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This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman’s biography.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 6 – Carolina Blue, Red Menace

‘Delta is ready when you are.’ was an old airline commercial, and it was true: my flight took off from City Airport early that afternoon, Wednesday, February 21st.

There is an old adage in the American South, that when we die and go to Heaven, we have to change planes in Atlanta. And I think that’s true. My flight to Charlotte was not direct, but landed at the world’s busiest airport, and I had to walk swiftly between concourses to get to my new boarding. Fortunately, the Atlanta Airport people have their heads on straight and their shit together, and it was not a difficult task.

Getting to Charlotte, I was met at the Charlotte Douglas International Airport by Deputy Strait, who looked faintly odd in civilian clothes, I thought.

“So what’s going on?” I asked after getting my luggage, as we headed to the parking lot.

“One of my cousins works for the Police up in Mooresville, North Carolina.” said Strait. “That town is near Lake Norman, which is a really huge lake with country clubs and marinas, stuff like that. After those girls were killed up at Winston-Salem, the whole State went on alert for this Red Brooke guy. My cousin got word that Brooke might be in the Statesville area, which is north of the lake.”

“So out of curiosity,” I said, “why call me?”

“Well, Commander,” Strait said, somewhat sheepishly, “I was telling all my family about you and Captain Ross and Captain Croyle, and all the things that had gone on and the all the cases you’d solved, and my cousin said it’d be nice if you could look into this stuff… he doesn’t think the FBI can handle it. We looked up this Red Brooke guy, and he’s bad news… martial arts expert. I figure Captain Ross or you would be better at taking on this guy than the FBI guys I’ve seen.”

“You’re probably right.” I said. Strait got us onto the road, and we traveled north on Interstate-77. It was not too long before we got to Mooresville, and checked in with the Police there. After greetings and introductions, they brought me up to speed.

“This Red Brooke guy really has everyone on edge around here.” said Detective Alison Ames, a youngish but competent-looking woman. “The FBI Agents are fighting among themselves about it.”

“FBI Agents?” I asked. Detective Ames pointed behind her. Coming in the door were four FBI Special Agents. Two of them I did not know. Two I did: Julius Jefferson, and Martin Nash…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Who the hell is this guy?” asked one of the FBI Agents. He was almost as tall as me, fit and muscular, a white man with light brown hair.

“He’s a Consultant with our team.” said Julius Jefferson, who was no slouch of a tall, fit, well-built man himself. Jefferson was black and his head was bald, perhaps by choice.

“Is this Troy?” the brown haired man said menacingly. I stood up to face the threat.

“And you are?” I asked.

“This is Special Agent Peter Page.” said Martin Nash. “He’s with our BAU out of Quantico.” The BAU was the ‘Behavioral Analysis Unit’ of the FBI that worked on cases that involved the psychology of the perp.

“And you have no place here, Troy.” snarled Page.

“Yes he does.” said Julius Jefferson, facing up to Page. “Like I said, he’s a Consultant with our team, and I welcome his presence here. We need all the help we can get with Brooke.”

“We can get Brooke ourselves.” snarled Page. “And we don’t need the help of this traitor.”

“Call me that again,” I said, squaring up to Page, “and you won’t live to see the sun rise.”

“See what I mean?” Page said. “This guy assaulted an FBI Agent, Dana Fox, and now he’s threatening me.”

“And rightly so.” said Jefferson. “Your accusation is false, and unwarranted.”

“Dana Fox…” I said, “that’s the guy who confessed to ordering the murder of a family, including a child. And you’re coming to his defense?” My words struck Page hard, and only increased the fury in his eyes. I just stared right back at him, hoping he’d try to escalate the situation.

“Don,” said Martin Nash, “why don’t you come with me and Julius, and we’ll fill you in on what’s going on. Page, Conrad, we’ll talk in the morning.” With that, Nash all but pushed me out of the Police Headquarters, Jefferson and Strait following.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As we had dinner at a Longhorn’s Steakhouse in the area, we discussed the situation.

“That pendik escort Page guy and I haven’t gotten along since Day One.” said Jefferson. “He’s always throwing his weight around, and I think he’s a racist, too. And you know me well enough, Don, to know that I don’t throw the race card around lightly.”

“I know you don’t,” I said, “and I agree with you that Page doesn’t like you because you’re black. I could see that in the way he looked at you when y’all were butting heads. And he thinks he’s in charge, but he hasn’t done diddly squat to bring Red Brooke down.”

