Prologue

 Prologue

Outside the McEvoy family home in Los Angeles, California the rain was falling, hitting the floor in great crashes. The booming thunder was masking the horrors taking place behind closed dark, windows. Richard McEvoy, 32-year-old homicide detective from Dublin, was reaching for his gun when the first masked intruder appeared at his bedroom door. His pregnant wife, seven months along, was too scared to usher even the faintest screams. “Did you think you would get away with what you have done?” a burly man’s voice said with a 9mm pointed at Richard’s chest. “Nobody gets away with hurting the boss.” The second intruder had a thick Italian accent and was of much smaller size than the one carrying the gun. “Don’t waste your time on him. Dispose of him quickly; I’ll take Cecily.” The last of the intruders sounded the most intelligent of the three. He spoke with confidence and had a no-nonsense expression on his face to match. In his hands was a large blade with a jagged surface.

The intruders were blocking the only way out of the room and years of experience told Richard he had no choice but to talk them down rather than try and fight. But the fear of losing Cecily, his beautiful wife and mother of their seven-year-old son and unborn baby girl, was too high and he reached for his custom .44 magnum. Before getting the chance to fire a single shot, the Italian lunged forward, knocking Cecily to the ground in the process. The room was turning black as the Italian strangled Richard with surprising strength. “Get rid of her and make sure the boy isn’t around!” the one in charge was barking orders at the burly man. Richard managed to regain enough strength to push the Italian off him. His instincts told him to attack despite the obvious advantage the burly man had over him.

But before Richard could even plan his attack he felt something cold slicing through his right side. The object pierced through his flesh with minimal effort. A searing burn flared up through Richard’s body causing him to scream out in agony. The attacker, the one in charge, jerked the knife around squishing Richard’s insides in the process. With a quick yank, Richard felt the knife escaping his body, droplets of his blood flying around the room. All his years on the force Richard had never felt anything like this before. The pain began to intensify as Richard saw his attacker shoving the knife back in. The second time was more painful than the first. Richard felt his vision starting to blur. Warm tears were falling down his face. He knew he was screaming, he knew Cecily was crying, but he couldn’t hear anything.

The knife was suddenly yanked from Richard’s torso once more, only this time Richard could see the world around him crashing down as he hit the cold floor with a loud thud. His body was going into to shock. His vision was hazy, but he managed the see two of the three intruders coming at him, one with the blade covered in his blood, the other with a very fancy looked knife. The third man, the burly one, was standing next to Cecily, her face full of remorse, but she didn’t seem troubled by warm blood oozing from a gash on her cheek. Richard had limited time to feel remorse for his wife. He quickly felt extreme pressure on both of his sides as two separate blades pierced his skin. As the second blade hit the rough surface of his rib, Richard could feel his air escaping his lungs. The slicing, hacking, and stabbing went on for what felt like a lifetime. Each stab barely missing Richard’s femoral arteries. His screams had died down after the seventh or so stab. Cecily was no longer in the room, at least from what he could see through his blurry eyes.

Richard heard the sound of heavy footsteps creeping down the stairs. Each creak from the step seemed to be followed by the knife entering and exiting the growing puncture wounds in Richard’s body. The last thing Richard could hear was Cecily screaming for him, screaming for his help. The world should have gone black for Richard as the blood flowed from him, but he had always lived in a dark world. A world of criminals. Criminals whose minds he had to understand. Criminals he put away. Criminals who destroyed the color and joy of the world. With a single image of his wife and his son in his mind, Richard could feel the color returning to his black abyss. The pain that had consumed him, the heat of the blade, all passed. His body had gone cold, but for the first time in a lifetime, he could see color. Freedom. His escape.

~~~

Eric McEvoy sat in his bed drenched in sweat. The nightmares of that night haunted him still. It had been 18 years since he lost he parents. 18 years, no arrest, no suspects, no justice. Few officers at the station even talked about the case. Tyler Gordon, the head homicide detective, Richard McEvoy’s old partner, and Eric’s legal guardian, kept the case alive and strong. But all it did was keep Eric awake at night. Eric reached over to his bedside table for a glass of water. The table, for the most part, was clean. The only objects on top were a .44 desert eagle magnum with a small four leaf clover engraved on the grip, an LA detective badge, a blue binder, and his cell phone.

Eric had just finished rubbing his eyes when he heard his phone going off. “Three thirty in the morning…” were the only lyrics he allowed to play before snatching up his phone to prevent his roommate from waking up. After all, the song almost got the time right on the money. He knew who was calling, Jack Hicks, an old friend, and partner. He had given him his own ringtone for work purposes. He had chosen a classic from Garth Brooks because Jack was not only a Texan (A place that adored Brooks), but his middle name was Garth. It was something small, but it had always given Eric something to smile about despite the fact their conversations often ended with some catastrophe. He had been with the force since he was eighteen, he had deep ties after all and knew that it was little things that kept people in his line of work sane.

“Let me guess; we’re up?” Eric asked skipping any formalities.

The line was quiet save for Jack’s breathing.

“Yes, but it’s an ugly one.” Jack finally said breaking the awkward silence.

Eric was already slipping his typical work gear on, a pair of jeans, black t-shirt, and black converses. He was slipping his shirt over his black hair when he spoke, his voice muffled.

“Aren’t they all?”

Jack sighed. “I’ll spare you the details over the phone. But I have a feeling you aren’t going to like this one.”

Eric pulled down his shirt and was putting his badge on his belt when he thought about the different cases he had already done. Each time he thought that a human couldn’t possibly perform anything worse on another human, but each case seemed to prove differently. If Jack was worried, it must be a doozy. He tried to ignore that as he slipped a jacket over his arms to cover up his sleeve tattoos. Even with the jacket, his neck tattoos were still visible, but at least he had the hair and piercings to match it. He might not have looked like a typical cop, but looks were deceiving.

 

“See you in twenty?”

“Make it thirty; you’re going to want coffee for this one.”

 

Reviews

[A.Tarek]

From the first seven lines.. I was totally immersed into it, the place the scenes the incident, It was like i was there when His father was killed. You just have a way with words.. I'll continue reading chapter 1 later

But I do have one question.. is it only 3 chapters !

[Richard McLin]

Great beginning and I love your attention to detail. Great prologue.
-Richard