Chapter 1

I've been watching the bitch since I got out of prison. What the hell. I don't have anything else to do. She destroyed my life. Now she's my hobby.

She may or may not have been raped fourteen years ago. Whether she was or not I sure as hell didn'

t rape her. The first I knew of it was when the cops came to my office and led me away in handcuffs. She reported the crime to the police. She positively and unequivocally identified me as the rapist, even identifying me by name.

I knew of her. After more hours than I can count of brutal questioning, they finally told me why I was under arrest. I recognized her name the moment I heard it. The local news had been all about her for days. She turned up missing and half the town went out looking for her.

When she finally wandered into the police station there were signs of trauma. She had some bruises and cuts and scratches here and there. There were ligature marks on her wrists and ankles when they examined her at the hospital.

She was sixteen at the time. She looked so young and innocent. She was cute and seemed so defenseless, so helpless. Everyone's heart went out to her. And she was lying her fucking ass off.

It was nearly a year from the time I was arrested until the delays ended and my trial started. I spent that entire time in jail because I was deemed too dangerous to be allowed to run loose, a perverted monster not to be inflicted on an unwary society.

Through an intermediary she offered to drop the charges against me just before the start of my trial. She would admit that she made a mistake when she identified me in exchange for a very large sum of money.

Because I was innocent I mistakenly trusted in our justice system and my expensive attorney. That little mistake cost me more than thirteen years of my life, as well as my successful business and all of my friends. I had already lost my fiancée. She called it off shortly after I was arrested.

At my trial that angelic little blonde bitch got up on the stand and while sobbing like her heart would break she testified in great and gory detail about how I beat her and raped her repeatedly and how it was miracle that she managed to escape with her life. She was, of course, certain that I was going to kill her when I was finished using her.

I guess I can't blame the jury for convicting me. Hell, by the time she finished testifying I was almost convinced that I did it!

They convicted me on all counts. And they had stacked those charges pretty high when they charged me. I was convicted of kidnapping and a dozen different rape charges, assault, and a dozen other things that were just saying the same things in a different way. They had a real party when it came to sentencing. I was sentenced to just under twenty-five years of hard time.

The little bitch smiled and winked at me when they led me away.

My lawyer assured me that I had numerous very good grounds for an appeal. I'm not sure how hard he tried, though. I think that during my trial he became convinced of my guilt.

The appeals process plodded on. Meanwhile, I was stuck trying to survive in a maximum security prison. I would have been safer going for a late night walk in Fallujah wearing an American flag.

I'm not much of a joiner. So I didn't join any of the gangs that pretty much ran the prison. It turns out that gang members are pretty sensitive. If you don't want to join them they get their feelings hurt. I spent quite a lot of time in the infirmary being treated for scrapes and bruises and the occasional broken rib before I beefed up and learned how to take care of myself.

All the pain and suffering aside, each time I ended up getting treated for getting my ass kicked pushed back any chance I had of ever getting paroled. I was written up for fighting every time it happened and I quickly got a reputation as a trouble maker.

It took a while but eventually I learned to handle myself. Once they started going to the infirmary instead of me they started to leave me alone. But it was like living your life in a minefield. You had to watch your step every moment. If you let your guard down for a second, if you didn't know where everyone around you was as all times, you could quickly end up dead or seriously wishing that you were. Those guys don't play games.

After fourteen months my worthless attorney did manage to accomplish two things for me. He got me transferred to a medium security prison. By comparison to where I'd been living since my conviction a medium security prison was like a tropical resort! And he was able to get my sentence reduced to fourteen and one half years.

If my prison time hadn't started out the way it did I might have been eligible for parole after eight years. But because of the fighting and the reputation as a troublemaker that I had to overcome in the beginning I wasn't eligible for parole until I had spent just over ten years in prison.

When I finally did come up for parole the first time it was denied. I was after all, a vicious criminal. They didn't want to turn me loose on an unsuspecting society.

I wasn't disappointed, though. It was pretty much understood that nobody gets out the first time, especially not us violent offenders. I didn't even try to convince them that I had found Jesus. There would have been no point. And it would have been a lie.

When I came up for parole again after serving eleven years I discussed it with a new attorney and decided that I didn't want to be paroled. With time off for good behavior and time served in pretrial confinement I would be released with no restrictions in just a little over a year as long as I stayed out of trouble.

That seemed to make more sense than to go out on parole and have some jaded, power drunk civil servant running my life for the next five years or more. I decided that when I got out I wanted out with no restriction.

