Campanelli: Sentinel (33 page)

              “Let them go, please, Frank,” Vanek pressed, on the verge of tears.

              “Oh, just shut up!” Campanelli howled. The power in his voice startled all three Vaneks, but Pascha especially.

              Frank stood with his gun aimed at Dmitri’s forehead. The helo was now low enough to send vibrations throughout the metal structure of the hangar, making many of its metal wall and roof panels to vibrate and hum. Campanelli searched the worried faces in front of him for several seconds after the aircraft came to a steady hover in front of the hangar. The world beyond the window darkened with the presence of the black helicopter.

              With the fate of the Whethers family firmly on his mind, Frank let his arm drop back to his side and spoke loudly and directly to Andrea. “Ma’am, you are this man’s
only
judge!”

              Stamping out his cigarette, Campanelli turned and briskly walked to the door he had snuck in through. Calmly, he went back to his waiting cruiser, parked several hangars to the north. As he lit another cigarette, he watched the black aircraft gain altitude as it slipped away.

              Vanek sent a text message to his implant. Campanelli almost deleted it outright, but opened it anyway. It read: “
Thank you so very much, Frank. I’m so sorry
.”

***

              Frank went straight to the hospital where Tamara had been taken. It was the same one that Williams had wound up in, but Frank would not be able to visit his partner for quite some time as he was still in recovery. He was told by the attending physician that Marcus Williams was stable and out of danger.

              Frank was not surprised to discover that no one had told Tam about her diner’s demise. The woman had been unconscious when she had been kidnaped and had not witnessed its fate. She lay in her hospital bed under the influence of an anti-inflammatory and pain medication, having suffered a fracture of the eye socket from Brother Andrew’s assault. Tucked more or less comfortably in her hospital bed, she was safe from fainting at the news.

              Though she cried for much of an hour after Frank had broken it to her, she accepted it and, by the end of their visit some hours later, had fallen peacefully asleep.

              Frank drove home and arrived just after midnight. As he stepped toward his door, his night vision revealed Luke McKay and Old Bill at their place by the door.

              “Hello there,” Frank greeted tiredly. “You two are up awfully late.”

              “Been waitin’ fer you, Frank,” Luke said.

              “Oh?” he said, stooping to pat the hound.

              “Yessir,” McKay added as he stood up. “I wanted to letcha know that me an’ Ol’ Bill are movin’ on. Didn’t sit right with me to jus’ pick up an’ leave without sayin’ so.”

              “I’m sorry to know that,” Frank said sincerely. “Why?”

              “It’s gettin’ a little risky ‘round here with all the flu an’ such,” McKay explained, “not ta mention all that craziness with the HV preacher. You look quite ‘a bit worse for wear.”

              “Yeah,” Frank admitted with a nod, “I do. Well, he won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”

              “I heard. It’s all over the news. I’m glad you made it, son.”

              “Thank you,” Campanelli said and accepted the old man’s offered hand.

              “Well, we’ll be gone by mornin’,” McKay informed him and began to head inside with Bill in tow.

              “Take care of yourself, Luke,” Frank wished earnestly.

              “Always do,” the old man said, winked and shut the door.

              Campanelli dragged his tired body up the stairs to his residence and stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, he discarded his jacket and shoulder holster to the dining room table and stepped into the bathroom to wash up.

              In the kitchen, he poured himself two fingers of bourbon, downed it and poured another. Frank turned and headed for the bedroom, bottle in hand. Thinking again, he changed direction for the patio, where he stretched out under the stars, drinking bourbon and contemplating his future.

              Perhaps McKay had a good idea.

              Frank drifted to sleep in the cool, May night air, knowing that he was going nowhere.

About the Author:

Frederick was born in Chicago in 1970 and now lives in Villa Park with his wife, Rae and their three miniature dachshunds. He began by writing fictional works all through high school, earned an Associate Degree of Applied Science in Electronics in 1994 and the Bachelor of Science in Technical Management from DeVry University in 2005.

In 2009, Frederick began writing his first novel,
The Dregs of Exodus
, which was self-published in late 2010. This was followed up with another novel,
The Pirates of Exodus
in 2012.

Throughout that year and early 2013, he continued writing and published four short stories in eBook form for Kindle and Nook. All of these stories share the same premise, but all are independent from one another, though the short eBook,
Campanelli: The Ping Tom Affair
and his third novel,
Campanelli: Sentinel
, share the same main characters.

He loves writing and enjoys meeting and talking to readers at book signing events.

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