VINCIBLE: In the Wake of a Serial Killer

Vincible

In the Wake of a Serial Killer

Gail Winegar

Brighton Publishing LLC

435 N. Harris Drive

Mesa, AZ 85203

www.BrightonPublishing.com

ISBN13: 978-1-62183-509-7

Copyright © 2018

eBook

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Cover Design: Tom Rodriguez

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction based upon real life experiences. The characters in this book are fictitious and the creation of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to other characters or to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or copyright owner.

Foreword

From my window I can see the world.

When the mist of rain mingles with the rosy glow of a muted sun I can count eleven layers of desert plateaus, one behind another behind another. Nestled beneath these terraced levels are rolling red foothills and beneath their soft folds lies a small garden town on the outskirts of the city. I see neat little houses cultivated with gardens, vineyards, and horse corals. Sagebrush dots the land in mounds of soft grayish green, contrasting with the red desert sand.

It’s one of those small towns that cling to how things have always been the way molasses sticks to a spoon. Although the residents try to resist change nothing can endure forever. The acuities of the past will inevitably shift however slowly.

From the vantage point of my desk I gaze down upon my neighbor’s home. I watch the slender figure lead her horse from the adjoining coral to the front of her house. She strokes the animal’s chestnut head and leans in to whisper something in his ear. He responds by lifting his head in a nod. She holds her cheek against his neck for a long moment that I interpret as communion. Then she pats him tenderly and holding the reins, swings up into the saddle. Turning the horse down the gravel driveway she nudges him with her heels. He knows where he’s going and trudges eagerly towards the sandy red trail.

I watch until I can barely distinguish them from dollops of sage, as they fade into the foothills. Day after day, month after month, year after year I’ve observed the same scene. A woman and her horse plodding forward a step at a time.

From my window I can see the world.

Just as the sun elucidates the tiers of plateaus my hope in writing this book is to shed light on the sundry layers of the consequence of violent crime. Perhaps this book will serve in some small way to expedite the sluggish stickiness of the judicial system.

Prologue

The blow to his head was so hard it felt as if his eyeball had popped out of the socket. His nose was broken and blood streamed down to his chin, covering his swollen lips. Still, he managed a smirk. It had taken all five of them to take him down but he was able to do his share of damage before succumbing.

A few of them held him down while the others took turns kicking and punching. A fist slammed into his mouth splitting open his swollen lips. A sickening crack echoed through his head as he felt his teeth break.

Though he could barely see, his vision tunneled, focused on the gun one of his assailants now held.

So this was it. This was how it would end.

He amused himself with the thought that if there was a hell he might recognize someone there but the concept was absurd. He knew for certain that the afterlife was just an elaborate fabrication for simple minds. He had been born brilliant. His intelligence was superb–far superior to most of God’s creatures. There he was again thinking about God. It made him want to laugh out loud but he could only manage a gurgle as the blood rattled in his throat.

In the distance he heard the wailing of sirens and by the flurry of activity around him he knew the sounds were real. The cops were closing in. He couldn’t distinguish most of the words his attackers were shouting as they scattered, but two of them were clear.

Finish him!

The designated shooter seemed to be firing from a distance. It was an ineffectual execution at best. Although he didn’t feel any pain, he knew from the jolt of the impact that he had taken a bullet to the shoulder and another to his thigh. A quick kill shot to the head or chest would’ve been more effective and worth the extra effort. Obviously the gunman was lazy, with an unsteady hand and poor aim.

If he could’ve moved his tongue he would’ve clucked at him in distain. If a slower, more excruciating demise had been the gunman’s objective, a bullet to the gut would’ve been the method of choice. What a dumbass.

His bloody tongue lolled from his mouth as he gave his best version of a smile. Then he drifted into blackness.

***

He was in a hospital bed when he awoke. There were tubes, wires and the steady bleep of a monitor. He could barely see out of the slits of his swollen eyes. He put his free hand to his head, which was wrapped in gauze, and a splint was taped across his nose. He explored the rest of the damage. Grossly swollen face, stitches along his jawline. His tongue found the jagged edges of broken teeth. So far, nothing too serious. At least nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

His shoulder had been bandaged and stabilized with a sling. He tried to sit up but a stabbing pain in his chest prevented it. No big deal, broken ribs would heal. His thigh was heavily bound and he winced in pain as he adjusted his leg but at least it moved.

