The Knowland Retribution by Richard Greener

Author:Richard Greener
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

New York

The box of guns and ammo made a splash.

Authorities in Tennessee announced that while they had not the slightest doubt as to Harlan Jennings’s guilt in the murder of Floyd Ochs, there was now the possibility that questions might be raised by some.

Harlan relaxed in his county cell, and Isobel was pretty much resurrected. The passing of Pat Grath began her beatification. She had written there would be others, and everyone remembered.

The New York Post ran her full-face picture again, somewhat misleadingly under the headline: “Meat Murderer Kills Fourth.” The story began on page two, and there, she thought, the headline was even worse. “She Said There Were Others.” Everyone knew who “she” was.

When the third letter came, she followed its instructions.

First, she told no one, not Mel Gold, not even Walter. She took the bus at 34th to Columbus Circle. She walked uptown on Broadway to 64th Street, where she turned east toward Central Park and continued walking. At the corner of Central Park West she turned again, south to 63rd Street. There, she stood across from the YMCA, her back to the park. After waiting exactly twenty minutes she started walking slowly westward. Halfway down the block, in front of what was once The McBurney School, a gray car pulled to the curb. The dark tinted window rolled down. The driver wore a black windbreaker, a large, turned-up collar, and a baseball cap, bill down, hiding his face. His voice was anxious, hoarse. “Get in.”

“A-a-are you—?”

“Next to me!” As soon as she got in, the window went up, the doors locked, the car took off. “Put this on,” said the driver, shoving what looked like a blindfold at her.

“Wh-wh-what?”

“Put it on or I’ll shoot you.” He sounded crazy and very young. She put it on as fast as she could.

After several moments, she said, “But you’re not …”

Her blindness reassured him. His voice came back from the edge. “No, I’m not. Just sit there and don’t talk. Take off your watch. Put it in your purse and don’t touch it again until this is over. We’ll be there when we get there.”

She slipped off the watch and put it in her black purse. She’d been checking it every three minutes or so. Even for October it was cold. A freezing rain mixed with sleet and snow had fallen most of the day. The driver did not have the heat on. The two rear windows were open enough to admit a nasty breeze. The blindfold was uncomfortable. Her sense of smell was useless; the car had the odor of evergreen. She tried to keep track of turns and stops and the seconds between. At the end she had no idea where they were. She was fairly sure they had driven for almost thirty minutes.

“Get out,” said the driver, nervous again. “Don’t touch the blindfold. Just get out.” She stumbled over the curb. A thin, strong hand suddenly squeezed her arm. The man led her up three steps, which felt smooth and slippery like marble.

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