Deliverer Page 16

  "This is dinner?" Derek's face contorted as he lifted the lid off the skillet in the kitchen. "What is it? Cat food?"

  The question made Truman think of Earl, who still hadn't returned.

  "What's wrong with it?" Grey asked stiffly. "It's sloppy joes. There weren't a lot of options, okay? I had to use what I found."

  "Garbage," Derek muttered, chucking his plate in the trash and stomping away.

  "You cook next time!" Grey yelled after him.

  The garage door opened and Rodriguez walked in. "Sorry, boss. I don't know where he went."

  Truman gestured him inside, trying to ignore the nerves that sputtered in his chest. "Earl's never done me wrong. He probably went to get us dinner." Of course, that didn't explain why he hadn't answered his phone earlier.

  Rodriguez spotted the food and launched himself at it. "Caramba, this looks good. I'm starving."

  "Thank you," Grey said, tossing his empty plate into the sink. "Some gratitude."

  A thump sounded from downstairs, and Grey snorted. "Tell me Derek isn't taking his hunger out on the walls."

  Rodriguez took a huge bite of his sandwich. "This is great, man. Why didn’t he eat?"

  Another thump sounded, louder than before.

  Truman rose to his feet. "What is he doing?"

  "Maybe it's the girls?" Grey said, pulling on his lower lip.

  The wall slammed this time, followed by a muffled scream. And suddenly, Truman knew what Derek was doing. The certainty settled rock hard in his stomach. He pulled his gun out. "Stay up here." He took the stairs two at a time, following the scuffling noises. Derek yelled in the bathroom, and Truman threw the door open.

  Derek whirled around. Blood dripped from a cut on his cheek. Crouched in front of him, her hands held out as if to fend someone off, was the Carnicero's daughter. She gripped a shaving razor in one hand. Disgust and anger battled for precedence in Truman's mind. "Move," he ordered her. She threw herself between the toilet and the bathtub.

  Derek lifted his hands. "It's not what you—"

  Truman didn't want his explanation. Raising the pistol, he shot Derek in the chest. The man fell back, gurgling, bright red blood splattering the bathroom. The girl gasped, pressing shaking hands to her face.

  Truman looked at Rivera, took in the tears streaming down her face and the bruises and scratches. Something broke inside him. This was his fault. She shouldn’t even be here.

  He put the gun on the tile floor and pulled a towel out from under the sink, never taking his eyes off her. He soaked it with cold water, then stepped toward her. She scooted backwards, appearing for all the world like a feral cat, ready to fight him tooth and nail if he came closer.

  He lowered his eyes, unable to meet her gaze any longer. "I won't hurt you." He reached her and began cleaning the blood from her face. He pressed the towel against a bruise rising up on her cheekbone. She shuddered at his touch, but didn't struggle. She still held the razor in her fist. Truman gently unclenched her fingers and put the razor on the rim of the bathtub.

  It was time. The girls needed to clean up anyway. He lifted her to her feet and guided her back to the office.

  Murphy waited just inside the door. She grabbed Rivera and glared at him. "What did you do to her?" she snapped, and Truman again couldn't help admiring her feisty, vibrant attitude.

  "Keep that towel on her," he said. "It'll help with the swelling." He closed the door on them and went upstairs.

  "Bennett’s dead," Truman said, interrupting Grey and Rodriguez's conversation. "Get his body out of here. I don't care where you dump it. Then hurry back. I want you both here when Sid arrives."

  He followed them down the stairs and watched as they dragged the body out the walk out basement. As soon as they had gone, he grabbed a towel and went in to the bathroom to clean up the blood. Some of it wouldn't come off. The bathroom would always bear testimony to Derek's murder.

  It wasn't murder. It was crime and punishment.

  The offending razor still sat on the bathtub rim. He stuffed it into his pocket and checked the bathroom for anything else that could be dangerous. Soap and shampoo, but nothing that could injure anyone.

  Grey poked his head into the bathroom. "We drove down to a shopping strip and dumped him in the trash."

  "Anyone see you?"

  "No."

  "Good." Of course the body would be found; it would take a few days to figure out who he was, but most likely the police would never figure out who killed him. And even if they did, Truman would no longer exist. "Did you buy clothes for the girls?"

  "Yes."

  "Bring them to me." He checked his watch. Less than an hour. The girls needed to shower and change. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the messages, hoping somehow that he'd missed something. Nothing. Would Rivera really ignore this opportunity to get his daughter back? Or was it possible that no one forwarded the email to him?

  Doubts nagged at the back of his mind, but he shoved them aside. He just needed to get this done and over with.

