Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
She pulled out a cigar from her purse and lit it. Before she could get a good puff, Caspian snatched it out of her grip and took a smoke. She took it back, and they playfully swatted at one another. Before she knew it, he had her in his arms… kissing her… twirling her around.
She etched this moment in her mind with an invisible purple crayon. She had to, because she knew this man was embarking on uncovering something that would either give him a new lease on life or kill a big part of him. Tossing her cigar down, she crushed it under her shoe and took his hand. They walked out into the open. The rain had stopped.
“If there’s anything I can do to help you with your research regarding your mother’s death, let me know. Just ask. I know there probably won’t, but I’m here if you need me. Even if it’s only as a sounding board to yell out your frustrations, or to speak.”
He paused, brought her close, and kissed her forehead. And then, he hugged her so tight, she felt as if she were becoming a part of him, their bodies melting into one another.
She was the reflection in the raindrops. The rich, dark purple of the crayon. The white falling feathers in a dream. She was his… and he was hers, and that was all that mattered…
Chapter Twenty
Don Creden lived in Cleveland, Ohio, which was about seven hours away. Caspian could’ve taken a flight out to the city known for their Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the birth of Superman, but he wanted to be discreet. Airlines tracked passengers, and his special tools and supplies would have not made it through security. He also always had heat on him. It was how he was raised, and this always stuck with him. Besides, he figured if he left the house at five-thirty in the morning, he’d be there in plenty of time to meet Don and take care of business.
He’d secured a Toyota Camry rental, changed the license plate, stuck a bunch of musical band decals on it, applied electrical tape on one of the bumpers, and hung a green pine tree air freshener.
After sliding his special kit under the driver’s seat, he turned on the radio and drove in the darkness to the rhythm of country music. It was peaceful outside. The sun had not yet risen and the air was cool, sweet and crisp. He drove past plenty of open fields, cows in pastures, and the closer he got to the city and its tall buildings, the air became thicker, funky, and smothering. He made sure to stay on track, only stopping for gas, the restroom at a truck rest stop, and a hot coffee. When he arrived in Don’s suburban neighborhood of Avon Lake, he was impressed with the well-manicured tree-lined streets and nice brick home structures.
According to Caspian’s records, Don lived with his wife, Lisa, and had three daughters, all of whom had moved out, with the exception of one. The man worked from home as a computer repairman, successful with his own business. Unfortunately, Don had fixed some problems but created others… BIG ‘others.’ He had killed two girls in 2003.
Sarah had been fourteen and Angelica, fifteen. Both had possessed long dark hair and big baby blue eyes, just like Caspian’s mama. Regardless of the facts of the case, Don had never even been on the police’s radar. Caspian, however, had dug into the two sisters’ lives and deaths, a cold case frozen on ice with no leads, for a little over five months. Don was admittedly the last person to see them alive, but due to his stellar reputation in the community, and no shred of evidence against him as well as alibis from his family, he was never considered a suspect.
The case was a bit strange, too. Oddly enough, the crimes didn’t appear sexually motivated. In fact, Don didn’t have any obvious sexual perversions or proclivities toward the young ladies. When the bodies were found, there were no signs indicating that sort of thing.
However, he did have a penchant for torture. Both young ladies had been bound, gagged, and beaten to death with blunt objects to the point they were barely recognizable once their discarded bodies were found in an old shed, two weeks postmortem after a nation-wide search. Even Don himself had held a tearful candlelight vigil. How touching. The girls were students of his wife’s, who was a piano and Sunday school teacher. Every Wednesday, for months, the girls walked the eight-minute journey from their house to Lisa Creden’s residence, the dutiful, pretty, and pleasant blonde lady known for her amazing homemade crescent rolls, high soprano voice, and Christmas baskets filled with homemade goodness. Don stated in the police report that he saw fit to open the front door for them when they showed up, bid them goodbye after, and that was that. He stated he even watched them start off down the street.