Porter Island

By Brian Cross

Betty McCloud, alias Amanda Thornton, is coaxed out of retirement to rid an island of its inhabitants' unruly behavior. She's a one-woman band, but she's not getting any younger. Hardly a time to undertake her most difficult assignment. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Cross
• Release date: May 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224530106

Brian Cross

I am a writer from Peterborough, United Kingdom, originally from Ealing, West London. I have written several novels, 'Snowbird,' 'The Scarlet Web,' 'Stormfly,' 'Castle in the Clouds,' The Strand-on-the-Green Strongwoman,' 'Passion and Power,' 'The Long Gallery,' and 'Clementine and her Stalker.' I have written numerous short stories and a string of series featuring 'Betty McCloud.' Two compilations of these are available on this site. My website is [e-mail]

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Table of Contents

Porter Island

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

PORTER ISLAND

A Betty McCloud novel

by Brian Cross

Chapter One

The call came early morning. Much too early for Betty McCloud’s liking, having barely finished and rubbed down from her routine dawn workout. Sighing at the unwelcome intrusion, she marched across her reinforced gym floor and snatched the receiver from its cradle. Yes, she blared.

Whoa—whoa, came the gravelly voice on the line.  What’s got you in such a doggone mood?

Betty sighed and rolled her eyes. Mike Anthony. I don’t get to hear from you in a year or more, and then you call barely past dawn. What’s so drastically important that you disrupt me at this unheard of hour?

Aw, I knew you’d be up, Betty. Quit with the grumpy manner. A deep breath and then, We need you out of retirement, came the blunt statement.

Just like that ...

Just like that. Betty, we’ve an assignment that requires your exceptional powers.

Mike ... Betty heaved a breath and twirled a lock of her thick, black, shoulder-length hair around her finger. I’m forty-four years old; those powers aren’t exceptional any longer.

That so? We’ll see. My guess is that they are. But we’ll put you through your paces.

Just hold on, Mike. I haven’t agreed to anything. Betty’s voice rose a notch. I haven’t said I’ll do it, and come to that, you haven’t told me what it is that ...

Not over the phone, Betty. You know better than that. And besides, you’ve never been able to resist a challenge. So, okay, I’m asking you formally, How about it?"

Okay, here’s the deal. Betty chewed her lip. You disclose the nitty gritty, and I’ll consider it. But mark my words ... I’m not what I was.

Says the woman who tamed a whole notorious town single-handed. But be that as it may, Anthony added before Betty could retort, we get to decide that. A pause as Anthony appeared to deliberate. Tell you what, we’ll come to you. There’s a quiet joint about fifteen miles out of Corrisville, a place by the name of Whispering Pines, Guilder’s Creek, you ...

Call that coming to me? Betty scoffed. Yeah, I know it. When?

Tomorrow at ten-thirty, Anthony croaked.

That soon, eh?

Correct, Anthony asserted. Come on, Betty. You’ll have gathered by now this is a priority matter.

And with that, Anthony was gone. Betty replaced the receiver a little less forcefully than she picked it up. Were her powers declining, or was that just a line? Certainly her speed wasn’t what it was, but her physical strength hadn’t declined one iota. Her muscles were as well developed as ever, her brain was as quick as any, and the prospect of renewing her association with the FBI was tempting.

She thought back to her arrival in Corrisville. The town had gained a reputation of such lawlessness that it attracted the attention of the FBI and, subsequently, Betty McCloud. Betty having gained the reputation of being the finest in her field, had been assigned to the mission in the guise of a schoolteacher and gradually, due to her combination of enormous strength, speed, and quick thinking, had single-handedly transformed the place into a normal, peaceful US town.

But that was a few years ago, and in those few years, things had changed, and in terms of age, not necessarily for the better.

How would she perform in any so-called test? It would be interesting to find out, and Mike was sure right in one thing – she couldn’t resist a challenge.

Betty flexed her mighty arms at the thought.

***

Betty drove her black Jeep into Guilder’s Creek, turned into the Whispering Pines parking lot, disembarked, and took a deep breath of the cool autumn air. A few other vehicles were dotted about the lot, mostly travelers, she assumed, Guilder’s Creek being little more than two rows of half a dozen or so shops on either side of the highway.

Inside the L-shaped diner, Betty’s sharp eyesight took in Mike Anthony’s lean form as he emerged from a booth in the far-right corner, extending a hand for her to join him.

