Nightcrawler (Trackers #1)

Chapter Three

TRIGG

I put everything out of my mind as I jogged toward the house…everything except the new review Nightcrawler had posted sometime after I’d fallen asleep last night. I’d read it after waking this morning and had laughed my head off. The man had a way with words.

Book title: Silence of the Toe Jam

Author: Luke Kramer

Publisher: Self-published

Genre: Horror fiction

Review/rating by Nightcrawler: ⒈／⒉ Star

Synopsis:

This book can best be described as a horror/slasher with a heaping side of foot fetish. Basically, it’s about several men who meet each other in a group therapy environment. They share a sexual attraction to feet…oh, and they’re also serial killers.

My Review:

What can I say about a book which surprised me and starts off with promise, only turning into a complete waste of paper about a third of the way in? It opens with a group therapy session and the round robin as each character in the book introduces himself by unloading his feelings…as well as his sexual proclivities. Some of them are very eye-opening and it’s during these introductions that I came to understand that these men have been court ordered to participate in group therapy. As the book goes on, I realize that most of them have one sort of foot fetish or another.

If I was the suspicious sort, I’d say that the probability of so many men all having the same interest in feet in the same group session had to be intentional. Surely, the author used the vehicle of the round robin, to make a point. What it was confounds me to this very day.

The varied way the fantasies of these men, and the downright detail of them makes it very clear to me—the unsuspecting reader—that they are not fantasies at all but drawn from the real-life experiences of the author. Who am I to judge an author for their love of foot sex and the translation of that desire onto the page? Then again, I’m pretty sure Stephen King never dumped a bucket of blood on a girl at some point, or Sigmund Freud woke up one day asking, “when is a cigar not a cigar?”

After the first third of the book, where all these sexual fantasies are described by group members, I thought the book would begin to get even more interesting. As it turned out, I was wrong. This was the part where the horror was supposed to come into play, right? Oh, it was a horror, no doubt about it. These men—having found so much in common with one another in therapy—decide to go on a hunt. What are they hunting for? Feet, of course. They then proceed to kidnap other men, cut off their feet leaving them to bleed to death in most cases, only to then take the feet to an abandoned warehouse and have sex with them.

Oh, and all of this is done in silence…well, of course it is.

In conclusion, I have only one thing to say about this book…I’d rather be beaten with a pillowcase full of feet than to ever have to reread it.

I put the review out of my mind the minute I spotted my adversary about a hundred yards from Passantino’s gate. He was sitting in the driver’s seat of a brand-new, black Dodge Ram with limo tint all around but the windshield, looking at the house. I recognized him immediately…Raven Mathis…that fucker who’d stolen the Mulberry diamond bounty. Ever since the 25,000 dollars reward for the recovery of Gemma Monroe’s silicone prosthesis had been posted by GMS insurance, I’d been trying to figure a way into Passantino’s property. I knew Mathis was here for the same reason I was…to retrieve the boobs before a bounty hunter caught wind of the sale even though the listing had gone up three days ago. It was a healthy bounty for what would be a somewhat easy job and I promised myself I wasn’t going to be caught by surprise this time and miss out on the money Jamie and I deserved.

There were lucrative bounties being posted all the time and Jamie had a knack for finding them. He’d read me the fucking riot act for losing out on the Mulberry diamond when it had seemed so easy. Trench was a junkie. All I had to do was figure out where he would be, follow him home or back to wherever he’d hidden the thing, and retrieve it. Instead, I’d come face to face with a can of pepper spray and an upstart who’d been grinning as he momentarily distracted me and cuffed the guy. I could have probably wrestled the can away from him. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d come into contact with a chemical agent during the course of both my military service and my professional fugitive recovery career. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but I would’ve gladly endured it, if nothing more than to wipe that thousand-watt smile off Raven Mathis’ unfortunately handsome face.

Then Cassidy and Mike had pulled up, crushing all my careful plans.

It wasn’t like I could’ve gone through with taking Raven to the mat a second time with the detectives watching. Cassidy had a knack for knowing where I was and what I was doing which irritated the hell out of me. Then again, he’d known me since I was a young teenager and he was an inexperienced patrolman. And…he’d been more of a father figure than a friend. Though no one could ever take the place of my dead father, he’d understood my grief and had been there for me every step of the way. He’d helped me that night and he’d made me think about the man I was forced to be at that horrible moment. I loved him and was mortified to think that I’d disappointed him by making a fool of myself in Hollywood.

