Authors: Carrie James Haynes
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Suspense, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Ghosts
“Portal? Wouldn’t it have been easier to close it from where Surmoas exited?”
“The portal inside their temple leads to our world. The portals they use to escape land outside the temple for the sole purpose of protecting from attacks like we’ve just accomplished,” she said and squinted. “I don’t know if any of this makes sense.”
“Where were we exactly? You said the outskirts of Hell, but isn’t that where demons come from? Why the outskirts?” He leaned his head to the side so as not to lose eye contact.
She looked away. “There are depths within Hell that cannot be escaped from, even for demons. As with Surmoas, he was sent back to his master. The outskirts allow access for the demons to possess, to capture souls for their master. With me I feel a pull, a call to answer when a person is in need. Demons feel people’s wants and desires and feed upon them. And if the desires are great, if their actions are terrible enough, the demon is pulled through the portal in Pandemonium.”
“So let me get this right,” he said. “We won’t ever have to worry about Surmoas again. There’s no way for him to escape?”
She looked back at him. Her eyes told a different story.
“What? There is?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s complicated, Doug. Remember I told you I have a power I inherited from my father, the one that is coveted. The one that the Darkened Chosen One is after at all costs.”
“Okay. What can you do that he wants so badly?”
“The same power that allowed me to walk you back through the path of life. There’s a portal within purgatory that if opened would release all the demons that have been vanquished. There is only one way in.”
He sat silent for a moment. Squeezed her hand tighter. “We’ll make sure he never has a chance to accomplish his goal.”
She gave Thorpe a small smile. Her hand softly touched his cheek. Words on her lips held back, she took a deep breath. “So brave not knowing what you would have to face. You would do it without hesitation, I know. That’s why I wanted to thank you.”
He didn’t like the way this had turned. “Thank me? For what? Ramona, what are you trying to say? You don’t think I’ll understand. After everything we’ve been through—”
“No, Doug.” She hesitated. Finding it hard to find the words she searched for? “I think we need to take a step back between us. There is more here than just you and me. There’s Leila. Her father was your cousin, as you said, like a brother.”
“You told me about Rick. I saw. I’m here.”
Her hand caressed his cheek once more. “I know,” she said slowly. “When I met Rick, we had a connection too. It was that connection that got Rick killed.”
Thorpe wanted to break in. She shook her head.
“Don’t. I’ve made up my mind. This connection, this bond we’re feeling, a lot of it, maybe even all of it, is the experience we’ve gone through. It’s a natural reaction, Doug. I can’t afford to lose sight of what we have to accomplish. I have to think of Leila. We need to think of our mission. It isn’t over. Right now…,” she paused, “For right now it’s probably for the best if we don’t see each other unless it’s necessary. Please don’t get mad at me.”
Thorpe stood. He wanted to protest, but she looked away. She couldn’t look him in his eyes. He left.
* * * *
Jackson walked into Ramona’s room. Her reddened eyes told him she’d spent a good deal of time crying. He didn’t have to ask why. He’d said his part earlier that morning. He hadn’t liked it, but it had needed to be said.
“Ramona, I hear Leila is coming in later.”
“That’s what I hear,” she said without emotion. “Aren’t we done yet?”
“Not yet, not fully.” Jackson shrugged. “A couple of things that you might consider pressing. Your condo. It’s condemned. I’m in the process of trying to find you some temporary living arrangements.”
“Why would you even care?”
“I have my reasons,” Jackson said. “The other issue is your job. The day you disappeared, a Peggy Lopez called leaving a message that she was going to have to let you go for not showing up to work. I talked with the hospital yesterday. I believe we’ve come to an understanding. You have your job, but if I were you, Ramona, I’d look for another job as soon as you’re able.”
“Boy, you’re the bearer of good news.” Ramona let out a deep breath. She ran her hand through her hair. “Any more depressing news? You might do me in totally.”
“I’m relaying the facts, Ramona. Do you want me to sugarcoat them? I can if you want, and you can walk out of here without a place or a job.”
