Jamie Garrett - Riley Reid 03 - Ends and Beginnings

Ends and Beginnings

Riley Reid Mysteries #3

Jamie Garrett

PUBLISHED BY:

Wild Owl Press

Copyright © 2014 by Kids n More Pty Ltd – All Rights Reserved

jamiegarrett.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and locations portrayed in this book and the names herein are fictitious.  Any similarity to or identification with the locations, names, characters or history of any person, product or entity is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

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Prologue: The Funeral

Cracking

Dining with the Dead

Planning

Dinner with the Family

Sunny View

Roanoke

Q & A

The Second Man

Call from a Friend

Big Sandy

Abduction

The Way Home

Hard Truths

Valentine

A Beginning

About the Author

Troy Reid had grown used to spending his nights in the back seat of his car. He’d been doing so for weeks. Ever since he and his late wife Dana were found, sleeping anywhere else would have been too risky.

It wasn’t that
Troy
was afraid of being caught. The second he ran from the Crescent Moon Motel, he knew his life was over. She died in that grungy room. All he wanted was to live and be free long enough to see her put to rest, six feet under the soil.

Troy had already said his goodbyes to his daughter. He may not have done it face- to- face or over the phone. But with a chain link fence and soccer field between them, he had whispered his apologies and hoped that her soul heard them.

The late August sun peeked through grey clouds and onto
Troy
’s unshaven face. It was enough to wake him. And it was a reminder of the reality that awaited him that day. He wasn’t eager to get started.

There was a rest stop on the
George Washington Highway
that was tolerant of commuters stopping for some rest. That was where
Troy
decided to stay the night. Now that morning had broken, he didn’t feel as safe.

Troy’s car was alone in the parking lot. He stood out. The last thing he wanted was to stand out. As soon as he cleaned up, he’d leave.

All the joints in
Troy
’s body were sore. His back was stiff. That was the price of sleeping in the back seat of a small vehicle. Upon emerging, he spent a minute stretching. Then he made his way towards the sole building of the rest area.

There weren’t many people there. A few janitors were mopping the floors and cleaning the bathrooms. Fast food employees prepared for the first customers of the day. The lady who sat behind the register at the newsstand counted the money inside. None of them paid any attention to the scruffy-looking fugitive.

Troy entered the rest area bathrooms. They smelled of urine and strong cleaning solutions. He emptied his bladder at one of the urinals, then went to the sinks.

Looking at himself in the mirror,
Troy
was disgusted. He didn’t see the unwashed sandy blonde hair or graying beard. No, he saw a coward. He saw something less than a man. What kind of wretch would leave his own wife to die and daughter an orphan?

When Troy was a boy, he never saw much of his father, but on his thirteenth birthday he gave him a straight razor. His father said it was a gift for a man. And men needed to shave.

Troy took out the straight razor he got from his father. It had a handle made of fake ivory and mahogany. No doubt his old man thought it looked elegant. In reality, it looked tacky and cheap. And the razor was dull.

The razor drew blood as
Troy
started to dry shave. His pain felt like a penance. He didn’t fool himself into thinking it was enough, but it was punishment. Luckily, no one was around to hear his winces and groans.

When he was done, Troy’s face was patch-worked with blood spotted pieces of tissue paper. Next, he washed his hair with the pink, generic industrial liquid soap he found next to the sink. It wasn’t ideal, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Cleaned up as well as could be expected, Troy exited the rest area building and went back to his car. His head was constantly turning, his eyes scanning the parking lot for any suspicious new arrivals. Anything or anyone could be a spy for Harlan Greene and the syndicate.

Once he felt that the coast was clear, Troy got in his car and drove away, towards Charleston, West Virginia. That’s where his wife was from. And there she would be buried in a couple of hours.

Troy chose to take the highways to
Virginia
’s sister state. It would be harder to tell if someone was following him, but it was the quickest route. Plus, if he was being followed, his car would be lost in the sea of commuters during the morning rush hour.

By the time
Troy
arrived in
Charleston
, the procession of cars had already started. His wife’s body was en route. All he had to do was find
Ravenswood
Cemetery, which was located on the outskirts of the capitol.

