The Wrath Walker (The Wrath Series Book 1) by Matthew Newson (fun to read .txt) 📗

I didn’t have to wait long because she took in the long deep breath which signaled they were coming to a stopping point in their crying, and it was the opening I needed to get her out of my office. She straightened in the chair and pushed back the hair from her face to dry her eyes. As her mouth opened to form the words I just don’t understand, I jumped in and cut her off before she had a chance to utter them.

I spoke in a calm and even tone which helped to deescalate the moment and bring our meeting to a close. “Mrs. Vaughn, again, I am very sorry about all of this. You truly deserve better, and I would love for you to stay, but I do have another client coming in soon that I need to get ready for.”

Tears still slowly streamed down her face as she nodded and accepted the meeting was over and it was time for her to leave. I stood up and walked around the desk, neatly stacked the photos, and secured them in the folder. I closed it and handed it to Mrs. Vaughn—along with some more tissues.

“I’m very sorry again, Mrs. Vaughn,” I said with genuine compassion in my voice. She seemed like the kind, sweet, and beautiful woman all men dreamt of marrying, but few ever found. She was truly one of the good ones, but it was the good ones that were always used and taken advantage of in life.

She dried her eyes and placed the folder in her large purse. She stood up and tried her best to give me a smile as she pulled out an envelope and handed it to me.

Her lovely voice cracked a few times as she tried to speak. “Thank you, Mr. Farmer, and here is four thousand in cash, as we agreed.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Vaughn, and call me Brandon. You don’t have to call me Mr. Farmer.”

“Okay, Brandon, and you can call me Alex,” she said as she flashed a quick smile. I could tell she felt somewhat touched by the simple act of insisting she call me by my first name, which I had done since the first day we met.

“Thank you, Alex, all things considered, I hope you have a good night.” I walked her to the door that led out to the hall. “If you need anything else, please feel free to give me a call.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when she left, and I was able to close and lock the door. It was a little after five in the evening, and I had no other client booked that day. I just needed that meeting to end so I wouldn’t fixate on Lizzie, but it was too late. My mind had already started down memory lane, as I opened the only other door along the right wall that revealed the small room of my living quarters. I had a single size bed, a nightstand with some pictures, a small fridge, and a dresser for my clothes. I didn’t own a TV because I had gotten tired of seeing my name in the morning and evening news headlines a few years ago. Besides, I had a smart phone, which was like having a TV. I opened the envelope and quickly counted the money, and it was all there, but most of it was already gone to pay my old lawyer fees. I had sold about everything I had, and I had only made a dent in the debt I owed that blood-sucking attorney. Everything in that room was all that was left from my old life, before my old detective partner, Ron Horn, ruined everything. Truth be told I wanted to blame Ron for everything, but I was just as responsible as he was for what happened.

I stepped into the small bathroom, washed my face, and checked myself out in the mirror. My once dark hair was rapidly graying due to the constant stress, guilt, and shame I carried every day. I dried my face, and then sat on the edge of my bed. I leaned back against the wall and looked at the picture of my father and me when I graduated from the police academy. That was one of the happiest days of my life. My dad was so proud of me, but then again, he had always been my biggest fan. It had only been him and I since the time I was eight years old. We were all in a head-on collision, and only my dad and I survived. Dad never remarried after that, he told me Jesus was all he needed as we went to church every Sunday. He was at every baseball game, school play, and every major event of my life. I couldn’t have asked for a better father.

Soon after I graduated from the academy, I started as a beat cop, with the Black Castle Police Department. My father’s bookstore was on my daily route, and I stopped in and checked on him every time I was on patrol. He lit up when he’d see me in my uniform and tell me I was doing the Lord’s work by protecting the people of our fair city. I told him how I wanted to work my way to becoming a detective, and all of a sudden, he started getting in training books on how to be a detective. He’d give them to me two at a time and told me they just showed up in his order. He was always doing stuff like that for me, trying his best to help me achieve my dreams. About three years in, I met a woman named Elizabeth Well, but I called her Lizzie for short. She had just transferred in from another precinct to become a detective, and we connected immediately, but we had to keep our relationship