Officer Jones

Chapter 73

Once again Grady Benson swallowed the bitter taste of betrayal. When his necklace signaled an intruder, he had hoped it was a looter, but deep down he knew he’d find Gwen Delaney.

Even though he knew she’d plotted against him, he still held out some hope she would mend her ways. No woman had ever made him feel like she did. But now he saw that she was nothing more than a test. And it was one he was going to pass.

He kept a firm hand over her mouth, while reaching down to pick up the phone. He listened for a moment, hearing Warner’s pleas, as if it would help. He unceremoniously hung up on him.

He first secured the prisoner with a pair of Rockfield PD handcuffs, and putting masking tape over her mouth. It was bad enough she betrayed him, but he didn’t have to listen to her refer to him as a “sick bastard” and tell him over and over again he wouldn’t “get away with it.”

He spun the combination lock and proudly informed her the combination was 74891010. The first part was the date of his parents’ murder, while the other was the date that would live in infamy.

He tore off her hood and baseball cap. He grabbed a chunk of her hair and walked her into the secure room. When he tossed her on the floor, she landed right next to the unconscious Carter.

“You very much disappoint me, Gwen,” he lamented. She couldn’t respond, which suited him fine. “You were supposed to be a journalist, to report the story without prejudice. But instead you used your platform to support an enabler of evil like JP Warner. He was once a courageous truth-teller who exposed Buford, but like Kyle, he turned his back on his calling. And look what he’s done to you-he turned you into a common criminal, willing to break into a private home to support your agenda of lies.”

He noticed her eyes casing the room, viewing the pictures on the wall. Many that she was very familiar with. He took pleasure in the shock on her face when she viewed the one remaining photo without an X. She knew he was next. Too bad she wouldn’t be around to see it.

He took out a bag of candy bars and tossed them on the floor. “Don’t fret, Gwen, you are a prisoner of war. A prisoner of a just and morally correct war. Therefore, you and your friend will be treated with the policies outlined in the Geneva Convention. You are too important to the final outcome for me to let you starve to death.”

He tore the masking tape off so hard he first thought he tore her lips right off her face. “I will leave the keys to your handcuffs over here. You are very resourceful, I’m sure you’ll find a way to remove them. It won’t matter, since you will never be able to escape this room.”

He viewed the trepidation on her face. “Don’t be afraid. This room is designed to withstand winds up to three-hundred-miles-per-hour. The rest of the house may fall apart, but your final resting place will be stable.”

He used the remainder of the afternoon to eat a light lunch and board-up the sliding glass door. He penned a chapter in his journal as the rain pounded on the roof and the wind howled. Before leaving, he returned to the storm-room with a large mixing bowl filled with water. He figured it would keep his prisoners alive for the precious few days he needed from them. Then he locked them in.

He secured the residence, in case of looters, or JP Warner, whom he was convinced was responsible for the previous damage. He then left the island. But before heading back to Connecticut, he decided that he needed to make a stop in Raleigh.

On the ferry ride back to Cape Hatteras, he threw Gwen’s cell phone as far as he could and watched it plop into the turbulent waters.