When She Was Bad

  CONTENTS

  Title

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Longfellow

  Bentham

  Gandhi

  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

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Reading List

  Want more

  About

  When She Was Bad

  Cynthia Luhrs

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  When She Was Bad

  Copyright © 2016 by Cynthia Luhrs

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my fabulous editor, Arran at Editing720 and Kendra at Typos Be Gone.

  For those without a voice.

  There was a little girl

  by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  There was a little girl,

  Who had a little curl,

  Right in the middle of her forehead.

  When she was good,

  She was very good indeed,

  But when she was bad she was horrid.

  The question is not, "Can they reason?" nor, "Can they talk?" but rather, "Can they suffer?"

  ~Jeremy Bentham

  The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.

  ~Mahatma Gandhi

  CHAPTER 1

  MURDER WAS A BIT LIKE making a New Year’s resolution: at first it was all great intentions and focus, but within a month or so, I found myself jogging down the road to hell wondering how on earth I’d ended up there. I’d tried, truly I had. But almost three months to the day, I fell off the wagon like an alcoholic on a three-day bender.

  With no destination in mind, I drove, unseeing into the night as I fled North Carolina and the promises of an assassin. When I stopped, exhausted and shaky, in New Jersey of all places, I’d looked around to find somehow I’d ended up in a sketchy part of town. It was the perfect place to hide and figure out what came next. Trenton was big enough no one would notice me—not that anyone was looking, but then again, you never knew after the way I’d left things.

  The apartment building had seen better days, the brick exterior as worn as the tenants who called the dingy dwelling home. There was a group of guys who dealt drugs openly in the courtyard; they held court sprawled across tables next to a long-abandoned playground. It was the end of April and hot—the heat shimmered across the cracked asphalt, and the pitted and filthy glass doors creaked as I pushed through into the dimly lit vestibule. The old linoleum black and white flooring was scuffed, the white tiles long faded to the color of old snow.

  Over the past few weeks I’d found myself waking at odd times and falling asleep in the middle of the day. A few times, wide awake in the middle of the night, I’d gone out, prowling the streets, no longer worried for my own safety. The thugs in the building gave me a wide berth, not even a catcall as I passed them where they sat on a weathered picnic table, the wood scarred and carved with so many initials and sayings that they blurred into some kind of abstract art. Didn’t matter I was a woman; those predators saw something within me that called, like to like, and accorded me the respect I deserved.

  Old cooking smells lingered in the stairwell as I climbed to my apartment on the fifth floor. There was an elevator but I avoided it. Being in a confined place made my skin itch. Loud music sounded through thin walls, carrying sounds and voices. People screamed at each other, a few sang, and one laughed hysterically, the noise assaulting my ears as I passed the third-floor landing. I pushed through the door to the fifth floor, padding down a dimly lit hallway to the apartment at the end. The weekly rental wasn’t much to look at, but at least it was furnished and cheap, and best of all? Totally inconspicuous. No one paid attention to me. I was just another person down on my luck and trying to survive.

  Last night when I woke, the moon was full. No matter how hard I tried, sleep was elusive, banished to a faraway land by the darkness that whispered to me all hours of the day and night. Tired of tossing and turning, I slid from the bed and went to the kitchen, where I filled my glass with ice and Pepsi before stretching out on the worn blue sofa. My fingers flew over the tablet’s keyboard, familiar sites opening, as what was left of my heart shriveled like a grape left out in the sun. Blood rushed through my body, bursting through my veins, filling me up until I was drowning in a never-ending pool of salty scarlet liquid.

  There was so much to be done, but his promise kept me from doing so, knowing if I did, I would die. And then I wouldn’t be of any use, and that wouldn’t do. Somehow I’d find another way.

  When I woke, the sun was shining through the sliding glass doors to the balcony, making sweat bead on my upper lip. The hum of the refrigerator was comforting as I stared into the empty interior. When had I last gone to the grocery store? My reflection in the hall mirror on the way to the bathroom told me I probably hadn’t showered in a few days either, so I cleaned up, made myself presentable, and drove to the store.

  As I was loading the reusable bags into the back of the Jeep Grand Cherokee, the thing within woke, making me look around to see what had caught its attention. A sleek black sedan, one of the few things that could strike fear into my black heart, disappeared around the corner. Was it a black Maserati?

