Black Jack: A nail biting, hair-raising thriller (Jack Ryder Book 4) (17 page)

M
ay
2016

Trevor Bryden woke in his bed with a start. He sat up in the darkness, panting, sweating. He had been doing that a lot lately. What was it with all these nightmares? It felt like bad omens.

Just like those stupid birds!

Ever since he had seen them around the house just before his dad died he had hated those black flying rats.

Trevor cleared his throat and got out of the bed to get a drink of water. His hands were still trembling from the nightmare, when he grabbed his glass and poured water in it from the fridge. Trevor drank while staring out the kitchen window, into the small back yard. Light from the streetlamps lit up the lawn. Trevor loved his yard and had just planted roses by the fence. Beautiful long rosebushes that were going to cover that ugly wooden fence towards the neighbor’s house. The Bryden house wasn’t among the biggest around here, but it was the best maintained. That’s the way it had always been and that’s the way it would continue to be, had Trevor anything to say in it.

He looked out at the bushes and felt satisfied with his choice of flower. Roses had been his dad’s favorites. He had loved the garden as well and taken good care of it when he lived there, before Trevor inherited the house after his death. Trevor was desperately trying to keep the yard the way his father would have liked it. He believed he had managed pretty well.

Trevor finished his water and put the glass on the counter, when he heard the sound.

“CR-R-R-UCK, CR-R-R-UCK, CR-R-R-RUCK.”

He lifted his head with a gasp.

The ravens! They are back!

Trevor looked out at the flock of birds that suddenly had arrived and covered most of his back yard. He watched as they landed in his beautiful bushes and started picking his roses, piercing them with their beaks. The flowers scattered and were nothing but petals, as they slowly fell to the ground one after the other.

“I’ll be damned…not the roses!” he exclaimed, then went for his shotgun in the living room.

Trevor grabbed the gun, his nostrils flaring, his eyes blazed. With angry steps he walked to the door that he slammed open before he directed the gun at the birds. He was panting loudly while standing at the back porch, aiming at them.

“Get away from the roses you freaking rats!”

Trevor hoped the birds would move if he made enough noise, and a few of them did take off into the air, but only to come back again, darting towards him, croaking, and screaming.

One grabbed his hair and pulled off a big lock, then took off. Trevor screamed and fired his gun at it, but missed. The other birds became even louder and attacked the roses even more aggressively. Trevor fired the gun at them and a few took off, but only to return seconds later picking at the roses, making the petals fall to the soil.

“My roses,” he yelled. “My beautiful roses.”

Trevor ran down the steps into the yard, yelling at the birds, waving his arms and the gun desperately to scare them away. Storming through the yard, he somehow knew he would fall, even before he did. He didn’t know how he knew. Maybe it had been in one of his dreams.

As he ran across the lawn, he felt his foot hit something and soon after he tumbled to the ground, face first into the pile of fertilizer that he had bought to spread out over the ground and the roses the very next day, to keep them healthy. Just like his father had taught him to.

He had poured them all out on the grass, so it would be easier to spread out the next day. His mouth was filled with the small blue balls and he couldn’t breathe. Trevor coughed and lifted his head, then spat out the balls. The birds were circulating above his head.

Trevor spat and spat till the taste got away. He found the gun lying in the grass next to him, then looked up and thought he saw something. Or someone. He couldn’t quite figure it out. The birds were screaming above his head as he picked up the gun and aimed it at the figure standing between his beloved rosebushes.

“Who’s there?”

Ravens soon swarmed him and he shooed them away. When he turned to look again, the figure in the rosebushes was gone. Thinking it was something he had imagined, Trevor got to his feet. He walked to the bushes and picked up some of the flowers that had been pulled out and landed in the soil.

“Damn birds,” he mumbled to himself looking at the leftover rose petals in his hand.

Trevor tried once again to scare the remaining birds away, but they only took off for a few seconds before they returned. Trevor roared and yelled, and swung the gun around in the air, before he got ready to shoot once again, when he realized he had run out of ammo.

