Disclaimer: "Sons of Thunder" and its' characters are owned by Chuck Norris, Aaron Norris, CBS and whoever else was involved with the creation of this show. Any new characters and story lines that come into play are of my own creation. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a fan fiction intended for entertainment purposes only and no money is being made off of it.
Chapter 9: The Last Patron
Kendra was parked on a paved driveway that was framed with flowers on both sides. The house before her was white with delicate blue trim. The house and the little yard around it had once been meticulously maintained. At least the house had recently been white and blue, but now, the house was a blackened shell due to a raging fire. Broken windows had been covered with sheets of plywood. The roof had caved in shattering any hope of the house being structurally sound. Not to mention the water damage from the fire hoses the firefighters had used and the flowers surrounding the driveway had been trampled mixing with the once green lawn that now had boot and hose imprints.
She was parked a couple of houses down from the little yellow, two-story house of Stuart Allen. She wanted to stakeout his house a little before banging on the door and ordering Allen to tell her who had killed his friends.
She pictured Carlos and Trent on a stakeout and saw as they told jokes or made up some sort of game to pass the time, but remaining alert to whatever they were on the lookout for. The image brought a shimmer of a grin to her lips, which quickly became somber.
She couldn't help but picture Carlos in a windowless four-by-four cell, instead of the normal size for a more dramatic effect. In her mind, it wasn't iron bars that Carlos would grasp in frustration and anger, but a steel door that would leave his hands bloody and bruised as he banged on it. The guards wouldn't be able to hear a sound coming from within because the door would be thick enough to block any sound and the cell would be so cold frost would adhere to the concrete walls. Mice and rats would be running across his feet and he would have to sleep on a dirty sheet that had been carelessly sewn together to form a type of mattress and it would be filled with itchy hay. She knew her imagination was playing with her because of the guilty feeling that had formed in her stomach.
She turned her mind and her head to the yellow house and its occupant. Allen was the last of the men who had attacked her. And possibly the last patron whom the killer was going to brutally stab to death.
The memory of Brian Locke's blood drenched body flashed through her mind. She shook her head to erase the memory like an Etch-A-Sketch. She sighed loudly and seemed to echo right back at her, as though the little car was sighing with her. She gave her car an affectionate pat on the dash before she noticed someone pull in next to her. The car was a blue Stingray convertible.
Kendra almost wanted to bang her head on the steering wheel, but she got out of the car. Trent mimicked the movement. They stood in front of their cars, facing each other, as though they were about to duel.
"What are you doing here?" Kendra was the first to draw her metaphorical weapon of words.
"I was about to ask you the same thing. But I'm fairly certain I know why you are here and what you were going to say." He answered.
"Really?" Kendra said sarcastically. "You think I'm here to kill Stuart Allen. You know, finish knocking off all four of the rowdy patrons." Blue fire shone in her eyes.
"What are you talking about?" Trent asked
"I heard what Kim had said. She thinks I'm the killer." Kendra answered sharply.
"I guess you didn't hear what I had to say." Trent remarked. "I know you didn't kill those men. You didn't steal my watch from Thunder Karate because you were in the bar with Butch that entire time."
"Well thanks for the support," Kendra replied, slightly embarrassed and mostly ashamed of her accusations that implied he didn't trust her. Why should he? He's only known me for a less than a week. Kendra thought.
"Someone planted a bloody knife and Locke's mall security badge in Carlos' desk." Trent said.
Kendra nodded her head. "I saw that detective and a couple of officers take him away in a cruiser. I figured the killer had planted some sort of evidence to frame him."
"Do you know a Claire Wesson?" Trent asked her.
She shook her head. "No." She answered, but the sound of a question resonated within her voice.
"She filed a sexual assault against Sam Cutler, Tony Flemming, Brian Locke and Stuart Allen about seven, eight years ago when they all were in college in Houston. There wasn't enough evidence so the case was dropped."
"You think this Claire Wesson is the killer? She didn't get justice then, so she has decided to get it now." Kendra surmised. Then she shook her head. "But, how could she have planted your watch? Or planted the knife and the badge in Carlos' desk? Unless…"
"She's been with us all along. Someone who blends in. Someone we probably see every day. Someone who is a student at Thunder Karate." He closed his eyes for a moment, going over in his mind all of his students. Then, he opened his eyes. "Kim showed me and Carlos a picture of Claire Wesson, but I didn't recognize her."
"She probably dyed her hair. Cut it or grew it out. Heck, maybe even some cosmetic surgery." Kendra guessed. Trent nodded his head in agreement.
"So, she has probably been planning this for a long time." Kendra stated.
"Or she found out about them attacking you and that Carlos and I had helped you. It may have been more of an opportunity." Trent said.
"Either way, she gets her own justice that she didn't receive almost a decade ago." She said.
Trent didn't say anything and began to walk. Kendra fell into step with him as they headed toward the yellow house.
Trent loudly rapped his knuckles on the door. The door opened as far as the chain lock would allow and they could see a partial view of a face. Brown eyes scanned them and by the angry look in his eyes, he remembered them. "What do you want?"
"We want to ask you some questions, please Mr. Allen." Trent answered.
"Go to hell." He retorted, he was about to slam the door in their faces when Kendra placed her foot in the opening and held the door firmly with one hand. "That was rather rude. Trent asked you very politely. I, on the other hand, wouldn't have. Now, are you going to invite us in or do I have to break down the door?"
Allen hesitated for a few moments then he put pressure on her foot and then closed the door once the obstruction had been removed. Kendra had removed her hand before her fingers would be bruised or broken. Kendra shook her injured foot and muttered underneath her breath. She was about to retaliate against the door and then the one behind the door, but Trent grabbed her shoulder. He knew she understood and he released his grip. He didn't have to say a word as they returned to standing before the once white and blue house.
"That was…pleasant." Kendra said sitting on the hood of her car, with her arms crossed.
"He needs to be protected." Trent said.
Kendra raised an eyebrow in question. "There are no cops staking out his place. His police protection has been removed." Trent stated.
"Great, so we get to watch him." Kendra would have laughed if a killer wasn't in the mix.
"I never said 'we'." Trent said.
A smile appeared at the corner of her lips. "If you think I'm going to leave, Thunder Boy, you're wrong. I'm involved in this too. It's my fault that Carlos is in jail." She held up her hand when he was about to protest and continued. "The killer had taken advantage of the fact that you and Carlos had helped me. Therefore, I am at least partly to blame. I came here to find the killer and prove to that dim-witted and arrogant detective that Carlos is innocent."
"All right, but I think it should look as though we decided to leave." He had seen a curtain move in the yellow house and he knew that Allen was waiting for them to leave.
"Okay. I know where we can park." Kendra said as she stood up and headed to the driver side door of her car. Trent got into his car and followed Kendra, even though he knew where she was going to park. There was a little gas station about a quarter of a mile from the house and they parked their cars. Then, they doubled back, keeping to the shadows and hid near the burnt house.
They remained silent and watched. And listened. Then, they heard it. The sound of glass shattering. They knew the sound had come from the little yellow house and without any hesitation or a word to each other; they took off running to save two men. One man that had assaulted a woman about eight years ago and a friend who was in prison for horrible crimes he hadn't committed.
guardianM3: I know, I know another cliffhanger. Sorry, I know it can annoy some readers but I love 'em. I hope to get chapter 10 up in a few days, but that depends whether I'll have writer's block or not. Please review and keep on reading.