Mad as Bell
A Samantha Bell Mystery Thriller
Jeremy Waldron
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2020 Jeremy Waldron
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 permission in writing from the author and/or publisher. No part of this publication may be sold or hired, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the writer’s imagination and/or have been used fictitiously in such a fashion it is not meant to serve the reader as actual fact and should not be considered as actual fact. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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jeremy@jeremywaldron.com
Also by Jeremy Waldron
Dead and Gone to Bell
Bell Hath No Fury
Bloody Bell
Bell to Pay
Burn in Bell
Mad as Bell
All Bell Breaks Loose
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Never miss a new release. Sign up for Jeremy Waldron’s New Releases Newsletter at JeremyWaldron.com
Contents
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
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
A Word from Jeremy
Afterword
About the Author
Chapter One
Eighteen-year-old Eva Martin shivered on the cold concrete floor. She’d been here twice before, hidden away inside this tiny room. But this third time was by far the worst. If she didn’t act now, He’d surely be back for more.
Eva curled her fingers and clawed at the hard floor, trying to push herself up. The fear of Him coming back pushed the teenager past her pain tolerance in an attempt to avoid death.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed her body up with all her might. Her arms had nothing left to give and gave out each time, sending her falling back to the floor. With her cheek flattened against the concrete, she stared ahead, knowing giving up meant dying.
Next to her, the wooden chair she was once bound to lay in pieces. Moments ago, she’d slammed her body against the foundation wall until the chair splintered and snapped. Now her heart pounded with extreme paranoia. She was sure the thundering sounds of breaking herself free would lure in the same monster she was trying to escape.
She didn’t have time to ask herself how she got here, or if she knew the man who had taken her. Fleeing her continued torture—and surviving—were the only things that mattered. But if her plan was to work, she had to act fast and certainly couldn’t second-guess her decision to run.
Rolling onto her back, Eva kicked off the rope bound around her thighs. Moving as quickly as her body allowed, she ignored the sharp pain that shot down her neck each time her jaw stretched a certain way, and pushed aside the throbbing aches that reminded her she was still alive. Once unbound, she flipped back onto all fours and paused to stare at the door.
Time stalled as she listened.
Silence fooled her into believing someone was there, coming for her, but perhaps it was only the persistent ringing in her left ear leftover from slamming her body hard against the wall.
Everything was pitch-black, but her eyes were sharp. There was a faint glow around the doorframe that Eva couldn’t peel her eyes away from. Alone, with only the sounds of her breath echoing off the walls, Eva quietly stood.
As soon as her feet rooted into the floor, her head floated and spun. She was hungry and dehydrated—broken and bruised—but quick to regain her balance. Beneath her tattered clothes, loosely hanging on her thin frame, was a determined spirit needing to be set free.
Eva waited without making a sound. The house above her head creaked with a sudden gust of wind. Feeling the soles of her feet buzz, Eva cast her gaze down and listened as the thick vibrations of footsteps drew closer.
Her eyes widened with realization. He was back.
Gripped by fear and with nowhere to hide, Eva backpedaled away from the door, mistakenly tripping over the same broken chair she’d just escaped. Crashing to the floor, she fell hard on her bottom. A quick yelp passed over her lips before she realized what she had done. Silencing her instinct to scream with a hand over her mouth, her pulse swelled and threatened to burst.
The footsteps grew louder.
Keeping her eyes locked on the doo
r, the thin strip of light beneath it brightened. Eva swiped her hand across the floor, patting between the broken pieces of chair before closing her fingers around the round baton of the chair’s leg.
Armed and ready to defend herself, Eva scurried on all fours and positioned herself to the side of the door. Gripping the wooden chair leg like a baseball bat, she sat in a crouched position and braced herself to strike the moment the door opened.
Adrenaline spiked her heartrate, and time slowed. Seconds felt like minutes. When nothing happened, Eva questioned if maybe she’d made the threat up.
Pellets of sweat gathered on her hairline and the moment she closed her eyes, the door pushed opened.
Eva gripped the bat with both hands and pounced. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she swatted the wooden baton against the man’s arm, then the backs of his legs. The flashlight he was holding flew from his fingertips and hit the concrete floor, spinning in circles. A dizzying array of light filled the room as Eva continued hitting the man again and again. Her rage boiled over, remembering everything he’d done to hurt her. With each strike, the skull-cracking sound exploded louder until she managed to knock the man off balance. Seeing her chance, she wound her arms back and swung a mighty uppercut, striking the man beneath his jaw. As soon as the bat made contact, the man twisted around before falling face-first to the floor like an anchor dropping to the sea bottom. Not willing to chance it, Eva hit him one last time before turning on a heel and sprinting out of the room.
Skidding over sawdust, she bounded up the framed unfinished flight of stairs and wove through the maze of walls before kicking open the front door. Everything was a blur as she pumped her arms. She kept looking over her shoulder as she ran, thinking she was being chased.
Despite the sharp pebbles of rock digging into each pounding step, shadows were what kept her moving. Soon, she exited the neighborhood and traveled further into the next. Inside the urban sprawl that had become Denver, Colorado, it all looked the same at night.