“No, he hasn’t.” said Nash. “He was the lead Field Agent on the case, but he’s botched it so badly that the Brass brought Jack’s team in, which is why we’re here.”

“And I think it’s clear now that he’s a Dana Fox disciple.” I said. “He about choked on his own tongue when I brought it up that Fox confessed to his crimes.”

“Yes,” said Martin Nash, “and I’ve relayed that to Muscone, who is officially and technically in charge of the Red Brooke pursuit. Watch your back around Page, Commander; he just might try to put a bullet in you. And that brings up the ‘elephant in the room’ question, Commander… why are you here?”

“I came across the Brooke case while doing some other research,” I said, using a clever mix of truth and fiction to avoid letting the FBI Agents know the real reason, “and as I looked into it, I thought I might could be of help to Muscone and your team. Then, by sheer coincidence, I got the call from Deputy Strait here, and I came on out.”

“I’ll tell you this, guys,” I said, letting my voice get quieter and leaning forward to connote seriousness, “there is something big and ugly about this Brooke situation. We need to capture him here and now, and nip this thing in the bud. People like Page are part of the problem if they won’t be part of the solution, and lives are at stake.”

“Yeah, we get that.” said Nash. “He’s already killed six people since escaping prison.”

“Any pattern to that?” I asked. “Any connection between the victims?”

“The BAU people say they haven’t found any connections or patterns.” said Nash. “And to be honest, I haven’t really looked myself.”

“I tried looking this weekend.” I said. “But I’ve had trouble getting the data on the victims, including the names.”

“I’ll text you the names now.” said Jefferson. A moment later, my iPhone chimed as the data came in.”

“By the way,” I asked, “Special Agent Conrad, what’s he like?”

“He’s a lot quieter than Page.” said Nash. “One of the ‘follower’ types, as you would call them, Commander.”

“He’s not with the BAU.” said Jefferson. “He’s from the Atlanta field office. I’m wondering if he’s the mole for the Washington brass.”

“Could well be.” I said.

After dinner, we decided to go to a local bar. Not to drink, as we all had colas, but to be somewhere for the evening. As we talked, we were joined by Conrad and, to my pleasant surprise, Special Agent Lindy Linares.

“Where’s Page?” Nash asked Conrad.

“Sulking in his room.” said Conrad, who did not speak with a southern accent. He was average height, like Nash, medium build, but he had brown hair as opposed to Nash’s almost black hair, and Conrad was maybe in his upper 30s. My initial impression of him was competence, but like Nash said, he looked like he might be the ‘follower’ type, too. “I would imagine he’s calling his superiors at Quantico or in Washington, and telling them the Iron Crowbar is here.”

“Well, I for one am glad Don is here.” said Lindy, flirtatiously. She was sitting next to me. Julius grinned, knowing that something was gonna happen tonight. Nash looked straight-laced, not showing any emotion. Conrad was studying me, though trying not to show that he was.

“Where are you from, Mr. Conrad?” I asked.

“Call me James.” said Conrad. “I’m originally from Columbus, Ohio. I’ve been in Atlanta the last three years, but haven’t figured out the accent yet.”

“How long have you been in the FBI?” I asked.

“Joined straight out of college.” said Conrad. “The Ohio State University, then Quantico. I should be up for Supervisory Agent soon.” I nodded. He was revealing more in what he wasn’t saying than in what he was saying.

“What about you, Don?” he asked. “I’ve heard lots of rumors and innuendo about you. How did you get into the Police, and become an FBI Consultant?”

“Army Reserve coming out of School. Military Police.” I replied. “I worked in a Crime Lab, then started my own businesses. Then a series of events led me to my current Town, and they offered me a Detective job. I met Jack Muscone, and we have a shared likeness for cheeseburgers. And as they say, ‘the rest is history’. It’s worked out pretty well.” Nash almost grinned at the ‘cheeseburgers’ comment.

“Pretty well!” exclaimed Lindy. “That’s the understatement of the year.” I gently squeezed Lindy’s thigh under the table. She smiled; she liked it.

After talking about suadiye escort innocuous stuff, Deputy Strait said he had to get back to his family. He had my luggage in his car, so he, Lindy and I went out and transferred it to her car.

“Where are you staying, Don?” Lindy asked after Strait pulled out and left.