An obnoxiously pleasant nurse bustled into the room. She must’ve been watching his monitor from the nurses’ station.

You gave us quite a scare. You’re fortunate to be alive, you know, she said.

He didn’t respond. In a way he was also surprised. Then again, he shouldn’t be. He’d always had a notion that he was special. Invincible. Maybe there was more to that theory than he’d previously thought. The nurse broke into his musings. What was she saying?

Can you tell me your name?

He was silent. The less said the better.

Do you remember what happened?

Of course he remembered. He always remembered. He recalled virtually everything in his life. He could recite the pages from a dictionary.

He strained to read the nametag on her uniform. Nancy. She wouldn’t expect him to speak with his face swollen beyond recognition. Not yet, anyway.

Nancy patted his hand. That’s okay. We’ve just been calling you John. It’ll all come back to you. She smiled sweetly at him.

In spite of his wounds Nancy could tell he was strong and fit, maybe even handsome once, and tall–very tall. They’d had to find a bed without a foot rail to accommodate him and even then his feet stretched over the end.

The doctor will be in again to check on you soon. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for three days. He’ll be glad to see you’re more alert now. I’ll get you some water and bring you something to eat. You’re probably starving. Do you like Jell-O?

He closed his slits and turned his throbbing head to the side.

Before long Nancy was back, bearing a tray with a cup of broth, apple juice, and a dish of quivering green Jell-O. She chattered on incessantly about building his strength and taking things a step at a time.

You didn’t have any identification when they brought you in. We’d be happy to call someone for you.

He didn’t respond.

Well now, let’s not worry about that just yet. You just focus on getting better. If you need anything at all, just push this button. We’re here to help. Oh, and the police have been here a few times to talk to you. They want us to give them a call as soon as you’re able to speak to them. Standard procedure with gunshot wounds, you know. Hopefully you’ll be able to recall something helpful.

Nancy kept babbling as she went about her checklist, taking his temperature, blood pressure, adjusting the meds in his IV and emptying the catheter bag. She wrote something in his chart and beamed as she looked up.

"Well, John, "She said with a wink, I think you’re doing very well! I bet you’re wondering what all you’re being treated for?

She wasn’t expecting an answer and gave him the rundown, ticking off each injury on her fingers.

Let’s see. You have a concussion, a broken nose, a few broken ribs, some lacerations and of course, the two bullet wounds. A simple flesh wound in your shoulder, and a more serious one in your thigh. You have a lot of bruising both on the inside and out. All in all, I’d say you’re one lucky guy.

That’s me. Story of my life. I’m one lucky guy.

Some of the nurses overheard the police say this was gang related. You certainly don’t look like a gang member. No tattoos…

She blushed a little and he remembered that all he had on was a flimsy hospital gown.

"… nice haircut–well you had a nice haircut. We had to do a little trimming. She laughed, sounding like an overgrown chipmunk and continued her harangue. Your clothes were a complete disaster. You’ll have to find something else to wear home. Hopefully someone in your family will bring you something. And your shoes… well, they look expensive. Not like you’d expect from a gang member. We’re all guessing you were the victim of a robbery. The nurses, I mean."

Does this woman ever shut up?

She was the stereotypical busybody who meddled in everyone’s business, gossip being her drug of choice. Still, he had to admit that the information she was providing was helpful.

I hear the police are really cracking down on those gangs, and I say it’s about time. Hopefully you’ll be able to identify your attackers. I say they should lock the lot of ‘em up and throw away the key.

When Nancy finally left him in peace he took a mental inventory of his options. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to the police. For all intents and purposes he was a dead man and he intended to keep it that way. Of course, his car had long since been chopped so he didn’t have a vehicle. He wouldn’t be able to drive anyway. He didn’t have a phone or any money, and his credit cards were stolen so nobody could track him there. His priority was getting out of here and going as far away as possible.

But how? There wasn’t a soul he could trust.

Then he thought of Jill.

