I had it dusted for prints and saliva, but nothing was found. I hadn’t heard from the guy all summer, so naturally I thought the letter was just a mean joke. I guess I was wrong. I folded the letter and opened the front door. As I entered the house, my cell phone rang, and I saw that it was from the station.

Detective Hayden.

Jacob, it’s Hellsworth.

Captain Hellsworth doesn’t call me very often, so my interest was piqued a little when I heard his voice.

What’s up, Captain?

There was a long sigh, and something in his voice didn’t sound right.

I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. He paused. They’re dead, Jacob. The Rules are dead.

I staggered back and nearly collapsed. I grew up in the suburbs of Maryland, and the Rules were a family that I was extremely close with. Both of our families moved to D.C. after I graduated from high school. Over the past fifteen years, Mr. Rule had become a pillar in the D.C. community for a lot of the cancer awareness work he had done through one of his foundations. Growing up, I was best friends with their oldest son.

My legs were shaking. I had to hurry to the couch because I knew I couldn’t stand much longer.

All of them? I asked.

I’m sorry, Jacob. We just got the call about thirty minutes ago.

My voice shook when I spoke again, What happened?

Why don’t you come in? We can talk about it here.

How’d they die? I asked again. Tears streamed down my face.

Captain Hellsworth hesitated before answering. They were executed, Jacob.

Two

I was numb and at a loss for words. I sat there with the phone in my hand, staring mindlessly at the wall in front of me. The Rule family, a family that I’d known most of my life was dead. Why? Why would someone want to kill them? I laid my head back and closed my eyes. With my eyes closed, my mind brought up their faces. I remember the first day I met them. My family had just moved into the neighborhood in Rockville, Maryland. I’d recently turned six years old. This was the 70s, so at that time we had big afros. It was the beginning of summer, and my mother took me for a walk around the neighborhood. I remember that there were a lot of kids playing, and a man was washing his car.

We walked by a house that was on a slight hill, and I looked up into the window. All I saw was a big afro. I couldn’t make out anything else. I tugged at my mother’s hand and pointed to the window. The afro quickly disappeared. We stopped for a second, and my mother waved toward the window. The afro slowly reappeared, and a small hand about the size of mine waved back. Then a bigger body appeared with a bigger afro. A dark-skinned woman with high cheekbones, full lips, and a broad smile waved at us.

Hi y’all doin? She said through the window.

Fine, my mother responded. We just moved into the neighborhood. Takin’ my son for a walk.

Oh, well welcome. There was a slight pause, Where’s my manners. Why don’t y’all come in for something to drink?

At this time people didn’t seem as apprehensive about strangers back then. The woman greeted us at the door. Standing next to her was the little boy from the window. We were about the same size and build. His complexion was a little darker than mine, but his afro had mine beat by about two inches.

Who do you think would win in a fight, Superman or the Incredible Hulk? The little boy said to me.

Superman, I said.

He smiled. Yeah, Superman would punch him in the face and send him to outer space.

The woman looked down, Rule, what’d I tell you about violence?

The little boy rolled his eyes.

The woman greeted my mother. I’m Laura Rule. She placed her hands on the little boy’s shoulders. And this here is our little Rule.

Little Rule extended his hand to me. I think it was the first time I’d ever shaken a hand. I looked to my mother, and she nodded with a smile. I shook little Rule’s hand. I’m Jacob Hayden, and I’m going to be a professional basketball player when I grow up.

We went inside the Rules’ home and spent the next few hours getting to know them.

I sat up from the couch. My mind was still in a whirlwind. I suddenly felt guilty because I hadn’t spoken with the Rules in a few months. After my parents died some years back, outside of my in-laws, Dennis and Laura Rule were my other surrogate parents. Oftentimes, they treated me as if I were their other son. Was there anything I could have done to prevent this from happening? I didn’t know the answer to that, but what I did know was that as long as I was breathing, I was going to find out who killed them.

I picked up my car keys from the kitchen counter and headed for the front door. In order to find their killers, I needed to see the crime scene. Was I ready for what I was about to see? I didn’t think so.

Three

I’d been to the Rules’ house a million times over the years, but today felt like it was the first time. Everything seemed surreal. Flashing blue and red lights caught my eyes when I turned onto their street. There seemed to be at least a dozen or so cops standing around the front yard with some going in and out of the house. There were news vans parked around the corner with reporters standing in front of cameras giving the latest updates of the horrific murders. This was an upscale neighborhood in the Rock Creek Park section of the city. A small crowd of people stood outside of the police tape probably wondering what had happened.

I stepped out of my car like I’d done a thousand times throughout my ten-year career, but this time was different. I usually try and take in the crime scene before I see the bodies, but not this time. I walked straight to the house, ignoring the other cops who acknowledged me. As I neared the house, the empty feeling that was growing in my stomach seemed to have widened. I didn’t speak to anyone. My eyes were focused in front of me, and I wasn’t even sure if I blinked.

