Shattered Lives

Shattered Lives Read Free

Book: Shattered Lives Read Free
Author: Joseph Lewis
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Mystery & Detective, Retail
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his empty skull and blow a baseball-sized chunk out the back.  Would serve him right, the stupid asshole.
    He had seen the first reports of the human trafficking ring bust while working out at the gym.  He had stepped off the treadmill and grabbed a towel, wiped down his face and draped it across his shoulders.  He grabbed his water bottle, drank deeply and walked over and stood at the back of a crowd who had stopped their workouts and watched one of the several flat-screened TVs mounted on the wall.  Three of the screens were tuned to CNN; two to ABC; two to CBS; and three to ESPN.  No one paid any attention to the ones tuned to ESPN.
    The group he stood behind listened to and watched a talking head while a videotape played on the half-screen showing cops wandering around the street and walking in and out of a building in Chicago.  EMT trucks and cop cars had been coming and going all morning, but the cameras hadn’t shown any of the passengers. 
    He had recognized the building in Chicago, because he had been there many times. 
    Every now and then it would cut away to Kansas City or Long Beach.  The stories were the same:  A human trafficking ring had been busted.  Prominent local, state and national political officials, sports and entertainment figures arrested.  Kids- all boys who had been kidnapped and held captive, some for more than two years- had been freed and taken to local hospitals to be checked over before they were released to their parents.
    Walking nonchalantly to the locker room, he had gathered his things and left without showering.  He had to get home and get moving.  He had things to take care of.  He was on his way home when his partner had called.
    Driving slowly, taking care not to draw any attention, he parked a block from his house on a side street of a normal-looking tree-lined drive with white picket fences and bright, sunny flowers growing under front windows and around mailboxes, with bicycles, skateboards and scooters in driveways.  He sat in his car with the window down breathing deeply of recently mowed lawn.  He got out of his car and locked it but didn’t bother to wipe it down because a simple check on his tags would tell everyone who it had belonged to.  By the time they got around to looking for it, he’d be long gone anyway.
    Slowly, he surveyed the streets and houses for anything and anyone out of the ordinary.
    Nothing.
    He crossed the street to the alley and walked down it as if it were something he did every day.
    At six-two, two-hundred and twenty pounds, he moved like the athlete he was.  After all, he worked out at the gym three or four days a week with free weights and pounding a heavy bag every now and then.  He jumped rope for twenty minutes every day and ran six to ten miles before dawn in any kind of weather.  He was proud of his body and the shape he was in, viewing it as an asset, a weapon. 
    He knew this day would come eventually, and he had been planning for it for a long time.  He had stashed money away and had created an account at a different bank from the one he used to pay the bills.  He had created two other identities, complete with social security cards and drivers licenses using a Weasel from the streets who specialized in creating identities.   One of the many Weasels he had cultivated from his years on the force.  He had secured credit cards with large available balances under both names, along with a car titled and registered in a garage of a townhouse in a northwestern suburb of the city leased under the name of one of the identities he had created.
    Knowing the day would come is different from the day actually arriving.
    He had rehearsed.  He had planned.  He had already tied up loose ends.  Like the Weasel. 
    The Weasel no longer existed.  Body gone.  Any evidence vanished in a fire described as suspicious, more than likely arson, and it was done so there was absolutely no possible blow back to him.
    At the back of his

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