Jill was a complicated chapter in his life but he had been briefly married to her daughter, Caren. After only a few months Caren disappeared. Simply vanished.

The only clue to her whereabouts was the text she’d sent to her mother. Don’t bother to look for me, you won’t find me. I’ll be in touch when I’m ready.

It had been devastating to both him and Jill. For months, they commiserated together trying to make sense of Caren’s decision, which came out of nowhere.

Jill Jackovich lived about four hundred fifty miles south of this crazy place. It would be the perfect place for a fresh start. That’s if he could convince Jill to drive up here and sneak him out of the hospital. He’d tell her that his life depended on it, and that was a hundred percent true. If anyone found out he were alive, it would only take hours to fix the error. The person who hired those inept fools to take him out wouldn’t make a second mistake.

Jill might be able to slip into his apartment and retrieve a few of his things without raising suspicion. It would be a shame to lose his green metal locker and the duffle bags with hidden compartments. Clearly, she was his only hope.

He waited until he was certain he wouldn’t be interrupted by hospital personnel and then reached for the room phone. His cell phone had been smashed to bits during the assault. Another stupid blunder on their part. There was valuable information they could’ve gleaned from it if they’d had half a brain.

He remembered Jill’s phone number. Unfortunately, it went straight to voicemail.

Jill here. You know what to do… then a beep.

He didn’t have to pretend to be in pain. His words were genuinely slurred and his voice was so hoarse he could barely speak, but he tried to be polite.

Hey, Jill, it’s Vince. Long time no see. Heard anything from Caren? Man, I really miss you both. Um, the reason I’m calling is because, well, you’re the only one I have left to turn to. I’m in a life-or-death situation. I won’t be able to call you back, nor can you reach me, so I’m just gonna hope you get this message and that you’ll find it in your heart to help me. Please, Jill. I know it will take you five or six hours to get here but this is what I’m asking you to do–no, begging you to do…

Vince was short of breath, barely able to give her instructions but that added to the authenticity of his plight. He hung up and closed his eyes. Now all he could do was wait. With any luck he’d be out of there by morning.

Chapter One

Axel

Axel, put down that stupid phone and take the garbage out to the bin like I asked.

Axel Johnston’s mother was stirring something in a saucepan. She wiped her hands on her apron and brushed back a strand of hair that had escaped from her long graying ponytail. She pointed at two bulging trash bags by the door and turned back to the stove.

Groaning, Axel set his phone on the counter, grabbed a bag in each hand and slammed the screen door behind him. I’m seriously the only one who has to do anything around here. Axel do this, Axel do that. Axel, Axel, Axel… Ava doesn’t do squat.

It seemed that his sister, Ava, was always at soccer or doing homework. When she was home, she was pretty much worthless. Nobody could have that much homework, could they? He didn’t remember even doing homework.

He heard a crunch on the gravel driveway and turned. Ava pulled her car into the space between Axel’s Harley Davidson and the trash bin.

Speak of the devil. Axel huffed under his breath.

You say something, asshole? Ava asked, smiling sweetly.

She always did that. She was like a poisonous flower–beautiful but deadly if you got close enough to breath her in.

"I said here comes the devil himself, or in your case, herself. What are you doing home? Did you forget your pitchfork?"

Again, that smile. Nope, my tiara.

Satan’s Princess.

Not a bad comeback, but Ava ignored it and pushed into the house carrying her backpack. Ava’s black poodle greeted her and she set down her load to pick him up.

Axel lifted the lid and tossed the trash bags into the bin. "It’s asshole to you, your majesty," he muttered.

He knew it wasn’t the cleverest response and was glad she didn’t hear it. It seemed that everything came easy to Ava. Unlike him, she was outgoing and smart. It was hard to be the dumb brother between two intelligent sisters. Amanda, Axel, and Ava. All A’s. Just like on his sisters’ report cards. His parents should’ve named him something that started with a D, as in dumbass.

His older sister, Amanda, had graduated cum laude from university while pregnant with twins. Everyone thought she was amazing–knew she was amazing.

Axel had graduated as well, but from community college and with an associate degree. Even that was by the skin of his teeth, having to repeat several classes. His family acted like his graduating was a huge deal, probably because they hadn’t expected him to succeed. He was much smarter than they gave him credit for.