You might think that I would have put up with anything to get out as soon as possible. But it wasn't just that I didn't want a parole officer telling me when and where I could drink and with whom. Or where I could and could not go. I had something to do when I got out. I didn't want anyone watching over my shoulder.

It wasn't so bad. I had a job I enjoyed in prison. I worked in the library. I've always liked books. I developed some good friends over the years. Most of the people in prison, despite their protestations to the contrary, are guilty. But if you're willing to overlook that, some of them are pretty nice guys. You might not want to leave your wallet lying around where they can find it. But you can still enjoy sitting around shooting the bull with them.

And anyway, I had no one and nothing waiting for me on the outside.

I was released from prison after serving a total of thirteen and one half years when you include the time I spent in jail awaiting trial for a crime that I didn't commit. And Amber Wright knew that I didn't commit it. The matter would not end here.

Not a single day has passed since my trial that I didn't close my eyes and see that bitch's face when they led me away after my trial. That sweet smile, the friendly, taunting wink, they were burned into my memory. They continued to mock me all through those long years in prison and they continue to haunt me today.

I'm more fortunate than most of the people who are released from prison. I lost my small but very lucrative business. But before it went under I managed to sell it to an aircraft manufacturer for a very large sum of money because they wanted a couple of the patents I owned. I managed to sell most of what I owned before it was stolen or destroyed. I lost money because of the circumstances. But I didn't lose everything.

When I walked out of prison I was unemployed and probably unemployable. But I didn't have to worry about parole conditions. And thanks to the money I made before I was arrested and the money I was able to acquire when I liquidated my assets shortly after I was convicted, as well as some shrewd investments while I was locked up, I'm now a multimillionaire.

I had something important to do now that I was free. It was something that I had to do before I could even begin to make plans for the future. I had a score to settle.

I didn't rush right out and attack Amber, Mrs. Amber Wright now that she's married. I'm going to pay her back. I'm going to destroy her life. But I'm going to do it in such a way that I won't end up back in prison. I started actively working toward that end from the day I was released.

I bought a house across the street and two doors down from Amber. It's a nice, older, upper middleclass neighborhood. There are a lot of large, old trees lining the wide, quiet street. The houses are in the two hundred and fifty to four hundred thousand dollar range. From that I gathered that the Wrights must be doing pretty well for themselves.

I would soon learn, however, that looks can be deceiving.

The house I bought is a nice, big, forty year old house with some personality. It's in very good condition and located on a large lot. I got it for just under four hundred thousand. I paid cash for the house. I hired a contractor to upgrade and modernize the kitchen and the bathrooms and make a few other minor upgrades. I paid him a pot full of money to get it done quickly. When he was finished I furnished the house with lots of wood and leather furniture and moved in.

I bought a new Escalade and a new Harley. After all, every guy owes it to himself to own a Harley. I devoted a lot of my time to making up for all the good food I missed out on while I was in prison.

I wasn't worried about putting on weight. Exercising has become a large part of my life. It was necessary in order to survive where I've been living. Even a medium security prison resembles a war zone. You let yourself go in there and you can end up very dead very quickly.

Now I run in the morning and swim in my backyard pool. I put together a small gym in my basement. I've been careful to stay in good shape.

I used some of the friends I made in prison to find the kind of person I need to advance my plans on the outside. That's why Jon Lane was knocking on the door of my new home right after dark.

Jon's brother and I became pretty close in prison. No. Not THAT kind of close! Get your mind out of the gutter!

Jon is a private detective and if his brother is to be believed he's a very good one. I invited him into my home and while consuming a large part of a bottle of very good bourbon I told him the entire story.

I was upfront about wanting to destroy the bitch that sent me up for nearly a decade and a half with a smile and a wink. But I made it clear that I'm in no hurry. I don't even have a plan yet. First I want to find out everything there is to know about her.

If there's any evidence that I can use to exonerate me I want it. The police didn't do any investigation at all. On her word alone they arrested me and convicted me. I don't care how he does it. But I want to know everything there is to know about that cunt and her husband.

Jon sat across the room from me while I told my story. I could tell that he didn't necessarily believe me. After all, every guy who goes to prison claims to be falsely imprisoned.

But I was offering him a lot of money and he seemed to sense how sincere I was. So we reached an agreement. I gave him a large retainer and answered his questions for an hour or so.

I was struck by his obvious intelligence and his professionalism. By the time he left I was confident that I'd found the right man for the job. I promised him that I would stay completely away from her and make no inquiries of my own that might attract attention to what I'm doing. He promised to let me know what he found out and left me feeling confident that I chose well.