  Chapter 29

  Truman watched from the office window as Sid's van pulled into the garage. Truman had given him the access code five minutes earlier, so the arrival wasn't unexpected. He ground his teeth together, his head throbbing with nervous anticipation.

  "They're here!" Rodriguez shouted, and something shattered in the kitchen.

  Truman tried McAllister one last time, irritated that he didn't answer. He had already left a message, so McAllister knew what was happening. Everything had to be done his way, even taking a phone call.

  Truman crossed into the entry way and greeted Sid as he walked in, an entourage of five other men with him. "You made it. How was your flight?"

  "Pleasant, as it always is when you have your own personal jet." Sid's greasy smile slid across his tanned face. He smoothed a hand over his slicked-back hair. "But onto business. Let's see these girls."

  "This way." Truman led the way down the stairs, Grey and Rodriguez flanking him. Two of Sid's men followed, but the other four took up protective positions around the kitchen.

  Truman unlocked the downstairs office and opened the door, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the two girls. He realized he'd half expected them to disappear somehow. But no, they both huddled in a corner. Rivera wore a sleeveless, silky red halter top over black leggings that showed off her narrow form. The other girl, with her fully developed body, wore a tight mini skirt and a tube-top. They looked the part. They looked good.

  Sid smiled, his ivory teeth glinting in the light. He stepped into the room, invading the girls' space. He fingered Rivera's short blond hair and touched a welt on her neck. "What happened to this one?"

  Truman had noticed the bruise on her cheek, but only now did he see the bite marks on her neck. Derek. He clenched his jaw. "One of my men got handy."

  Sid arched one eyebrow. "Did he succeed?"

  "No."

  "Perfect," he purred. He snapped his fingers and his men stepped up to join him. "I've got the money in the car. Let me examine them and we'll make the transaction."

  Truman lifted his chin and made eye contact with the two girls. He couldn't think of them as people, or think about what was going to happen to them. They were objects, objects that would save his life. "Out."

  The Carnicero's daughter moved into the hallway first, one hand gingerly rubbing her bare shoulder. Sid grabbed her arm and ran his hand down her neckline. "Are they both virgins?"

  How was he to know? "Yes," Truman said. If Sid found out differently, it would be too late to change the sale price.

  "Well, one can never know for sure. But that'll fetch a higher price." Sid turned his greedy eyes on Murphy. "I'll give you five hundred for each."

  Truman snorted. Not nearly enough. But he'd already worked this out in his head, and he was prepared to negotiate. "They know where the necklace is. It's worth a million by itself."

  Sid grunted. "If I don't have to kill them to get the information."


  Truman looked at Rivera. His eyes met hers, and he narrowed them. She knew where it was. "I'm sure you have ways." He took her shoulder, pulled her forward. Now was the time to use his trump card. "This one's father is the Carnicero. He's promised me four million for her. If you take her, I want that money too."

  Sid scowled, the frown marring his handsome features. "I can't pay you for money that he hasn't paid yet."

  Truman dug his fingers into her shoulder. "Then I'll keep her. Four million just for her is more than two million for both of them. Give me one and a half for the other girl and we'll call it good."

  Sid hesitated. "Four million?"

  Truman nodded. Lest Sid forget that was only the ransom money, he added, "That's on top of my fee. But you might get lucky. The Carnicero might buy back her friend, too." He had asked for eight million, after all.

  "Fine." Sid gave a short nod, his greasy hair jiggling. "One for the girls, one for the necklace, and four for the ransom. Six million."

  That was more like it. A smile creased Truman's lips, and he released her shoulder. "Done."

  Sid snapped his fingers, and his two men bounded up the stairs.

  Truman didn't take his eyes from him. "Don't leave until I count the money."

  "I won't," he answered mildly. He took the Carnicero's daughter's wrist and pulled her away from Truman. "Easy, girls," he cooed, sidling his arms over their shoulders. "You belong to me now."

  Rivera shifted under his weight, her eyes landing on the sliding glass door that led out of the basement.

  Sid chuckled. "You wanna run, girl? Go ahead. I'll even give you a five-second head start."

  Truman growled deep in his throat. The comment shouldn't bother him. They didn't belong to him, and they had better get used to being treated with disrespect. Still, it was cruel to jerk them around that way. "Don't play with them."

  "Ah, but the disappointment on their faces is priceless. Every time the escape slips through their fingers." Sid grabbed her chin, and she yanked her head away.

  A sound like multiple firecrackers came from the garage. Sid dropped his hands, his eyes darkening. "What's that?"