Ava was an over-achiever who was in the process of filling out college applications. She’d likely wind up with a full scholarship at some snooty out-of-state university next fall.

Ava leaned out the door holding his phone. She waggled it back and forth. Your phone’s ringing, asshole. Want me to get it?

Axel hurried in and snatched it from her. Don’t let Mom hear you swear.

Ava rolled her brown eyes. Like she’d care. She looked behind her anyway then lowered her voice and whispered, You know she named you Asshole for a reason.

Axel ignored her and checked the caller ID. Vince! What’s up?

His mother turned with a frown. She didn’t like Vince and hadn’t from the first moment she’d met him. It was unreasonable. She didn’t even give Vince a chance. She wanted Axel to hang out with only active members of their church. Stuff like that was important to her.

Axel didn’t think Vince was keen on any kind of religion but to please his mother he invited Vince to come to the church activities held for single adults between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five. Surprisingly, Vince was willing, and had even attended church with his family a few times. But his mother hadn’t yet bought into it.

Axel caught his mother’s glare and turned his back to her.

Hey Bro, you didn’t answer my text. Tell me about this church thing tonight, Vince said.

It’s just a bunch of people meeting at the park bowery, a barbecue or something.

Axel could still feel his mother’s eyes on him but knew she wouldn’t object when he told her he was taking Vince to a church activity. Always the missionary, she wouldn’t argue if someone could be turned to God. She was such a hypocrite.

***

Who’s gonna be there? Vince asked.

Of course Conner and Rob. And probably most of the same people from the last activity, Axel said.

Emma?

I’m guessing.

Vince had his eye on Emma, who was the prettiest girl at church. The pretty girls were always attracted to Vince–the ugly ones too, for that matter. He could probably have any girl he wanted. Vince was someone who got noticed and not just because he was six-foot eight. His perfect blonde hair and blue eyes always caught people’s attention. Even the prominent scar on his jawline was striking. But it was more than that. The guy was crazy confidant. He could talk intelligently with anyone about any subject. Everyone liked him, except Axel’s mother. Vince had gotten to know more people in the year he’d lived here than Axel had known his whole life. Axel had a lot of acquaintances but no close friends. He, Conner and Rob had been best friends for years. They were his only real friends up until now. Since Vince entered the picture everything was beginning to change.

***

Axel’s mother had returned to her cooking but he wasn’t fooled. He knew she was eavesdropping even if her back was turned. This was irritating. His life was none of her business. She always seemed to act as if he wasn’t normal. Yeah, he’d been held back a year in fifth grade, so what? He wasn’t stupid. Now he had an associate degree and a full-time job at the BLM. Obviously he was more capable than she thought. It was crazy that she still babied him as a twenty-eight-year-old man. A man who was still living at home. He would have to do something about that soon.

Bet Olivia will be there, Vince teased.

Maybe.

She’s into you, Bro. It’s so obvious.

The thought of Olivia made him feel strange. She had actually flirted with him once, or at least he thought she had. He’d been on some dates but never had a real girlfriend. The only girl Axel was comfortable with was Jenna from work and he didn’t consider her an actual girl-girl. He’d always had trouble talking to girls. But that was before he met a guy who could walk up to any group of people and join in without any hesitation. He was certain some of Vince’s charm had rubbed off on him.

Vince’s hair was blonde but he told Axel that his dark hair and rugged good looks turned girls on. Axel hadn’t thought of himself that way but he liked the sound of it. Wouldn’t his mother be shocked to know that Vince was a good influence on him? Vince gave him confidence. The more he hung out with Vince the better he felt.

Wanna pick me up? Vince asked.

Uh… I’m gonna be a little late. Why don’t you just go with Conner and Rob and I’ll meet you there?

Axel felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want to pick up Vince on his Harley for a church social. Axel was at least a foot shorter than Vince. Vince would insist on driving and it wasn’t cool to ride on the back of his own bike.

Yeah, okay. I’ll probably see you there, Vince said.

Axel hung up and hustled to his room to change, avoiding his mother’s scorching look. Why does she always have to be in my face? He selected a button-down shirt from the closet and held it up. His mother had freshly ironed it. He wadded it into a ball and tossed it into the hamper. If she wanted to dote on him, he’d give her even more opportunity.

