Primed For Revenge E-Book

Carolyn M. Bowen

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Practicing law in a large partnership, Sydney Jones was primed for making partner. Then her life turned upside down after a disagreement with her boss at Birdman & Birdman.

Leaving the office, she was swiftly kidnapped and taken to her assailants’ hideaway, beaten, and raped. With no memory of whom she was put her at a disadvantage with her captors. Through gritted teeth, she promised a day of repercussions for their actions while mentally visualizing her revenge.

Warned by her assailants to keep her mouth shut or else, she was delivered to her home. Not recognizing her former living quarters, she was careful in exploring her options for regaining her memory.

Piecing together the reasons for her kidnapping brought her into contact with people, some she could trust and others risky. The problem was the amnesia prevented her from recognizing the difference.

Tapped for crime once nudged her toward caution for something afoul was going on at Birdman & Birdman. She prepared for a fight. With a vision of fury she made a chilling decision – never to be a victim again.

Leseprobe

Primed For Revenge

Sydney Jones Series Book 1

Carolyn M. Bowen

Copyright (C) 2019 Carolyn M. Bowen

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

Published 2020 by Next Chapter

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Acknowledgments

To Tom and Lou

Thank you for sharing your legal expertise.

Chapter 1

Against Her Will

She awakened not knowing where she was or how she got there. Sydney looked out the window and saw the rough-honed fence posts with non-symmetrical boards crisscrossing through the wooden posts dotting across an overgrown field. Beyond the country, outback fencing hung a heavy mist, and she lost hope of identifying her whereabouts.

She lifted herself up on her elbows and swept tangled hair away from her face. The sticky gooey coating on the individual strands melted leaving a brownish-red tint on her fingers. Her eyes were swelling shut and her lips tasted of blood. She wondered how long she had been locked away left to die.

She'd kill to remember her past and what brought her to this place and time, but she figured she wasn't a killer, as she was the one beaten beyond recognition.

She felt a lump growing on the side of her head peeking out from the blood-smeared hair follicles. The stench of blood was something she could never grow accustomed too, she thought. She gave up racking her brain for details of her circumstances and began looking for an escape route. She had no idea how long she'd been there and when, if ever, anyone would return, especially her accosters. Time was of the essence.

* * *

Lawrence O'Malley, the foreman on the commercial jobsite, had his fingers in several business ventures. At the moment, one was taking up too much of his time.

The JYB Commercial Contractor's lead man and estimator, Joe Hesterberg, called to let him know he'd been called to the law office of Birdman & Birdman for an interview with attorney Sydney Jones. He had a feeling she'd uncovered something, but what he didn't know.

O'Malley had already determined how to stay safe should the investigation get too close. He'd asked around among his cronies about the private life and habits of Stanford Birdman, of Birdman & Birdman. The partner liked to gamble and had substantial losses at the tables in Vegas. He continued betting on football games, even though his finances were dwindling.

He made the call to Birdman to set up a meeting and seemed delighted to discuss a financial opportunity tailored to his portfolio.

Stanford Birdman met with O'Malley at an out-of-the-way bar and grill. O'Malley proposed a solution to his financial needs regarding gaming debts. Birdman appeared interested and wanted to know what the catch was.

“It's simple,” O'Malley said. “I'll pay off your current gambling debts in exchange for information about the JYB Commercial Contractors business and pending lawsuits.”

Birdman rolled the idea around in his head for a minute, and said, “You've got yourself a deal pending confirmation of my debts being satisfied.”

“Just provide me the information about where to deposit the funds, and it'll be done.”

“I'll call you with the bank routing and account numbers from my office.”

“OK, I'll wait to hear from you.”

Stanford kept his word and notified him about the general contractor's business dealing and lawsuits. When Birdman confirmed his thoughts about their ace attorney, Sydney Jones unraveling his potential alibi, he instructed him to remove her from the case.

In no time, he called back. “She's refused my request and is headed home. She leaves little choice but to fire her.”

“Well, I trust you'll do what you have to keep our agreement,” O'Malley said.

Stanford Birdman saw his brother, Hartley, standing at the office door and whirled around in his office chair to face him.