Grumbling he walked back through the house and into the kitchen. Being small as he was he always kept a ladder in the kitchen to be able to reach the top shelves where he kept the stuff he never used much, like the ammo for his gun. Trevor left the gun on the kitchen table, then climbed the ladder and found the packages in his dad’s old cookie jar. He grabbed them, then climbed down again, but as he turned to find his gun, it was no longer there.

“What the he…?”

Had he forgotten it outside? Trevor stormed out on the porch and found the gun leaned up against the wall.

Oh you old fool,
he thought to himself and grabbed it. The black ravens were still going at it in the yard. But not for long. Trevor was determined to get rid of them, even if he had to shoot each and every one of them.

Trevor was about to lift the gun into position when he noticed the rocking chair on the porch was moving like someone had just been sitting in it.

What the heck?

He decided it had to be the wind. What else could it be? An animal maybe. Or maybe the wind. Yup, just the wind. Had to be.

Trevor moved on. With the gun lifted, his eye in the seeker, aiming at the birds, he stepped out on the stairs, but just as he did, he felt a push in his back, that made him trip over the first step, and tumble down the rest of the stairs, holding onto the gun while he fell. He saw the rock as he approached it and knew in that moment that it was over, that the birds had ended up getting the last word.

Neighbors would later tell each other that it sounded like a watermelon cracking on the pavement when his head split open, but then again, as most people knew, the Savannahians were master storytellers.

M
ay
2016

The three A’s woke us up a couple of hours later. Shannon and I had both dozed off in the living room when Abigail jumped me on the couch.

“Dad. Dad. Wake up. It’s morning.”

I opened my eyes and looked into hers. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful sight. I grabbed her and hugged her while tickling her till she begged me to stop. When I let go of her, I saw that Austin and Angela were standing a few steps behind her, holding hands.

Angela let go of him when her mother opened her eyes. “Angie? Baby?”

I signaled for Austin to come closer while I sat up on the couch. “You look tired, dad,” Abigail said. “Where is Betsy Sue? She wasn’t in her room?”

My eyes met Shannon’s. “Tyler’s room, sweetie,” I corrected her. “It’s Tyler’s room. Don’t forget it.”

“Any news about him?” Austin asked cautiously. I grabbed him and pulled him into my lap, then held him tight. It was the only way I could get the boy to hug me these days. It always amazed me how different those twins were.

“Not yet, sweetie, but soon,” I said.

“I miss Tyler,” Abigail said with a sigh.

“Me too,” Austin said. “It was fun not being the youngest for once.”

“He’ll be back before you know it,” I said swallowing a huge knot in my throat. I was trying hard to be happy for the kids’ sake. “Don’t you worry.”

Sarah made us all breakfast in the kitchen and we ate silently, every one of us in his or hers own thoughts. It was a very odd scene for our family who otherwise was always very noisy.

“Where is Emily?” I finally asked.

Sarah drew in a deep sigh. “Sleeping in. As usually. She has been sleeping in a lot lately.”

“She’s a teenager. Probably needs it,” I said with a shrug.

“You know she might be sad as well,” Sarah said looking at me. “You know with everything that’s going on.”

My eyes met those of Sarah. How did this woman, who was supposed to be Shannon’s PA, how did she suddenly become our babysitter and now therapist?

“I’ll talk to her,” I said.

“By the way, don’t forget your parents are arriving today,” Sarah continued. “And your mother and sister are arriving tomorrow,” she said addressed to Shannon.

I nodded. I hadn’t forgotten. I had talked to them the day before. They were completely freaking out over the fact that Tyler was missing and decided to come earlier than planned. I told them there really wasn’t much they could do, but they wouldn’t listen. I had to admit that I was looking forward to having them here with us. They could be a big help with the kids. Get Sarah off the hook for a little while.

“They have rented a condo a few blocks from here,” I said addressed to Shannon. “The kids could go and spend the night with them tonight.”

Shannon didn’t say anything. She looked out the window where rain was pounding again. I knew she wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing her mother again. They didn’t quite get along. Why she had invited her to the wedding in the first place, I didn’t understand, but she said something about it being the right thing to do. I for one wasn’t looking forward to meeting her, not after the stories Shannon had told me.

