After the Evil – A Jake Roberts Novel (Book 1) (5 page)

The painful memories took over her thoughts, but
none of it was as Abrams said. Her father was a good man and had
nothing to do with her traumas. It was her transposition of what
her ex-husband did to Emily. Lori was furious, but held back biting
hard on her lower lip.

Abrams, you’re a fool.

“You didn’t tell anyone, and all of the subsequent
guilt, emotional scars and mental anguish, gave you countless
reasons and excuses to kill.”

“You could never understand, and I’m not going to
debate my life with you.”

In a businesslike tone, she asked again.

“So what do you want? To get laid—some kind of
perverted sex act?”

A broad smile filled his face.

“Now Lori, I fully admit that in my office, while
you poured your heart out, I had some of my most memorable
fantasies. I thought about doing you on my desk. In fact, I want
you right now, but first things first.”

He walked to the sofa and nonchalantly sat down. He
motioned her to sit in the chair across from him. She took a seat
as directed, not wanting to show any sign of aggressiveness.
Instead, she wanted him to think she was completely vulnerable, and
at his mercy.

“Aren’t you afraid to be alone with me?”

“Well, let’s think about that.”

He looked off into the distance.

“No, in fact, the thought of being alone with you
excites me. It probably has something to do with my mundane and
boring life as a psychiatrist.”

He sipped at the scotch.

“I’m even quite certain, while you have been
listening to me, you have considered at least five different ways
to kill me.”

Believing he was in control of another dangerous
murderer, he rambled on, and speculated.

“All that needs to be resolved in your mind is would
anybody know? Who else knew you were coming here,
Mrs.
Abrams?
Is there a surveillance system inside this enormous
house? Did you leave fingerprints on the glass, the door? There’s a
lot to think about, and you haven’t had time to think it all
through—my murder that is.”

“You still haven’t told me what you want. What am I
supposed to do, drop to my knees, while you’re aroused with
unsubstantiated suspicion?”

“Is sex all that flight attendants think about?”

The smirk disappeared from his face. He stared at
her with a piercing, burning look. As clearly, and coldly, as he
could, he spoke.

“I want you to kill Mrs. Abrams for me.”

It was finally out in the open. The unmistakable
words came out of the respected, successful, and talented Dr.
Thaddeus Abrams—a trusted pillar of society. How disappointing, she
thought.

He’s insane.

To Abrams, Lori seemed confused and lost about his
last statement. He wasn’t sure what to do, if she didn’t go along
with his plan. He tensed until she spoke.

“If you’re right about me, and I’m capable of such
dreadful behavior, what makes you think I would do such a thing to
your wife––for
you
?”

Abrams smiled, relieved to hear the question. He
leaned closer to her. His hand waved around the room.

“Because Lori, she’s the only thing that stands
between you and me. You kill her, and all of this is yours. In
return for doing away with the annoying, predatory, and domineering
Mrs. Abrams—you will enjoy a lifetime of
me
, untold wealth,
security, and free consultations.”

“You can’t walk the walk, so you want me to walk it
for you. And in return for my cooperation, you’re going to let me
share in your wealth?”

She pulled at her lower lip with an index finger.
Once again, she was convinced men were nothing more than
testosterone-loaded, perverted animals that would say and do
whatever necessary, to get what they wanted. The others had paid
dearly for their arrogance. One thing was clear in her mind.
Another male control freak was going to die.

Abrams felt somewhat relieved. She was at least
considering his diabolical plan. He needed to push her to close the
deal. He wanted to make it clear he was in charge.

“Well not exactly share the wealth, more like use
the wealth. You are correct. I can’t walk the walk. I don’t have
to, because I have you. Now talking the talk I can do, down at
police headquarters.”

He gave her time to consider his proposal. She paced
the spacious room with its ornate, expensive décor. She pretended
to give his scheme her undivided attention, while the clock ticked
down in her head. As she studied the various displayed artifacts, a
familiar voice spoke to her.