“What going on, Stanford?” asked Hartley.

Stanford had no idea how long his brother had been standing there or what he may have overheard. He decided to lie for his dealings were none of his brother's business. He was in charge of running the partnership, not him. Their father gave him control of Birdman & Birdman before he passed away.

“Ah, just following up with one of our clients about playing some golf later this week,” he said.

Hartley heard enough to know he was lying, and one of the underlings later confided that he and Sydney Jones quarreled about the handling of JYB Contractors' upcoming case.

He'd had it with his brother's behavior. He knew more about his dealings than he thought. Something had to be done about his reckless behavior before he sank the firm.

* * *

Most people called him Duncan although that wasn't his real name. He acted as an intermediary for folks who didn't want to get their hands dirty. His clients came from all walks of life from billionaires, white-collar workers to the average Joe on occasion.

He remained anonymous in his dealings from clients to the day laborers who carried out his assignments. He used burn phones for each transaction and disposed of them immediately afterward. He maintained a backup get out of jail free card with the information he stored about his clients and assignments.

He checked his anonymous dropbox for messages and decided to take on a new client. He called the cell number and waited for an answer.

“Hello,” said the client.

“This is Duncan,” he said. “You need my assistance in a matter?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Tell me about it,” said Duncan.

The client dove into his problem and asked, “Can you take care of this?”

“That's my line of work.” Duncan provided instructions for making the hefty payment for his services and waited for confirmation before moving forward.

He knew the right workers to get it done. Mitch B. and his sidekick Randy had worked with him on previous jobs without any problems. He called him and described the new job. Mitch promised to take care of it and phone back later for further directions. Duncan was pleased with their plan.

* * *

Judith Garner banged on the front door until she was afraid the neighbors would become alarmed and call the police. It wasn't like Sydney Jones to just up and disappear. She'd not answered her phone in three days and their boss had asked her to deliver his message.

The office was on overload with all the cases either coming unraveled or scheduled for court hearings. Today was not the time for a playdate although she had no idea about Sydney Jones' activities after work hours. They worked in the same office, but Sydney kept to herself and minded her own business. Something she wished others would do especially concerning her career moves.

Judith investigated the lower window of Sydney's townhome and saw nothing out of order. Quite the opposite, the house was immaculate. From all appearances, she had come from money observing the antique desk and chair, stately bookshelves, and expensive furnishings of her home. These elegant pieces she didn't buy on the salary of Birdman & Birdman even if she'd been made partner. Judith Garners' interest was piqued but there was nothing she could do at the moment except report her findings to her boss. He'd take things from there. She made a mental note to silently keep up with her boss's actions toward locating her. She smelled a scandal brewing, and she suspected tidbits of this could land her farther up the corporate ladder.

“Judith,” Stanford Birdman roared, “Did you tell Sydney to get down here and explain why someone is having to pick-up her workload?”

“I would have,” said Judith. “But she never answered the door.”

Birdman shook his head in disgust and said, “That's the reason we promote our male attorneys, they don't go all soft on us and place work on the back burner.”

Well, that's one way of dealing with her absence, Judith thought. Just throw all women under the bus for one's actions. She still couldn't shake the feeling something or someone else was involved.

Seeing a chance to come out the hero or in the least money ahead gauging by Sydney's apparent fortune, Judith contacted a private detective to locate her. She'd met Duane Nelson in the boss' office a while back and stayed in touch through some cases they'd worked together. Maybe he'd give her a discount since this wasn't company business.

Locating Sydney would be easier and less expensive by filing a missing person's report with the police, but she sensed the firm didn't want the attention directed at them. She dialed Nelson's business number and after a brief greeting he asked, “When was the last time you saw Sydney?”

“She was working in her office Monday morning,” said Judith. “Other than that, I'm not aware of her schedule.”

“So, you're not friends?” asked Nelson. Momentarily puzzled for he thought all women in an office were friends.

“No, we weren't. We carry a heavy caseload here and have little time to mingle.”

“I'll get moving on this,” said the P.I. “The sooner she's found the better.”

“Just call me with your findings,” said Judith.