I spent the next two months struggling to be patient. I soon discovered that when you're in prison it's much easier to be patient. Now that the process of getting revenge is actually underway it's much more difficult to sit and wait.

I did what Jon asked. I stayed around the house. I did yard work. I read a lot of good books. I spent a lot of time sitting in my computer room. My computer room is located on the second floor in the front of the house. From my computer desk I often sat staring out at Amber's house. I learned very little from watching her house. But it made me feel like I was at least doing something.

While I sat and stared at the two story brick home where Amber lives I tried to decide what form I want my revenge to take. I came up with some pretty outlandish schemes. But nothing I thought up seemed workable.

I hate that woman with an all consuming passion. But I know I have to control that emotion or I'll end up back in prison. Been there, done that. And I don't care for the t-shirt.

Over the two month period that I watched them I was able to form opinions of Amber and her family. She's still beautiful, as is her teenage daughter. She still looks and acts spoiled. That's a trait she doesn't seem to share with her daughter.

Her husband appears to be pretty average. He has a bit of a paunch. His forehead is getting larger. It looks like he'll be bald on top in two or three years. He seems to have a bit of a temper. I've seen him fly into a rage a couple of times and start yelling at Amber or their daughter. They both seem to fear him when he loses his temper. I never saw him knock them around. But he seemed capable of it.

You might expect that I'd be bored spending most of my time in my house that way. But there isn't a lot for me to do outside of the house. I don't have a job. One of the things I certainly didn't miss in prison was shopping. I still don't enjoy it. For the most part I have what I need to get by. I go grocery shopping once a week. I buy most of my books on the internet. There's a small bar downtown that I go to maybe once a week for a beer or two and a little conversation. Except for that I'm happy enough just staying around the house and enjoying the peace and quiet; something I missed very much while in prison. I have no reason to go out more often than that.

I seldom heard from Jon after he left my home that night. He dropped in a couple of times to get my signature on an authorization to release information about me or my case, trial records and records from my attorney. The last time I saw him he seemed pretty excited about something. He wouldn't say anything. He told me that he didn't want to raise my hopes too high. I took encouragement from that.

Then, two months and two weeks from the day I hired him he called to make sure I'd be home. He came over an hour later. He brought with him a bottle of very expensive scotch and two large boxes of information. He had found out everything. He had her!

The big break came when he discovered that Amber was adopted. Jon located Amber's adoptive parents living in another state. They weren't anxious to talk about Amber. But Jon finally got them to open up.

They no longer have a relationship with Amber. The seed of my problems was planted when she set out to discover the identity of her birth mother when she was fifteen. That was the point in time they pointed to and said that they lost control of her.

They said that she had always been a little different. They didn't want to admit it to themselves. But both of her adoptive parents felt from an early age that there was something missing in Amber. She seemed to lack compassion. She wasn't able to bond with anyone. After a few tragic incidents they learned that they couldn't own pets.

Not long after she began to look she found her birth mother in prison in a neighboring state. Her mother had been making a living accusing wealthy men of rape and taking money from them to drop the charges. She would take her money and move to another city or state, change her name and run the same scam all over again.

The men who were her victims were chosen totally at random. Their only sin was that they had money. They were always men who had never met her and were totally blindsided by the charges.

Amber was quickly schooled by her mother in how to work the scam. She chose me as her first victim. It didn't work out as planned. I made the mistake of trusting the police and the courts to find the truth. I refused to pay her off.

What Amber and her mother apparently didn't realize was that all of their meetings in prison and all of their phone calls were recorded. Jon had acquired copies of all the pertinent recordings. The police never bothered to investigate. It was all right there if they had just taken the time to look for it.

I learned that Amber chose me as her first victim when she saw me driving home from work one day in an expensive convertible that I was thinking of buying. I lived a couple of blocks from her and our paths just happened to cross for a couple of seconds when I drove by her. I never even saw her.

She didn't know who I was but she remembered seeing me around. She figured I had money because of the car I was test driving. That was all she needed to know about me. She did a little research. She learned my name and where I lived and worked.

The man who is her husband now was her boyfriend at the time. He was a part of the plan. He was the one that knocked her around and bruised her up in order to add a little authenticity to the charges.

Jon didn't just exonerate me. He kept digging. He listened to every conversation between Amber and her mother until her mother was released from prison. He discovered that not long after I was convicted a woman working in the prison whose job it was to randomly scan the recordings of prisoner conversations came across one of the phone calls between Amber and her mother. In that conversation Amber gloated about my recent conviction and her part in it.

