Dead Chance

  Dead Chance

  H L Goodnight

  JDK Press

  Copyright © 2018 by H L Goodnight

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any ressemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  for my sunshine boys

  Contents

  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

  About the Author

  Also by H L Goodnight

  Chapter One

  Huddling deeper under my quilt, I watched the large man in full plate mail slam a giant battle ax down on top of the helpless man's head. Wincing, I grabbed the clicker and shut off the television. Whisper had recommended the series, which should have been my first clue it would be full of beef-cake, violence, and barely a plot to be seen. I put down the remote in a tray.

  The time on the phone read three fifty-two am.

  The problem with not having to sleep very often meant that I had to fill my time and my mind or go further down the path of insanity. As I enjoyed the warmth of the quilt my grandmother had made, I wondered what work would be like tomorrow.

  I'd finally taken on a full-time job. No more temping for this accountant. Burke & Walsh had hired me on while I had been temping. With the offer of a large sign-on bonus, it had been a no-brainer taking the job. One of the best parts of my job was that my boss, Roth Craig, didn’t micromanage.

  Mr. Craig let each of us do our work, trusted us and didn’t nitpick every detail. It was a refreshing change from temp work, where bosses and co-workers often assumed you had spaghetti in place of a brain.

  Standing up, I stretched and decided that rather than laze about watching blood filled fantasy shows, I should go workout at the company gym. This new job had definite perks. Time to take advantage of them.

  Shoving on workout clothes. I grabbed my work outfit and put it in a garment bag. Part of the deal at the fancy new job was looking the part. Taking a second to look at my reflection in my small bathroom's mirror as I grabbed a spare hair-tie, I hoped that no one noticed how young I appeared.

  After an ordeal that had left me alive, but my friends dead, I hadn't aged. Perpetually twenty, with no new scars or wrinkles. Since I was only twenty-six, no one had noticed. I just came off baby-faced. Now, with a full-time day job, I worried that someone might. Or maybe they'd figure I was into plastic surgery.

  Shaking my head, I promised myself to focus on the positive. I was alive. I had issues. Who didn't?

  Heading out the door, I ran into my new neighbor. Gabriel, or Gabe, was one of the new twenty-somes that rented the apartment next to mine. His long dirty blond hair was shining from a recent wash as he waved at me, hands full of cardboard boxes.

  "Hey, Dianna!"

  I waved and helped hold his boxes while he opened his door.

  He smiled. "Thank you." His eyes had bags under them from working so late and so often.

  "Are you moving already?" They had moved in after the apartment next to mine had been cleaned. The three previous tenants had been murdered by a serial killer known only as the Clipper, due to the clipping of certain genitalia of his, or her, victims.

  The Clipper's body count was up to twenty-one now. The local police department handed everything to the federal investigators. However, after two years, The Clipper was still carving up young men in our city. I had a rule against using my powers against humans. However, for a serial killer, I'd make an exception.

  It was creepy enough living next door to what had happened. I couldn't imagine moving into the place. Since the murders, I had kept an eye out for real estate nearby. Nothing seemed as nice as my current apartment or nicer for the price tag attached. However, I gave myself a year deadline to move out. Insomnia didn't need the aid of nearby murders. I was sad, but mostly it enraged me.

  If only I'd been here. I could have stopped the killer. I felt my hands curl into fists. Putting my arms behind my back, I grabbed my wrist.

  Gabe shook his head, opening his door, "Just getting rid of some old stuff to donate to the homeless center."

  "Tis the season to be thankful," I said.

  He nodded. "Yeah. Thankful for what you have. And giving when you can. Devon has stuff he is sending too. Well, thanks again, Dianna."

  "No big deal. See ya, Gabriel." I waved, grateful the conversation ended.

  I wasn't a full misanthrope, but I disliked small talk and chat. My previous neighbors had been exceptions. They had been nice guys. So poor that they had to knock on my door to ask for extra blankets when it had gotten well below freezing outside.

  Now I had two new neighbors. They seemed nice too. But nice didn't rent where three men had been slaughtered.

  Brad looked at me thoughtfully. Since he was a specter, no one could see him. As we walked, he said, "The new neighbors seem alright."

  I nodded. We walked to the next door parking garage. Brad kept pace with me as we walked downstairs.

  "I just wish we had a lead on who had killed Mike and the guys."

  I breathed out loudly. "Me too."

  "It had to be when I was searching for you. I couldn't find you after you went dancing," Brad said. He said, "I need to tell you about that night."

  "Brad, I told you. Don't," I said.

  Halloween night and a few days before and after it were missing a lot of details. My memories weren't perfect, but usually, I didn't have blank spots. At least I hadn't woken up coved in blood. Bright side. But my mind had sealed away the night and the days leading up to it were fuzzy. Rather than try to remember, I let it go. If my psyche wanted to block out horrible things, I let it. I had plenty of terrifying memories as it was.