They’re all the same. He’s just one more shining
example of how disgusting men really are. You know what to do. You
have my blessing, and my permission.

Until then, she felt cornered, trapped, and caged.
Now that she had permission, it would be easy. Men were
predictable. A simple mood swing was all she needed. He was a
better-than-average-looking man, with beautiful eyes. She knew she
would actually enjoy playing him. Mentally she prepared to be
convincing.

“You would want me. Do you mean that?”

How many times do I have to play this game?

“I offer you my heart, and my soul. After all, you
and I are going to burn in hell together. Might as well enjoy
ourselves in this life.”

He waited patiently for her to answer.

“You don’t even know me, nothing about my life
except...”

She played her role perfectly.

“I knew all about Mrs. Abrams, the social register,
family history, moods and sexual needs. We’ve been married for many
years. Love had nothing to do with it. I married her for the money.
I’ll be
filthy
rich when the insurance company pays off on
her carcass.”

Abrams held out his empty glass for her to refill.
Deferring to him, she took it and approached the bar. He
continued.

“I’m not looking for love. I’m in it purely for the
money, and the pleasure it brings me––us.”

She decided to take the chance no one knew she was
there. It didn’t make sense he would have told anyone she would be
there, or be crazy enough to record the conversation. Abrams was
still blustering when she dropped the pill into his glass. He took
the replenished, tainted drink from her as she queried him.

“What assurances do I have, that after the fact, I
will actually be sharing all of this opulence with you?”

She thumbed through his CD collection while waiting
for his answer. She was astonished to find her favorite, The Cult—
Beyond Good and Evil.
Bocelli had long since ended, and she
replaced his music with hers. She pressed number three and
play.

Thaddeus believed he had convinced her to kill his
wife. He was feeling safe, and secure, but a little
light-headed.

“You don’t get assurances. You simply have to trust
me.”

He slurred the last two words. As he finished his
drink, Lori watched his small head take control. She walked over to
him and knelt down at his feet. With perfection, she played the
role of seductress.

“After the evil, I feel release, freedom. It feels
good, better than sex.”

She paused to let his imagination run wild.

“Daddy taught me. He taught me how to be a
bad
little girl. Do you want to see? Just thinking about it
makes me so hot.”

He felt invincible as he watched her stroke his
thighs. He controlled her, and she was going to give him everything
he ever dreamed of. The room spun around once, twice then out of
control. He blacked out, returned in a haze, and blacked out again.
When he briefly came to, he tried pushing her away, but the push
was limp. Fighting her was pointless. He lost advantage. His arms
flailed in random directions, but it was too late. The special
evening Dr. Abrams had planned with Lori was over. His last breath
included a death rattle. “Thaddeus” was written with his blood on
the wall. Before she left, she made sure the room was clean. They
found him lying in a pool of his own blood. His severed cock was
lying beneath the bloody blade protruding from his heart. Lori had
to kill “daddy” again. She succeeded, but still she didn’t
climax.

She made the call to 9-1-1 immediately after she
found him. A shocked and horrified Mrs. Anna Abrams, barely heard
the sirens, or noticed the police officers rushing in. It would be
a while until she was not considered the prime suspect, but it was
less than an hour since Lori had gone. Ironically, it would be much
later when Anna would collect a substantial sum from the insurance
company.

His eyes fixed and open, Dr. Abrams became the star
of the macabre crime scene. Newton was right. A body at rest tended
to stay at rest. The phrase was uttered by at least one of the
investigators, sometime during the evening. Most of the personnel
present at the investigation knew the doctor, but not one
understood why he, of all people, would be the victim of a
homicide. At 11:42 P.M., the Medical Examiner pronounced Thaddeus
Abrams officially dead.

Edward Fairchild surveyed the crime scene.

“Where is he?”

“Still out on medical leave, Ed,” Harmon said.

“I don’t care. Drag him if you have to.”

It wasn’t that Fairchild was a heartless man. He
simply needed the best investigator the department had. Harmon
walked off to a less chaotic area, and pretended to make the call
on his cell phone. He pretended, because he knew Jake wouldn’t pick
up.