“Will do,” said the P.I.

There were many angles to explore; the private eye was at a loss to which one should be first. Did she have a boyfriend or husband, family, friends outside the law firm, enemies from her legal cases? He had much research to do before taking one step toward locating her, and Judith tied his hands even further by requesting his investigation be kept silent and away from the eyes and ears of her bosses at Birdman & Birdman.

* * *

Sydney's once manicured fingernails were no longer visible. She'd scratched at everything pliable in the room looking for something to release her from bondage. She was making slow progress with the six paned wooden windows she'd shaken loose from years of piled on paint locking it shut. If she had something to pound against the panes, she'd break them and rip out the borders separating the glass and crawl through. If she had shoes or a weighted object, she'd already kicked or beaten the window open or at least tried. Looking around she thought, the bedroom furnishings were prepared for just this moment. No way out!

Her vision was slowly returning under the swollen eyelids. A look around the room revealed an old farmhouse bedroom. The stained linoleum floor showed years of wear. The bed was still made up and sagging in the middle. Spider webs dipped down, making a symmetrical pattern across the ceiling. Apparently no one had lived there in a long time. She sensed abandonment, knowing she was outside the city. God knows how far she was out in the wilderness, she thought, and barefoot on top of that.

Duncan's phone rang. “Hello.”

“I've taken care of the woman,” Mitch Barnes said. “She has amnesia and doesn't even know her own name. Things got a little out of hand. I didn't expect a fighter. What do you want me to do with her now?”

“Make sure she'll keep her mouth shut, and then dump her at home,” Duncan said. “It's listed on her driver's license in her wallet. You do still have her purse, don't you?”

“How stupid do you think I am?

“Well, that remains to be seen. Call me when it's done.”

“Sure boss.”

Duncan hung up the phone. He'd just wanted the woman warned there would be consequences if she didn't do as told. He'd give Mitch B. some slack, though, for he was handy when needed. The client didn't need to know the particulars of getting the job done.

* * *

Duane Nelson, the private eye, began his investigation discretely on the Internet trying to locate her next of kin and possible friends. Her Facebook page hadn't been posted on in weeks and the information wasn't personal, just photos of cute cats, funny quotes, and the like. No photos of her hanging out with friends, or vacationing. She was a private person, he thought, making his job harder.

The sites on the Internet that provided information for his cases in the past came up empty of anything other than the death of her husband, Raymond Jones and her parents, Catherine and David Stewart.

Her former husband Raymond had died of a brain aneurysm at 28 years old. He was a well-known real estate attorney working in his father's law firm at the time of his death.

David Stewart was a respected restaurateur owning several restaurants in the southern United States. He'd recently retired and sold his business including the real estate to a conglomerate. He retired in Atlanta where his corporate headquarters had been located. He and his wife both died in the car accident leaving their only child, Sydney Jones, alone and vulnerable.

Sydney had done a decent job of keeping her personal information private on the World Wide Web. He quickly looked over county records and found deeds from an estate containing a trust fund in her name. Her taxes were up-to-date on properties she owned. She appeared to be like any other private citizen guarding her assets. He would begin his missing person search by locating the administrator of her family's estate and trust fund; perhaps they'd allow him access to her townhome where he could look for clues. His plan was to follow the money to get answers.

Chapter 2

Sydney Jones heard the roar of a truck engine coming up the lane toward the farmhouse. She wondered if her attackers were returning to finish her off. She had nowhere to flee and nothing in the room to use for standing her ground. At the least, maybe she could find out her identity and what brought her to this fate, she sighed for survival felt hopeless.

A vehicle door slammed then another and she listened for the front door of the farmhouse to open on its rusty frame. She figured there were at least two assailants, maybe more, depending on how many could squeeze into the truck cab. She wondered if she'd survive their visit.

The sound of a deadbolt clicked, and the bedroom door flung open and two burly men entered one at a time.

“She doesn't look so bad,” said one.

“Naw, I expected worse,” the other said.

“What am I doing here?” asked Sydney as she tried to make eye contact with the younger kidnapper.

