The Good Son: A Suspense Thriller (A Reed & Billie Novel Book 2) Read online

  Praise for The Boat Man,

  Book 1 of the Reed & Billie Series

  Thrillers are some of my favorite reads because I love to be pulled into a story and through intense situations, all in the safety of my own home. I've read some pretty good ones lately and can now add to that list author Dustin Stevens' "The Boat Man". The story of Detective Reed Mattox, who is attempting to lay low after the death of his partner, yet is pulled into a pretty intense serial murder investigation. The killer is called The Boat Man and is name after Charon from Greek mythology, who carries souls across the rivers Styx into the world of the dead. This is essentially a story of vigilante justice and the mystery involved is a very good one. I found the read to be both intense and very enjoyable. Would definitely recommend and I now plan on checking out some of this author's other novels. – Top 500 Amazon Reviewer

  One of the best books I have read since getting my Kindle. The book is very suspenseful while dealing with a subject that has generated a great deal of controversy through the years. While reading the book there is a definite struggle between your heart and your brain over how you should be reacting to the events in the book. I wish every book I read was close to the quality I found in this book. – Kindle Customer

  Best book I've read in a long time and I read for hours every night. It was so good to read a police thriller without the main character being "saved" from himself by some hot woman. Fantastic character development and being a dog lover, loved that he is K-9 cop. The book held my attention and I didn't figure out what was going on until the end. I read so much that I rarely leave reviews but I want the author to know how much I enjoyed his work. I highly recommend this book. – Amazon Customer

  It certainly was a Thriller. I was intrigued by the complexity of sub-plots, the difficulties experienced by Maddox just trying to do his job; trying to do the right thing. Because doing the right thing is all we have to define our character once the cards are dealt. And in what was left of The Boat Man's mind he believed in his cause, too. First exposure to this author's excellent, engrossing work of art. – Amazon Reviewer

  I had never put much thought into the work life of highly-trained military and police dogs, and found it quite fascinating. Billie, along with the human she has trained to supply her with food, was an interesting character. The most interesting character was the Boat Man himself, both because of what he was doing and why and how he was doing it. It was impossible not to feel empathy for him. There were several other interesting people who helped make this book very readable. – Kindle Reviewer

  Praise for other works by Dustin Stevens

  I loved this suspense/drama/thriller…I haven't read a great suspense like this in a long time and I'm very glad I read this. I look forward to more books by this author. – The Kindle Book Review

  This follow-up to "The Zoo Crew" is a fantastic, fast-paced thriller set in a small, sleepy Montana town. It's the perfect backdrop - nobody thinks of Montana or sparsely populated areas when they think of such devious white-collar crimes. I'm not going to spoil anything for you, but rest assured that "Dead Peasants" will keep you engaged until the last page. – Amazon Customer

  Love the way Dustin Stevens writes, I felt like the Zoo Crew were my friends. The only bad part was finishing the book too fast, but the good was knowing there was a 3rd "Zoo Crew". – Amazon Reviewer

  From the very first page "Be My Eyes" managed to capture my attention and keep it all the way through to the satisfying conclusion. This is a novel that runs the gamut of emotions from despair to hope, anger, happiness and everything in between. It's well-written with vivid imagery, strong dialogue and a plot that resonates with the reader long after the story is over. – Amazon Top 1000 Reviewer

  This is truly one of the best books I have read. It touches on the ugly parts of human nature without dwelling on it only. It shows the good in people without that person knowing it. And, in show how anyone person in your life no matter how much or how long you know them, can make the biggest impact on you. – Amazon Customer

  Other works by Dustin Stevens:

  The Boat Man

  Going Viral

  Quarterback

  Scars and Stars

  Catastrophic

  21 Hours

  Ohana

  Twelve

  Liberation Day

  Just a Game

  Ink

  Four

  The Zoo Crew Novels:

  The Glue Guy

  Tracer

  Dead Peasants

  The Zoo Crew

  The Hawk Tate Novels:

  Cold Fire

  Cover Fire

  The Good Son

  A Reed & Billie Novel

  Dustin Stevens

  The Good Son

  Copyright © 2016, Dustin Stevens

  Cover Art and Design: Anita B. Carroll at Race-Point.com

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

  My guiding principle is this:

  Guilt is never to be doubted.

  --Franz Kafka

  Hearing the thick Velcro straps rip free was a welcome sound to Reed’s ears as he shrugged out of the Kevlar vest, letting it fall to the ground, the world instantly 10 degrees cooler. The t-shirt he had worn under the vest was soaked, the breeze hitting the damp cotton, helping to lower his body temperature.

  “Man, that feels better,” Reed said, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the sky. The new angle allowed sweat to stream down his face, a direct result of the situation he was just in, completely independent of the chilly October weather.

