Read Online Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller by R. Barri Flowers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R. Barri Flowers
Tags: thriller, Mystery, Police Procedural, serial killer, legal thriller, domestic violence, vigilante, female killer, female offender, batterer, vigilante killer
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lit garage. When he heard footsteps that
weren’t his, he stopped instinctively, turning around.
Approaching was a tall, curvaceous,
blonde-haired black woman. Wearing dark gloves and a trench coat,
she was carrying a long bag and a killer smile. He smiled back,
feeling somewhat aroused.
“Aren’t you the Blake Wallace?” she
asked politely.
He regarded her more carefully. Who the hell
was asking? Was she a friend of Rebecca’s?
Someone Victoria knew?
Probably a damned reporter looking for a
cheap story at his expense, he decided.
“Yeah,” he said cautiously. “Who the bloody
hell are you?”
He watched as her pretty face suddenly became
impassioned with fury. “Your worst nightmare, asshole!”
Before he could even digest what this was all
about, she had removed something from the bag. It looked like a
bat. With a swiftness that further took him by surprise, she had
swung the bat backwards and brought it forward at lightning speed.
It slammed against the side of his head, dropping him as if hit by
a heavyweight champion’s right hook. Or running head first into a
brick wall.
“Did you really think for one minute you were
going to get away with what you did, you filthy bastard?” she
cursed.
Dazed and in a state of shock, Blake tried to
get up. But he was unable to ward off the next blow that crashed
into the top of his head with such force it shattered his skull
like an eggshell. Thick, dark blood spurted out.
“Your wife may have been too afraid to stand
up to your violence,” the woman shouted, “but I’m not. You should
have quit while you were ahead. Or had a head! Here, let me
rearrange it some more, you son of a bitch!”
Another blow exploded into his cheekbone,
fracturing it in multiple places. A second or two later came yet
another. This one landed squarely on his throat, crushing his
windpipe.
One more pounded into his head, what was left
of it, brain tissue spurting forth like an eruption from a
volcano.
Though Blake Wallace had ceased to be amongst
the living, she continued to inflict punishment on his battered
remains as if to beat his soul into submission as well. Only after
she had exhausted herself from clubbing him with the bat, did the
woman stop. Her breathing had become erratic and she felt
perspiration pouring from her armpits down her sides and chest.
Again, like the others, she felt a tremendous
amount of relief. The satisfaction was akin to an orgasm. Only much
more powerful. And lasting. At least till the next time when the
urge to kill a brutal abuser overcame her once more.
She tossed the bloodied bat on the corpse and
walked to her car. Opening the trunk, she yanked off the wig,
tossing it into a duffel bag. Then she took off the gloves, trench
coat, and clothes beneath it. She quickly slipped into jeans, a
jersey, and tennis shoes.
Within moments she had gotten into the car.
She applied lipstick to her dry lips. She then put on some
earrings, studying herself in the rear view mirror.
The woman drove out of the parking lot and
calmly made plans for dinner, as she was starving.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The detectives were glum as they viewed the
crushed and battered body of Blake Wallace. Ray tried to imagine
what it would be like to be the target of someone so full of hatred
and rage. He supposed many battered women knew the answer
firsthand.
And at least four men now knew, too.
“Wallace was acquitted today of charges that
he assaulted his wife,” said Nina, taking an anguished look at the
victim’s ghastly remains. “I imagine he thought he was on top of
the world.”
“Think again,” said Ray disgustedly. It was
more like the world was on top of him. Or at least one determined
killer. “Looks like it wasn’t his lucky day after all.”
“Maybe in some ways he was lucky.” Nina
twisted her lips. “My guess is that Blake Wallace was put out of
his misery long before someone finished with his body in the
batting cage.”
“But not before he saw
weren’t his, he stopped instinctively, turning around.
Approaching was a tall, curvaceous,
blonde-haired black woman. Wearing dark gloves and a trench coat,
she was carrying a long bag and a killer smile. He smiled back,
feeling somewhat aroused.
“Aren’t you the Blake Wallace?” she
asked politely.
He regarded her more carefully. Who the hell
was asking? Was she a friend of Rebecca’s?
Someone Victoria knew?
Probably a damned reporter looking for a
cheap story at his expense, he decided.
“Yeah,” he said cautiously. “Who the bloody
hell are you?”
He watched as her pretty face suddenly became
impassioned with fury. “Your worst nightmare, asshole!”
Before he could even digest what this was all
about, she had removed something from the bag. It looked like a
bat. With a swiftness that further took him by surprise, she had
swung the bat backwards and brought it forward at lightning speed.
It slammed against the side of his head, dropping him as if hit by
a heavyweight champion’s right hook. Or running head first into a
brick wall.
“Did you really think for one minute you were
going to get away with what you did, you filthy bastard?” she
cursed.
Dazed and in a state of shock, Blake tried to
get up. But he was unable to ward off the next blow that crashed
into the top of his head with such force it shattered his skull
like an eggshell. Thick, dark blood spurted out.
“Your wife may have been too afraid to stand
up to your violence,” the woman shouted, “but I’m not. You should
have quit while you were ahead. Or had a head! Here, let me
rearrange it some more, you son of a bitch!”
Another blow exploded into his cheekbone,
fracturing it in multiple places. A second or two later came yet
another. This one landed squarely on his throat, crushing his
windpipe.
One more pounded into his head, what was left
of it, brain tissue spurting forth like an eruption from a
volcano.
Though Blake Wallace had ceased to be amongst
the living, she continued to inflict punishment on his battered
remains as if to beat his soul into submission as well. Only after
she had exhausted herself from clubbing him with the bat, did the
woman stop. Her breathing had become erratic and she felt
perspiration pouring from her armpits down her sides and chest.
Again, like the others, she felt a tremendous
amount of relief. The satisfaction was akin to an orgasm. Only much
more powerful. And lasting. At least till the next time when the
urge to kill a brutal abuser overcame her once more.
She tossed the bloodied bat on the corpse and
walked to her car. Opening the trunk, she yanked off the wig,
tossing it into a duffel bag. Then she took off the gloves, trench
coat, and clothes beneath it. She quickly slipped into jeans, a
jersey, and tennis shoes.
Within moments she had gotten into the car.
She applied lipstick to her dry lips. She then put on some
earrings, studying herself in the rear view mirror.
The woman drove out of the parking lot and
calmly made plans for dinner, as she was starving.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The detectives were glum as they viewed the
crushed and battered body of Blake Wallace. Ray tried to imagine
what it would be like to be the target of someone so full of hatred
and rage. He supposed many battered women knew the answer
firsthand.
And at least four men now knew, too.
“Wallace was acquitted today of charges that
he assaulted his wife,” said Nina, taking an anguished look at the
victim’s ghastly remains. “I imagine he thought he was on top of
the world.”
“Think again,” said Ray disgustedly. It was
more like the world was on top of him. Or at least one determined
killer. “Looks like it wasn’t his lucky day after all.”
“Maybe in some ways he was lucky.” Nina
twisted her lips. “My guess is that Blake Wallace was put out of
his misery long before someone finished with his body in the
batting cage.”
“But not before he saw
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