“Ah, it seems the pretty lady has lost her memory,” said the shorter man.

“Maybe she's pretending,” said the other. “Don't lose sight of what we're supposed to do here.”

“And, what might that be?” asked Sydney.

The larger assailant grunted and maneuvered the other one toward the outside of the room. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but the younger one responded with “She doesn't know jack shit.”

“I'll be making sure of that,” she overheard the bigger one say. He walked back into the bedroom. “I don't plan on bringing her food and emptying her piss pot every day since there's only an outdoor privy. Do you have a better idea?”

She watched as the younger assailant walked out of the bedroom and with the sound of a wooden screen door slamming, she knew he wouldn't help. She feared for her life, as the burly man took a dirty handkerchief out of his pants pocket and waved her over.

She dove past him hoping to make it through the door before he could catch her. He grabbed her by the hair and flung her down on the bed.

With one hand he unleashed his belt buckle and released his swollen member, as he flipped her face down on the bed. She screamed until he forced a ratty pillow over her head and pressed down harder. She could feel herself growing faint and fought to stay conscious, as he rocked against her privates.

He had his brutal way then removed the stale pillow from her head. “It's best you don't remember anything,” he said, stressing the anything. “That's if you want to continue breathing. Do you understand?”

Sydney shook her head in the affirmative. He took his dirty handkerchief from his pocket, twirled it around and wrapped it tightly across her eyes. “Just remember what I said,” he said as he led her out the bedroom door toward the pickup truck.

* * *

Judith Garner checked in daily with the private eye she'd hired. Some big P.I. he is, she thought. He still didn't have a lead on where Sydney was or the events surrounding her disappearance.

The law firm was humming along with everyone entrenched in whatever cases they were working on. If Sydney's disappearance had anything to do with the firm, it was being kept mum. It was like she'd never worked there. Her cases had been reassigned immediately, and even she had gained a client or two though not one with a hefty retainer fee as she had anticipated.

The private investigator, Duane Nelson, was making headway on Sydney's disappearance, but he wasn't ready to divulge his findings. He had located the administrator of the estate that contained the trust fund associated with Sydney's property and gained access to her townhome. His gut instinct was there was a backstory the administrator didn't want to be known. He'd dig into that later after he searched her home for clues. Locating her was his top priority for he knew the longer she was missing the greater chance she was dead.

* * *

Sydney felt herself being lifted into the truck cab and wondered where they were taking her. The truck smelled musty and reeked of stale hamburgers and fries. She felt the truck smooth out as it entered a highway. She was unable to tell which direction they were traveling as if it mattered anyway.

The younger assailant said, “I have it right here,” and went on to read an address to the driver.

It seemed they were taking her to that location — but where and for what reason? Sydney wondered.

“What about her car?” he asked.

“That's not our problem, said the older assailant. “We just do as we're told, nothing more or less.”

Sydney was trying to make sense out of their gibberish conversation but to no avail. She knew nothing more than she did yesterday. Her memories were vacant.

She felt the pickup come to an abrupt halt and wondered where they were. Was this going to be her final resting place?

A door slammed, and she felt herself being lifted out of the truck. She tried to wiggle free of the grasp holding her tight, but it was like a small house cat fighting a lion. He had her pinned against his body, and from his scent, she knew it was her rapist.

“That son-of-a-bitch said the back door would be open,” said the younger man, as he pushed against the door.

“Try turning the damn doorknob,” said the older one as he juggled Sydney into place across his shoulders.

He turned the knob, and the door opened into a dark basement. He flipped the switch at the top of the stairs and waved for the other one to enter.

“He said deposit her, and he'd take it from here,” said the burly one.

“Should we untie her hands and feet?” he asked.

“Nope, we're finished here.”

Sydney waited for the door to slam shut and breathed for the first time in a long time. Obviously, her kidnappers were through with her — at least if she kept her mouth shut.

She had no idea where they'd dumped her. She was just thankful for being alive. Remaining quiet, she didn't make any quick maneuvers for releasing herself from bondage. One thing she learned was that as a woman she was the weaker sex, which went against everything she believed in, until today.