Back in the present, I plastered a mocking smile on my face, reveling at Mathis’ shocked expression right before turning and taking a running leap at the ivy-covered cinder block wall at the far end of Passantino’s property. I scaled it easily dressed as I was in comfortable, loose clothes and shoes with soles that gripped the wall as I made it to the top. I perched there for only a second, momentarily pausing to glance back at the Dodge Ram and see Mathis yanking the door open. As he spilled out onto the asphalt, I looked down, noting the grassy area beneath, and jumped, landing easily on Passantino’s soft lawn, thankful he didn’t have a guard dog.

I didn’t look back as I sprinted for the side of the huge house which loomed three stories, designed like a Swiss chalet… probably the only alpine-architecture in all of Encino. I shook my head, making a mental note that rich people really needed more hobbies because their taste was often a victim of their wealth and how they perceived their own status. I absently wondered whether the Von Trapp family had settled in the San Fernando Valley at some point as I rushed for the side of the garish mansion. A black, metal gate blocked easy entry to the side of the house, but I scaled the secondary barrier to the property with ease, hopping down to the concrete walkway on the other side.

I knew Passantino’s security system. Jamie’s research was impeccable and always included an alarm system in the files he gave me, if one had been installed. In this case, James Passantino’s only security was a weak, and easily bypassed alarm system which had been purchased in the early 80s when the house had been renovated. A coded alarm keyboard was located next to the sliders on the back of the house, leading out to the pool, which just meant that I wasn’t making my approach there. I carried lock picks to use on the side door of the garage which was where I’d make entry. If the security system hadn’t been updated in the last forty years, and Jamie had assured me it wasn’t, I wouldn’t encounter an alarm here either.

I pulled out my picks the second I got to the door and inserted them. In seconds, I had it unlocked, and I took a deep breath, saying a prayer before turning the knob and pushing it inward. When it swung open on silent hinges, I couldn’t help but grin to myself. Jamie—God bless the man—was the best. Knowing that Raven was probably right behind me, time was of the essence. I pushed the button on the doorknob, shutting it silently, knowing he would eventually get in, but giving myself just a minute more to accomplish what I’d come for. I made for the house’s back door, scooting around a garish yellow Lamborghini and two other cars in the garage. When I got to the solid wood fire door separating the three-car garage from the house itself, I opened it. Once again, no alarm sounded, and I stepped into a kitchen which hadn’t been updated since the house was gutted in the 80s.

Out on the street, I’d seen the lights in Passantino’s bedroom. Jamie had pulled the floorplan from public records, and I knew Passantino did a daily workout in his weight room located right beside his cavernous bedroom suite. His safe, where he’d hopefully stored the silicone boobs, was in his study on the ground floor. Thanks to Jamie’s relationship with several locksmiths and alarm manufacturers, I had not only the location of the safe—down to the room where it’d be—but I also knew which picture concealed it’s placement. All I had to do was retrieve the massive tits and make my escape before drawing attention to myself. Hopefully, Passantino would be none the wiser, busy in his home gym upstairs on the third floor.

I ran through the kitchen silently, headed through a formal dining room which was home to a huge table with twelve chairs, and then through the living room to cross over the white marble floor of the towering, three-story foyer. It was occupied by a large, round table made of the same white-washed wood all the other 80s-style furnishings were made of. I paused for a second, gazing up at the winding staircase and listened for the sounds of weights being lifted two floors above. I heard grunting and grinned to myself before continuing to the study.

It was located at the far end of the library, another massive room I had to cross. It too, was crammed with 80s-style couches, overstuffed chairs, and tables of the same white wood. A huge console projection TV was situated in the corner of the room, and I gave it a passing glance. The thing belonged in a museum, and I doubted it worked anymore. It was honestly the ugliest thing I’d ever seen in my life. I bypassed it, heading to the study door, pausing only a second before swinging it wide.

This room was different than the rest of the house, still decorated with the same ugly 80s furniture except the desk which stood at the far end of the room. It was sleek and modern, with a glass tabletop and a huge, flat screen monitor. I took only a second to shake myself, knowing I had no more time. With the insurance recovery agent hot on my heels and the thief upstairs, I needed to get to the object I’d come for quickly. I made haste, finding the painting and running over to it. It came away from the wall on oiled hinges without a sound, revealing the safe.

