Avenged Read online

  Avenged

  by

  C. M. Sutter

  Copyright © 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction by C. M. Sutter. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used solely for entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  C. M. Sutter is a crime fiction writer who resides in Florida, although she is originally from California.

  She is a member of numerous writers’ organizations, including Fiction for All, Fiction Factor, and Writers etc.

  In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her friends and family. She is an art enthusiast and loves to create gourd birdhouses, pebble art, and handmade soaps. Hiking, bicycling, fishing, and traveling are a few of her favorite pastimes.

  C. M. Sutter

  http://cmsutter.com/

  Contact C. M. Sutter

  Sign up for C. M. Sutter’s newsletter

  Avenged: An Amber Monroe Crime Thriller, Book 2

  Crime happens, even in small towns like North Bend, but when Amber Monroe and her fellow detectives from the Washburn County Sheriff’s Office are called to the home of a retired forensic psychiatrist, they find a macabre murder scene that would rival any Halloween horror film.

  When a local EMT and a former deputy go missing that same week, law enforcement conclude there has to be a link between the three cases. With no clues to guide them, the detectives are stumped until they begin a search through old court files.

  New information emerges that could break the case wide open, but when the names on the perpetrator’s kill list are revealed, apprehending him is all that matters. His intentions have become more than personal and crystal clear. Washburn County’s finest may be next, and they don’t have the luxury of time on their side.

  See all of C. M. Sutter’s books at:

  http://cmsutter.com/available-books/

  Find C. M. Sutter on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/cmsutterauthor/

  Don’t want to miss C. M. Sutter’s next release? Sign up for the VIP e-mail list at:

  http://cmsutter.com/newsletter/

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Prologue

  Eleven years ago

  The man pocketed his gloves momentarily and pulled up the collar of his corduroy coat. Then he fastened the button around his neck. The crisp air and strong wind gusts of the late-October night chilled him to the bone. He braced himself against the wind for the last half mile, his eyes watery and his shoulders stiffened. Ever since tucking his car in a dirt turnout, he’d walked the edge of the road in the shadows cast by the full moon.

  Kristopher Hadley owned a private hundred-acre estate with a long hidden driveway, perfect for that night. The man inched closer to the two-story Hadley farmhouse with every step. Luckily there wasn’t a dog to interfere with his plans. In twenty minutes, Kristopher and his wife, Jane, would suffer a violent, bloody death.

  The side door would be unlocked. It always was—a foolish mistake on their part. The family had a false sense of security about being out in the boondocks like that. Who even knew the farm was there? The intruder smirked confidently as he turned the knob with his hand, now gloved again. He crossed over the threshold. Inside the welcoming home, he slipped off his shoes, socks, and clothing then continued on. Those old wooden floors creaked in the center, but he knew where to step. He passed through the mudroom and continued beyond the butler’s pantry to the kitchen. There, with only a dim nightlight for illumination, he pulled out the largest butcher knife from the block and headed toward the staircase.

  His deliberate movements kept him from making noise, as his weight was evenly distributed on the outer edges of each step. He ascended to the second floor and turned right, where Kevin’s room was located. He knew the simpleminded nineteen-year-old slept with his headphones on—he wouldn’t be an issue. The balled-up clothing that always lay on the bedroom floor would come in handy. The man slipped into the room, scooped up the dirty clothes, and returned to the hallway. Wearing Kevin’s loose-fitting pants, T-shirt, and socks, he carried on.

  The master suite was at the opposite end of the hallway. The door, half opened, made his entry that much easier. There wouldn’t be squeaky hinges to deal with or the chance of the husband and wife waking to the sound. He knew that Kristopher slept on the side nearest the door. He’d be taken out first to eliminate the largest threat. Jane would be a cakewalk. She was petite—one hundred ten pounds soaking wet. She’d accept her fate without a fight.

  He crept closer to the bed. They wouldn’t recognize him in that darkened room, although it wouldn’t matter. They’d be dead within seconds. He stood at the side of the bed, pulled back the knife above his head, and plunged it into Kristopher’s face. An involuntary grunt came from the man’s mouth just before the knife was lifted again and buried in Kristopher’s chest. In a flash, the stranger rounded the bed as Jane sat up. He raised the knife and thrust it forward, catching her below the neck. Two thrusts to her chest, burying the blade to the handle, silenced any scream she might have attempted. A final plunge to the heart of both victims ended any chance of them surviving.