She waited until she thought she'd pee on herself before stripping the bondage tape from her feet and hands. She knew she could have been free of their Dollar Store tape at any time, but she couldn't overpower the bulky man. If so, she'd been never raped.

She freed herself and locked the door of their entry from the inside and ascended the stairs to investigate her surroundings. She loved her new digs it suited her perfectly. But, why did they leave her here? She explored the home and wanted to use the massive bathroom tub to filter off the dirt, grime, and scent of her perpetrator when she heard someone trying to enter through the front door.

She quickly descended the basement staircase hoping it wasn't her kidnappers coming to pay another visit. Noticing a rope overhead, she pulled it. A wooden ladder descended. She carefully slithered up the ladder from the basement to an overhead loft and pulled the ladder into her space. She hid in silence mindful of her breathing so the sound wouldn't carry upstairs and waited.

Duane Nelson disarmed the home security with the code provided by the administrator and turned the key into the lock, it clicked open. He disliked going into people's homes when they weren't there, would rather they be present for their body language spoke louder than words and led to more discoveries than just snooping around.

He put on latex gloves to keep from compromising any evidence he might find. Always careful, should the police become involved, he didn't want his fingerprints all over the place. Tiptoeing from room to room, he found no evidence of a struggle. If she was kidnapped, it wasn't from her home. Satisfied that he'd done all he could do, he reset the alarm and locked the front door.

Time for a cold one and he could usually pick up local chatter at a southside bar. It was a distance from where Sydney lived, but news traveled fast, and it was the kind of place thugs gathered to get wind of police action and new opportunities that suited their skill sets. Often uncanny business deals were made from someone waiting in a car outside the bar. Money exchanged hands rapidly within the perimeter of this southside dive.

Nelson was yet to be surprised about human nature and their desire to brag about something that was usually against the law. Maybe it would be his day, and they'd talk about landing a big score and from the location, fresh scent, and furnishings of her home, Sydney Jones fit that description — rich and an easy mark.

Duane found a booth in the back of the bar with a good view of the front door. A waitress came over to take his order. He could've saved her steps for a beer in the bottle was the most he'd order here. This dive bar couldn't get any cleanness awards from where he sat but that wasn't the reason for his visit.

He drank his cold beer and watched the tavern regulars. The two at the bar were arguing and for the younger man's sake, he hoped it didn't result in a bar brawl. The larger man's bulk was twice his size.

Naturally tuning into their conversation to see what was causing the rift he heard the younger man said, “you'd didn't have to,” and the rest of the sentence was lost in the boisterous laughter from the booth in front of him.

He watched as the two exchanged barbs and felt an urge to join their conversation. It couldn't hurt he thought and might save the younger one's ass gauging from the heated conversation.

“Hey, man,” he said, “how's it going?

The two men looked his way. The older one thoughtlessly said, “Not much happening here, we're just finishing up our day with a cold one.”

“What's your line of work?”

“Odds and end jobs whenever we can catch one,” the younger one said.

“Anything to write home about?” he asked and was hoping for some juicy gossip.

“Naw just moving some stuff for some corporate big wig, he said.

“From the looks of you, that'd not be a problem,” he said.

“No problem at all,” said the burly man.

Duane recognized the conversation had ended, and he'd not learned anything new from the two. He raised his Budweiser bottle, said “Cheers,” and then finished off the last drop before walking toward the exit.

* * *

Judith Garner was impatient to learn about Sydney's whereabouts. She sensed a big payoff from this information, and money was something she needed for it was in short supply after she paid her living expenses, student loans, and dressed for success to climb the corporate ladder.

She decided to drive by Sydney's, now that she knew where she lived, to see if there were any obvious changes around her townhome.

Judith parked her car in one of the parking spaces and walked to the front door. On a whim, she decided to ring the doorbell and was surprised, when Sydney stared into the peephole and through the heavy wooden door asked, “What's your business here?”

Judith raised her voice to carry through the armored door since Sydney wouldn't open it. She hoped telling her about their business relationship at the firm would grant her entry. She wondered if Sydney believed it. For good measure, she added, “May I come in, we're good friends from work, and we've all been worried about you.”

