Blood Is Thicker Than Water (A New Adult Dark Thriller Series of Mystery and Suspense) ( free series of thriller, mystery, suspense and horror) (Next Of Kin Book 1) (6 page)

10.

“This can’t happen again.” Zoe said, putting on her clothes.

“I’m not giving you up.” Henry said, pouring the whiskey, averting his eyes.

“Maize asked me to marry him.” Zoe said.

“What was your answer?” Henry asked, taking a swig.

“Yes.” Zoe said with confidence.

“I won’t live without you.  If I can’t have you, no one else will.” Henry said with determination, looking over his shoulder.  He watched her leave.  Henry was never going to let her go as long as she was in his arms again.  Henry believed they were meant to be and he was prepared to fight for her.  Henry knew the love was still there even if she refused to admit it.  They had something that just won’t die.  Or maybe he won’t let it die.  Henry became obsessed with her.  He could have any woman he wanted.  Instead Henry wanted her, and she was slipping far from his grasp.  He loathed the feeling of being unwanted. 

Henry lived off his father’s inheritance, spent his days doing whatever he wanted.  When Zoe wouldn’t succumb to his charms, he found other outlets to release his exasperations.  Scantily clad women and phone sex operators were his guilty pleasures.  During the day, Henry showered the children with gifts, aiming at winning their hearts, although his affection for them was unclear.  Was it phony or was it real?  Was it love or just another distraction?  

Alex Price had existed in him for many years, had worn him like a second skin, and with that, poised the million-dollar question……… Who is Henry Vada?

Henry came to a place that wasn’t his own.  He started driving a wedge between Zoe and Maize, which he enjoyed to no end.  Maize and Henry almost engaged into a fist fight until she broke it up and was forced to be the mediator.  Maize went to a nearby bar to clear his head. 

Another order of club soda later, Henry waltzed in and sat next to him.

           “What are you doing here?” Maize demanded, sipping the soda.

“I’m here to talk.” Henry said, sitting in the bar stool next to him.

“What did you want?” Maize asked.

“I want my family back.”Henry said.

“Your kids aren’t for sale.  Neither is my fiancé’. They’re just a commodity to you.” Maize said, calmly, and then grabbed the bottle of scotch from the bar, hit the back of his head with it.

“That’s for them.  If you hurt Zoe and those kids again, I’ll lock you up myself.” Maize ordered his last drink and left Henry on the floor, throbbing in pain.  You can’t keep me away from what’s mine.  Henry thought.

After polishing off his drink, Maize helped him to his feet, then gripped his hand and pulled him in.

“That should show you just how serious I am.” Maize said with an intense stare.

“Have a nice night.” Maize playfully hit his back and left.

Henry felt the bump on the back of his neck and saw the blood on his fingers.  He darted his eyes to the door.  No one was going to get in the way of his true love. 

“Do you need to call someone?” The bartender asked.

“I suppose I do, reinforcements.” Henry said.

The bartender propped a 1970 rotary phone on the mahogany wood countertop.

Zoe had been a registered nurse at Northshore Medical for over three months.      She wanted to redefine herself, get her feet wet in a new town.  Do something unexpected.  It took her a while to get used to everything.  To find her groove. Once she found it, she proved to be a valuable asset and considered it a nice change of pace from what was taught.  Zoe didn’t know whether it was The Burbs, the new man in her life, or what.  But she found herself not missing the city all that much and surprised how much she loved her job; rarely missing donning on that blue uniform she wore so proudly.  Zoe was getting used to something her kids tolerated.  

She located a quiet place in the ladies’ room to clear her head, mascara running as her eyes welled up, the confirmation in hand—a pregnancy test that proved positive.  Zoe was dead set against keeping it.  A steady reminder of her discretion. 

Why did he have to come here? She asked herself.

“It’s yours.  And I’m getting rid of it.” Zoe said, putting the pregnancy stick in the palm of his hand.

She meant every word.  Zoe was done with him.  However, he didn’t share the same sentiment.  A sudden rage came over Henry, gnawing away at his insides as he struck her down.  Zoe fell against the wall, hit her head and was rendered unconscious. 

“Sorry Zo. But you know who I am.  Our family doesn’t believe in abortion.  Maybe I can cut it out of you and watch you bleed to death.  God you’re beautiful.” Henry stared, cradled her face and leaned in.  Henry dragged Zoe to the bedroom, had his way with her then dumped her in the yard. 
What do you give a girl that has everything?  Nothing
.  He thought.

Zoe lay on the lawn, the timed sprinklers reviving her from slumber, uninformed of the previous event that took place.

* * * * * *

“I just saw your girl.  It’s almost a shame to kill her.  You know what the name Zoe means?  Death, or it will be before I’m finished with her.” A muffled voice said.

“Sandra, I’m warning you.” Maize said over the phone.

Click. 

The handset slipped out of Maize’s hand as he snatched the coat off the hanger, switched off the lights and hightailed out of the door.  He was sure it was a prank caller but couldn’t escape the look of concern on his face.

11.

Maize raced home in a blind fury like a madman, petrified of what she would do.  Sandra had a history of assault and battery; combined with desperation he feared the worst.  Even though he wasn’t a violent man, he’d never been more anxious to get his hands around her neck. 

Maize went down a dirt path.  It was his attempt at a short cut.  What was left was a mushy mess.  The car stalled, aspiring to get around it.  Maize stomped his foot on the gas pedal more than once but had to admit he was stuck.  The wheels were covered in mud, he was trapped.  Maize got out and made a run for it, adamant that nothing was going to get in the way. 