Jurisdiction once again passed from local to
federal, when Agent Mika Scott arrived. The fact that the victim’s
name was written in blood was the reason. To the FBI agents
assigned to the case, the murderer had become known as the “Who’s
Your Daddy” killer.

* * *

My torn bathrobe open, unshaved, hunched over and
drooping like a Neanderthal, I’m pathetic in my current state of
existence. Nudged by some unknown force, I reach down, and pick up
the morning paper. Flicking it open, I see what I missed while
comatose. Rubbing my eyes harder doesn’t help to clear them. The
effects of the sleeping pills linger.

Newspapers have always been full of bad news. The
big world outside was forever coming apart. There is enough on my
plate, with my own little world crumbling, that I can do without
reading the paper, but a particular sensational headline clears my
cloudy vision.

Local Psychiatrist Murdered

Dr. Thaddeus Abrams, prominent local psychiatrist,
was found murdered by his wife Anna. Special Agent Mika Scott with
the Federal Bureau of Investigation was quoted as saying…

Ouch, I didn’t like Abrams much as a person, or a
shrink, but he was all I had. The article spews the grisly details.
My hand slaps my forehead. In my first flashback, she had just
arrived at the precinct as a new officer with a ton of spirit,
fearlessness, and attitude. She wanted desperately to make the
world right. She was never at a loss for words when defending her
beliefs. My second flashback was of an incredible intimate moment
we shared. Mika was completely unafraid to expose her sensuality
and passion. She cherished romance, loving, and being a woman. I
loved with her, but I’m a man. I was afraid to take the next step
and it cost me.

* * *

Mika hadn’t seen her previous boss since she left
for Quantico, and a career with the feds. His hair, since then, had
thinned and turned completely white. His familiar political smile
still blinded. His cobalt-blue eyes still mesmerized her. Fifty,
but built like a burly, young Turk, Ed acknowledged his protégé
inside CID—the Criminal Investigation Division, with a warm
hug.

“You look wonderful, Special Agent Scott.”

Fairchild’s reputation for fairness was legendary on
the force. As long as you paid attention to your safety and
well-being on the street, and followed Fairchild’s rules,
everything was fine. If you made a mistake and admitted it, he
would back you up all the way. If you didn’t confess your sin, Ed
made sure you were in Hell. He made you an example. It was rare
anyone repeated the same mistake.

He took Mika under his wing when she arrived fresh
out of the academy. It was his intention to protect her from the
wolves. She was as attractive, as the day she first arrived for
duty in a wholesome, didn’t-need-makeup kind of way. Most of her
contemporaries found her to be a hardened, clawed feline, until
they got to know her. Ed just thought she was determined and
feisty.

She mouthed a humble “thank you” and then was caught
off guard by the change in his demeanor and tone.

“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing
pulling jurisdiction over my people, My guys are more than capable
of solving this case,” Ed said.

“Besides why so much interest in a local murder from
the FBI?”

She tried to ease the blow, but wasn’t about to be
steamrolled either.

“Ed, have you been following this on CNN? The M.O.
is the same in every case. The victims are prominent, powerful,
authoritative men from congressmen, to Catholic priests, and now a
psychiatrist. Our killer is off and running. The murders are coming
closer together. I have a string of murders that cross state lines.
That’
s why the FBI is involved.”

Harmon, with a case file tucked under his arm,
interrupted their meeting when he saw her. Harmon was a big man.
With a single hand, he could crush the skull of a human being. He
liked to say that he had a Rice Krispie punch. Snap––the head goes
back. Crackle––the facial bones crack. Pop––down he goes never to
come back. He affectionately raised Mika off her feet in a big bear
hug. After placing her back on the earth, he looked her up and
down. She was Jake’s partner before him.

“Mika, you’re looking good momma. What are you doing
here? Come back to steal my boy away?”

The three former compatriots laughed aloud, each
reliving cherished memories in their own thoughts. As the laughter
ceased, an uneasy silence surrounded them.