  "You should just let me tell you the most important thing." His eyes pleaded with me.

  It was getting to be the new normal. Talking to semi-transparent Brad. "I'm glad that whatever it happened allowed me to see you." I put my hand over where his ghostly one was. I couldn't feel it. Not even the chill or cold so often depicted in ghost stories. "But I don't want to know. Maybe later, I'll change my mind. For now, let it be."

  He put his other hand over mine. "I'm really glad to be here, and I'll drop it for now." We moved our hands away and kept walking. "It was lonely only having the homeless and small children scream and run constantly."

  "Well, you are here now." Staying positive took dedication.

  Brad said, "I'm sorry. For everything that happened. That night seems so long ago. I trusted Max. He was like a brother."

  "You weren't alone
in your naivete," I said nothing more as we entered the parking lot.

  I didn't talk about our lost friends often, because I didn't want to talk about Max and that night at Lake Clare. Whatever had happened changed me, and I didn't remember most of it. In fact, all I could remember about Max was his voice, hair, and dark blue-green eyes.

  I had destroyed all the photos, both digital and prints of Max after that night. It was actually a relief that so much of it had been sealed away in my mind. The change that had come had made me strong, fast, and my body regenerated wounds if I ate after injury. But the price had been all my friends and my first love. It had been too steep. Instead of focusing on what I had lost, I tried to put my energy on counting my blessings.

  Whisper, my best friend. Gretchen, Ashley, and Kim were newer friends. They had all forced their way into my life. Now I had Brad.

  As my Grandfather Erik used to say, "Be grateful every day for the little things. Not just the big things. Because there are little things every single day that are miracles. You just have to seek them out." He'd been the person I still aspired to be. Full of love, open, honest, charitable, yet still the stoic Norwegian. Hmm, Gabriel had sorted stuff out for charity.

  I'd have to go through my things and see what I could find. Maybe they could take it with their donations.

  Chapter Two

  As the second mile ticked by on the treadmill, I heard my boss' voice.

  "Hello, Dianna." His hello always sounded more like aloe.

  He had a thick Irish accent that made it hard to understand him when he lost his temper. He brushed his longish black and red tipped hair out of his face. Pale blue eyes twinkled at me, framed by black lashes. He was wearing a black tank top and baggy workout pants. He was lean but still muscular. He got on the machine next to me.

  "The problem with sobriety is that eventually, you replace one addiction for another." He started and quickly matched his pace to mine.

  Shrugging, I said, "Did you give up something?"

  "Ah," he said. His arms moved with practiced ease, taking off his tank top. Using it to wipe off sweat dripping from his hair into his eyes.

  I examined the tattoos on his torso. A dragon, many mathematical equations in small script, astronomy, and astrology tattoos on his arms and shoulders. They were well done with rich colors. Odd; he was a math nerd but had astrology tattoos.

  I'd only been working full-time for about a month, but maybe he wouldn't mind the question. "I always wanted to ask, what is with the astrology tattoos?"

  "Well, you never know what is out there, now do you?" He winked.

  I nodded, not saying anything. I knew what some of it was. The stuff of nightmares. Perhaps, Roth knew that too. Realizing I'd been staring at his body, I focused on finishing my run.

  At three miles the machine clicked off. The small exercise made me sweat. Running always did. Not in the pretty girl way, but actual sweat. I pulled at my top as I grabbed a towel.

  "See ya, boss man," I said.

  "Roth, please, Dianna."

  "Roth."

  After a shower, a change of clothes, styling my hair in a chignon, applying makeup, and sliding my feet into heels I was ready for work. An hour and a bit early, but Roth said he didn't care about times we worked, just that we got our assigned work done every day. It made my life easier.

  Entering the office, Roth was there in a green shirt under a black suit. He even had on his tie. I'd learned that as the morning went on, he would strip down to his shirt or tank top. He hated suit jackets and ties. His boss, Mr. Burke didn't care, and neither did the four of us that worked in the same office.

  Emma McMurray, Laura McDaniels, and Dana O'Brian were usually in the office right before or right after eight am.

  Roth hummed while taking off the tie. He tossed it on the chaise lounge behind his desk.

  I snickered while switching on my computer.

  Hearing my snicker, he turned his head towards me. "What," he asked, looking up from his calculations. He was clueless.

  I said, "Oh, just thought of something funny." Sitting down, I put my bag in the bottom right drawer of my desk.

  Roth came over. He sat on the edge of my desk. His fox-like face looked at me with curiosity. "Ah now. You have to tell me." One of his black eyebrows was up.