My hopes for an easy retrieval vanished the instant I spotted the keypad. Passantino had updated his security system after all. In my pocket, I had three numbers for a combination dial. I hadn’t expected a keypad. There was no way to work out the combination of numbers I’d need to open the safe or even a phone call to Jamie to see if he could find a hack for it. To make matters worse, I heard quiet footfalls coming up behind me. I spun around, knowing who’d be here, and cursed quietly under my breath when I recognized the tall figure and black hair of my nemesis, Raven Mathis.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered mostly to myself, surprised when I got a burst of quiet laughter in return.

“Nope. Just me, your old pal, Raven Mathis,” he replied, sauntering over as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I whispered as he came over and peered around me at the safe.

He ignored my question and hummed under his breath.

“ Hmm …looks like a Gardall WMS911-G-E, wall mounted, fireproof model, and just the right size for a nice set of fake tits,” he said, sounding way too gleeful for the mood I was in. He swung his gaze back, facing me with that fucking wide grin that left me with a strangely foreign feeling down deep inside my belly. I didn’t like it…or him…or, if I was being honest with myself, the way it made me feel when he looked at me like that.

I glowered at him, and his face fell.

“And I suppose you know how to get into it?”

“Oh, you can’t?” he blurted before looking behind us and lowering his voice. “What is it, Trigg? You were prepared for something different?” Something must have dawned on him as a knowing smile crossed his face. “Oh, you missed the memo about the upgrade he did a month ago, right before he stole Gemma’s boobs?” When I said nothing and simply glared at him, he shrugged and dug into his pocket before holding up a piece of paper. “Well, would you look at that? It seems I have the combination.”

“Why in the hell would you—?” I stopped mid-sentence as the reason he’d have the combo dawned on me. “Wait…GMS is the insurer of Gemma’s boobs…are they also Passantino’s insurer?” At his nod, I sighed. “So of course you’d have the combination,” I concluded.

He nodded, grinning again. I wanted to wipe that smug smile right off his face. “Yeah. He has some very expensive jewelry, watches, and rare coins.” When I said nothing, pondering my options, he went on. “So, this recovery belongs to me. Step aside while I do this.”

“The fuck you say, Mathis,” I growled, stepping between him and the gaping hole in the wall.

“Fine then,” he said, stepping back and crossing his arms, the combination tucked into his closed fist. “Go for it.” He looked up at the ceiling, and I listened, hearing vague grunts coming from the room directly above us on the third floor.

“Shit!” I hissed, waving at the safe. “Fine! Open it,” I said in defeat as I stepped aside. “We’ll split the recovery reward.”

“Split it, huh ?” He frowned for just a second before reaching out and patting my left bicep. “Alrighty then.” He stepped up to the safe and produced the paper with numbers written in chicken scratch, reading them out loud as he typed them in. A second later, a low beeping noise came from the safe and he opened the door.

We both bent to see inside before cursing at the same time.

It was completely empty except for some small boxes which—as predicted—turned out to be jewelry, watches, and coins. Just to make sure, I reached inside and swept for any secret or hidden compartments. There was nothing. I shut the door and punched a few numbers, hearing the lock reengage before pushing the picture back tight against the wall. I wanted to punch a hole through something.

“Now what?” I asked, frustrated beyond all reason as I stared at him. I noticed the grunting was still going on. “What in the hell is going on up there? He’s been working out a long time.”

Raven met my gaze with twinkling eyes. “Unless that’s not the kind of workout we think it is.”

“Oh, fuck.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s throwing a bone into some chick, isn’t he?”

Raven burst out laughing and then slapped a hand over his mouth before bending over. He came up just as quickly, looking at me as he continued to laugh. “Throwing a bone into some chick?” he gasped, bending over again, holding his stomach, still laughing and trying to catch his breath.

I smiled despite feeling out of my depth with this man…whom I hated slightly less than I had five minutes ago. “I could’ve said he’s sweeping her chimney.” I smiled wider as he looked up at me with tears in his eyes before doubling over again with convulsive laughter.

“Sweeping her chimney,” he repeated, giggling…something I’d never heard a man do before. I found it utterly charming and couldn’t help but laugh, even though it made me extremely uncomfortable to do so.

“Anyway, where do you think he put the tits?” I asked as he finally caught his breath.

Mathis shook his head, wiping tears away from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “No idea. This is the only safe he mentioned in his insurance application and if I had to guess, he didn’t add another…or update the rest of his security judging by how easily you got into the side door of the garage.”

“I know! He didn’t even lock the door from the house to the garage. I mean, Encino is safe but that’s ridiculous.”

“The boobs have to be elsewhere in the house,” Mathis concluded.

