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La Ramblas

/ Cole H. Turner / 12 Comments

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Emily sipped her café con leche, as she watched the crowds pass by La Ramblas.
Nathan asked, “Where would you like to go next?”
“I want to drink from the La Rambla fountain and see the Miro circle,” said Emily.
“Con permiso,” said the waitress, as she placed a bowl of Natilla in front of each diner.
“After three years of saving, I’m up for anything,” said Nathan.
They strolled past the artists and street vendors. A man pulled Emily’s purse from her shoulder, as he ran past.
Nathan broke into a run after the thief. He yelled, “Basta, Basta!”

The call

/ Cole H. Turner / 16 Comments

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Photo copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

With a double bourbon on the rocks, his medicine of choice, David stared at the maze in the distance. His reverie cut short by the ring of his phone.

“David,” he said.

“Thanks for making my job so easy,” said the caller.

“I will find you. Enjoy what little time you have left,” said David.

“Until then, have another bourbon, ” said the caller.

David scanned the maze, tables, and picnic area. Three men were using their phones.

“It won’t be that easy. Nice try…” The line went dead.

David threw the drink at the column. I’ll, bury him alive!

The dream

/ Cole H. Turner / Leave a comment

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Brandi awoke with a jolt. “David, behind you!”

In one fluid motion David’s eyes sprang open the forty-five retrieved from under his pillow and raised it to a firing position. This was all done in the space of a few seconds.

“Brandi, no one’s here.”

“Sorry, bad dream.” Before David had time to object Brandi threw back the curtains. As she did something landed in her hair. With a quick shake of her head it landed on the sill. “I’m not staying here one more minute, let’s go.”
“What’s wrong?”
“A dried out dead roach fell in my hair.”

The Question

/ Cole H. Turner / 18 Comments

The below story is the continuation of David, and Brandi’s adventure. The story began with Middleham Motors, followed by the search and the decision.

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 Photo Copyright: Sandra Crook

 David dropped a white bag on the table. “Breakfast is served.”

Brandi pushed the bag away. “You know I don’t eat fast food.”

“Sorry, but given the circumstances it’s the best I can do.”

“Still not an option.”

“Forget the food. I need to show you something. The envelope he left with your surveillance photos contained one other. I don’t know what to make of it.”

David slid the photo to Brandi. “And you think a picture of a littered creek or river, is supposed to mean something to me,” said Brandi.

“It must. Why else would he send it?”

The kidnapper continued

/ Cole H. Turner / 7 Comments

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 Photo copyright: Jean L. Hays

Pain radiated from Henry’s leg. A moment later, he collapsed with a thud.

Before everything went black a voice said, “ Your death will not be quick.”

He awoke to find Patricia bound and gagged dressed in her bra and underwear.

The kidnapper pressed a gun to the side of Patricia’s head. “Did Henry tell you what

happened to Hope and Jason?”

Patricia’s voice trembled, “They ran off together.”

The kidnapper laughed, “No, Henry killed them.”

The van came to a stop. Two men dragged Henry into a pre-dug grave. As dirt covered his body Henry screamed.

The kidnapper

/ Cole H. Turner / 14 Comments

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 Photo Copyright: The Reclining Gentleman

Only one man stood at the midway point of the bridge. As Patricia approached with the rolling cooler she started to sweat.

“Where’s the money,” said the kidnapper?

“Where’s Henry? I want proof he’s alive,” said Patricia.

The kidnapper handed Patricia an iPhone. “Hit redial.”

The call picked up on the first ring. Seconds later came Henry’s hoarse voice, “Hello.”

“Henry, don’t worry….,” the call dropped.

“The money’s in the cooler,” said Patricia.

A van speed up the bridge. Tires squealed, the door opened and Henry dropped out of the van. As Henry and Patricia embraced, two gunshots rang out.

Jennifer’s Safe Haven

/ Cole H. Turner / 15 Comments

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Photo Copyright: Bjorn Rudberg

After hours of shadow games first by plane then by car, Jennifer and the agents arrived at the safe house.

She folded her arms across her chest, while she glared at special agent John Davis. “How long do we have to stay here? This place is a dump.”

“It’s not the Ritz Carlton but were more concerned with keeping you alive.”

Five months later Jennifer was on edge. Desperate to be alone, she climbed out the bedroom window one morning before sunrise. Within an hour she was lost. Her body was discovered a week later ravaged by animals and the elements.

Robert’s target

/ Cole H. Turner / 4 Comments

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 Photo Copyright: Ted Shultz

Robert watched his target’s every move for two weeks. Tuesday’s and Thursday’s he would enter the third floor apartment at three p.m. and leave two hours later. For the best vantage point Robert chose the closed dentist’s office. He crouched into position rechecked the scope and steadied the M24 rifle. His target appeared in the doorway. Without hesitation he fired one hollow point round through the target’s right eye. Robert calmly collected the spent shell casing and exited using the service elevator. With the confirmation sent, he disposed of the rifle, and phone in the nearby lake.