Fiction

When The Program Fails People Die Conclusion

A Sunny Alexander-Johnson And Henry James Series

My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII

We still had Robert on the phone when the audio/video monitor pad at the front door of Cynthia’s house began to buzz.

Donnie got up and silently made his way across the kitchen then disappeared into the hallway.

“Okay, Robert. Let me put you on speaker. Go ahead.”

“Here’s the deal, Henry. I’ve got Donnie and Becca running the picture of Rosa through facial recognition. The problem is whoever went to the trouble of wiping her history was very good at what they do. So far, nothing. Hang on. Yeah, Donnie.”

The soft melodic sound of the doorbell rang.

“Shit, you guys. You know that cell phone’s location we’ve been trying to find?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Henry, we found it. And you guys aren’t going to believe this. They’re telling me it’s in Cynthia’s neighborhood.”

“Say what?”

“I’m telling you, Sunny. According to Donnie and Becca, that phone is right outside the freaking house.”

We all jumped at the sound of a single gunshot coming from the front of the house.

“Shit, Robert, I’m going to leave you on speaker. Call the damned police now!”

Manny had already jumped up and pulled his service weapon and was heading for the front door, followed by the three of us. When Donnie Sullivan appeared, we all pulled up, staring at the man as he slowly trudged toward us. His expression was dazed, a look of perplexed shock, his face quickly draining of color. The entire right side of his jacket just below the shoulder was stained with a darkened sanguineous blotch. He took two more steps into the kitchen, groaned, and fell against a wall, slowly sliding toward the floor, leaving a smeared trail of blood on the wall as he collapsed.

When he did, we saw her. Holding a tote bag in one hand and a pistol in the other. Victoria gasped and jerked herself to her feet, but before she could run, the woman squeezed off another shot into the ceiling. Then she pointed her pistol at Donnie.

“Stay where you are, Victoria, and you two drop those guns, or I swear to God with my dying breath; I’ll put another bullet into your hired help. I said, drop the fucking guns!”

Silently, we eased our weapons to the kitchen floor.

“Kick them over to me. Then we’ll have us a little chat.”

After satisfying herself she’d neutralized any threat, she waved her pistol at the table.

“Everybody, sit.”

“Rosa, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

Rosa Bianchi smiled, a threatening, malevolent grin which seemed to guarantee a terrible outcome, “the name’s not Rosa anymore Victoria. Rosa Bianchi is dead. My name is Sarah Beckett, Cynthia Alexander’s newest personal assistant.”

“How…”

“How did I find you? Well, I must say the people I hired to take you out in Virginia were a bunch of bumbling fools.”

The woman waved her pistol at Manny.

“If it hadn’t been for your new husband getting wind of it and leaving town, you’d already be dead. But since daddy went to prison and with that stupid ass brother of mine screwing up everything, I decided to take control of things. And the best way to do that was to show everybody I had the power to do what should have been done years ago. Once my father saw what I had the capability of doing, he would tell my brother to step down.”

“And if he didn’t?”

“You’re Henry James, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, Henry, then I would just have to take my older brother out.”

“You’d kill your own brother?”

“Of course. It’s what a true leader does in our line of business does. You know, I like your stories, old man. You too, Sunny. It’s too bad you two are never going to write another one.”

“So, you intend to kill us all, Rosa?”

“I said Rosa’s dead Victoria. My name is Sarah.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe so, but in a few short minutes, everyone in this house will be dead, and I’ll be on my way back to Jersey to take over my father’s legacy. He’ll be so proud of me.”

Sarah Beckett slowly began to target each of us, her hand steady her eyes blazing and yet deadpan cold with cruel intention.

“So who wants to go first? Come on, don’t be shy. Just raise your hand.”

None of us bothered to move, each of staring at the woman and yet seeing the movement of a particular bloodstained individual she seemed to have forgotten about. The first thing Donnie Sullivan did was to chop the woman’s gun hand at the wrist.

Although we were in harm’s way, each of us flinched at the sickening sound of Sarah’s bones snapping as they broke. Then when Donnie connected with the side of the woman’s face, Sarah Beckett spun around and slumped to the floor. Donnie picked up her weapon, stalked over to us and placed the gun on the table then sat down.

“Robert, are you still on the phone? Did you call the police?”

“Yeah, Henry. What the hell just happened?”

“Call 911. We got a bleeder here.”

Manny and Victoria and her brother Gorgie came out of the witness protection program over the next few days. Especially when Manny got sacked for all the under the table dealing he had done.

But all things happen for that proverbial reason, and it seemed Robert Johnson had been given authority to hire some investigative personnel at his work.

Manny seemed to be the best person for the job.

It turned out that even in his weakened state when Donnie Sullivan smacked Rosa Bianchi in the face, he broke her jaw. Fortunately for all of us, Donnie would be okay and back on the job in a couple of weeks.

For the second time in as many months, Donnie Sullivan had bailed our butts out of the fire.

With Rick McDonnell’s permission, we received an extension on submitting our story. We, along with Roberto had one more thing we needed to do.

By the time we got to the Austin City Jail, Rosa had been moved to one of the interrogation rooms. From behind the one-way mirror, we watched her stare at a large video screen on the opposite wall. Her face had a pale yellowish blue tint where Donnie had hit her, and her cheek was still a bit puffy.

But she’d live long enough to serve life without parole.

The screen she was staring at flickered, and we saw the image of Marco Bianchi sitting in a similar room flanked by prison guards. He seemed angry, and yet there was a sadness in his expression.

Rosa smiled and leaned her face toward her manacled hands to wipe away a set of tears, “Papa. I almost did it for you.”

“Why, Rosa? Why did you try to do this? Why did you want to kill Victoria? She was like my child. She was like a sister to you. Why?”

“To make things right. So that you’d see I could run things while you were away papa.”

“You were willing to kill her just so you could run the business? Did she mean that little to you?”

“The business is everything, papa. That’s what you always said. I thought you’d be proud of me.”

“No, Rosa. This is not God’s way. I have learned every life is sacred. You were wrong to try this, and although I must forgive you, I will never forget what you’ve done. From this day forward, I no longer have a daughter.”

“Papa, please.”

“No, Rosa. You are dead to me! Do you understand? Dead to me!”

With that, Marco craned his neck and nodded at one of the guards. As the guard leaned forward to disconnect the call, Rosa began to wail, leaning forward, tugging at the manacles to get free and get closer to the screen.

“No, papa, please. I did this for you. Papa! Papa!”

Rosa Bianchi was still moaning as a pair of guards led her away.

Thanks So Much For Reading

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