“You wouldn’t know how to sugarcoat anything if you tried, Agent Dunn. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Really, Ramona. I will do what I can to help your situation,” Jackson said. “I’ve only done what I feel is the right thing to do. Common sense should tell you about your situation with Chief Thorpe, his career, his children, your child.”
“Is that why?” Ramona asked coolly. “Why you didn’t hesitate to demand, I quote, ‘You have to do this. There’s a price to be paid.’ What’s your price, Agent Dunn? Callie? What if the price is never paid? What if the price keeps going up?”
Jackson eyed her as he moved across the room. “It was the right thing to do, Ramona. For some reason we were all connected in some way during this case. I have a question for you, though. During the course of this investigation, the question about my mother, the origins of all this, all what has happened…it’s not the end. Am I wrong? Is there more, and is it connected to what happened to my mother?”
Ramona grimaced. “I’ll ask you, Agent Dunn: Why did you push me so hard? Why did you when I could have died? Leila? Why?”
He thought before he answered. “Because I was told that you had to in a dream I had in Florida.”
Watching her reaction, she didn’t seem shocked. “I asked why. That’s not an answer.”
“Because,” Jackson shot back, “maybe I had faith in what the old woman told me.”
“Then, Agent Dunn,” Ramona said calmly, “you’re going to have to have faith that when you need the answers to your questions about your mother they will come.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It promised to be a beautiful beach day. The children would be getting out of school at the end of the week. By that time, Cynthia Lynn Thorpe would be a single woman again. Before the court date that had been moved back until late June, she wanted to hit her soon-to-be ex-husband with her ammunition right before, not giving him time to squirm his way out. Cindy was about to strike a blow.
She’d taken great care this morning on her appearance. A new red sun dress—James liked her in dresses—her newly highlighted hair, cut to shape her face and bring out the blue in her eyes. She turned one way then another in the full length mirror. Not bad for a thirty-eight-year-old mother of two. James seemed to think so. James, her protector. This had been James’s plan, his scheme. After they pulled this off, they’d be married, had made a tentative wedding date for the fall, October.
With James’s financial situation, Cindy reveled in the fact of no more pinching pennies, no more being told they couldn’t afford a country club membership. She straightened her dress and looked at the clock—she had a few minutes. She wanted to make an impression with her entrance. Grabbing the precious envelope, she started down the stairs.
The doorbell rang.
Opening it wide, she recognized the woman more from the papers and television than the one time she’d met her. At first, she thought of closing the door in her face, but no. Nothing could get to her today, her day.
“Ms. Damsun, isn’t it?” Cindy greeted the visitor. “Why don’t you come in? I have a few minutes.” She leaned over to Ramona. “Doug’s not here, if you didn’t know.”
Ramona grinned. “I wasn’t looking for Doug. I was looking for you, Cindy. I’m not sure if you remember me.”
“Oh, I remember. My impression hasn’t changed much since that day either,” Cindy said, enjoying the sparring.
Ramona eyed the envelope Cindy clutched against her chest and strolled over to the table where pictures of Liam and Molly smiled up at her. She picked up one of the kids on the beach.
“I knew that we would meet up again, Ramona. I just didn’t think it would be today. I know my children have met you. But, my dear, our association could end quickly when you discover what kind of man Doug really is.”
“I know what kind of man Doug is,” Ramona said. She sat the picture back down and turned to Cindy. “I came to talk with you. Save your breath. I know what you think you have against Doug. I don’t understand why. Why would you want to destroy him? What is it that he’s done to you?”
Cindy swung around. “You couldn’t possibly know what I hold in this envelope.”
“Put it down, Cindy. You forget who you’re dealing with,” Ramona said bluntly. “I know they are pictures of Doug with a high-price call girl. I also know that he didn’t know she was a call girl. He was set up by your little friend, James.”
“I believe you can go now.” Cindy was done playing her game with Ramona. She stepped toward the door.
“Don’t worry, I’m going. I just want you to think before you try this. Think about your children. Think about Doug, his career. If the press gets hold of those pictures, he won’t have much of a career left. Think about seventeen years of marriage.”