  Around him, the world was nothing short of chaos, a half dozen responding units from various precincts in the city having arrived in force. Standing with his eyes closed, he could hear people moving about, radios spewing orders and coded cop talk, car doors opening and closing as fellow officers wrapped up the scene.

  If he cracked open his eyes for even a second, he knew he would see the world through red-and-blue strobe lights bouncing off everything.

  “Striking a pose over here?” a familiar voice asked, bringing a smile to Reed’s face.

  He turned at the sound, wiping the sweat from his eyes before opening them to find his partner, Riley Poole, walking his way.

  Unlike him, she appeared no worse for wear, untouched by the events of the previous hour. Her Kevlar had also been stripped away, leaving her in a pair of jeans and sweater. If not for the gun and badge strapped to her hip, she would have appeared ready to see a movie or grab dinner, the same as she did every time Reed saw her.

  How she managed to pull that off was anybody’s guess.

  “Just thanking the heavens we made it through again,” Reed said.

  “Yeah, well, luckily the heavens saw fit to send me down here to watch over you,” Riley said, sidling up beside him. Folding her arms over her chest, she leaned back against the side of the sedan they shared, raising one foot and bracing it against the rear door.

  “Oh, is that how it went?” Reed asked, allowing some mirth to creep into his voice as he assumed a matching stance beside her.

  “You remember it happening another way?” Ri
ley asked, keeping her attention aimed at the activity surrounding them. Fifteen minutes before, it had been just the two of them. Now, they were nothing more than an afterthought as they stood and watched the clean-up crews work.

  Twice, Reed opened his mouth to respond, glancing over at her profile, the multi-colored lights flashing across her pale skin, before thinking better of it. “Nope. That’s how it went.”

  “Good answer,” Riley said, using her foot and hips to leverage herself up off the car. “Don’t forget to tell that to your mom when you call to let her know you made it out alright.”

  Shaking his head from side to side, Reed let her get a few steps away before countering, “My mom doesn’t even know we were involved in this mess. Better to keep it that way than have her worrying.”

  At that Riley stopped and turned, before finally saying, “Fine, call and tell her I made it out alright.”

  Chapter One

  The Good Son left his muddied boots on the floor by the back door. He could smell the sour scent of his gym socks as he padded through the house, unavoidable given the oppressive summer humidity hanging like a wet blanket across the Midwest. It had arrived around the first of June and, as yet, showed no signs of letting up, The Good Son growing accustomed to his shirt perpetually clinging to his back.

  The decision to leave the boots behind, though, had nothing to do with the summer heat, even less to do with any form of manners. Instead, it was a precautionary measure, meant to ensure that the hardened treads didn’t echo through the silent house, giving away his presence before he was able to accomplish what he had come to do.

  Time was beginning to run short. He could not afford to lose this opportunity over something so foolish.

  Walking heel-to-toe, The Good Son eased his way from the back door through the kitchen. The smell of fried pork chops and collard greens was just beginning to dissipate from dinner a few hours before, the aroma tickling his nostrils, making him very aware of the meal he had skipped.

  His heart rate increased as he silently beseeched his stomach not to vocalize any sort of request as he stepped quickly past the aging appliances and polished Formica countertops into the living room.

  The floor underfoot shifted from linoleum to threadbare carpet as The Good Son stood in the doorway and surveyed his surroundings. The curtains were drawn tight over the windows, just a hint of orange hue visible behind them from the streetlight out front.

  Like the kitchen, the living room was clean, though extremely dated. A well-worn sofa dominated the room, the fabric something akin to velour or velvet. A coffee table piled with tattered magazines, an old box television, and a pair of comfortable rocking chairs gave the space a lived-in look.

  As he passed through the room, three framed photographs caught his eye – each of the same man and woman. The first was a wedding picture; the second showed the happy couple, older now but still smiling for the camera; and the third was the elderly pair, still arm-in-arm, but without the same spark of the other two.

  Closing his eyes tight, The Good Son looked away from the photos. He balled his hands into fists and squeezed until small explosions of orange and yellow appeared behind his eyelids.

  Only then did the tension leave his body, a deep breath passing over his lips.

  He could not allow himself to focus on the photographs, to think of what he was doing as anything more than a means to an end. If he did, he ran the risk of losing his nerve, something he could not afford to let happen right now.

  The Good Son went to the couch and grabbed the largest throw pillow.

  Sweat streamed down his face and along his forearms, worse than any heat or humidity alone could ever bring about.

  Feeling the shortness of breath in his chest, The Good Son stepped down the narrow hallway, ignoring even more family pictures hanging on the wall beside him.

  It was not the first time The Good Son had been inside the home. He knew exactly where he was headed.

  Halfway down the hallway the floor moaned slightly beneath his weight, stopping him where he stood. Gripping the pillow in both hands, The Good Son felt his body tense as he stopped and waited, listening.