Mike, so ... Betty shrugged out of her beige jacket as Anthony’s eyes all but popped out of their sockets. Smiling wryly and tossing her jacket onto the bench, she asked, Something wrong, Mike?

Nah ... Anthony shook his head, and Betty felt his eyes running over her figure. And, of course, her muscles, resplendent as ever and rippling in her short-sleeved T-shirt.

Elbows on the table, Anthony clutched his hands together. "Magnificent, stunning as ever. You never seem to change.

Quite some compliment. Betty slid onto the bench opposite Anthony, a slight smile on her flawless features. Perhaps I’m just papering the cracks. Betty leaned on the table and placed her fists beneath her chin, her biceps surging alarmingly, causing his adamant shake of the head. Somehow, I think not.

Betty’s smile faded. Okay. Shall we get down to business ... like, what’s so dire that I’m required back in service?

Easy ... Anthony cast his eyes toward the counter. Maybe we ought to order something first. The waitress is shooting daggers.

Betty fired her own visual darts back at the waitress, dark and piercing. The fact was, she wasn’t hungry, thirsty, or anything else, but nonetheless, regrettably, as things stood, she was an unpaying customer and thus obliged to order at least something.

As if reading her mind, Anthony pushed a menu across to her. Here. I can tell you’re starving, he said with a smirk.

Betty shot the same fiery visual darts she’d used on the waitress. Cappuccino, and that’s it. She beckoned the waitress over, fired off her one-word order, and glanced at Anthony. Anthony gave his order and turned to face that penetrating expression. Okay, enough with the stalling. Betty clasped his right hand with her left, tightened it into a fist, and saw him grimace. I get the impression you’re enjoying keeping me waiting.

Anthony’s features contorted. No more than you are attempting to bust my hand, he ground out.

Attempting? Betty released her hold. I think you know it would’ve been a done deal by now. Now spit."

Anthony sighed and leaned toward her, his voice low despite the clientele being sparse. Porter Island, ever hear of it?

Betty shook her head, long black curls brushing her cheeks and jaw. Nope, should I?

Not particularly, Anthony said, clenching and unclenching his hand, but rumors abound.

Such as? Betty sat back as the waitress placed her coffee on the table, a touch firmer than necessary, for which she received a withering glance.

You still have a way with people, Anthony said, tongue in cheek, and then keeping his hands well out of reach, "protection racket in full force, lawlessness, you name it. Contacts tell us the island’s most influential people could be involved, hence the need to employ a one-woman army, and I’m looking at the only one of those right now.

Betty nodded, accepting Anthony’s words as fact. Because, in effect, that described her to a tee. Better employ her than have a whole bunch of agents sprawling all over the place.

Betty leaned forward: Question: In what guise do I act? Schoolteacher again?

Anthony shook his head and drew back as the waitress unloaded a plate of eggs, sausages, bacon, and pancakes before him. Betty sighed and rolled her eyes. See you haven’t lost your appetite. Guess I get to sit and watch you eat that lot.

Anthony shrugged. Anyhow, you get to play the dutiful companion to a middle-aged heiress, namely Shonda Stapleton ...

Hold on, just hold on! Betty’s dark eyes flared. "Stapleton and I do not get on. You know that! Anyone with an ounce of sense will fathom out as much, and I’m likely to have enough on my plate without having to act the part of her dutiful companion. Betty’s mind hit on her long-time friend, currently back home visiting Corrisville for a while. "I have a friend, Debbie Langton, who is more than capable of playing the part.

Anthony jabbed his fork into a jumbo sausage and held it out toward her. "Nice try, Betty. Except she’s not going to have the credentials, nor I’m thinking, is she a federal employee. Use of outside manpower — or should I say woman power is expressly forbidden.

Great, just great. Betty huffed. Hold on, Mike. I’m no longer a ...

You’re a special case, as you well know, and as such, can be reassigned at any time.

Betty fixed Anthony with a venomous look, moderating it slightly at his exaggeratedly innocent-looking stare. Well, I guess I cleaned up Corrisville without a whole lot of help. When does the show commence?

Soon as you’ve passed your reassessment, Anthony mumbled through a mouthful of bacon. Then you’ll be briefed along with Shonda and will leave for Porter Island and a residence in keeping with that of a wealthy heiress.

Betty nodded. When do you want me at HQ?

Tomorrow, nine am. There’ll be an assessment, after which you’ll be leaving the following day.