“I have no idea of who you are, and you're not welcome here, please, go away or I'll call the police,” said Sydney.

Judith was taken aback, for although they both worked in a large law firm, they had been introduced and ran into one another occasionally in the break room. Apparently, she didn't make an impression on her.

There was no doubt that Sydney was upset so she'd speak with her another day, perhaps by phone. At least for the moment, she knew where she was, and it would remain her little secret from her bosses. She dialed the P.I.'s number, as she pulled out of the driveway.

“Duane, your services for locating Sydney is no longer needed,” she said.

“What's changed?”

“She's at home, and from appearances, is doing fine.”

“Then you're ready to drop the case?”

“Well, she's no longer missing. But I wonder where she's been and why she didn't recognize me from work?”

“Well, I could look into that for you, and see what I can find out about her disappearance and return.”

“You do that and contact me when you have some information.” Under her breath, she whispered, “I'll believe it when I see it.”

* * *

Sydney double-checked all the doors and was glad she'd found a hiding place if needed. She breathed a sigh of relief and was ready to take the hot bath she was interrupted from. She looked around the bedroom and found a photo album and thumbed through it. Apparently, whoever owned the property knew her well, for she recognized herself in almost all the pictures. She opened the bureau drawers mechanically searching for a change of clothes. The selection was huge, and she loved the colors as she sorted through the items. She found some pajamas and headed for the huge claw-footed tub in an atrium-like bathroom. She made a mental note to water the plants for they were drooping.

Soaking in the scented water was almost relaxing except for the fear of someone coming after her. She wished she could remember her past and what triggered her memory loss but the only thing she could remember was the ordeal from the country farmhouse bedroom. Frantically she scrubbed her privates with the scented soap trying to rid herself of any leftovers from that giant of a man. If removing him from her mind only could be so easy, she thought.

Judith carried on at the office as nothing had happened. She worked the cases she inherited from Sydney and kept her mouth shut. The firm hadn't missed a lick in moving on after initially questioning Sydney's disappearance. It was all strange, she thought.

She decided to make another go at talking to Sydney Jones. She still believed there was a story, and it could increase her net worth substantially. She would take her time and gain Sydney's trust and learn the secret behind her disappearance. Perhaps that information would fill in the blanks about why the partners quickly lost interest in her disappearance when just last week the rumor was, she was being considered for partner. This conspiracy theory could lead to a big payoff for her — from Sydney Jones and Birdman & Birdman in the least.

Garner decided to make homemade chicken soup to take over to Sydney's townhome. That was a real mark of hospitality in the South, and she was making the recipe from one of the leading Southern cookbooks, Georgia Inn's Cookbook. Feeling good about her plan for that's what friends did, and she and Sydney were destined to become best friends. Playing a role came easy for her and expecting benefits was natural. Judith smiled and a smug look replaced it immediately. Her thoughts gravitated to Nelson, the private eye, perhaps he could come up with something, or did she have to do all the thinking to solve this riddle?

Duane Nelson knew he would have to come in from the backend of the case to get answers about Sydney's disappearance. None of his usual tipsters were forthcoming with information. Her disappearance was highly suspicious. From his background check, she was above reproach. Her fortune came from a family trust set up before she was born and was activated upon her parents' untimely death and the payout from her husband's life insurance policies. She didn't need an outside income to live in a higher income bracket. He found no visible enemies or at least none who had made a move in the past.

His only suspicions came from the management company in charge of her trust, Judith Garner from her office, and the partners at Birdman & Birdman. Sydney's world was tight. No boyfriend he could pinpoint although she'd been a widow for over two years. Her only interest was in the arts and even he could ascertain her excellent taste from the huge collection of paintings and books in her home. Sydney's life centered on practicing law, and it was about to pay off with her becoming a partner at the prestigious Birdman & Birdman.

His sources in the court system said the legal team was considered one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the South. Although their cases were sometimes won by unorthodox means, it wasn't against the law. The plaintiffs didn't know what hit them when their attorneys took the floor. With their winning reputation, raising doubt Sydney's clients had anything to do with her disappearance. She won — big cases often.