“Don’t know yet.” I said. “I was just going to go find a place, where no one would know where I am.”

“Why don’t you stay with me in my room tonight?” Lindy offered. You better believe I accepted.

Part 7 – Sex, Slender, and Sleuthing

“You’ve been working out.” I said as I undressed Lindy, noticing that she looked more toned and in-shape than the last time I’d seen her naked body. “You look good.”

“Thank you.” she said as she opened my pants and began playing with my cock. “I have been working out with Sandra since she had her baby. And we got word that the EAD wanted us to get in better shape.”

“Works for me.” I said as we climbed onto the bed. I began playing with Lindy’s big breasts as our mouths met in a hungry kiss. My hand slid down to her pubic bush of curly black hair, which framed her bright pink pussy perfectly. As our tongues twined, my fingers explored her labes and her wet cunthole. Her hand slid down to my cock and balls, and she was slowly jacking my turgid meat into raging hardness.

“Lie back.” Lindy said. “I’ve been dreaming of sucking this huge cock for hours.” I did not resist as Lindy pushed me onto my back and slid her body over mine, her back towards me. I felt her lips kiss the swollen head of my cock, then she slid my taut, throbbing shaft into her warm, wet mouth.

“Oh, that is good.” I whispered, relaxing as Lindy’s head began bobbing over my head as she fellated me, the frizzy black curls of her hair being all I could see… but not all that I was feeling! She was sucking me pretty hotly, and I wondered if she’d been ‘practicing’ a lot lately.

I let my hand slide down her back to her asscheeks, which would always be fleshy but were more toned now, and looking like the mouthwatering globes that I wanted to feel smacking into my groin as I fucked her.

But I waited patiently. Lindy was sucking my cock enthusiastically, and her mewls and moans told me she was really enjoying herself. I idly wondered where she was getting sex from when she wasn’t with me; surely this hot woman was not letting herself go without cock from time to time…

Long moments later, I felt my nuts tighten. “Okay, baby,” I said, “how do you want it?”

“From behind, like always.” Lindy replied. In fact, Lindy loved getting fucked in the ass, but that was not going to happen tonight. Instead, she maneuvered her hot body to the end of the bed. I stood on the floor behind her and fit my cockhead to her swollen labes. then I pushed in, and nearly seven and a half inches of thick, iron-hard cock slid into her until I was balls-deep, and those magnificent asscheeks were pressed into my groin and abs.

“Oh, yeah, that’s good.” I groaned as Lindy moaned loudly. I gripped her hips where they flared out from her waist, and began pulling her body back to me as I thrust forward, burying my meat into the hot wet depths of her sopping wet womanhood.


The loud smacks of my groin pounding Lindy’s ass as I relentlessly fucked her echoed through the room. She had lowered her head and shoulders to the bed, just letting me fuck her hard and deep, enjoying being taken like the bitch in heat she currently was. And I took her, driving into her again and again and again…

“Oh yeah, that’s it, fuck me!” Lindy called out as we rutted hotly. “Yeah, just like that, baby, fuck me! God, you are so fucking hard! I love getting fucked by a hard cock like yours! Give it to me, Don! Give it to me!”

I fucked into Lindy harder, feeling my nut rise. “Gonna come, baby!” I said hoarsely, warning her. “Gonna come in your hot wet pussy, baby!”

“Yeah, give it to me!” Lindy gasped. “Fill me up with your sperm!” The edges of my vision grew fuzzy as I felt the painful ecstasy overtaking my loins. Almost before I realized it, I was firing spurt after spurt of my potent, virile semen deep into Lindy clutching cunt. Finally, with a couple of deep thrusts, I pushed Lindy forward until she was lying on her belly on the bed, with me on top of her, kissing her shoulders and neck, then her mouth as she turned to look back at me…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I woke up. Lindy was asleep next to me. We’d made love again, in the missionary position, more slowly, more deeply, more lovingly. Then we got into a ‘spoon’ position on our sides, Lindy’s ass again pressed into me as I pumped her from the rear. Lindy raised her upper leg and slid her shapely foot along my thigh, which aroused me. Our deep fucking was matched by our deep kisses as Lindy enjoyed a couple of orgasms, and I came again inside her.

Now, as I looked around, everything was drained of color. Only tuzla escort a grayish light was coming through the window. I got up and went to the window and looked out. I could see the Interstate in the distance, other buildings, but all in black-and-white. Then I looked down into the parking lot. And I saw him. Darkest suit and tie. Featureless head. It was the Slender Man.

