Unfinished Business. C. A. Walters Walters
of any of the patients, and since he wasn’t family, he was not allowed in. The day before the big move, he sat at the edge of the woods just staring at the window on the third floor, but the lady never appeared.
Just when he got ready to go home, he saw movement at the window, and an old man in pajamas appeared, looking out at the woods. Robbie was puzzled, where is the lady? But he never did find out, it was time to go home, and the next day was moving day.
Robbie had no choice, he couldn’t disobey his mom and dad. So he reluctantly went outside, and climbed into the backseat, to make the long trip to a new town. Robbie had to make new friends, learn about a whole new town, new teachers, new everything. It just wasn’t fair! And, most important, he never had a chance to help the poor old lady in the old house. And they were leaving Gran behind. Mom said, “She’ll always be here with us, in our hearts.” But it just wasn’t the same. Nothing would ever be the same again …
So you see, the pattern of my life was forming, even at that early age. I just couldn’t help but think of the fact that I had left so much unfinished. I had not been able to help my grandmother. I had failed my every attempt in the nursing home. I had been too small, too young, unable to do what needed to be done. I resolved that I would never be that defenseless again. I would be strong, trained. Able to take care of the people I cared about, able to hurt anyone who wanted to hurt them, able to protect them, in any way necessary …
BOOK 2 – WINDING PATHS
Chapter 1
April, 2006
The Hunter lay quietly in the brush, breathing normally, making no noise to scare his quarry away. It had been a long hunt, but finally the perfect target had presented itself. The Hunter, as he called himself, searched high and low until he could find exactly the quarry he sought, then would begin the stalk, watching the movements of his particular quarry, sometimes for days at a time. When did it go to the watering hole? What foods did it eat? The Hunter wanted to be certain of everything before he would bag his target. No missed chances, no wounding and watching his quarry scamper away. No chase through the woods because he wasn’t good enough to make certain of a clean kill before he started the final stalk.
He had been watching this target for nearly three weeks now. He knew the target’s routines, knew when it went to the watering hole, when it went to its den. Knew where it laid up during the night, and where it went during the day. He had also picked his kill spot very carefully. No chance of a branch breaking and giving him away at the last second, no chance of another person wandering by and ruining the hunt. Everything was in readiness. As he waited by the trail this night, he thought how everything had come together perfectly. All his planning had depended on stealth, silence, and secrecy. The night he picked to finally bag his quarry, the sky was overcast, and a light rain was falling, making visibility less. There was a light fog rolling across the grass, but not enough to make the final kill impossible. Every once in a while, he could hear the rumble of thunder. He used those sounds to cover any minute noise he might make closing the last few yards to his quarry. You see, the Hunter liked to make the kill up close and personal. No rifle shot for the Hunter, no sir! This had to be done quietly, and in one fluid movement.
As his quarry finally came into sight, the Hunter crouched in his place of concealment. A random flash of lightning temporarily lit the world up in incandescent flashes of bright white light, like the strobes at the local disco. In the flash, he could see his quarry cautiously making its way directly toward where the Hunter had so carefully hidden himself. When he knew he was as close as he could get without alerting his prey, the Hunter tensed his honed muscles, and sprang. The quarry had time for one startled squawk, before the Hunter was on it. One good strike to the side of the head, and the quarry was down. Then came the work. Stringing the catch up in a tree, hanging it up so it could be bled out. Once in the tree, hanging upside down, the prey regained consciousness, flinging its torso in small circles, trying to escape the confining ropes. But to no avail, the Hunter had been very careful. One quick swipe across the throat, and the life blood started flowing thick and fast to the ground. Another slice from sternum to rectum, and the intestines started falling out in ropy strands, to land in the growing puddle. There was no sound, other than the sound of the organs hitting the dirt, because the Hunter had carefully gagged his prey before stringing it up.
Chapter 2
“Detective Wilson, Massachusetts State Police, can I help you?” The voice on the other end of the phone could have been any one of the dozens of others he had heard that day. Wilson’s partner, Ron James, listened to the half of the conversation he could hear, and chuckled to himself.
“Uh huh, yep, sure. Okay, I’ve written your information down; if we need anything else I’ll be sure to call you. Uh huh, um, okay. Yes ma’am, I’ll do that.” With that cryptic comment, Wilson hung up.
“Well, what did that fine upstanding citizen have to report that was so fascinating?” asked Ron.
“This one is a dilly; she says she saw what could only be a space alien out by the old nursing home last night, so they must be abducting people, though she couldn’t see their spaceship.”
“Oh, well at least she didn’t complain that she had been ‘probed’. It must be a full moon, we’re getting more complaints about spaceships, werewolves, all the crazies are coming out.”
“Yeah, either that or they’re giving one day passes at the loony bin. So, what exciting cases do we have lined up for us this week? The case of the mysterious missing cat? The husband abducted by space aliens who we found passed out behind the bar over on ninth street?”
“Funny man,” said Ron. “Nothing from the lieutenant, but he said he may have something for us by lunch time. He has leads on something, but it may just be some more loonies. I guess we’ll just have to go ask to find out.”
Almost as if it had been planned that way, Wilson’s phone rang.
“Wilson and James here”, Wilson said, as he put the call on speaker phone.
“You two clowns march on over to my office, so I can put you to work for a change.” The lieutenant said.
“Right away Captain.” said Wilson as he hung up.
“Well, here we go again, I can hear it now, the case of the mysterious disappearing donut hole!” said Ron, as the two detectives got up to walk across the hall to the Lieutenant’s office.
The pretty redhead the precinct had recently hired as a receptionist looked the two over appraisingly as they walked by. Wilson noticed, and said to Ron, “Hey, I think she likes you dude, you should try your luck.”
Ron replied “More your speed my friend; red hair, yours is strawberry blonde. You know what they say, red on the head, fire down below!”
“Yeah, but I think she likes the Latin look,” said Wilson.
“Nah, she keeps staring at those baby blues of yours. Besides, Mamacita would kill me for even thinking about it.”
When they got to the Captain’s office, the light banter melted away immediately. They could both see that the Captain. was all business, not happy at all.
“You two clowns hightail it out to the Sunnyside Rest Home. There’s been a murder; right up your alley. The car on scene called it in, the coroner is on the way, and we’ve got the placed closed off to keep the media at bay. So get on down there and see what the hell is going on.”
The detectives headed down to the garage, and got into Wilson’s Jeep Cherokee.
“Man, when are you going to get a new set of wheels, this old clunker looks like crap!” said Ron.
“This old clunker gets us out in the woods when we need to go there, and gets us through snow