Finally, I came to the front door, and the coppery smell of blood instantly hit my nostrils. There must have been a lot of it for the smell to be that strong. I paused momentarily, second-guessing if I should go inside. Death is a hard image to forget. My mind flashed back to my wife, Theresa, for a moment. She had been killed in our house while I slept. I tripped over her lifeless body as I walked through the dark of our house. I never saw her face because I was immediately knocked out by her killer. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that kept some nightmares at bay.

I took a deep breath. I could hear people talking inside the house. One of the voices was from my new partner, Patricia Jennings. She was a rookie detective with a lot of upside. She was talking about the placement of the bodies as if she were talking to herself. I guessed that she was speaking into a tape recorder for later analysis.

Finally, I stepped inside. I was shocked at what I saw. There was no doubt about it, I was going to have nightmares tonight.

The first person I saw was Dennis Rule, the father of the family. He hung from a beam in the middle of the living room by a rope tied around his neck. The room had a high vaulted ceiling with wooden beams running from one side to the other. He was naked and his belly had been slashed open. Dark bloodstains covered the carpet underneath his hanging body. His intestines were half dangling out from his stomach. The look on his face was horrific. His eyes bulged from their sockets, and his tongue hung limply from his mouth. He looked nothing like the peaceful man that I had grown to love.

Next was Laura Rule, Dennis’s wife, and their two adult daughters Kim and Stephanie. They were tied to chairs facing Dennis, and their bodies were slumped forward. I stared at them. When I was a teenager, I’d had a slight fondness for Stephanie, but I was her brother’s best friend, so I knew she was off limits. Which brought me to my next thought, Where’s Rule?

Pat stood next to me, holding her smartphone with the voice recorder app up.

They were forced to watch him die, she said.

Judging by the placement of their bodies, I couldn’t argue with her theory. I was nearly speechless when I opened my mouth.

They have a son named Rule. Has anyone heard from him?

Someone’s trying to reach him now. Apparently, he’s out of state.

Rule works as a fugitive recovery agent or better known as a bounty hunter here in the city.

Captain said they were your friends, Pat said.

I struggled to answer, Yeah.

I took a step closer to the bodies. My palms were moist, and my head felt like it was swimming in the clouds. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. As hard as it was to look at their bodies, I was in a stark trance at the same time. I couldn’t pull my eyes away. I didn’t realize that I was crying until Pat pulled on my arm.

Let’s go outside, she said.

She had to pull hard to get me to move. Finally, I looked away, but not without engraving Dennis’s horrid image into my mind.

Once outside, I leaned over, rested my hands on my knees, and took a deep breath. My head still felt like it was swimming in the clouds, but I was starting to come back to earth.

This was an ambush, I said.

I stood up and looked at Pat.

I’m guessing three or four guys. Dennis was a big and proud man. I can’t see one or even two men doing this.

He looked like he was tortured before he died, Pat said.

I nodded.

And this wasn’t just some random attack, I said. He was meant to suffer. His family was meant to watch him die.

Why?

I shook my head. I don’t know.

Could it have been work related?

That’s always a possibility. He headed a small venture capital firm here in the city.

I turned around and looked back into the house. Dennis’s body was being taken down.

Why don’t you stay here and see what other information you can gather, I said. I’m going to go to his office and see what I can find there.

Four

He watched the detective from the crowd of onlookers. This wasn’t the first time he stood in the background and watched his prey at work. He’d also done it in Texas. After his stint in D.C. he planned on taking his talents, not to South Beach, but international—to London, Seoul, or Cairo. But first he must deal with Detective Hayden.

He called himself The Game because in his mind that’s what he was. He believed that he embodied that fullness—the noun, adjective, and verb that describe the word’s meaning. He’d been watching the detective for close to a year now. The detective first came on his radar two years ago when a national network picked up a story of a little boy’s body that’d been found in the woods of a park in D.C. The news camera caught a young African American detective walking away from the scene. The reporter asked the young detective if this victim was related to a case of another young boy that was murdered a week earlier. The detective didn’t comment on the relationship but looked into the camera and said that he was going to find out who killed this child. There was a fire in the young detective’s eyes that gave The Game goose bumps. Right then he knew that the young detective was going to be a worthy adversary.

For the past year, The Game had been watching Detective Hayden’s career and was thoroughly impressed by how he’d overcome his wife’s murder only to kill the men responsible for her death. How he was able to stop the madman Jack Smith from killing the First Lady. There were traits that The Game looked for when picking his adversaries, but the most important trait was self-discipline. He believed he’d found that in Detective Hayden.

But now, as he stood in the crowd and watched the man he’d been waiting for look depressed and despondent, he believed he needed to get the detective back on the right track. The Game believed that the detective needed to be sharp in order for the hunt to be successful.