The woman made the mistake of questioning Amber's mother about it. She was killed the next day. The murder was never solved. But Jon found a recording of a whispered conversation that took place a week later between Amber and her mother that made it clear that Amber and her husband were responsible for the murder.

All the evidence was in the boxes Jon brought with him. He had copies of all the pertinent conversations, as well as a disk that contained all of their incriminating conversations in one place. It was sort of a "best of" disk.

I listened to the entire disk. It lasted for more than two hours. It was all so senseless! I spent all those years in prison and had my life taken from me by that psychotic bitch. Just so that she could shake me down for a few thousand dollars!

And when her plan didn't work she took pleasure in having me put away for what she thought would be half of my life.

I had to keep forcing myself to calm down. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to go across the street and beat her and her husband to death, and I wanted to take hours and hours doing it.

I sat there seething for a long time. Jon watched in silence until I calmed down. Then he said, "You were not her only victim. She graduated from high school and moved around a little. She successfully pulled the same scam on three other men that I know of in the next few years. Then she moved back to town, got married and she seems to have settled down.

"The evidence of those scams is in the boxes, too. You have everything you need to clear your name and put her away, if that's what you want. But I have to tell you, it won't be as satisfying as you might think.

"She's a beautiful woman with a beautiful daughter. She has apparently kept her nose clean for the last eight or nine years, at least as far as I can tell. You'll be able to clear your name and she'll get tried for murder. She'll skate on the charges pertaining to the scams she worked because of the statute of limitations. But we both know that because the murder took place so long ago and she seems to have turned her life around she'll work out a plea deal with an overworked prosecutor and probably spend three or four years in a minimum security prison.

"I don't know about you, but in my opinion that isn't justice. You said you want to destroy her. I'd have to say that she has it coming more than almost anyone I've ever met."

I didn't need any encouragement from him. When I'm through with her I'll clear my name and have her locked up. But not yet! Not before I put her and her husband through hell.

I told Jon what I was thinking. He asked, "Do you have a plan?"

I shook my head. I've been dreaming of revenge for a long time. But I don't have any idea what form that revenge should take. I only know that I want to wipe the grin from her face. I want to see pain and anguish there.

Jon pulled some papers out of a folder and placed them on the table. He hadn't just gone into Amber's past. Her entire life was laid out in front of me. He found out where she works and how much she earns.

After reading the results of his investigation I knew, if not everything, very nearly everything there is to know about Amber, her husband, and to a lesser extent their daughter. I know how much money they have in the bank, none, and how much they owe, a whole hell of a lot.

As it turns out, they're living way above their means. They're in debt up to their eyebrows. The money from the scams is long gone. Amber now works as a clerk in a bank. Her husband Dan sells appliances in a local department store. They have two large mortgages on their house and two car payments. They're paying credit card bills with cash advances from other credit cards and it looks like they're about to go under. Maybe that's why poor old Dan seems so edgy.

We went over the papers together. When we were finished, Jon said, "As you can see, they're very vulnerable. It would be very easy to bring about their financial collapse. But that alone won't begin to settle the debt they owe you."

The only thing I know for sure is that I want to hurt them. I seem to have the ammunition now. The question is how to use it.

I sighed loudly and sat back in my chair. I looked at Jon and asked, "Do you have any suggestions?"

He did. I saw it in his eyes. But he hesitated, probably wondering just how far I was willing to go to bring them down. I got up and got us both a beer. I'm not much of a scotch drinker.

When I sat back down I said, "I don't want to go back to prison. Beyond that there's nothing I can think of that's off limits. I can still see the smug smile and the wink on that bitch's face when they sentenced me to twenty-five years of my life in prison for, as it turns out, being guilty of living a couple of blocks from her.

"I often contemplate the pleasure I'd experience from holding that bitch up off the floor with my hand around her throat and pounding my fist into her pretty face repeatedly. I want to see her suffer. But I can't see myself beating up a woman no matter how much she deserves it. I can't think of anything short of physical violence, though, that I'd classify as going too far."

Jon smiled and said, "I doubt if I have to tell you that the bitch is hot. She may be ugly on the inside but she sure as hell doesn't hurt the eyes. You want to destroy her? Destroy her family. Use them. Humiliate them. Make it so that they can't stand to look each other in the eye. Humiliate them in front of their friends and neighbors. Humiliate them at work. Stop just short of making their lives not worth living. Then hand all that shit over to the cops. Clear your name and have them put away."