I growled. “We should at least sweep upstairs to make sure he didn’t just leave them lying out somewhere,” I said. “I assume they’re in a box, right? Or do you know?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you.” He immediately reached into a pocket and pulled out his phone calling up photos. On the screen was a flat, wooden box slightly smaller than the width of the safe. He swiped to the next photo where the box was open, showing the same photos I’d seen on the website Jamie found. It appeared to be a box lined in purple velvet on which sat the prosthetic in question. Two pink-tinged nipples on big jugs looked very realistic to my limited experience with them. Of course, I’d seen boobs, but I’d never touched them. My preference was for the male chest—hairy or not—that’s what got my motor running.

“Got it. At least we know we’re looking for a wooden box. Let’s go,” I said as he tucked his phone away. I headed out of the office, not waiting for Mathis to follow me. We stopped at the foot of the stairs, listening. I could still hear grunts from upstairs but whoever this guy was doing wasn’t making any noise. I was fairly impressed Passantino had this much staying power at his age. I didn’t like not knowing what kind of situation I might be walking into. I’d been a Recon Marine which meant just that…I did recon and yet I’d somehow missed who Passantino was fucking…because I was sure that’s what was going on by now. I could hear a male voice, encouraging whoever it was, to continue doing what they were doing as we climbed the stairs.

On the landing between floors, I noted rooms laid out on either side in wings and gave silent hand signals to Mathis to take the right while I took the left. We had a lot of rooms to clear. He nodded quickly and turned to go, padding silently along the wooden floors as I turned left and checked the rooms there. After I’d given each a thorough sweep and finding nothing of interest in what looked like Passantino’s secondary office, a comfortable bookcase-lined sitting room filled with freshly cut flowers, couches, paintings, plus a guest bedroom, I went back to find Mathis returning. One look on his face, and I didn’t have to wait for the shake of his head to know he hadn’t found the box we searched for either. He pointed up and we silently climbed the stairs to the third floor.

We both stopped two treads from the top when a woman’s voice suddenly cried out. “James! Oh, God, James! Your fingers! I’m gonna come!”

“That’s it, babe,” a man huffed. “Come on, baby…jes like that…yeah! Oh, fuck! Gemma…you’re gonna make me come too!” he cried out.

I turned and met Raven’s stunned expression with one of my own. His mouth hung open in shock for a few seconds and for the first time, I noticed how gorgeous and full his lips were. He had cock sucking lips. When they started moving, I realized he was mouthing, “It’s Gemma.”

I gave him a short nod in return and then headed down the hall toward the wide, double bedroom doors which were only partially closed. As I reached out to push one open, I noted Mathis pulling his can of pepper spray off his belt. I somehow didn’t think that would be needed, so I reached out to push his arm down. He looked at me with a frown, and I simply shook my head. “Not necessary,” I whispered. “They’re not expecting an audience.”

Mathis shrugged, thinned his lips, and then hooked the can on his belt. I nodded, relieved he’d at least agreed with me enough to follow my direction. I didn’t want anyone getting hurt…no one had yet but that didn’t mean I wasn’t prepared. I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Raven Mathis six months ago and his use of the 21-foot rule and then absently reached down to run my fingertips over my KA-BAR knife in a sheath at my side. Before that day in Hollywood, I’d carried my Beretta which I still did on occasion, though, these days, generally only in sketchy neighborhoods.

I was almost embarrassed that it had taken a conversation with a civilian to point out that not carrying a gun was a safer option for both me and my bounty. Mathis had been right that day when I’d tackled him and Trench to the ground. If Trench had not been knocked unconscious by the Taser, he could have fought me for the gun. In the back of my mind, I’d known something like that could happen, but it had taken Mathis telling me to my face, to make me stop doing it. I held up my hand and counted off on my fingers, mouthing numbers as we each took hold of the knob on one of the double doors.

“Three…two…one…” We pushed the doors open at the same time. The bed in the master bedroom was massive, way larger than a king, meaning it must have been specially made. The foot of it faced the doors so the second we burst into the brightly lit room, we were faced with two figures on the bed. The male—James Passantino—lay on his back, legs spread, cock buried balls deep in a woman who straddled him, bouncing on his dick. From our angle, all we could see was her back and it was clear to me—at least—that she had been having the time of her life.

Even before they realized they were no longer alone in the room, Mathis was elbowing me. I looked over long enough to notice him pointing to a low table where Gemma Monroe’s fake boob box lay open. It was just about this time that I heard the female’s scream as she twisted and saw us standing there.

“Hey!” Passantino shouted. “Who the hell are you?”