The neighborhood was quiet.  Painfully quiet.  Almost like a ghost town.  It was rather odd.  To say he was caught off guard was an understatement.  Maize moved nearer to the back entrance.  Much to his dismay, the door was already cracked.  It creaked as it widened and he cautiously walked in.  The house was pitch-black.  Not to mention calm.  Unnervingly calm.  No ruckus from the kids, causing him to be curious of their whereabouts. 

“Zoe?  Sandra?” He called out. 

As Maize explored further, the texture of the floor was different. 

What is this?  He thought.

He switched on the lights, scrutinizing the black goo on his shoe and came to face-to-face with his bride—laying in a pool of her own black and viscid blood—the letter K predominantly carved in her.  Maize scanned her pale face, then the negligee she wore just for him.  It was ripped, either from the struggle or something far worse.  Enfolding her in his arms, he bellowed, letting all the anger and fear pour out.  Maize spotted the knife near the stairwell, picked it up.  He heard footsteps.  He wasn’t alone. 

The children were behind him.  He faced them, caught their intense stare.

The sound of police sirens broke their peace.  What were they doing up there so long?  Didn’t they hear her scream? How did the police get here so fast?  He thought.

Police officers encircled the home—dusting for prints—taking snapshots of the victim from all angles—observing the body—questioning the children. 

Maize was in custody, fitting the description from an anonymous 911 caller.  Medina eyed the corpse, tears trickling down her cheek, and then faced Maize, blatantly ignoring the seasoned officer who was growing impatient by the second. She had a scar on her face from a case she dare not speak of and piercing eyes.

“Do you guys know what happened?” The detective asked.

The children were still in shock and had no recollection of what transpired.  They had so many things consuming them; it was hard keeping them straight.

“Did your mom have any enemies?  Come on, help me help you.  Talk!” She yelled at the children.

No response.

“Talk.” She repeated, lost her temper.

“They’ve been through enough.” Another officer stepped in.

“Have they?” The detective said.

The Master Sergeant strolled in, lifted up the yellow tape and examined the stiff.  It reeked of putrefaction.  The stench was in the atmosphere.  It was so thick she couldn’t stand it.  The sergeant threw up, and then covered her mouth.  “What do we have?” The sergeant asked.

“Single black female, her name is Zoe Whitaker, early thirties, bullet to the head and the perp was thoughtful enough to send a message.  We got a suspect in custody. His fingerprints are all over the murder weapon.  He’s got motive and opportunity.” She replied.

“Did anyone see anything?” the sergeant asked.

“According to the 911 caller they were the last ones to see her alive.  They know something but they’re not talking. Frigging freaks of nature is what they are.” She said.

“Their mother was hacked into.  Show a little compassion.” The sergeant said.

“Aye, aye sir.” She said.

The children were on the couch.  Their minds drew a complete blank.  The master sergeant approached, joined them.  She knew what it was like to lose a parent.  The children looked into her eyes.  Her eyes were as deep as pools that they could see themselves in them.

“My name is Sergeant Aiko.  I know this is tough.  I considered Zoe a friend.  I want to put whoever did this behind bars, but I need your help.”

Medina and Isabel glanced at the detective.  Then at her face.  It was anything but kind, more so distrustful.  They felt uncomfortable around her.

“It’s a nice night.  Let’s take a walk.” The sergeant said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sergeant.” The detective said.

“I don’t pay you to think, Detective.  I’m making an exception.  Got a problem with that?” The sergeant said.

The detective gritted her teeth and mumbled under her breath.

They walked outside as the coroner stuffed the corpse in the body bag.  The image was something they couldn’t escape.  They walked along the paved sidewalk, the night sky bouncing off their faces. 

“I know you’re scared.  The world can be a terrifying place when you don’t know who to trust. He could’ve killed you both.” The sergeant said.

“He wouldn’t do that.” Medina said.

“Why wouldn’t he?” The sergeant asked.

“Cause Daddy paid him off.” The children said in unison, chanted.  The creepy monotone sent a chill down her spine.  They pointed to the back of the cruiser.  Maize was in cuffs, worried he would never see the twins again. 

The door busted open.  Maize and Detective Holcomb entered the department. Then Sergeant Aiko and the twins, ambling in single file.  All eyes were on the children.  Holcomb tightened her grip, threw him in the interrogation room.  Meanwhile, Aiko led the twins to an empty desk. 

“Have a seat.” She said, walked away, and then closed the door as she followed Holcomb in the room.

The police interrogation room was sparsely furnished, just a table and three chairs.  The furniture was plain.  There was a cassette recorder on the table and a large one-way mirror.  The lighting was cold and harsh.

Holcomb walked in, approached the table and sat a warm cup of coffee in front of him. 

“Maybe you should get these things off me first; they’re digging into my skin.” Maize said.

The detective retrieved the key and unlocked the cuffs.

“Thanks.” Maize said, sipped the coffee, and tried to piece everything together.  His world was literally turned upside down. The loss of Zoe hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Ok Maize you know the drill, where were on the night in question?” Aiko asked.

“At the office, I was there until twelve.  I got an anonymous call from someone threatening to kill my fiancé’.  I rushed home.”Maize said.

“Can your secretary confirm that?” Holcomb interjected, snarling at him.

“No.  I gave her the day off.” Maize said.

“How convenient, how far is your job?” Holcomb said.

“Twenty minutes away.” Maize said.

“According to the coroner, your wife was slain at twelve-thirty” Holcomb said.