Delinquent: A Dark Psychological Thriller (The Debt Collector Series Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Delinquent

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Special Thanks

  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

  Continue the Thrills

  Behind the Scenes

  Join the Collectors

  About the Author

  I Need Your Help!

  My Other Series

  Delinquent

  Death is past due.

  The Wrights have moved to the next county to get a fresh start on their battered lives. Yet evil has followed them.

  Michael Wright takes a menial job as he attempts to rebuild his family. His daughter is about to go under the knife in a last ditch effort to save her life. But there are complications outside their control. Can a sinister force tear the Wrights apart? Will the family come together to defeat evil? The Wrights will need each. Now, more than ever.

  Delinquent is the second installment in the Debt Collector Series. The psychological horror continues.

  Delinquent is the second novel in the Debt Collector series by Chuck Buda. It is approximately 57,000 words and contains adult language, scenes of horror and a cliffhanger ending. Reader discretion is heavily advised.

  Delinquent

  By Chuck Buda

  Copyright © Chuck Buda (2016).

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any semblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The author has taken great liberties with locales including the creation of fictional towns.

  Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read his work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought this book, or telling your friends or blog readers about this book to help spread the word.

  Thank you for supporting my work. Without you the story would not be told.

  Cover art by Leslie K.

  Dedication

  Dedicated to Robert Mesar.

  We share like minds. Both “delinquent”.

  God bless Lori, Austen and Jake for having to put up with us.

  Special Thanks

  I would like to thank Christopher Zingaro and Travis Russo for testing my story. Your feedback is invaluable. I am truly grateful for your friendship and honesty. Now clear your schedules for the next book.

  Chapter 1

  A tin sign hung in the corner between the refrigerator and the table with the band saw. It said - BEWARE: Fartaholic, Enter at Your Own Risk. An image of a toxic gas mask was in the lower left corner of the sign.

  The garage was neat as far as garages went. Many tools hung on the press board pegs, organized in size order by function. A place for every item, every item in its place. Bright fluorescents hung from the ceiling, flooding the bay in noon-time shine.

  A drill spun loudly for a few seconds then stopped. The chocks on the workbench squeaked as they loosened. A thump echoed as something landed in the bottom of a 50-gallon drum. Something dripped, dripped, dripped in the background.

  The garage smelled of old chemicals and gasoline. Mixed with the synthetic odors was the aroma of charred meat. It was reminiscent of a summer cookout that just happened to be held in a gas station. Beneath that was a fine powdery scent of sawdust.

  A figure sat on a small stool in front of a collapsible worktable. There was a hairy leg secured by vice grips. The leg was no longer attached to a torso. The figure lowered his visor and moved the blowtorch over the meaty thigh. Hairs singed up into smoke and flesh charred deep beneath the top layers. The blowtorch was set down. The figure picked up a pair of needle-nose pliers and pinched some charred meat off the leg. The visor went up and he blew on the meat to cool it off. Satisfied that it was the right temperature, the figure ate the meat from the pointy tip of the pliers. He clipped the big toe off with a set of wire clippers. The round nubbin popped off and rolled onto the floor. The stool creaked as the figure reached under the table to pick up the piggy that ran away. He tossed it into the 50-gallon drum next to the table.

  An old cassette player stood on a stack of newspapers which were all facing the same direction from bottom to top. The faded cassette tape fed the speakers with an older tune that many considered a classic. The music was just loud enough to be heard but not too loud as to disturb the genius at work. The song that was playing was (Don’t You) Forget About Me.

  Chapter 2

  Michael brought in another stack of boxes. He felt the beginnings of soreness settle into his lower back. Each time he carried the boxes from the garage into the house, the aches increased. His mind tried to block out the annoyance so he could focus on getting the family unpacked.

  Stephanie smiled at Michael as he lowered the stack of boxes to the floor. Her long blond hair was tucked up neatly into a ponytail. She wore no make-up as they unpacked and still Michael thought she looked beautiful.

  “Is that all of them?”

  Michael exhaled before standing straight up and arching his back. “Two more and then we are done. Well, done moving the crap from the garage to the house.” He faked a smile and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Then the real fun begins.”

  Stephanie snorted. “You mean when MY real fun begins. I’m the one that will have to unbox everything and place it around the house.”

  Michael continued with the fake smile. He knew he had no argument. His job was to handle all the heavy lifting while Stephanie took care of the finer details. Otherwise, there would be lamps set upon the wrong tables and pictures hung just slightly askew.