I wiped my mouth in the napkin and looked at Shannon. We had planned to go to the doll-store today. I felt convinced the place had some significance in Tyler’s whereabouts. It was a clue and I was clinging on to it.

Sarah promised to look after the kids for the morning and Shannon and I grabbed our raincoats and put them on.

“At least there will be no reporters waiting for us in this weather,” I said.

But I was too early in my assumption because when we opened the door a camera clicked and a reporter stormed towards us.

“Was Shannon drunk when she lost Baby Tyler?” the reporter asked me. “Is she off the wagon again?”

I refused to answer and pushed the woman away. Behind her appeared a very familiar face. It was Detective Bellini, wearing a raincoat and holding an umbrella. Her face told me this wasn’t a friendly visit. Two officers on each side flanked her. I approached her.

“Detective Ryder?”

“Detective Bellini?”

“We need you to come down to the station.”

“Why?” I asked while my heart starting to throb.
What’s going on here? Have they news about Tyler? Has something happened to him? Om my God, no.

“We need to question you about the death of Trevor Bryden.”

M
ay
2016

The Doctor decided to have a party. All the girls were lined up in the living room, dressed in their nicest dresses, their hair brushed and put up with bowties. They were giggling and laughing and the Doctor was spinning around, Millie between her hands.

“She’s back! She’s back!”

The Doctor looked at Betsy Sue who was sitting at the end of the table, staring back gloomily. The Doctor had put on her favorite song by Shannon King,
My beautiful Baby Doll.
The Doctor had read somewhere that Shannon King had written this song to her son after giving birth and found it appropriate for this celebration.

It was the GPS-watch that had alerted the Doctor that Betsy Sue was in the area in the middle of the night. The Doctor hadn’t been tracking her ever since seeing the Hawthornes come to Shannon King’s house. The Doctor knew by then that it was no use to try and get her back. At least for now.

But then in the middle of the night as Rikki Rick woke up to get his bottle, the Doctor looked at the phone and the app was open from the last time it had been used for tracking Betsy Sue. A notification revealed that the girl was on the move.

And boy was she ever on the move.

“Smile Betsy Sue,” the Doctor said cheerfully.

The girl squirmed in her seat, trying to get her arms loose. She was sobbing behind the duct tape and tears rolling across her face.

“Ah come on, Betsy Sue. Don’t cry. Now we’re all together again. Isn’t it great? Look at all your little friends. They’re so happy to have you back.”

The Doctor had put Rikki Rick in his stroller, then run into the night, following the map in the app. She had spotted the girl run down the street and grabbed her as she turned a corner. The girl had fought bravely but she was still no match for the Doctor. She had gotten stronger though and that worried the Doctor. As the girls grew up there would come a time when they grew bigger and maybe even stronger than the Doctor.

Now the Doctor had brought a second chair up to the room upstairs and as soon as the party was over, the Doctor grabbed Betsy Sue, swung her over the shoulder and carried her up to the fourth floor.

The Doctor found the key in the pocket and unlocked the door. As it was opened, Miss Muffit’s brown eyes stared fearfully at them both.

“Let me go,” she said almost hissing, her voice hoarse from all the screaming. Her eyes were big and frightful and her cheeks sunken. “Let me go!”

“Sorry,” the Doctor said with a tilted head.

The Doctor approached the girl and stroked her gently over the head. The girl groaned and fought to get loose form the straps. Her arms were bloody from fighting them.

“It’s for your own good. You know that, right?”

The Doctor grabbed Betsy Sue who was kicking and screaming behind the tape, then put her down in the chair next to Miss Muffit. The Doctor then strapped her legs to the legs of the chair and tied her arms behind her back. Then the Doctor kneeled in front of the girl.

“I am so glad you came back. Now everything is as it should be.”

The Doctor grabbed the duct tape and pulled it off, letting Betsy Sue’s scream fill the air.

“Help! Help!”

The Doctor caressed the girl’s cheeks with gentle strokes. How the Doctor had loved those girls, watching them grow up.

“It’s time.”

The Doctor rose and walked to the door.

“NOOOOO!” Betsy Sue screamed as it was shut and the key turned in the lock.