I stood there, helplessly mute beside Mathis who was shouting over the woman’s screams, trying to calm her down as Passantino grabbed her waist and lifted her off his impressively large dick. I absently noted the base of his glistening shaft was wrapped with a silver cock ring which might explain how a guy Passantino’s age could keep going as long as he had.

“Gemma!” I heard Mathis say from beside me and only then did I notice the woman who slid off the bed to the floor.

She sat there still screaming at the top of her lungs…wearing her very own fake tits, the ones Mathis and I had broken in to retrieve.

“Shut! Up!” Passantino shouted as he slid off the other side of the bed, snatching up a throw pillow and covering his junk as he stood beside it. Gemma instantly went silent.

“Oh, my God,” Mathis said, sounding totally mortified. “Gemma.” He rushed toward her, and she began screaming again, backing up until her back hit the nightstand beside the bed. Mathis instantly halted, throwing up his hands. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m not here to hurt you. I work for GMS Insurance, and I came here to recover your…your…boobs…and as I see now—” He stopped and looked in my direction, appearing devastated, embarrassed, and every combination of miserable I could possibly imagine as he looked to me to help explain. As much as I felt like I should probably laugh at the situation, I couldn’t bring myself to embarrass him further.

“Miss Monroe…Mr. Passantino…please,” I began, “forgive us. This is Raven Mathis. He works for Grayson, Mallory, and Simms Insurance. He came to retrieve stolen…well what we thought were your stolen boobs… ah, breasts… ah, those!” I stammered, waving in the direction of her chest, desperate to look anywhere but at her and her enormous prosthetic. I was fucking this up even worse for Mathis and probably myself as well. “We just didn’t know you were…that you’d reconciled…that you were—” I never stammered. It was my turn to flush with embarrassment as I looked at Mathis to say something, anything that would make me feel less like a fucking idiot.

“What are you doing in my home?” Passantino roared. “You broke in! I’m calling the police!”

“It’s all a mistake,” Mathis said in a voice more soothing than I would’ve been able to muster. “Please! Miss Monroe told us you stole her—” he waved at her chest the same as I’d done, and I bit my lower lip, so I didn’t say anything as he addressed her, stumbling the same way I had. “Her boobs!” he blurted.

“You did?” Passantino suddenly shouted, turning to pin Gemma with his gaze as we all watched her get up on both knees before climbing to her feet. “Why would you finger me?”

“Finger you?” she shrieked. “Finger you? I’m not the one doing the fingering! Isn’t that just rich , James!” She whirled on us, pointing an accusing finger at him. “He’s the one with all the goddamned fingers in places and if you don’t believe me, just smell them!”

“Maybe they don’t like fish!” James shot back.

Oh no, he didn’t.

I exchanged a look with Mathis whose wide-eyed look made me burst out laughing before I could stop it. His entire face broke out in an enormous grin as he began laughing right along with me.

“What’s so funny!” Gemma screamed, stomping her foot. “What’s so fucking funny!” She stormed around the side of the bed and came charging at us both, massive rack jutting out a good eight inches from the rest of her body. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the tits, even as I backed up so they wouldn’t come anywhere near me. It was bad enough that they looked real, but this close, I could see where the adhesive or whatever fastened them to her chest was beginning to come away on both sides. The closer she got; the harder Mathis and I laughed.

“What’s so goddamned funny!” She stood right in front of us, righteous in her outrage, eyes blazing with hatred, words leaving her mouth with a spray of spittle, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Gemma…Gemma! Calm down!” Passantino was shouting. “Calm the fuck down, woman!” Unfortunately, instead of diffusing the situation, the volume of his voice only served to make her angrier.

“Shut up, James!” She stomped her foot again as she whirled on him. “They’re laughing!”

I watched in horror as the prosthetic adhesive came away a little more. “Ma’am—” I began when she spun back to me and screamed.

“Shut the fuck up!” she yelled, jumping up and down and waving her arms at Mathis and me as she stomped even closer. The heavy silicone prosthetic swung back and forth.

“Ma’am—” Mathis said, waving at her chest, probably seeing her come undone like I was. In her outrage and fury, she wouldn’t let either of us speak. “Your…your—”

“I said shut up! You’re going to jail!” She stomped her foot again. “Do you know that?” She was shrieking by now.

“Gemma, you really should know—” I could see them giving way…I knew what was going to happen, but she wouldn’t let me talk and cut me off again.

“Shut! Up!” She stomped her foot once more…

…and her tits fell off.