  The move had been largely uneventful but it was still a huge source of stress on all of them. Michael and Stephanie had decided to pick up their roots and move to a neighboring county. They wanted a fresh start and Stephanie couldn’t bear to walk past Andrew’s bedroom without breaking down. It was too much for them to deal with. It was a struggle to figure out if they should leave Andrew’s room alone as a memorial or convert the room into usable space. In the end, moving to a new house in a new town was the optima
l choice.

  While they relocated further west, they were only about forty minutes from the cemetery. So the new home was far enough to start over, but close enough to hold on.

  Allison was still angry with Michael and Stephanie over the change. She equated leaving with forgetting Andrew. The children had been so close to each other, especially once Ally got sick. Stephanie thought that Andrew’s spirit somehow remained in the house and that was what connected Allison to their old home. Michael didn’t believe in ghosts or anything paranormal. He chalked it up to a typical kid avoiding change. He knew the reality was probably somewhere in between.

  “Well, I guess I will re-organize the garage then. That way you will have a place to park the car and we won’t be tripping over the pile of junk.” He let go of the fake smile. Stephanie held his dark eyes in hers. They both stayed that way for a few moments before Michael leaned forward and kissed Stephanie’s forehead. She smiled at the gesture and then started to go through the box on top of the stack. Michael turned and went back out to the garage.

  Most of the remaining things in the garage were gardening tools and outdoors brick-a-brack. When they moved, everything was just stuffed into the garage so they could return the rental truck. The thought was to organize boxes by room and move them orderly into the house. That didn’t happen. Instead it was all piled from floor to ceiling with no rhyme or reason. So Michael had to bring their belongings in as he came across them. Stephanie was frustrated by that system because she had to wait for all the boxes to be brought in before unpacking. She would have preferred doing it room by room so she could settle them while he worked.

  Michael sat on an empty milk crate. He was exhausted. Things had been running on overdrive since the brutal night at Derrick’s house. His stay in the hospital. The funeral. The countless police reports. An investigation at the bank. It was all a whirlwind. He resigned from the bank shortly thereafter so they could sell the house and move. Plus he had become a bit of a pariah at the office. Nobody knew how to treat him or what to say. It had become too much of a distraction so Michael walked away. He needed to shift gears too.

  The sale of their house went well. It sold quicker than they anticipated and it fetched a good price because of the location. A short distance to New York City proved the old adage - location, location, location. The sale was enough to pay off a few other debts and make a considerable payment towards Allison’s surgery. In the end, they were still cash-poor but at least they lightened the debt load and secured a ray of hope for Allison’s future.

  What still nagged at Michael and Stephanie was the fact that Derrick and Martin were both missing. Presumed dead, somehow both bodies reanimated and walked away. Detective Walsh still had no leads, even after thorough investigations of Derrick’s and Martin’s properties. No clues. No trails of cell phone usage or credit cards. Both men vanished into thin air. Stephanie had been nervous about some sort of revenge, partially helping her decide to move away. Michael wasn’t as sure. He was bothered by the untied ends. But he didn’t think it was very likely that either man survived.

  Michael hoped the move would improve their relationships too. Stephanie said she forgave him for all that had happened. But Michael could tell there were deep wounds that might never heal. Wounds that still burned beneath the surface. She was distant. Their conversations were general and high-level. Neither one of them wishing to open up. And Allison. Allison had so much angst towards Michael and Stephanie. She had become reclusive and quiet. Preferring to be alone. Allison took Andrew’s worn teddy bear with her everywhere. The ears had been chewed off when Andrew was teething. Allison found it under his bed after the funeral and hadn’t really let go of it ever since.

  He knew he didn’t have time to rest so Michael forced himself to stand. He brushed a tear away from his cheek. He didn’t realize that he had been crying while he reflected on their situation. Michael was an emotional wreck but he had to maintain the rugged exterior for his wife and daughter. It also served to fool himself into being braver than he was.

  The afternoon was slipping away and there was so much to do before he started his new job tomorrow. Michael found a temporary job at a gardening center. It didn’t pay much and it would be physically demanding. But it was just the sort of work he could get lost in. And he would be able to work off his frustrations. Sitting at a desk would have provided too much time for him to think. Michael decided it was a good spot for him to transition before going back to the financial industry. Besides, they would need more income. This would only be a short gig.

