The Redemption Read online

  THE REDEMPTION

  By David Boiani

  The Redemption

  By David Boiani

  Cover by Leah Broadwater

  Edited and formatted by Steve Soderquist

  Copyright © 2017 by David Boiani

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions,” at the email address below.

  [email protected]

  For more information on this author, please visit:

  www.authordavidboiani.com

  Ordering Information:

  Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by retailers, corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the author at the email address above.

  Independent orders by U.S. and overseas trade bookstores and online retailers will not be offered discounts.

  ISBN 13: 978-1987666939

  ISBN 10: 1987666933

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For my grandparents, who, regretfully, were not alive to read any of my literary works. I hope, for selfish as well as altruistic reasons, they are able to read them in spirit.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About the Author

  More from this Author

  Acknowledgments:

  Writing fiction has become my salvation and I truly wouldn’t be who I am today without it. I would like to thank all the authors who have inspired me throughout my life to take this journey. Thanks to Leah for your artistic talent and my editor, Steve Soderquist. Thanks to my mother and father. Thanks to Ro for your help and support. Thanks to Laura Ranger who helped me create a kick-ass website. Thanks to all my beta readers. Thanks to my bandmates, Artie, Matt, and Sean for being my inspiration behind the three clowns at the bar. Thanks to Amy for your support. I would also like to thank Brenda, my beautiful daughter Gianna, and everyone who reads The Redemption.

  I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nathan Jefferies opened his eyes. As his vision sharpened, the world slowly but steadily came into focus. What Nathan saw caused him to yearn for the oblivion of unconsciousness to return. Above him was a large glass vat with a spout on one end, containing a clear liquid with a yellowish tint. He noticed a faint scent of sewage; panic came over him as he thought: sulfuric acid. A chain was attached to a crank and secured to the side of the vat opposite the spout. Nathan tried to sit up but he was restrained by chains, one secured to each limb. He quickly looked around and saw he was lying in what resembled a glass coffin. The room was small, with one door and one window. Nighttime shadows came through the window and played on the far wall. There was one, faint light bulb hanging from the ceiling, dimly lighting the room.

  How did I get here? Nathan thought.

  His eyes returned to the acid in the vat. He heard a click as one link of the chain cranked up, and the liquid inched toward the spout. Holy shit, it’s timed! he thought. Nathan flailed his arms and legs, trying to free himself from his restraints but to no avail. He was tightly secured.

  “Help!” Nathan yelled with all he had. Nothing. After a few more futile attempts, he stopped.

  As his coherency returned, he tried to remember anything he could. He recalled his morning jog while absorbing the sun’s early rays. His run was interrupted as he approached a black SUV that was pulled over due to a flat tire; he had stopped to help the motorist mount the spare. The last thing he remembered was turning to look at the tire, and then he woke up here.

  Another click from above and the liquid inched closer to the spout. Nathan thought of his family: his wife, Andrea and his two sons, Zachary and William. He yearned to see them again. How could it end like this? Nathan always wondered what it would be like to live inside a horror movie; to feel the adrenaline and panic of knowing your life hangs in the balance, living with the uncertainty of your outcome and how much pain you would endure. Nathan glanced at the window and noticed the first sign of morning as the room started to brighten a bit, with the virgin sunlight of a new day.

  Click.

  The fluid was at the end of the spout now. One more link and it would drip onto him. The spout was aligned with his face, a mere three feet above him. He noticed something in the far corner uncovered by the morning sunlight; a video camera pointed at him with an illuminated green light. Someone was recording this.

  “Stop this, help me, please!” he screamed at the camera.

  Click.

  The first drop fell onto his right eyeball. Nathan’s sight turned black as he screamed in pain.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  ***

  John Corbin sat at his desk, crunching the previous day’s sales numbers as a prideful joy came over him. The Sufficient Grounds Tavern had been open three years and it was an overwhelming success. His partner, Red, had introduced John to a wonderful chef, Pete Darby, whom Red had prior connections, both being in the restaurant business. John had a good feeling about Pete and thought his culinary talents were a perfect fit for the menu John had imagined. The Seattle Cuisine, a local dining and entertainment magazine, had done an article on the Tavern and gave it a spectacular review. People started to flock in, sampling the cuisine and enjoying the nightly entertainment. Red not only managed the bar, he also waited on customers to help out the staff.

  John placed the computer printout into the safe and locked it as Red knocked on his office door.

  “John, Captain Johnson is here to speak with you.”

  “Thanks, Red. Send him in.”

  “Sure thing.”