  I don't know, Truman started to answer. His words were interrupted by screams, and then a loud crash. Rapid explosions filled the house, and his heart plummeted. He knew of only one device that made that sound: A machine gun. Only one thought filled his mind: RUN.

  He didn’t have time to act on that thought before a man dressed all in black appeared on the stairs, lights flashing as bullets flew from his gun.

  The Carnicero. Something like a smile pulled at Truman’s lips. So he hadn’t forgotten his daughter, after all.

  And then a searing pain ripped through Truman’s shoulder, knocking him backwards. Another tore through his stomach, and he fell to his knees. This was it. Justice had caught up to him.

  He closed his eyes and let gravity pull him to his back. The only sound he heard was the blood pounding in his ears, the rasping in his throat as his body struggled to breathe. It appeared he would never get to live out his life in quiet and solitude. How tragic. A last verse played out in his head, and he stopped fighting, accepting his end.

  Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass. He hates him

  That would upon the rack of this tough world

  Stretch him out longer.

  (The Tragedy of King Lear)

  About the Author

  Tamara Hart Heiner is a mom, wife, baker, and an author. She currently lives in Arkansas with her husband and four children. Her other books include Perilous and Altercation, young adult suspense novels published by WiDo Publishing that share Jacinta Rivera’s side of the story. Her books also include Inevitable, published by Tamark Press, and Tornado Warning, scheduled for release in May 2014 by Dancing Lemur Press.

  Connect with me online!

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/tamaraheiner

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/author.tamara.heiner

  blog: http://www.tamarahartheiner/blogspot.com

  website: http://www.tamarahartheiner.com

  Thank you for reading!

  Other Books by this Author

  Perilous

  Detective Carl Hamilton is called out on a homicide case, where the partially decayed body of an unidentified teenage girl is found along a remote highway...

  Weeks before, Jacinta Rivera joined her best friends Callie, Sara and Amanda for a night of pizza and shopping. But an evening at the mall turned into a terrifying twist of events that drove Jaci and her friends 2000 miles across the Canadian border. The girls escaped the kidnapper’s lair only to find that he has spies and agents working on both sides.

  They are being hunted, and not even the police can be trusted….And Detective Hamilton is in a life and death race to find the three remaining girls before the kidnapper does.

  Continue for a preview of Perilous!

  Altercation

  The FBI promises Jacinta Rivera and her friends that they are safe. Jaci wants desperately to believe them but weeks of hiding from their kidnapper, alias "The Hand", have left her wary. Hidden from the public eye in an FBI safe house, Jaci must reconcile both her father's mysterious disappearance and the murder of her best friend.

  A betrayal lands Jaci back in the grasp of The Hand, shattering her ability to trust and leaving her to wonder if she will ever piece together her broken life.

  Inevitable

  Jayne’s disturbing visions of death merge with horrifying reality when she witnesses a murder. Can she bring down the killer before he brings about her own demise?

  First Page of Perilous

  September 20

  Havre, Montana

  Detective Carl Hamilton shielded his eyes against the blaring blue lights and flashed his badge at the police officer. The man moved aside. Hamilton stepped off the paved, two-lane highway just outside of Havre, Montana. Orange tape blocked off the crime scene, hidden by the darkness of early morning. He ducked under the tape and pushed his way into the dry shrubbery.

  A sergeant shone a flashlight on his face and asked, “Are you Detective Hamilton?”

  He gave a short nod.

  “I’m Shirley White.” Pressing her hand to her nose, she turned her attention back to the ground.

  The stench of rotting flesh was strong. “Ma’am. What have we found?”

  “It’s a girl. We think it’s one of the four you’ve been looking for.”

  Carl’s stomach knotted. “Cause of death?”

  “We’ll have to perform an autopsy, of course, but it appears to be a gunshot wound. Is it one of them?”

  “Where is she?”

  “Under the bushes.”

  He crouched down and moved the bushes aside, breathing through his mouth. This never got any easier. The branches parted to reveal a young girl, features distorted by death but still recognizable. The open eyes stared blankly up at him. He released the branches and stood up, giving a nod. “Yes. It’s one of them.”

  The case had just gone from a kidnapping to a homicide. And there were three girls still missing.

  Other books by Tamark Publishing

  The Eye of Cyrus

  Cyrus's typical senior year of high school ends the moment he loses his eye in an accident. Suddenly encumbered with an eye patch and a loss of self-confidence, Cyrus struggles to find fulfillment in the things that used to be important to him.

  But along with an unwanted pirate-look, Cyrus discovers he gained something else in the accident: the ability to summon visions of other times and places. When Cyrus realizes a serial killer is after him, he has to make his defective eye work overtime to keep him and his family alive.

 

 

 
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