  The only thing more important than accomplishing his goal was not getting caught. If things went sideways, if nothing turned out as he envisioned here tonight, it would be a setback, but it would not be catastrophic. He could always try again.

  If apprehended, though, that was the end of everything.

  The thought brought a renewed jolt of purpose to The Good Son as he continued, reaching the end of the hallway. Stopping just short of the open door, he turned and peeked around the corner into a bedroom, moonlight filtering in through the windows illuminating the scene.

  A dresser cluttered with random bric-a-brac, an old rocking chair, and a four-poster bed filled the room.

  Everything exactly as it had been on his previous trip.

  On the center of the bed lay a lone woman, her body motionless, deep in sleep. Positioned on her back, she drew in deep breaths, the sound finding its way to The Good Son’s ears, putting his mind at ease a tiny bit.

  He had made it this far. Now all he had to do was complete the task.

  Again, his heart rate spiked as he took a step forward, glancing down at the pillow between his hands. His fingers squeezed tight, his knuckles flashing white as he inched his way to the side of the bed.

  Not once did the woman’s breathing shift, her slumber preventing her from even knowing he was there.

  Just eight minutes later, he was gone.

  Chapter Two

  The orange sticker on the side of the wrapper said the burrito was chicken, though Reed Mattox was unable to detect even the smallest hint of it. Instead, all he could see was Mexican rice, a few black beans, and far too much green salsa. The filling was too runny, the tortilla too thin, each bite forcing the innards down his hand and onto the sidewalk.

  The smell drew Reed’s K-9 partner, Billie, over for a closer inspection, her ears pressed flat against the top of her head. Lowering her nose a few inches, she sniffed once, trying to decipher what it was, before showing her good judgement and turning away.

  Her pink tongue shot out over her nose to let Reed know she was hungry, but even she had her standards.

  “Yeah, I agree,” Reed said, watching as Billie looked up at him, flicking her tongue out a second time at the sound of his voice. Retreating back a few feet, she lowered her backside to the pavement to wait for Reed to finish his lunch.

  Shoving the remains of the burrito back into its wrapper, Reed wadded it into a ball and tossed it into a trash can. Reaching through the window of his unmarked sedan, he fished out the can of Mountain Dew he had purchased with it.

  “Detective Mattox?” the dispatch radio on the dash bellowed, the sound piercing the quiet calm of the night. The words were punctuated with static as they passed through the open window, grabbing Reed’s attention, drawing Billie to her feet beside him. “Reed, you there?”

  Leaving the door closed, Reed again reached in and snatched the mic from the radio, pulling the curled cord out through the window.

  “Evening, Jackie.”

  At his previous precinct, the protocol for handling the radio was the very definition of excessive. His captain there was perpetually worried that citizens would be listening to the police scanner and had insisted on numerical codes and professional decorum at all times. Using first names was a capital offense on par with murder or kidnapping, as far as he was concerned.

  Since moving down to the 8th Precinct six months before, Reed had discovered that everyone in his new location tended to treat the radio more like a personal cell phone. First names were a common occurrence, especially after hours, and more than once he had heard guys using the band to discuss the latest on the Cincinnati Reds.

  Not much of a baseball man, Reed had refrained, though it hadn’t really bothered him.

  All signs seemed to indicate that his new captain was of the same mind.

/>   “How’s it going this evening, Sugar?” Jackie asked, her voice containing just a trace of syrup.

  Reed resumed his position against the side of his car, folded his arms across his chest and held the mic up to his mouth.

  “Excellent,” he said. “My partner and I were just having lunch when you called.”

  “Something good I hope,” Jackie said. “You both look like you could stand to put on a couple pounds.”

  Reed smiled as he glanced down, his 6’3” frame carrying just over 200 even. Billie’s head rose almost to his hip, 65 pounds of sinewy muscle compressed into a powerful package.

  He was reasonably certain she was in the minority on thinking either one of them needed to gain weight.

  “Fantastic,” Reed lied, looking over at the trash can where the remains of the gas station burrito met its end.

  After almost half a year, the check-ins were becoming a little less frequent, though still occurred more often than Reed preferred. He realized Jackie liked to fashion herself a mother hen for the precinct, but didn’t particularly care for the way she had appointed herself his overseer.

  He had a partner tasked with doing that.

  “And how are things over at the precinct?” Reed asked, trying to make his voice suggest that he actually cared.

  A moment of static passed before Jackie replied, “Well, that’s why I’m calling. I just had a request come in for a detective to come and give a second opinion.”

  Reed’s face twisted up at the words. “A request for a second opinion?”

  It sounded more like something someone would say in an emergency room or a sports injury clinic, not the sort of thing he had ever heard before in the course of his job.

  And after 12 years on the force, he had heard a lot.