  John’s thoughts flashed back almost four years ago to the day he confessed his sins to the captain in the interrogation room. The captain was due to retire at the end of the year, and John was planning on throwing a huge bash for him at the restaurant.

  “Hi, John,” Captain Johnson said as he walked into the office. The two comrades shook hands and the captain sat down across from John. “How’s it going?”

  “Perfect, couldn’t be better. The restaurant’s thriving, I’m married to a woman I love and respect, and my children are happy and healthy. What more could I want?”

  “Glad to hear it.” Captain Johnson smiled. “Is the restaurant business everything you thought it would be?”

  “It’s challenging, but I like the test. I like to compete. There will always be people who are more intelligent, more talented, and more gifted, but I can outwork them — that’s the one quality I can control.”

  “That’s a great attitude. If only more of the population felt that way,” Captain Johnson said.

  “Give me the rules with a level playing field, and I’ll compete with anyone. That’s all we as citizens can ask. So, how are you doing, captain?”

  “Lately, not so well, I’m sorry to say.”

  “What is it, trouble at home?”

  “No, my home life is fine, however, the station is a different story.”

  “Go on.”

  “We have a new psychotic malefactor on our hands, but not serial yet. He’s killed two, but i
t’s only a matter of time until he strikes again.”

  “What makes you so sure?” John asked.

  The captain pulled out his cell phone and brought up a video.

  “Watch this.”

  John took the phone and watched as the screen came to life. The video showed a man shackled and chained inside a glass box. As the man awakened, he immediately struggled to free himself but failed. He stopped his struggle and looked around the room, noticing the camera and pleading to be set free, moments before a liquid substance drips onto his face from above. Seconds later, another drip falls, followed by another. Before long, the man’s face is gone, replaced by a mask of melted flesh. John places the phone down in disgust and leans back in his chair.

  “John, the un-sub sent a live feed to my station email. We watched the scene play out, in real time. We were helpless. I don’t need to ask you if you realize how frustrating that is for us.”

  “Were you able to trace the email address?”

  “I put the best IT experts on it and they told me the un-sub went to extensive lengths to secure the email account and video feed. He or she anonymized the IP address and encrypted the feed, whatever that means. My people couldn’t break it.”

  “So, you have no idea who the perp is, or why he’s doing this.”

  “No, that’s why I came here, John. I need your help. You’re the best. I know more are coming, and he won’t stop until we find him. I need to nail this scumbag to keep people safe so I can retire with a clear head. I know this is a tough spot for you, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t of the utmost importance to me. This one makes me feel like I’m the target of some sick, twisted, universal joke, like the whole world is laughing at me. It’s disturbing.”

  John nodded in sympathy. “Captain, you know how much I respect you, also, you know you’re like family to me, but I’ve ended that part of my life. It took some time and some soul searching, but I’ve made that transition. I’m a restaurant owner now. I can’t go back.” John searched Captain Johnson’s eyes and noticed the desperation and the weariness.

  “John, there’s something else you need to know.”

  “Go on,” John replied as he sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

  “At the end of the video feed, after the victim had passed, there was text on the bottom of the screen.” The captain paused and let out a deep sigh and looked his friend in the eyes. “He asked for you, John.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “We don’t know. He just typed your name with an ellipsis following. ‘John Corbin…’”

  John dropped his head and looked down at his desk with thoughts racing through his mind. “Give me a day to think about it.”

  “Of course, take as much time as you need.”

  Captain Johnson got up, shook hands with John and walked out, leaving him alone to ponder his decision. As John glanced around his office, he gazed at the picture of his wife, Julie, and their children, Gianna and Ryann. He thought about the possible consequences his decision may have on them. He then saw the picture of his former partner and friend, Todd McGrath and his wife, Jacqueline, on the night they were enjoying a dinner together. On that unforgettable evening that now seemed like a lifetime ago, Todd had informed them of Jackie’s pregnancy and their plans to marry. Months later, John had found them strangled to death in their home, left on the dining room floor by their killer, a man named Silas Alvah. That was the last case John worked on.

  Now that he was finally content in his new life, could he possibly get pulled back into that one? Innocent lives were at stake, and that had always been his primary concern. John headed home to sleep on his decision, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

  Even with minimal sleep, John was up early the next morning. Julie had left for her shift at the hospital, leaving him alone to toss and turn over his decision. Once he decided what he wanted, he would be better prepared to discuss it with her.

  John headed to the bathroom to shower and shave. When finished, he made breakfast for his children, Gianna and Ryann. As he placed the eggs and toast on the table, he noticed Gianna, punctual as usual.