He didn't come right out and say it. But I knew what he was talking about. I thought about it for a moment. Then I asked, "Do you want to fuck her?"

He grinned and shrugged. The he said, "Like I said, the bitch is hot."

I was starting to warm up to the idea. There is a drawback, though. I said, "The daughter is too young. And she didn't have anything to do with what her mother did. What do I do about her?"

"Make her watch what happens to her parents. Make sure she knows what they did to you and why you're doing what you do to them. The kid seems alright. I get the impression she's being treated like a redheaded stepchild by her less than adoring parents. Drive a giant wedge between her and her parents. Make her hate them if she doesn't already. What better payback could there be?"

I thought about the woman who had been my fiancée. She called it off shortly after I was arrested. She didn't believe, or didn't care that I was innocent. I was mad and I was hurt. But I quickly came to realize that if she was that disloyal I was better off without her. That didn't make it hurt any less. I was in a lot of anguish before I finally came to that conclusion. I had been very much in love with her. Or at least I thought I was. I have to admit that I began to wonder about us once my head cleared and it occurred to me that I wasn't as torn up as I probably should have been. I think I probably got over her a lot quicker once I realized that I could do a lot better.

That was almost fourteen years ago now. My last date with my fiancée before I was arrested was the last time I was with a woman. That's just one more reason to take advantage of this situation.

I needed Jon's advice on the best way to go about putting his plan into action. He has a much more devious mind than I do from years of dealing with people like the Wrights.

He told me to make a copy of the disk with the conversations between Amber and her mother. He suggested that I simply mail it to Amber with a typed, unsigned note telling her to listen to the disk and give me a call. He recommended that I purchase what's known as a "burn phone" for all my phone conversations with her. I should make no threats in writing and I should include no personal information in the note.

It sounded good to me. I wrote him out a check for his services, along with a hefty bonus. I promised to call him and let him know when Amber was available. He left with my profuse gratitude. I went into my computer room to put the plan into action immediately.

I copied the disk. Then I locked up everything Jon brought me tonight in a gun safe I keep in the basement. I don't own a gun. But one of the things that I learned from my morally challenged friends in prison is that a large, heavy, gun safe is fireproof and too heavy for thieves to take with them. If they can't open it, and most cannot, then it's the safest place to store valuables and important documents.

I made a quick trip to a nearby convenience store and bought an untraceable phone. I felt like a criminal buying the damn thing and the clerk seemed to agree with me. But Jon was probably right when he suggested it. The less information I provide to those two the better.

I drove straight home and returned to my computer room. I spent a few minutes thinking about what I was going to say in my note and thinking about what I should say when Amber calls. I decided to keep it simple and as Jon suggested, provide Amber and Dan with as little information as possible. I told them that their freedom, their futures, depend on listening to what's on the enclosed disk. They were to listen to it and call me by eight in the evening of the day of delivery or the disk and the two large boxes of evidence that I've acquired will go to the police the next morning.

I didn't give them my name or address. The only personal information in the note was the number for the cell phone I just bought. I agreed with Jon that it was best that they be kept as much in the dark as possible.

Most of the conversations on the tape concerned my case. Not all of them. There were also excerpts from conversations she had about some of her subsequent scams, the successful ones. I was their only victim that didn't pay. I was the only one who spent nearly a decade and a half in prison for a crime I didn't commit. From that she'll probably have to assume that it's me who sent her the disk.

I may have been just a bit paranoid, but each time I handled the note, the envelope or the disk I wore gloves. I even made sure to use a self-stick envelope so that I'd leave no DNA on the envelope. I used the computer to address the envelope, put the disk and the note inside and got it ready to mail.

Bright and early the next morning, Jon showed up at my door carrying three more boxes. He explained their use to me and I instantly saw the wisdom of putting them to use. The boxes contained recorders. They can be used to pick up a weak, low frequency signal from the three small bugs he gave me to plant in their home. They might provide more evidence with which to hang Amber and Dan. But more importantly, I'll be kept aware of any plans that they're putting together to remove me as a threat.

He suggested the best places to place the bugs and told me to change the disks on a daily basis. He wanted me to label them and save them, just in case. I thanked him for the suggestion, gave him another large check to pay him for the equipment and set the receivers up in my computer room.

I put enough postage on the envelope I was mailing to Amber and Dan to make sure it wouldn't go to the dead letter office since I didn't include a return address on the envelope and I put it in my outgoing mail.