  "Sorry." I cleared my throat. "Just noticing how much you hate ties."

  "Loathe them, really," he said. His smile lit the twinkling in his eyes. He moved, leaning towards me. "So, Di, what are you doing after work tonight?"

  "Meeting a friend." Whisper had texted me that she needed to see me tonight.

  "A date," he asked.

  "Ah, no." I really didn't have a desire to try and search for love. My first and only relationship had ended with my rape and multiple bodies. Kinda made a girl gunshy.

  His smile widened. "Now that is the best news I've heard in some time."

  Moving off the desk, he stood up stretching. His lithe form moved so smoothly. Winking at me, he looked at my lips.

  "Di, would you be interested in joining me for dinner?"

  "Like a date?"

  "Exactly like one." He leaned down, so his face was level with mine. "Even with a kiss at the end."

  I didn't want to search for love. Roth was a known player. Often he came to work recovering from a night of hard liquor and women. There was a safety in that. No commitment, just fun. No searching quest for love, just sex.

  I was twenty-six. I hadn't had sex since my first relationship six years ago. Maybe it was time to stop pretending I didn't have needs. Roth wasn't declaring a never-ending love; he was asking me out for fun.

  "But you're my boss?" Also, two of my coworkers were friendly with Roth after hours.

  Roth rolled his eyes. "So what? This is the twenty-first century."

  "Er, don't you have something going with Mc Murray and O' Brian?"

  "Uh, not anymore. Their sweethearts have put an end to our play." He whispered like he imparted a secret, "It has made me dreadfully lonely."

  My mood darkened, "Sorry. I am not into casual sex with my boss." It came out snippy.

  "Dianna, my past is my past. I've had plenty of dancing partners." He held his hand to his chest, "I'm willing to step out and dance with just you."

  "Are you sure you aren't just trying to replace a convince?"

  He shook his head, "Come out on a date with me and see for yourself."

  I definitely didn't want to be a work-fuck-buddy, but on the other hand, Roth was so alive. So at the moment. I bit my lip and touched a hairpin. "Okay." It was out of my mouth before I'd really thought about it. What the hell?

  Roth smiled. "Wear a dress." He held up his hands. "Dress code." He moved off my desk. "I can pick you up around seven."

  "I could meet you at the-" I started.

  "Hells no! When you're with me, you ride in style." He got out his phone. He typed, and my phone beeped.

  I got my phone out of the bag in the drawer and saw all his information. His home address, private email, phone numbers, birth date, and favorite color. June first. Red. DukeRoth email address really showing his hubris. Nothing came as a huge surprise. Roth was far from humble. I sent back my information feeling juvenile but enjoying it.

  Roth looked up from his phone and said, "Indigo? Really?"

  I nodded, "Yeah. It reminds me of the night sky in the winter. Just as the sun sets."

  "You have a bit of the poet in you, Di." His face lit with a wicked grin, "Well, the place we're going tonight is not black tie, but it is a bit posh. Break out those dancing shoes, and I promise you will have a night of pleasures."

  I worried my lip.

  He winked and whistled a familiar tune, heading back to his desk.

  It would be fun, I decided. For once, damn the consequences.

  Chapter Three

  Headed to Whisper's cafe, Dhalaights, I kept thinking about the date with Roth. What had I been thinking saying yes? A moment of weakness? Giving into Roth's consi
derable charm felt far too comfortable. I'd have to call him and say I couldn't do it.

  I took an alley to cut through the street connecting to the cafe. It was usually empty since the dumpsters were on the other side of the building. Tonight was no exception. A bunch of empty boxes and crates were stacked near the apartment’s side entrance.

  Lots of broken bottles pieces were near the crates. Probably a bunch of teens got into the crates hoping to find a full bottle in the recyclables.

  The blow hit me in the back. I fell to the ground taken unaware. The pavement scraped my knees ripping my stockings as I hit. Broken shards of a beer bottle dug into my left palm as I landed. As I started to stand a leather belt went around my neck.

  My arm went up in between the belt and my neck close to his hands. The attacker immediately started squeezing. I pivoted on my knee, grinding in the broken glass. Now, I was half facing him as my fist stuck out hitting him in his nuts. Not holding all of my strength back due to surprise, the man collapsed while falling backward.

  He was holding his crotch, screaming through a balaclava. He wore jeans, a jacket, and boots.

  Reaching down, I took off the mask. The attacker looked like he was around my age. I took a picture of him on my phone. As he wailed, I crouched down, meeting his eyes. "It ends here. Or you do."

  He half nodded fear allowing me to see the whites of his eyes. "I didn't know it was one of you," he groaned.

  Whatever that meant. High as a kite too? "Don't harm anyone, and I mean anyone, ever again."