The Game differed from other serial killers in many ways, but most importantly, he didn’t prey on the weak or unsuspecting. Only cowards did that. In most serial killer cases, when the killer was caught what did they look like? Weak and feeble men who had to hide in the bushes to snatch women and children. They were pathetic in his eyes.

Wearing a red and gold Redskins cap, The Game lowered the bill to cover his eyes as he turned in the crowd to leave. The detective needed someone to put a little spark under his belt to get things going, The Game thought. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

Five

My mind was in a fog as I drove through the streets of D.C. I kept picturing Dennis’s mutilated body hanging from that rope in his living room. The three women he loved most in this world had watched him suffer and die and then found themselves in similar fates. What could have been going through their minds before they died? It was eating me up inside just thinking about it.

I tried Rule’s cell number after I left his parents’ house, but it went straight to voicemail. There had been times when he was out on assignments in rural areas without cell reception. Felons will go almost anyplace not to get caught. I left him a message telling him to call me first, as I was sure he’d have a lot of messages when he checked them.

That first day I met Rule, I wondered why his parents called him by his last name. Whenever I asked him, he just said that he didn’t like his first name, and I learned why the first day of school. We were in the same first grade class. Mrs. Harris was our teacher, and she started roll call. She went in alphabetical order. I raised my hand and said, Here when she called my name. Rule sat in the row next to me, but two desks back. I looked at him as Mrs. Harris made her way down the list. Eric Roberts’ name came next. He said, Here. Then Mrs. Harris paused. I turned my head toward the front of the room. Mrs. Harris looked at the sheet of paper and then to the class. She licked her lips, adjusted her glasses, and then said, Always Rule.

I wanted to laugh but kept quiet. There were a few smirks from some of the other kids. Mrs. Harris looked at Rule and patiently waited until he said, Here.

Then she moved on to the next student. At five years old, I understood why he didn’t like his first name. And as long as we’ve known each other, I’ve always called him Rule.

I turned onto K Street and found a parking spot at the corner of K and 18th Street. Dennis’s investment firm was a block down on 18th Street. I went inside the building and told the security guard I was going up to Cardinal Rule Investments on the tenth floor. Samuel Cardinal and Dennis started the firm nearly twenty years ago. Two years ago, Samuel died of a heart attack.

Once out of the elevator, I went through glass doors with the company’s inscription. The lobby was modern with sleek glass tables, white marble floors, and a glass reception desk. No one was sitting at the reception desk. I knew the layout of the office, so I walked past the desk and turned right, down a short hallway. There was a glass walled conference room to the right where all of the employees were sitting around a conference table. Most were crying. I’d been to the office a couple of times over the years and only recognized three faces. One of them looked over at me through the glass wall and waved. He excused himself and left the room.

Jacob, he said as he shook my hand.

Dan Conner was one of Dennis’s VPs. He wore a navy-blue suit. His tie was loosened at the neck, and the top button on his shirt was undone.

How’s everyone holding up? I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. As good as expected. We just heard the news about twenty minutes ago.

Can we talk in your office?

He nodded and led me through another hallway. Dan’s office fit the look of the rest of the firm. Modern desk and chair and a sleek flat screen monitor on top of his desk.

He sat down and swiveled his chair around to a built-in wall unit that had family photos and a couple of glasses.

Scotch? he asked.

No, thanks.

Mind if I have one?

Go right ahead.

He pulled out a glass and a bottle of Scotch and poured half a cup. What the hell happened, Jacob?

I shook my head, I don’t know. I’m just as lost as you are.

Dan took a swig of his Scotch.

Was Dennis working on anything out of the ordinary? I asked.

Not that I know of. We just landed a couple of new accounts. Business has been doing well. Dennis was training for a 5K charity event next month. Standard operating procedure all the way around.

He took another swig of his Scotch.

When did the new accounts come in?

Over the past couple of weeks. We’d been negotiating terms, rates, and we finally reeled them in. Nothing out of the ordinary.

How about here at the office. Anything happen out of the ordinary? Did someone recently get fired, demoted, reprimanded, that kinda thing?

Dan shook his head. No, everyone’s been working hard. As a matter of fact, we just gave out our yearly bonuses. Like I said, business has been great this year.

I sighed. Business had been great. Everyone had just received a bonus. Why would someone from the office want to kill Dennis and his family? The answer was they wouldn’t.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at Dennis’s office. And after that I should probably speak with the staff individually, just to cover my tracks.

Sure, anything you think will help.

Six

I talked to all thirty-one employees, and nothing jumped out to indicate that any of them were involved in Dennis’s murder. They were all genuinely heartbroken over his death. Some had been with the firm from the very beginning. Outside of contacting a few former employees who left within the past year, my