He was looking straight forward, as if at something on the ground floor. Then it seemed as if he moved his featureless head and looked up… straight at me. I felt a cold chill run through me. I willed myself not to feel fear. Then what seemed to be a flash of lightning over the horizon caught my attention, distracting me. When I looked back down, the Slender Man was gone.

I blinked a few times. Everything was now in color. I could see the red taillights on the Interstate, the colors of the lights of the hotels. Shaken, I turned and went back to the bed and got in. Lindy turned and snuggled into me. I tried to think about what I had just seen, but fell asl——-

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

5:00am, local time, Thursday, February 22d. I was sitting at the desk in Lindy’s room at the hotel, working on my computer. I’d set up my Police iPhone as a personal hot spot, so it was reasonably secure.

“Whatcha doing?” asked Lindy as she woke up and sat up in bed.

“Just looking up some stuff.” I said. I barely noticed as Lindy went to the bathroom, then came out and got dressed, as I was fully dressed myself. She came up to the desk.

“Find anything?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around my neck and upper chest, and kissed my neck… and of course looked at what I had going on on my computer.

“I’ve been researching Brooke’s victims.” I said. “I tried doing that at home, through my FBI account, but everything seemed to be blocked off. Now I’ve got some names, and I’m working around by getting local police reports. And I’m getting a bit more information now.”

“Any patterns?” asked Lindy. “The BAU says they can’t find any.”

“Is that the BAU saying that, or Peter Page?” I asked. Lindy didn’t answer, but I think she got the point. “Anyway,” I continued, “there may be some secondary connections. I’m checking families of the victims as well as the victims themselves. If you remember the George Aurus case, he sometimes attacked people by going after their families.”

“That’s a good point.” Lindy said.

“Take those two co-eds in Winston-Salem.” I said. “Two college girls, and from what I gather in the local police report, they were abducted together, raped and murdered together, and their bodies found together. One of them was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The other girl, Trish Carlyle, a.k.a. ‘Kitty’, was the daughter of a woman who was a Federal Marshal.”

“So I looked at the Virginia victims and their families.” I said. “One young man, student at Georgetown but living in Virginia with his parents… and his mother was a Federal Marshal up until a couple of years ago. Worked in their office in D.C. And there’s one other victim, in Pennsylvania, a woman who herself worked for the Federal Marshals. Starting to see a… pattern… there…”

“Awesome job.” said Lindy. “Are you going to tell Martin, or do you want me to?”

“I’ll tell him, but not where Peter Page can hear it.” I admonished. “I’ll tell Martin and let him disseminate the information as he sees fit. Oh, one more thing…”

I pulled up a file. “This is the Federal Marshal who works with our Sheriffs in my Town.” I said. “Helps with prisoner transfers to the Courthouse complex and stuff like that. His file readily comes up. Here’s another person that works with the TCPD, same general things. His file also comes right up.”

“Now,” I continued, “watch what happens when we put in these names I’ve learned tonight.” I put one up, and a screen came up that said ‘Restricted Access: Contact your Field Office Director for permission to access this information.’ It came up like that for all the names.

“Wow.” said Lindy. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, that someone not only has seen this pattern,” I said, “they’re actively preventing anyone else from accessing these people’s information. And it takes high-up level people to restrict access like that. Like the Washington home office of the FBI kind of high-up level…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 8:00am, Lindy and I joined Martin and Julius at a local diner for breakfast. Page and Conrad were there, but sitting at a booth nearby. Page glared at me as we came in, and I stared right back at him. I was wearing all black, including my black-‘ish’ trenchcoat which housed my crowbar in an inner pocket. (In case your wondering, it sits off my left leg while I’m sitting down; and yes, it can be damned inconvenient at times). My SBI Reserve Inspector badge was on my belt, and I had my FBI Consultant badge, as well.

I had admonished Lindy to not say anything about what I’d found on the computers, so she wasn’t too surprised when I didn’t say anything yet. Instead I asked Martin if he’d heard anything new.

“No.” said Martin. “I told the EAD you were here, and he said he wasn’t totally surprised to hear that. He says we can talk to you and work with you, but asks that you stay back and let the FBI handle Brooke… it’s something of a ‘testosterone’ thing.”

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