***

Someone knocked on his door.

Don’t wanna hear it, Mom, he hollered. Why don’t you just stay out of my business for once in your life?

Ava stuck her head in and grinned her poisonous grin. Her curly black poodle pushed his way in and sniffed Axel’s shoe.

Sure thing, sweetie pie. I’ll stay out of your business. Anything else you want, my precious little cupcake?

"I prefer asshole, Axel said. What do you want?"

I was just wondering how Vince is?

The question made Axel uneasy. You know he could be your grandfather.

I like mature men. Ava said. They’re so....

Old? Axel finished for her.

"I was going to say hot."

You should stick to the kindergarten boys, he said.

Whatever. I’ll be a sorority girl next year. Will you just tell him hi from me?

I don’t think so. He was dead serious now, strangely protective. Shut the door on your way out your highness and take this stupid mutt with you."

C’mon, Pogo. Don’t listen to him! You’re not a mutt, are you baby? You’re my precious little poodle-boy, Ava cooed, slamming the door behind her.

Axel stared at the door and frowned. Even if Ava was joking he didn’t like how she sounded when she mimicked their mother. Precious little cupcake. Poodle-boy was probably close to how his mother thought of him. Pathetic. He had to get out of here. Get his own place, prove he was a man. The decision was long past due. Nobody could argue with that, except maybe his mother.

His job might be enough to manage the cost of rent but minimum wage wouldn’t get him much further. Maybe Vince would help him find something he could afford. Vince sub-let a room in his condo, but it was currently rented by a girl who had let her boyfriend move in. An arrangement like that would be awesome. Vince didn’t own the condo outright. It belonged to his ex-mother-in-law, Jill Jackovich. He couldn’t believe Vince’s luck. Not many ex-mother-in-law’s would be so generous.

Jill had given Vince the condo, or at least let him use it. But like Vince said, it would’ve taken someone with a stone-cold heart to turn him away after the horrible misfortune that nearly cost him his life. It had been a simple and senseless case of mistaken identity. He was kidnapped from a parking lot by a dozen gang members and beaten senseless. Then they shot him five times and left him for dead. It was nothing short of a miracle from God that he survived those massive injuries. He gave a little of the credit to Jill. She’d rescued him and nursed him back to health. Then she provided him with a condo and offered to let him drive that sweet truck. Every so often he saw Vince give Jill a wad of cash so he knew Vince wasn’t the moocher that Axel’s mother accused him of being.

Vince told him that after coming so close to death and after his astonishing recovery, he wondered if there weren’t something more to life. And that’s where Axel came in.

***

One evening, Vince drove by the church and saw some activity. He stuck his head in to see that a social for single adults was going on. Vince mingled with the group and let everyone know he was interested in exploring religion. He told people about his near-death experience and they were fascinated. Many of them were sincere in their desire to help him find his way.

Axel was especially flattered when Vince took a special interest in him and he invited Vince to hang out with he and his friends, Rob and Conner.

The rest was history. Axel’s life would never be the same.

***

Rob

Vince pulled to the curb and honked. When Rob didn’t come out immediately, Vince leaned on the horn.

Rob dashed out to the truck. Cut it out, man. My roommate’s sleeping.

Poor baby, Vince said. Where’s Conner? Thought he was gonna be here.

He’s meeting us there. He’s coming straight from work.

Alrighty then. Vince’s tires screeched as they skidded away, leaving a patch of rubber on the pavement.

Rob shook his head.

What? Vince asked innocently.

Nothing.

"You worried about your widdle woommate?"

Yeah, and my neighbors, dude. Rob knew it was futile to argue even as he spoke. Never mind.

Is there a problem? Vince said, turning to look at Rob.

Nope. Just forget it.

Vince turned back to the road just as a red Camry veered in front of them. It missed them by inches. Vince slammed on the brakes, bellowing a string of cuss words. The Camry didn’t even slow but continued on down the road completely oblivious. Vince turned the car around and sped up. Enraged, he pulled to the side of the Camry and honked repeatedly.