After an hour of weaving and running, and what felt like miles of jogging, Eva stopped to catch her breath. She had no idea where she was or if she was running in circles. But with the moon up and the stars out, Eva had no choice but to keep going when suddenly a pair of headlights crested around the bend, stopping her dead in her tracks.
The candy red pickup truck slowed its tires and pulled up next to Eva. An arm and head popped out the window. “My God. Are you okay?”
Eva stared at the man—could see the look of shock on his face—and was glad to be alive. In a split-second, Eva knew she had nothing to lose by asking him for help.
Chapter Two
“Shit,” I gasped as the earring clasp slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.
Chasing after it, I pushed my hand beneath the dresser, patting the floor in search of what I’d just lost. The clasp was just out of reach and, not having time to fish it out, I decided to go without.
Makeup, dresses, jewelry, and perfume weren’t really my thing. I preferred sneakers and blue jeans and having my hair knotted up on top of my head with a pencil spiked through it to the costume I was putting on for tonight’s journalism award ceremony.
Back on my feet, I checked the time. I was already running late, which wasn’t a huge surprise. I’d been chasing one story to the next while managing to keep my job at the Colorado Times as well as continuing to create content for my blog, Real Crime News. Everything was holding together, but I felt I was one loose thread from completely unraveling.
Moving to the front of the house, I found my teenage son Mason lost in his world of video games. “Mason? Pause it please.”
A couple more explosions rocked the flat-screen before he paused and removed his headphones. He said, “Sorry, Mom. I’m in the middle of something.”
Staring at the microphone piece attached to his headgear, I always wondered who he was talking to on the other end of the game, or if he even knew himself. I’d asked a couple of times before and he always referred to his ‘friends’ by their user-handle, which meant nothing to me.
“I’ll be leaving here shortly,” I said reminding him there were freezer dinners waiting and our dog Cooper had already been walked and fed.
“Got it,” he said, sliding his headphones back over his ears. “Oh, there’s a permission slip in the kitchen I need signed.”
I asked what for and he explained. It was the beginning of a new school year and it was an endless request of school supplies, clothes, new shoes, and permission slips for this and that. The list went on and added to the perpetual stress of my personal bank account, but we managed.
“It will be on the fridge when it’s signed,” I said, heading back into the kitchen with Cooper following me close on my heel.
I found the slip on the counter next to the small TV. I flipped on the six o’clock evening news and watched anchor Heidi Mitchell talk about a former president’s recovery from surgery before reading the fine print on Mason’s school slip.
“Since when did schools start monitoring student emails and documents?” I asked myself.
Reading on, the school claimed they were looking for signs of suicidal thoughts, bullying, or any kind of plans for a possible school shooting. But the idea of mass school surveillance had me hesitating to sign off on something I wasn’t sure I agreed with.
Setting the pen down, I flicked to the next local news station, and the next, feeling my story of missing teenager Megan Hines begin to slip away when my cellphone rang.
“Sam, where are you?” Susan Young, one of my very best friends, said as soon as I answered. “You’re not having cold feet, are you?”
“I’m on my way,” I assured her. “But it’s not like I’ll be receiving an award tonight, anyway.”
Susan sensed my low mood had something to do with Megan Hines. And she was right. Megan Hines had been missing for three weeks now and still hadn’t been found. Our leads dried up and, with them, the public’s interest to hear about it anymore than they already had.
“Don’t give up on her, Sam.”
“I’m not.”
There was a quick pause before Susan said, “I left you something in your mailbox.”
“When did you do that?”
“When you weren’t looking.”
I glanced to the front door and imagined Susan’s eyes beaming with her gorgeous smile as she dropped something into the box. A car pulled up in front of the house but it wasn’t my business partner Erin Tate whom I was expecting to show up at any second. Instead, two young individuals exited the vehicle and headed to my house.
“I’ll see you soon.” I ended my call with Susan and answered the front door. “Hey Nolan. I didn’t know you were coming over.” I gave my son an arched look.
Mason shrugged. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Bell,” Nolan said, introducing me to his friend Chad.
“Nice to meet you,” Chad said.
“You guys behave yourself,” I said, gathering my purse and heading out the door. “I don’t want to come home to any kind of party.”
I shut the door to the sounds of the kids laughing. It was a joyous sound and as warm as the outside temperature. The skies lit up a brilliant orange melon as the sun tucked itself behind the Rockies for the night. Trusting Mason would be responsible during my absence, I opened the mailbox when a drone buzzed overhead and stalled directly above my car.
Tipping my head back, I stared at the machine hovering a hundred feet above the ground for a second before it whizzed off. Not thinking too much into it, I rifled through the mail and tossed the junk back into the box. I kept the small package from Susan and a second envelope. Inside Susan’s package were a lucky rabbit’s foot and a note that said, ‘Good luck tonight.’ It was a sweet gesture.
But it was the unmarked white envelope that stole my complete attention. Inside, there was nothing but a few printed words taped together that had me once again thinking about Megan Hines.
You’ll disappear with them if you’re not careful.
Was this some kind of hoax or something to take seriously? I couldn’t tell. When I looked up, Erin arrived in her red Bronco and we had an entire car ride to discuss its meaning.
Chapter Three
Erin held the message between her fingers and I watched her lips flutter as she read what it said for a second time. Then she turned and looked at me and asked, “And a drone flew overhead just before you retrieved this?”