“Excuse me? You don’t have a right to discuss my marriage. You’re the last person I would talk with. This discussion has ended.”
Ramona started to leave but paused in the doorway. “Cindy, think before you try this. There are always repercussions with what you have in mind. You have to understand I know about Molly. Not that I would use it for two reasons. One, because of what it would do to your daughter, and two, it would kill Doug to know that this isn’t the first time you’ve been unfaithful.”
“If you think I’m going to listen to some two-bit whore tell me what to do, you’ve got another thing coming. I think I know what’s better for me. You’re more dim-witted than I first thought.”
Ramona stared at Cindy. “Do what you want. Go ahead. Act like the spoiled brat you’ve always been. That’s it, isn’t it? Doug didn’t react the way you wanted him to. He was supposed to be devastated when you separated. He was supposed to beg you to stay. He was supposed to fall apart, be broken hearted.”
“Shut up, you bitch!” Cindy slammed the door.
The nerve, the nerve! Cindy simmered. She picked up the envelope and headed for her garage. It would be a cold day in Hell before she let that little tart tell her what to do.
* * * *
Thorpe sat in his attorney’s conference room. He waited. He’d had to use a day off for this meeting, but he wanted this divorce over. He’d set himself up in a small three bedroom apartment attached to the main house owned by Mrs. Gladys Brooks, an eighty-year-old widow. Not perfect, but at the moment it suited his purpose.
Will Healy entered, his hands filled with piles of papers. He shut the door and plopped the files on the table.
“They’re going to be here momentarily. Doug, we need to talk and talk fast.” Healy sat down beside him. “O’Sullivan informed me of what we’ve been afraid of. Cindy is throwing down her ace in the hole. She wants all her demands met.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“She says she has pictures of you with a prostitute.”
“I’ve never been with a prostitute in my life. She’s smokin’ something.”
“Does the name Janice Ermey sound familiar?”
Thorpe’s stomach dropped. Recognition of the name swept through him. “Oh, my God,” he said. “You can’t mean the little fling I had when Cindy and I first separated over a year ago. She was an investment banker from New York. It was nothing. A one night stand.”
A quick glance over at Healy told Thorpe he didn’t care what excuse he had. Thorpe’s back was up against the wall. If there were pictures and she was a prostitute, Thorpe’s first reaction was that he was set up, and only one person came to mind. At the moment, the pressing matter was what would happen if the pictures got out to the press.
“We have to think quickly, Doug. She states if we don’t sign off on her demands today she’s going to turn over the pictures to the media. Says the woman will testify,” Healy fumed. “I don’t like this, Doug. I got broadsided.”
“Don’t come at me, Will. Don’t you think if it was of importance I would have told you?”
Thorpe was interrupted by the appearance of Cindy, the vulture of her lawyer by her side. He stared at the woman who strolled into the room, the woman who he had married, loved, had children with. What brought them to this point where they couldn’t stand to be in the same room? Cindy sauntered in, confident of victory. O’Sullivan took a seat. Cindy sat on the end chair, a smile on her face.
“So, gentlemen, I assume you’ve heard my terms,” Cindy asked.
“Cindy, don’t,” Thorpe began.
Cindy wouldn’t let him say another word. “Doug, Doug, Doug. Don’t beg. It doesn’t become you. Not your style. See what I’m talking about then we’ll discuss the terms. Mr. O’Sullivan, can you please pass out the copies?”
With restraint, Thorpe opened the envelope and pulled out the pictures. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He pulled one out after the other, each one worse than the last, not of him, but of the woman sitting at the top of the table.
“These are the pictures you thought would do what, exactly, Cindy? I’m confused.”
Cindy gasped. Her eyes enlarged. She struggled for breath.
Thorpe laughed as he held one in his hand. “This one is quite interesting. Are you trying to launch a new career?”
He threw it down in front of her. Cindy’s naked body arched as James, a lustful look on his face, posed to advance on his conquest. Cindy, seemingly frozen in shock, began to shout, frantically grabbing back all the pictures.