  He held the knife carefully. The handle had become slippery and saturated with blood. The blade, pointed downward, dotted the floor with deep-red droplets, and the blood-soaked socks created a convenient trail that led to Kevin’s room. The man entered, peeled off the clothes, and left them at the foot of the bed. He placed the bloody knife beside them. Back downstairs and at the side door, he slipped on his own clothing and pocketed the bloody gloves. He turned the knob with the edge of
his coat before walking out into the night.

  Chapter 1

  Halloween, 11:05 a.m.

  The fifteen-hour drive was long and grueling, yet he carried it out religiously—as if he had an ounce of religion in his body. Keith made the trip to Holman Correctional Facility four times a year—Christmas, Easter, Kevin’s birthday in July, and Halloween. It was Keith’s penance in a way, and the trip cleared his mind. Remorse didn’t factor in, and Kevin wasn’t smart enough to realize that his parents’ violent murder eleven years earlier wasn’t his own doing. That was all Keith’s work, and Keith was content with the outcome. It was a means to an end and benefited him quite well financially.

  According to the terms of the will, Keith had been named Kevin’s legal guardian once their parents died. The document held up in court even though the younger brother was behind bars in the section of the prison designated for mentally unstable inmates. As long as Kevin was alive, Keith had to jump through a number of hoops to keep the money flowing. He received a monthly salary from the trust to help him keep a watchful eye on his brother, but nobody ever found out about the coins. That was Keith’s fun money, and he’d foolishly wasted it years ago.

  News of the trial filled the Washburn County Chronicle for several weeks. Kristopher Hadley, a well-known local veterinarian, and his wife of thirty years had been slaughtered by their own son while they slept.

  Lieutenant Chuck Clark of the Washburn County Sheriff’s Office was the lead on the case. He and several deputies testified at the trial along with key experts on Kevin’s condition. The first responder, Tyler Rauch, arrived at the home shortly after the cleaning lady found the mutilated bodies in the master bedroom and called 911. Tyler’s testimony of arriving to find Kevin asleep—and the bloody evidence at the foot of his bed—sealed the teenager’s fate. The evidence was overwhelming, and when the verdict came in, nobody was surprised. Kevin was convicted of killing his parents and sentenced to life in prison. After the trial, Kevin was whisked away, and life in Washburn County continued as before. A new veterinarian bought the practice, and the Hadley name was soon forgotten.

  As he drove the last hundred miles, Keith thought about how fast the years had gone by. That day was the ten-year anniversary of Kevin’s being locked up at the Slaughterhouse, a fitting nickname for the notorious Alabama prison where violence among inmates and guards was a daily occurrence.

  Memories filled Keith’s mind as they did every time he made that long drive. He recalled the day the murder plan took on a life of its own, the day his father showed him the cache that lay beneath the ground at the far back of the property. The sight of four milk cans with the lids lifted, safely hidden below the grass-covered cinder block vault, made Keith’s head spin. The image of the cans filled with gold and silver coins, and the words his father said, were as ingrained in his mind as if they had been on a movie screen.

  “Son, there’s over a million dollars in gold and silver in those cans. I want you to know where they are in case something ever happens to your mom and me.”

  The idea of cutting their lives short began percolating in Keith’s head that day, and he decided his parents had to die. Keith, twenty-five at the time, lived alone in Madison. Drugs and alcohol consumed most of his waking hours, even though his mom and dad thought he was attending graduate school. Actually, he hadn’t walked into a classroom in months. He’d be found out sooner or later, and the gravy train would dry up, but the sight of those coins—and the knowledge that a hefty trust fund had already been set up—was just the push he needed to commit murder.

  He rubbed the butter-soft leather seat of his Lexus LS and thought about the good life he had lived those last ten years. He had never been close to his mom or dad. They had been far too busy with their careers to pay much attention to Keith and Kevin. As he grew up, Keith had taken on the parental duties, preparing the meals, washing clothes, and making sure his special needs brother got to school on time every day. He resented it, and it cut into his own life as a teen. On many sleepless nights, Keith wondered how it would feel to be free of his role as primary caregiver for his younger brother. College was his only way out at the time, even though an education meant nothing to him.

  But the day he saw the buried treasure, everything changed.