  Michael rolled the lawn mower to the back corner of the garage. He moved a plastic storage bin filled with sports equipment into a shelving unit along the wall to the house. The lid popped up and the first thing Michael saw was Andrew’s baseball mitt. It was his first one from Tee Ball. Michael took the glove out of the bin and looked it over in his hands. The mitt was so small. He remembered taking Andrew to the park to have a catch.

  He smelled the leather and let his tears soak the heel of the glove.

  Chapter 3

  Derrick Graves stared through the windshield.

  The car rolled to a stop outside Hilltop Farms. He had followed Michael this morning. Always careful to keep a mindful distance. Derrick wanted to remain undetected until the winds were right.

  Michael Wright got out of his car and approached an older gentleman in a baseball cap. The two men shook hands and spoke briefly before heading into the greenhouse.

  Derrick glanced at his reflection in the rear view mirror. His eyes were sunken and cold. He admired his shaved head. Once he recovered from the infamous night, he chose a new look. One that would alter not only his appearance but his mindset as well. So he shaved off all his hair. All of it. Head, eyebrows, legs, torso. Derrick opted for cleanliness. Besides, he wouldn’t need luxurious hair where he was going.

  The nursery was busy early this morning. Landscapers and contractors filled their trucks and trailers with shrubs and mulch. A few homeowners picked through flats of flowers. Happy people living happy lives.

  Derrick seethed quietly. His whole life had been taken from him. His wife, Rachel, was killed. The custody of his precious daughters was shared between Rachel’s sister and his in-laws. Their big, beautiful home was put on the market. It sat unsold as each buyer walked away after learning the home’s grisly history. And the CEO position went to a hired gun. An outsider, brought in by the Board once Derrick disappeared.

  Pathetic.

  Somebody would pay for his shattered life. And that somebody was Michael Wright. The man who ruined everything. The one who crushed his dreams and tore apart his loving family. Fucking Michael.

  Derrick took a swig of vodka from the sports drink bottle. He had gotten into the habit of drinking vast quantities of alcohol. But he found that it led to painful headaches. So he would drink a sports drink to hydrate himself and then chase it with a vodka. Sometimes he would just go half and half. A sort of compromise.

  Nothing would stop him from realizing full retribution. Derrick had spent countless hours thinking things through. His life was gone so he had nothing to lose. The world considered him dead. He would never hold Rachel again. Chloe and Madison were out of his reach unless he wanted to turn himself in to the authorities. At which point the twins might decide they despised him anyway for the heinous acts he was accused of committing. No more career. Nothing. So the decision was easy. He would have his pound of flesh.

  Derrick glanced in the mirror again to see if tears were flowing. They weren’t. He had cried every last ounce from his system. Only rage and hatred remained. Even though thoughts of Rachel and the girls made his stomach sink, the signal didn’t reach his tear ducts.

  He spent the last few months biding his time. Hiding in the shadows and licking his wounds. Derrick had found a local college nursing student to help patch him up. He promised a big pay day for the help. But in the end, he had to kill her so that his secret would remain intact. The young woman nev
er saw it coming. She felt sorry for Derrick and trusted him in his state of vulnerability. Vulnerability was the disguise.

  Watching Michael and following him around was quite a chore. It would have been easier if Michael had a routine. But Michael’s schedule was fractured too. Derrick learned that Michael was trying to start a new life. So his revenge would have to wait. He figured it was just as well. The more time that distanced that fateful night would only soften Michael’s defenses. He would eventually fall into a routine and blindly walk through his daily existence. That’s when Derrick would strike.

  Derrick shook his head. He couldn’t believe that after all the money issues Michael had, that he would take a menial job at a nursery for an hourly wage. He could have sat at his desk in the bank and made three times as much income. Derrick snorted to himself that Michael could probably have gotten away with phoning it in at the bank. There would be no way they would fire him after all that Michael had gone through. Derrick was sure that Larry the fucking Lawyer would protect the bank from any civil cases from Michael. He would have everyone walking on egg shells around Michael just to avoid potential incidents. Instead, Michael threw it all away and moved his family out to the boonies for an hourly wage. Michael was still financially irresponsible, Derrick whispered to himself.

  Michael and the elderly guy in the cap left the greenhouse and wound their way towards the main building. On their way, they stopped to introduce Michael to a South American-looking worker. The man was darker skinned and wore a wide, straw hat to protect against the sun. All three heads bobbed and nodded. Lips moved and laughs were enjoyed. Then Michael and his boss entered the building.