Fine. Betty drained her cup and got to her feet. I’ll leave you to finish your breakfast in peace, besides, it’s painful watching the way you eat. She turned to go, stopped, and swung around. Just one thing ...

Which is?

I take it that playing the heiress is going to be the limit of Stapleton’s involvement?

Well, apart from liaising with HQ, yes, indeed. I’m sure you’ll be pleased about that.

Betty gave a curt nod, striding out and glancing at the waitress on the way. Nodding toward Anthony, she said, He’ll pay for the coffee.

Chapter Two

Betty glanced across at her pal, Debbie Langton, saw she was blowing hard, and smiled. They were heading into the rising wind on the last phase of their woodland run. A companionable morning run always turned into a competition as time went on, and Debbie was getting to be a handful with her speed. Tall and light and in her early twenties, Debbie was less than half Betty’s age, but Betty had one massive advantage when running into the wind, and Debbie knew full well what that was :

Power.

And Betty used it as she surged ahead. Passing the gnarled oak she used as her finishing point, Betty turned and waited a second before slapping Debbie’s hand as she struggled past, the wind having sapped the last dregs of her energy.

You’re getting too quick for this old gal. Betty smiled as Debbie, hands on knees, took a few deep breaths.

Old gal, my backside, Debbie shot back. Amazingly, you don’t look half your age, and as for me being too quick, you panned me again.

Huh! The wind was in my favor. That’s all it was. My strength came into play. On another, less windy day, I reckon you’d have tanned me. Betty glanced up at the sky, darkening considerably. Talking of which, I’m gonna be in for a rough journey to HQ by the look of things."

Debbie followed Betty’s eyes, then joined her in trekking back to the houses backing onto Corrisville Woods. Ah, the mysterious new assignment that’s so top secret you can’t tell your best friend about.

Betty tapped Debbie on the shoulder. Would that I could, but suffice to say that it’s a way away from here, and my old nemeses, Shonda— Betty stopped and bit her lip. She’d started to divulge too much, so best to stop now before the whole mission passed through her lips. And she really shouldn’t let Stapleton get to her. She needed to ignore the bad blood running between them — what Anthony had been thinking when he paired them up, she dreaded to guess.

You were saying? Debbie asked, the smirk on her face betraying the fact that an answer wouldn’t be forthcoming.

"Never mind, said enough. Need to get on. See ya when I get back. Betty gave her friend a quick hug, laughing as her power left Debbie gasping for breath, and went to open the rear gates. She stopped and frowned. Odd, they were already off the latch. Pretty sure she’d secured them before setting out, Betty shrugged it off and made her way through her backyard, the path narrowing on account of the woodland trees that had escaped felling when the houses were built.

Suddenly, rustling crept through the bracken behind her. Betty swung around but not quickly enough to prevent the arm that curled around her throat, tightening its grip and constricting her breathing. Betty gritted her teeth, angry at the cowardly attack from behind.  Instinctively, she drove her elbow into her aggressor’s midriff. She heard a cough, felt the grip slacken, and brought her hands to the arms around her throat, her sheer strength forcing them  apart. Turning, she unleashed a piledriver—at thin air, her assailant having fled through the trees. Catching a glimpse of a tall, dark figure zigzagging between the oaks, Betty gave chase, only to find her foot snagging in the brambles. Tugging it free, she saw the shape claw its way up the rear fence and then heard the squeal of wheels outside as a vehicle pulled to a halt. Almost immediately came the roar of an engine and the spinning of tires, and Betty cursed as climbing the fence, she saw a black BMW disappearing down the track.

Betty sighed, took a deep breath, felt the soreness in her throat where the hands had gripped her, and turned toward the house. With her years of experience in the FBI, she should know better than to have so many trees in her backyard. Truth was, she was sometimes a little too confident in her abilities, and this served as a stark reminder always to be on alert.

Betty checked the rear. No sign of a forced entry, so she’d disturbed someone in the process of an attempted break-in; either that or they were lying in wait for her.  Betty’s gut feeling was the latter. Corrisville crime was at an all-time low since her intervention and the subsequent installation of an efficient team of law enforcers.

The incident should be reported, Betty knew as much. Except the belief that this was personal was growing. She’d had plenty of such incidents over the years here in Corrisville. The town’s cleaning up could mostly be attributed to her, as big-headed as that sounded. But after all, it was the reason the FBI despatched her here in the first place. In the process, any number of apprehended criminals might have twisted reasons