  I couldn’t be sure, so I waited a full thirteen seconds before pulling out of the parking spot and driving, deciding what to do. Bypassing the turn to the apartment complex, I got on the highway, eyes darting between the mirrors, looking for the car. The few belongings I had were already in the back of the Jeep; the oversized purse and a small backpack containing a change of clothes and toiletries sat on the passenger seat. It was a habit I started that first day and had kept, thank goodness. The hope chest and my suitcases were hidden from view by the tinted windows, and the occupants of the apartment building never bothered my car or the vehicles belonging to the drug dealers. They knew better.

  Aimlessly, I’d drifted through the past three weeks, no longer tethered to the earth by the strings that hold people together. No more family, job, or friends, and no one special in my life… I was free to float along for as long as I wished. Gram’s inheritance allowed me to do as I pleased, to coast on the currents for the rest of my life if I so desired. The air conditioning kept me awake, vigilant as I drove through the day and into the afternoon, making plans.

  At the next rest area, I pulled off the highway, walking around the buildings t
o ease the tension in my shoulders and back. The metal of the table was hot against my bare legs as I searched for the information I needed.

  Satisfied, I tossed the phone and tablet in the trash on my way to the ladies’ room. The huge used car lot was a ten-minute drive off the interstate. Before I dumped my electronics, I’d filled out the requested information online, to reduce the amount of time I spent in any one place. The feeling of being followed clung to my skin like cheap perfume.

  The cool air of the showroom washed over me as I passed through the glass doors.

  “Hope?”

  “Norman, right?” I handed my keys over.

  “Won’t take long. Let me show you the cars you referenced in your email.”

  I followed him outside as he went on about safety and reliability. My requirement was something generic and big enough to fit the hope chest. It was the one piece of my life I was unwilling to leave behind.

  While Norman drove the Jeep, I looked at the SUVs I’d picked out online. A few were easy enough to dismiss. By the time he found me, I’d narrowed it down to a white Honda or a blue Hyundai.

  The guy was back, a hopeful look on his face.

  “Any luck making a decision?” He pointed to the Honda. “We can give you twenty-one thousand for the Jeep.”

  “Maybe the Honda, but let me go ahead and drive the Hyundai.”

  “A Santa Fe. Good choice—it only has thirty thousand miles on it.” Norman consulted the information on the window. “Three years old and loaded. Let me get the keys.”

  It was dark blue with a gray interior, and the hope chest would fit in the back. While I waited for him to come back with the keys, I scanned the lot and street for the Maserati, but didn’t see it. Part of me wondered if I’d imagined the car and the hit man who drove it. He’d let me live, with a threat hanging over my head that I had to stop what I’d been doing. Had it violated the promise I made by looking up recent cases in Trenton and following one of the offenders? I wasn’t sure, but who knew? How did a professional like him have time to bother with me? Maybe it was better not to know.

  “Here you go.” The salesman was back, startling me from my thoughts.

  “Thanks. I won’t be long.” Keys in hand, I drove, getting a feel for the vehicle. As much as the thing within willed me to act, I had to live. Soon enough, he’d tire of watching me. Then I could get back to work. As I turned back into the car lot, I thought of all those who needed me. I have to stop for a little while, but I’ll be keeping a list of them all. I’m sorry.

  The eager look on Norman’s face made him look about fifteen.

  “How was it?”

  “It’ll do. But I’ll need someone to help me move a piece of furniture from the Jeep. Didn’t have time to do it before I got here.” I handed him back the keys. “And Norman?”

  He turned.

  “I’m in a hurry. My brother is in the hospital and I promised I’d take him to dinner. You know how the food is in those kind of places.”

  “Of course. I’ll get a couple of the guys to take care of it while I finish up the paperwork. We’ll have you out of here in time for dinner.”

  The lie had the desired effect, and he was done within the hour. I took the keys, smiling as I spotted the hope chest and all of my belongings neatly stacked in the back. This vehicle also had tinted windows to keep my things hidden from prying eyes.

  “All done. If there’s ever anything else I can do…”

  I shook my head. “You’ve been really helpful. I’m headed across the country and don’t think I’ll be back this way for a long time. Really appreciate everything.” We shook hands and I drove away without looking back.

  While I’d been waiting in the lounge area for him to finish up the paperwork, I’d taken advantage of the computers they had for customer use and looked up the closest big-box store where I could purchase a new phone and tablet, along with a prepaid card I could recharge as needed. This close to dinner there weren’t many shoppers, and I was in and out quickly. Back on the highway, I drove, not sure where I was headed, placing my trust in the universe to lead me to a safe place where I could begin again.

  CHAPTER 2

  SOMEWHERE IN PENNSYLVANIA, NOT TOO far from the Ohio border, I caught myself nodding off. The next exit boasted three motel options, so I picked the one that wasn’t a chain. The sleepy guy at the desk had a pencil tucked behind his ear, a math book open in front of him.