Troy parked across the street from Ravenswood. He watched as the last stragglers made their way through the cemetery gates. It was time.

Among all the attendees at Dana’s funeral, he recognized none. Even so, he intended to stay as far away as possible. In his car, he changed into the only suit he owned. It was bought on the cheap from a thrift store.

Dressed all in black,
Troy
got out of his car. He took nothing with him. It was clear to him that he’d never go back to the vehicle. In all likelihood, he’d be taken right there in the cemetery.

Troy heard thunder as he walked amongst the gravestones. Then came a light drizzle. They must’ve been an omen. And for the first time since he stole Harlan Greene’s money, he was regretful.

Ravenswood was a nice burial site. Landscapers kept the grass green and well trimmed. There were large oak trees strategically placed for shade.
Troy
stood under one of those oaks and looked on as his wife was lowered into the ground.

A priest started saying words that
Troy
couldn’t hear. From his distance, nothing occurring there was audible. Instead, he heard the peaceful sound of rain and wind against leaves. He took out and lit a cigarette.

The priest stopped talking, and people took turns throwing flowers on the coffin. And that was it. His wife was officially dead and buried. There was a finality to it that made Troy a little sad.

Everyone has felt that animal-like instinct that tells you that somebody is behind you. You don’t have to hear or smell them. You feel them. And
Troy
experienced exactly that.

When Troy turned around, he saw two large men in black suits. Their arms were folded in front of them.
Troy
had never seen such fearsome white guys outside of prison. Under those finely pressed clothes were probably all manner of Aryan nation tattoos and other prison ink. There were probably a few scars from shanks or bullets peppered in.

Troy sighed. He had reached the end of the road. There was no getting away. Behind the two large men, he saw a black limousine. Only one person could’ve been inside.

People said that Troy Reid was the one man that Harlan Greene would come for himself. It wasn’t that fact Troy had stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars that made the crime lord obsessed with catching him. It was the disrespect that it showed. It made Harlan look weak. And that was unacceptable.

Neither of the suit-clad men had to say anything to Troy. He knew the score.
Troy
took one last look at his wife’s tomb. He threw down his cigarette and walked towards the men and Harlan’s limo.

One of the men opened up one of the back doors. A cloud of smoke came out and
Troy
went in. Once inside, he found himself sitting across from a man in his late forties. He had on a white suit with a black shirt underneath and a red tie. Both of his eyes were hidden by dark aviator sunglasses. The hair on his head was balding and brown. Up his neck and exposed hands were tattoos. And in his mouth was a cigar.
Troy
knew the man. It was Harlan Greene.

“Hello, Troy,” said Harlan. His voice was a mix of hardened sailor and an older black man, which was strange because he was Irish.

Troy nodded. “Harlan.”

“Do I really have to ask?”

“I don’t have it.”

Harlan laughed. He coughed violently, then instantly put back on a serious face. “Is that so? Well, where is it?”

Troy didn’t answer. Instead he shrugged.

“You don’t know where the seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars you stole from me is? For some reason, I don’t believe you. But since it’s your wife’s funeral and all, I’ll give you another chance to give me an answer I want to hear.” Harlan took off his sunglasses revealing cold, steely grey eyes. “Where is my money?”

Long before Harlan caught up with him, Troy had decided that he would take whatever punishment was coming his way. No matter how much he was tortured or threatened, he wouldn’t reveal where he had hidden the money. He wouldn’t let all he went through be for nothing.

“Like I said … I got no idea.”
Troy
swallowed hard after lying.

Harlan leaned forward and stared into
Troy
’s eyes. Then he took out his cigar and put it out against the side of
Troy
’s neck, inducing a string of loud expletives. The drug lord leaned back into his seat.

Troy touched the new burn on his neck. It was still raw and stung. That would just be the beginning of his torture. He knew there was a lot more on the way.

“Where is my money?”

Troy didn’t answer.

“Okay. Well, you stole from me, Troy. And I’m going to be paid back. If I can’t get it in cash, I’ll settle for flesh.” Harlan knocked on the window next to him.

The two large black-suited men opened the doors on either side of Troy. They sat down next to him, trapping the thief in the middle. Harlan told his chauffeur to start driving. And they left Ravenswood.