The Redemption Read online

  “What? What the …? When the hell did that happen? That’s not an oldie,” he said out loud while glancing at the radio, as if the jockey would apologize for the station’s mistake. Though flustered and insulted by the station’s obvious error, John saved Seattle’s home of the oldies to his #6 preset-button.

  John gazed at his reflection in the mirror with a cluster of thoughts racing through his head. He knew in his heart the decision was made as soon as Captain Johnson asked him for his help. John yearned to feel the tension, anticipation, and thrill of the chase leading up to the elation, gratification, and pride of the capture. He knew being a detective made him feel alive, and the truth was, he felt a rush flow through his body that had been missing the last three years. The only problem was informing Julie. He flipped off the bathroom light and crawled into bed beside his wife.

  “Baby, we need to talk.”

  “Is everything all right?” Julie asked as she quickly sat up.

  “Yes, it’s just… something came up.”

  “What is it?” Julie asked. John saw the look in her eyes before the sentence was out of her mouth. That look told him she already knew.

  “John, no. You can’t.”

  “Listen, Julie, it’s only one case. The captain needs my help. I owe him my life, and my freedom.”

  “How do you know, John? How do you know the same result won’t come of it? How do you know the same feelings won’t surface, your need to protect and bring justice? What if your need to institute revenge for the victims returns? How do you know it won’t all come crashing back?”

  “I honestly don’t know, but I am different now. Even if those feelings and thoughts resurface, I can control them now.”

  “How do you know that, John? This isn’t a game. This is your life, our lives, our children’s lives.”

  John noticed the distress in his wife’s voice. He couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her, or the children.

  “Listen, I’ll go see Dr. Grant and get his professional opinion. If he thinks it’s a bad idea, I won’t do it.”

  “But why, John? Can’t you just let it go and move on?”

  “Julie, we can’t change who or what we are. I was born a detective, and I’ll always be a detective. That’s who you married. I need to do this.”

  “Why is this case so important?”

  John held her face in his hands and looked in her eyes.

  “The killer asked for me.”

  She gasped as a tear ran down her cheek. “Why? Who is he?”

  “I don’t know, but I need to find out. I’ll go see Dr. Grant.” John held his wife to his chest and kissed the top of her head.

  John glanced around the reception room as he waited for the doctor to call on him. He glimpsed quickly at two fellow patients, a man maybe ten or twelve years older than John and a younger woman who looked to be in her thirties. His eyes locked with the woman’s and she immediately looked down. Over the last three years, John had perceived the anxiety that is present in a psychiatrist’s waiting room. It’s as if everyone was determining your level of crazy when they looked at you. John pondered what her story was and whether Doctor Grant’s therapy was helping her. He looked away quickly, not wanting her to notice his interest in her mental state.

  “Mr. Corbin, Doctor Grant will see you now. Go right in,” the receptionist said with a smile.

  “Thank you,” John replied as he headed for the doctor’s office.

  Martin Grant greeted John as he entered. “John, how are you? It’s been awhile.”

  “Hello, Doctor Grant, I’ve been well, thank you,” John said as the two men shook hands and sat down, John on the couch, and the doctor on his oversized armchair.

  “So, what brings you in? Are you having issues?”

  “On the contrary, I’ve been doing very well. I’ve settled into my current life as a civilian, restaurant owner, father, and husband.”

  “That’s fabulous. What can I help you with then?”

  “I need your professional opinion.”

  “Go on,” Doctor Grant replied.

  “I’m considering going back into the field,” John paused to look at Doctor Grant’s reaction, but saw only a stoic, empty face. “Just for one case, then I’ll go back to my current life. I would like your blessing; not only for me, but also to ease Julie’s concerns.”

  Doctor Grant’s eyes stayed on John as he took in his patient’s disclosure. “John, I saw something in your eyes as you declared your desire to go back to detective work. What I saw, was desperate and pleading. You may not even realize it, but you have no intention of working just one case. Are you still having nightmares?”

  “Yes.”

  “How often?”

  “Weekly,” John replied.

  “Okay, lay down on the couch. We’re going back to the night you killed Silas Alvah.”

  John stared at the ceiling, his head resting on a pillow and his hands folded, relaxed, placed on his chest.

  “Now, close your eyes and relax. I want you to go back to that night, the night you strangled Silas Alvah. Imagine you’re there, reliving it now. How do you feel as you walk into his lab?”

  John’s mind thought back…

  It was Friday, 5:45 p.m. John pulled up to the lab, parked his truck, and walked in. The lab closed at 6:00 p.m. so John knew his interrogation of Mr. Alvah would not be disturbed.

  “I feel excited, intense, angry.”

  “Okay, now you’re walking up to the desk to speak to him for the first time. Do your feelings change?”

  John remembered…

  He walked up to the front desk and waited. Mr. Alvah soon appeared. “Hello, Detective Smith. How are you? What can I do for you?”

  “No, I want to prove his guilt to myself, so I can take his life and avenge the death of my friends.”