  “Good morning,” John said as he glanced at her. Now thirteen, John at times saw the woman that his daughter would soon become, although still having the look of an adolescent at other times. It was confusing to John, so he could imagine how confusing it must be for her. His daughter was growing up and that reality bothered him for no matter what age, we always see our sons and daughters as young children, innocent and pure.

  “Hi Daddy,” Gianna said.

  “Can you wake your brother and bring him down for breakfast? Use force if need be,” John said with a smirk. His daughter smiled back.

  “Sure Daddy.”

  John dropped the children off at school and returned home to walk Simba. The Alaskan Malamute was now three-years-old and weighed close to ninety pounds. He clipped the rope lead onto Simba’s collar and headed out the door. John paused for a moment to feel the warmth of the sun’s rays. It was a beautiful May morning.

  Simba waited patiently as John finally looked down. “Let’s go, boy.” Simba reacted with a quick trot toward the street with his long tongue hanging happily from his mouth.

  After the walk, John headed to the restaurant. The fresh air and the scent of the hemlock and pine trees cleared his mind and now he needed to make a decision. It was Red’s day to open and John wanted to hear his opinion. He pulled his truck into his usual spot, walked in, and sat at the end of the bar.

  “Hey, John,” Red said as he walked up to greet him. “Did you forget it was my day to open?”

  John shook his head. “Hi, Red. No, I need to talk to you about something.” John looked toward the other end of the bar. “Red, who the heck is that?”

  “That’s Sean.”

  “Sean?”

  “Yeah, he’s always here. I let him in early when I open. He was waiting in his car when I pulled up.”

  “I thought he looked familiar. Doesn’t he work?”

  “Sure, he’s a driver for one of those new transportation network companies. Kind of like a private taxi.”

  “Does he know it’s 10:00 a.m.?” John added as he glanced at Sean, which brought a quick wave from his patron.

  “I don’t think that time comes between Sean and his beer,” Red answered with a chuckle. “What did you want to talk about?” Red took a seat next to John.

  “When Captain Johnson visited yesterday, he informed me of a new killer on the loose. He’s murdered two already, and all signs point to him continuing his run.”

  “Okay, so what is so special about this one?”

  “He sent a feed via email to the station containing a video of the victim being executed.”

  “Why?” Red asked.

  “I assume it was just to toy with them. My guess is he wants to display the control he has over the force. He wants to make them feel powerless and useless, suffering through the experience of knowing innocents are being murdered, let alone watching it actually happen.”

  “So, the captain wants your help with the case?”

  “Yes, that’s part of the reason. I’d like your opinion.”

  Red didn’t hesitate. “Don’t worry about this place. I have your back. I can handle it on my own if you want to take a leave.”

  “Thank you. Aside from this restaurant, what are your thoughts?”

  “You’re a detective. It’s in your blood and your soul. If you feel that itch, it must be scratched.”

  John sighed. “I’ve worked so hard to turn the page on that part of my life, I’m not sure going backward is good for me. If I open it again, will I be able to close that door a second time? I feel like Michael Corleone. ‘Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.’”

  “You ever see a housecat hunt mice or birds? They’re generally well-fed, and don’t do it for survival. They follow their instincts. You need to follow yours. Killers will kill, and you catch them. That instin
ct will never go away. It’s embedded in your soul. John, you were never out… you were on leave. It’s what you were born to do. I say go for it. It’s your decision, and surely you need to talk to Julie, but know I support any decision that you make.”

  “Thank you, Red.” John glanced around the restaurant, admiring what he and Red had spent the last three years building. He glanced at Sean, who looked back and raised his beer in a salute.

  “But John, you said helping the captain was only part of the reason. What’s the other part?” Red asked.

  John looked back at Red and let out a long, slow sigh. “The killer asked for me personally.”

  Red gave an understanding bow of his head, patted John on the shoulder, and said, “Take as long as you need.”

  On the ride home, John contemplated how he would broach the subject of continuing his detective career to Julie. They had finally put John’s life on the force behind them, along with his questionable decisions and activities that led to his retirement. He was certain Julie wouldn’t be as supportive as Red had been, but he needed to try to explain it all to her. He had to make her understand why he needed to do this.

  John flipped on the radio and scanned the stations as he pulled his truck onto the highway. A song that fit his current mood, Bon Jovi’s Dead or Alive, bellowed from the speakers as John sat back to listen. Though not the band’s biggest hit, John thought it was their best work. He continued down the highway as he took in the song’s old west guitar riff, imagining walking into the station with a cowboy hat on, carrying dual colt revolvers in western gun holsters like the old-time cowboys. When the song came to an end, the disc jockey thanked the listeners for supporting Seattle’s home of the oldies.