Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
I blame myself, and I blame others. I will hold tight to this grudge and never let it go. I tried to let the police do their job. They bombed. A miscarriage of justice. Nobody is ever as concerned as a grieving parent, my ex-wife said, and she was right. So now, the mission is mine, and mine alone. I refuse to fail. See, the problem is, I’m just like that elephant I mentioned.
I don’t forget.
I can’t forget.
I won’t forget.
I can’t die until I find out who did this to my boy. You can’t take my son from me and live your life as if nothing happened. Business as usual. Chad will never go to college, start a corporation, or learn a trade. He’ll never find a nice lady, settle down and get married. He’ll never have a family of his own. He’ll never grow old and play with his grandchildren. All of that was stolen from him. And from me. He’s not the only one who suffered the day he took his final breath.
My ex-wife, Francesca, his mother, turned into a shell of her former self and drank herself to death. She was already running on fumes. Our relationship ended when Chad was a youngster, but I was in his life, twenty-four-seven, even raised him under my own roof part of that time. His mother loved him. His grandmothers, too. Life wasn’t always easy, and sometimes he said I was too hard on him. Regardless, he never lacked love. Not in life. Not in death.
To the motherfucker who put two slugs in my child’s heart, may you rot in Hell. In fact, I will see to it that you do. I’m coming for you, to send you straight to Satan on a sleigh ride through the fiery flames that spell out my boy’s name on your way down. When I find you, you’ll wish you’d died the same day you decided to kill my namesake. I will show no mercy. The law let you slip away, like melting snow dripping into the stinking gutter. But me? The hunt continues.
There’s no escape from me. There isn’t an alley you can slip through, a basement you can hide in, or a town, city, country or fucking galaxy you can fly to. Wherever you go, I’ll be right behind you. Your days are numbered. You will crash and burn. You’re runnin’ fast on black ice… And now, you’re standing on a big, gaping fracture in the ground. Just a little more weight on the weak spot, a bit more pressure, and you’re mine. One whisper from me is all it’ll take. A zephyr will sweep you away – a cool and cruel, twisted, castigation-filled breeze, followed by a chop of my axe, and a light of my fire.
And down…
…d o w n…
D
O
W
N
You’ll go…
Into nothingness. You’ll have no beginning. You’ll have no middle. You’ll have no end.
You’ll no longer exist. In fact, it will be as if you were never born. Wiped clean from the face of the earth…
Chapter One
The rinky-dink radio, which had seen better days with its one speaker and its frame patched up in black electrical tape, played a commercial about refinancing mortgages while the slow scraping of the wooden spoon dragged along the bottom of the metal pan in circular motions. Jack looked out the frosted kitchen window, focusing on the fluffy snowflakes hitting the ground. A curtain of white. Another five inches of snow in just two hours. He plopped down at the wooden table surrounded by four black folding chairs and rested as smoke eddied from his cigar which sat in the cheap ashtray, still burning as he lifted the spoon to his lips and slurped the warm, well-seasoned soup. Chunks of carrots, celery, and marinated moose meat filled his mouth and disappeared fast, leaving the delectable peppery flavor he savored behind.
He glanced towards the large fireplace to his left that he’d stoked earlier that morning. The fire is still good. He took another taste of his soup before turning in the opposite direction. His gaze fixed on his stainless-steel refrigerator showcasing one magnet that held a crudely drawn child’s sketch of a house with a boat in the yard, yellowed with time. Chad’s name was scribbled on the bottom of it in green crayon. He closed his eyes. The place smelled of spices, resin, and metal. He mentally geared himself up to go out and check some of his hunting traps, then head into town for a few odds and ends. I could use some dry goods, more gasoline, bait, and needle and thread. While sitting there eating, his mind made a tapestry of chores to tackle. I might stop by Gus’s for lunch, too.
Jack drifted away in thought as the sound of the crackling fire filled the sprawling space in the cabin.