Let it go, man. Rob said.

Vince ignored him. The Camry accelerated and so did Vince. He followed bumper to bumper as the Camry tried to lose him by speeding and then by turning corners.

Rob couldn’t hide his dismay. Vince was a maniac, completely bonkers. Usually Vince was cool and in control something had set him off and Rob couldn’t imagine what–people often carelessly pulled in front of others. It was clear Vince wasn’t going to let it go. This wasn’t going to end well.

Rob pleaded. Seriously, dude, just forget it. It’s not worth it.

But Vince was a man on a mission. Rob wished he’d had the nerve to decline Vince’s offer to drive to the barbecue. He’d already begun to question Vince’s sincerity to find religion. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something wasn’t right. He felt somehow they were being used. But to what end? Certainly not to meet girls. Vince could get plenty of girls on his own, and it wasn’t out of loneliness. He made friends everywhere he went. He had a nice condo, an awesome truck and ten times more money than any of them. If he weren’t serious about religion, why would he bother with them?

Rob didn’t know much about Vince’s past, other than his near-death experience, which sounded a bit overblown. Vince had no family to speak of and maybe he was searching for more. Peace, maybe. If that were true Rob couldn’t slam the door of friendship in his face. But this was really weird. And scary. Rob couldn’t help anyone if he was killed in a car accident.

***

When the Camry finally accepted the fact that the black truck wouldn’t be deterred, it pulled over. Vince lurched in front of him and threw his truck into park. Spewing profanity, he bolted to the driver’s side and ordered the man to get out. But when the man in the Camry saw the enormous, infuriated figure at his door he thought better of his decision to stop. No way was he getting out! He shoved the gearshift into reverse and backed up, spraying dirt and rocks from the shoulder of the road. He made a U-turn and sped off. Vince ran back to his truck and raced after his new enemy number one.

Seriously, dude! Slow down! Rob shouted.

Vince ignored him. Twenty minutes later, the Camry lost them and Vince’s demeanor settled.

Rob put a hand to his chest and let out his breath.

Vince turned to him with a grin. Aww… were you scared?

Yeah, I was scared. Are you freakin’ crazy?

Don’t worry, Bro, I’m harmless. Gentle as a kitten.

More like a lion, Rob muttered and Vince grinned at the compliment.

***

When they reached the barbecue Vince bounded from the truck all friendly and smiles. Rob watched as both the girls and guys gravitated to him.

Smooth as silk. It occurred to Rob that Vince often purred like the kitten he professed to be. He didn’t know exactly what Vince was, but he was no kitten.

Rob felt even more uncomfortable when he saw Axel join Vince’s group. Axel was no match for the likes of Vince.

Axel noticed Rob and waved him over. Reluctantly he headed towards them, trying to shake off Vince’s road rage. Maybe he was overreacting.

Rob pasted on a smile and headed toward the cluster of friends.

Chapter Two

Vince

Things are definitely looking up for Axel Vince thought. It was about time he got his own place, even if it was only a room in his sister’s basement.

Amanda had suggested the arrangement, insisting it would be a win/win for both Axel and her and her husband. She and Jack would get help with the mortgage and an occasional babysitter for their twins, and Axel would get out from under his mother’s thumb.

***

Vince loaded the last of Axel’s things into the back of his truck and strapped them down with bungee cords. Then he leaned against the tailgate and waited for Axel to say his goodbyes. He knew enough to avoid Axel’s first-class bitch of a mother. What was her deal anyway? Her precious baby boy was only moving across town, not the continent. She treated him as if he was twelve. It was true that Axel was immature for a twenty-eight-year-old. That was one of the things that drew Vince to him. But he was far from stupid. Just easily manipulated.

Vince didn’t usually keep anyone close for long. If he wanted someone around or gone–they were. But he found Axel’s zealously religious family intriguing and thought it might be entertaining to play with them for a while. A family like theirs was not something he’d had much experience with.

His parents had taught him a few things, but nothing that resembled loyalty or love, and certainly not religion. Vince watched how tight Axel, his over-bearing mother, and two sisters behaved and was curious–not jealous. Families and especially mothers were overrated. But this family amused him. It might be fun to mentor a little brother for a while and