  “Now your hands are on his throat. Do you feel any hesitation? Do you feel any remorse as he slips away?”

  The fog lifted, and this violent memory slowly came into focus…

  With a scream, John put his hands around Silas’ throat and squeezed as hard as he could. A faint, angelic smile played over Silas’ lips and his eyes were at peace. They no longer contained anger or hatred. Silas had accepted his fate, and he welcomed it.

  “No. I feel vengeful, exhilarated. I feel whole again.”

  “Silas Alvah is dead on the floor underneath you. Do you have any regrets?”

  John’s memory fully returned…

  As John continued to squeeze, he noticed Silas’ lips mouth, “Thank you,” as his eyes closed and he drifted away, free from Earth; free to finally meet his Maker. John let go of his throat, got up, took one last glance at what he did, then walked out.

  “No.”

  “Would you do it all again, John?” the doctor softly asked as John’s eyes shot open and he briskly sat up, placing his hands over his face.

  “John, you’re not ready. Your PTSD is still very much a factor. You have what we call, delayed-onset PTSD. You have made progress, but in my professional opinion, you’re not ready to resume detective work. It’s too risky.”

  John stood and walked to the door. He turned and said, “Thank you, doctor, for your opinion.” He then walked out of the office. John would never see Doctor Grant again.

  Later that evening John sat at the kitchen table nursing a scotch, dreading what he was about to do. Through everything, John’s honesty was always present, and now he planned to mislead his wife. He glanced at the clock while taking his last sip of scotch. It was five minutes to midnight and the house was quiet. He rinsed the glass, placed it in the dishwasher, and headed up the stairs to their bedroom. He paused at the door as he felt his stomach churn, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before entering. Julie lay in bed reading a book. John undressed and crawled in next to his wife.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Dark Musings, It’s a collection of shorts stories. It’s a very intense read.”

  “Is it horr
or?” John asked.

  “No, not really. It’s more a psychological thriller, but it can be frighteningly real at times. I find that even more disturbing than straight horror.”

  “Interesting,” John said.

  “What is it, John? I can see something in your eyes.”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “To me you are.”

  “I’m sorry,” John replied.

  “Don’t be, honey. I like that I can read you so well. I know most can’t, so it makes me feel special. Now, what is it?”

  “Doctor Grant is on board with me returning to my work.”

  Julie paused and put her book down. “John, your work is being a restaurant owner.”

  “I’m still a detective at heart. He thinks I’ve progressed to the point that my issues are behind me.” John noticed a look of concern and pain overcome Julie’s face. “John, this scares me. Do you know how long it took for me to accept what you did? If I go through that again, I’m not sure we can recover.”

  John took Julie’s face gently in his hands. “Trust me, baby, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

  “But what if we aren’t? What if you lose control again?”

  “A wise man once told me his definition of hell: on your last day on earth, the person you are will meet the person you would have been without fear holding you back. I don’t want any more regrets. I still have work to do. That chapter of my life isn’t closed. I can’t accept that. I need to do this.”

  Julie dropped her head and remained quiet for a few minutes, which seemed an eternity to John.

  She finally said, “Okay, baby. I believe in you.”

  John smiled and held his wife tightly.

  “Thank you, my love.”

  “So tell me something. Who was this wise man?”

  “Um, well, he was a drunk in a bar.”

  When their laughter died down, John made love to his wife deep into the night.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A chill went down Kerry Reid’s spine as she waited on the side of the dark, winding deserted road. Fifteen minutes had passed since her white Optima stalled, and she called for roadside assistance. She had dialed her fiancé, Steven, but there was no answer. He’s probably at the gym, she thought, as she checked the time.

  Headlights appeared in her rearview mirror and she felt a wave of relief, hoping that it was help arriving early. She sighed as her hopes passed as the black SUV drove by and continued down the road. Moments later, headlights approached from the opposite direction, and the same black SUV pulled up beside her. Through the darkness, Kerry could just about make out the outline of a man’s face. He rolled down his window and motioned for her to do the same. She hesitated, but then followed his lead, stopping the window halfway.

  “Hi, need some help?” he asked.

  “It stalled and won’t start. I called roadside assistance. They should be here any minute.”

  “Sometimes they take much longer than they say they will. You shouldn’t be left out here all alone. Let me take a look.”

  “No, really, I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll be fine.”

  “Nonsense,” he replied.

  Before Kerry could respond, she watched him pull his SUV up behind her. A cluster of thoughts cluttered Kerry’s mind as the man’s door opened and she heard his footsteps approach her door. She turned and glanced at him for a moment, pondering her next move. The man’s innocent, handsome face and his calm and friendly demeanor overpowered her survival instinct and she opened her door and stepped out.

  “Pop the hood, I’ll get my tools,” the man said.

  She reached in and grabbed the release, then walked around to the front of the car and raised the hood. As she turned back, something connected with the side of her head. She fell to the ground in a heap with an explosion of pain overtaking her. The last sight she took in was the man’s black leather boots as she faded to black.