  Chapter 2

  That Friday afternoon, Keith pulled in behind the line of five cars at the drive-through restaurant. When he finally reached the menu board, he ordered the number two—a double cheeseburger without onions, fries, and a soft drink. He inched ahead and paid for his food, took the bag and soda, then continued on. He glanced at the dashboard’s digital clock as he picked up speed and merged onto the freeway.

  It’s nearly one o’clock. I should roll into that hellhole by one thirty.

  Keith reached the city limits of Atmore, Alabama, population just over ten thousand, then veered northeast and backtracked on State Highway 21. Reaching the prison on Ross Road took a half hour longer than necessary because there were no exits off I-65.

  He followed the road that led into the large, depressing-looking facility and parked. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he climbed out of his car. His eyes darted left and right. Each corner of the prison, beyond the wall and barbed wire, held a tower with armed guards.

  Better you than me, little brother. You’re blessed with ignorance. You don’t know the difference, anyway.

  His walk to the two-story gated entrance took several minutes. Keith carried a bag of Halloween candy for the guards. Staying in everyone’s good graces would help shorten his wait time to visit with Kevin. Usually, spending an hour each afternoon on a two-day visit with his brother was sufficient until the next visit several months later. As Kevin’s legal guardian, Keith was allowed to visit as much as he wanted. Four times a year was plenty.

  He entered the building, signed in, and was fingerprinted. He showed his ID, even though everyone knew him, but that was protocol, and the rules were carried out regardless of who the visitor was. The back of his hand was stamped with a black light stamp, and he went through security. Now he waited in a secondary room while Kevin, as well as every inmate who had a visitor, was strip-searched before being allowed into the visitation room.

  Keith checked the time—1:47. He grabbed a magazine and took a seat, expecting the usual fifteen-minute wait. Several visitors who had entered after him had already been shown into the visitation room. He was becoming impatient. A half hour passed, which wasn’t the norm. Keith stood and placed the magazine in the rack.

  “What’s the holdup?” he asked as he walked to the counter.

  “There seems to be a slight problem, Mr. Hadley.”

  He cocked his head, suspicious. “A problem with what?”

  The desk clerk pushed back his chair and stood. He pointed toward the group of chairs that lined the wall. “Please take your seat. I’ll check on the situation.” He turned his back and passed through a security door.

  Keith stared through the glass and watched as the clerk rounded the end of the hallway and disappeared from sight. He paced the fifteen-by-fifteen-foot waiting room and checked the time again—2:21. The clerk finally appeared from the end of the hallway. He swiped his badge, and the door that led into his workspace opened. Keith was at the counter seconds later.

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s been an incident, Mr. Hadley. The warden would like to speak with you.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  The clerk pressed a button, and the door slid open. “Please follow me.”

  He led Keith through several corridors and up two flights of stairs, ending next to a solid-steel elevator door. The clerk pressed his thumb against the pad of the fingerprint scanner mounted on the wall next to the door. He tipped his head at the open doors, and Keith stepped in. The elevator took them to the final floor and stopped at the office of the warden.

  “Right this way, Mr. Hadley. Warden Price is waiting for you.” The clerk
opened the door that bore a plaque with the warden’s name in gold lettering. “Go ahead and have a seat. The warden’s secretary will be right with you.” The clerk turned and left the room.

  A woman appeared from a door on Keith’s left. “Mr. Hadley, I’m Elizabeth Cochran, the warden’s secretary. He’ll be with you in a moment. May I get you some coffee while you wait?”

  “No, thanks. What’s going on?”

  She smiled. “The warden will see you soon.” She walked out and closed the door behind her.

  Keith continued to wait for ten more minutes. The door finally opened again, and a portly balding man with thick glasses stepped into the waiting area.

  A two-hundred-dollar suit is the best you can do on your salary?

  Keith stood. “Warden Price?”

  “Yes, and I assume you’re Kevin Hadley’s brother and legal guardian, Keith Hadley?”

  “That’s me. What’s going on with all the secrecy, and why haven’t I been able to see my brother yet? Why in the hell am I here, in your office? I’ve already been told several times that there seems to be a problem, so let’s hear what that problem is.”

  “Come in, Mr. Hadley, and have a seat.”

  “I’ve been sitting for fifteen hours. I’m sick of it. Now tell me why I’m standing in your office.”

  The warden stared at the floor then cleared his throat. “There’s seems to have been an—”

  “I want to hear what happened. Just say it.”

  “Your brother is dead.”

  “What!” Keith balled up his fists. “How in the hell did my brother—who is only thirty years old—die?”