  “I need a room for the night.”

  He yawned, accepting the cash, and slid a key across the counter.

  “Second floor. The ice machine is broken on your floor, but you can get ice out the door and to your left.” He handed me a bucket and bent his head back over his schoolwork.

  In the morning, I woke, fully dressed down to my sandals, so tired the night before that I hadn’t even crawled under the covers. The sandals stayed on when I saw the state of the shower: the mildew covered the bottom third of the tile, and the room looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months. Shuddering at the thought of bedbugs, I quickly dressed and walked across the parking lot to the tiny diner.

  As I leaned back, drinking a soda, two couples in the next booth were talking about their travels. The big RV in the parking lot had to be theirs; they had that look, the one that screamed retired, with their casual clothes and happy smiles, guidebooks next to the maple syrup on the Formica table. The smell of coffee wafted over to me as the waitress refilled their cups. From what I gathered, their kids were all busy with their own lives, and no time for the parents, so with no grandkids on the horizon, the couples had decided to hit the road, something they’d never had time to do when they’d worked and raised families. The woman facing me had short gray hair and sported a pink sun visor—nothing out of the ordinary until she leaned back, making me choke on the soda. Coughing, I wiped my eyes and blew my nose, eyes never leaving her t-shirt. It was from a swamp tour in Louisiana, and the toothy grin of an alligator looked out at me.

  A sign? Gram’s words floated to me, carried along on the scent of bacon and eggs. Alligators are the harbingers of violent change.

  What was coming?

  “Miss?” The waitress stood there, one brow raised.

  “Sorry. Another Coke would be great.”

  She walked away, white shoes silent on the floor as I listened to the retirees talk about a tiny town in Avid, Kansas. From their conversation, the CAFO, which I looked up to find out stood for concentrated animal feeding operation, along with two food-processing plants, were the businesses that supported Avid and a neighboring town. A one-stoplight town full of working folks, perfect for my needs—though on the other hand, I’d stick out in a small town where everyone knew everyone, so I’d better come up with a good story. On the plus side, I’d hear about it if anyone came looking for me.

  While I finished my breakfast, I looked up and read about Avid on my tablet. It was a hardworking rural area located in the heartland of the country, in the middle of nowhere, and a completely unexpected choice. As much as I loved the water and the mountains—either would have been my first choice—this…this would be unanticipated, and therefore the ideal choice.

  If nothing else, when I arrived in town I could stay in one of those weekly motels until I found something, but given the area and the number of postings I’d found thus far online, I was pretty sure I’d easily find a rental. The destination fixed, I headed out, the maps app taking over as my blue Hyundai ate up the miles. I might not know what I was going to do with my life, but at least I had a destination.

  He was one with the shadows, comfortable in the dark, watching and waiting. The Organization paid him exceedingly well, their clients part of the top echelons of industry and society, as well as leaders of foreign nations. They were the only ones who could afford the exorbitant fees. Hunter had taken out heads of state, dictators, billionaires, and regular people going about their lives. Piss off the wrong person, one who happened to be powerful and wealthy, and the offender would find
themselves looking up at him, desperately sucking in their last breath, wondering what the hell had happened.

  His current contract was for a man who disgusted him. Normally, Hunter didn’t let who they were or what they’d done bother him, the person no more than a name on the screen. But this guy? Garbage. A man who enjoyed children, so Hunter had planned something special for this piece of trash.

  A shark among guppies deserved to meet his end amongst his own kind. The man lived in Miami, on the water, loved to take his boat out where no one could monitor what he did. Did the man know today would be his last day on earth, somehow sense it? And if he did, would he have done anything differently?

  Over the past hour Hunter had been chumming the water while the man drank heavily after a screaming match with his ex-wife. The sound of crystal shattering was loud on the open water as the man staggered out to the deck, poured another drink, and sat back, morosely staring at the waves. Hunter thought the man would have noticed there was something wrong, felt the presence of a predator, but no, he went along with his day, believing his power and money protected him. His senses dulled by excess, the man had grown lazy, careless. It didn’t matter—the Organization could get to anyone at any time.

  Hunter waited and watched, enjoying the sunset as the man stumbled about. One hard shove was all it took. The expensive crystal tumbler went flying, but he caught it before it hit the deck. No sense in destroying such a beautiful object.

  The man hit the water with a splash and a scream, not only from the shock, but from the salt water hitting the wound Hunter’s knife had caused, the cut deep and long. The water had turned red around the flailing man, spreading like an oil spill, and in moments the first fin appeared.