  Kerry opened her eyes slowly and her vision reluctantly returned. Her arms were in restraints secured above her head. Her surroundings slowly came into focus. She was in a large open barn with lofts on both sides supporting bales of hay. The throbbing pain from the wound on her head made her wince and she could feel the dried blood that had dripped over her ear and down her neck. She struggled to regain her focus and shake the cobwebs from her mind. Where the fuck am I? she thought. Something came into focus twenty feet in front of her. A shotgun, perched on a makeshift platform, pointed directly at her head.

  “No, please…!” she shrieked. “Somebody, please help me!”

  The barn door slid open and a man entered and approached her that she recognized. It was the man in the black SUV. Kerry felt herself shake in fear.

  “Please… why?”

  The man’s eyes looked at her for just an instant before walking to the shotgun. Kerry watched as the man seemed to be attaching something to the trigger. She flinched and tried to pull free but was unsuccessful. The restraints were secure.

  “Why?” she pleaded, as tears ran down her face. He looked up one last time before walking out of the barn. Kerry looked back at the shotgun to see what he came in to do. Attached to the trigger was a latch, secured to a pulley. The pulley was connected to a small device. It read 23:58:33. The device was a timer.

  “No, please! Somebody, please help me!” she screamed as her bladder let go. She felt warm wetness run down the inside of her thighs. Nobody heard her. She looked back at the timer. It read: 23:58:01, 23:58:00, 23:57:59…

  ***

  Captain Johnson sat behind his desk in his office, lost in thought, as a knock on the door snapped him back to reality. He glanced through the glass to see Ricky Burton, his new and promising – albeit young – detective who had just transferred from the East Coast. Ricky had his head bowed and his hands by his side, waiting patiently.

  “Come in, Detective Burton,” he said.

  As Burton entered and approached his desk, the captain noticed his walk was filled with confidence, bordering on arrogance, with a glide that looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Look at this cocky little fuck strut, he thought as a smirk played on his lips.

  “You wished to speak to me, Captain?”

  “Yes, Mr. Burton, have a seat. We need to go over a few basic procedures and understandings. Son, it’s a pleasure having you. I’d be hard-pressed to remember an addition to my team who had the credentials, training scores, and the sparkling resume you possess. Only a year and a half in the field and already a detective! That’s quite an accomplishment, and very impressive. Welcome to my force, son. I’m pleased to have you.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m happy I transferred here from New York. I look forward to many years of service.”

  “Excellent. Having said all that, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you. Being a detective carries a bit more responsibility and attention to detail. Seattle isn’t New York. You’ll learn how to work with a team here. Your fellow officers are a constant source of support and aid to be valued and respected. Don’t underestimate the power of chemistry in the force and the shield.”

  “I understand.”

  “I hope you do, son. You’re going to be working the new case with me. There are two dead already, and we need to put a stop to this psycho. I’m sure the feds will get involved at some point, but we need to do our best to catch this asshole as soon as possible.”

  Captain Johnson opened a drawer on his left and handed the detective a manila envelope, thin with information. “Here, take this folder and brief yourself.”

  “Will do captain.”

  “That’s all for now.”

  Captain Johnson watched Ricky Burton walk out of his office, hoping his speech would leave an impression on his young detective. Good, young talent was hard to find, and he hoped Ricky would blossom into a star. The truth was, Ricky Burton reminded the captain of himself when he was a young detective. He needed guidance then, just like Burton does now. His cell phone
buzzed as his wife Sarah called.

  “Hi, honey.”

  “Hi, Michael. Will you be home for dinner?”

  “Yes, slow day. I could use a hot meal.”

  “What time can I expect you?” she asked.

  “The usual time.”

  “Okay. See you then, sweetie.”

  Just as Captain Johnson turned off his cell phone an email notification came over his computer:

  Just for you, Captain…

  He opened the email which had a link attached. He clicked on it and a video feed came onto his screen. As his eyes took in the setting of the video, his stomach lurched. He saw a woman, secured by restraints to her wrists, attached to a beam in the rafters. She looked to be in a large, airy open building. A warehouse or a barn. Captain Johnson felt a bit of panic overcome him when he noticed what was in front of the woman: a shotgun, set up on some sort of stand, aimed directly at her head. There was text on the screen that seemed to be counting down…

  23:59:45, 23:59:44, 23:59:43…

  He picked up the station phone. “Stan, we got another feed. Get the IT experts here ASAP. Also, send Burton in.” He reached for his cell phone as Burton and Stan Jenkins entered his office, his wife answered on the first ring. “Cancel dinner, Sarah. I’m sorry, it’s going to be a long night.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, an additional text came over the feed. Captain Johnson put his hands on the top of his head and glanced at Ricky. Ricky looked at the screen and read:

  JOHN CORBIN…

  Red stood behind the bar and looked out over the restaurant as the dinner crowd started to filter in. A few regulars were present at the bar, including Sean, who waved Red over.

  “Another Brooklyn?” Red asked.

  “Yeah, I guess I have time for one more,” Sean replied as he gave a token glance at his watch.