Read Extreme Malice Page 27


  Chapter 22

  Friday, December 2nd 7:14 pm

  The snow returned on a strong north wind. Snowdrifts piled up along the sides of houses and streets. Jack settled himself in for the evening trying to stay on focus, but it was not going well.

  He was hoping to spend the evening in front of the fire clearing his mind of the torrent of crippling thoughts as the storm swirled around outside the house. He wanted to escape. He had the fire lit and was seated with a whiskey in hand, but he could not free his mind. Spiraling confused thoughts were slowly consuming his every waking moment.

  As soon as he sat down, memories of Donna flooded his thoughts. His last confrontation with Dean left him entirely unsure of his next move and sent him back to where it all started.

  Jack met Donna at the Positive Outlook Seminar well over two years ago, and it really was not the coincidence that everyone seemed to think it was. Jack's purpose for attending the seminar in the first place was to meet someone. He had been going to many seminars for many months in search of that special person.

  When Jack found Donna, he knew after a few dates that she was the one. She was attractive, smart and, most importantly to Jack, she had a good paying career with money already put away in the bank.

  Jack slugged back some of the whiskey and felt the burn as he swallowed. He had not intended to use anyone this way. Donna was just there at the right time. Jack laughed aloud.

  "Wrong time actually, Donna. Sorry darling." He looked at her picture on the side table, and whispered, "I am sorry, Donna. I truly am, but I only did what I set out to do from the start." A tear ran down his cheek.

  "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" he shouted. "I wasn't supposed to ever love you! I wasn't supposed to." Jack took another sip and stared at her photo again. "It hurts every day, Donna. It really does."

  Jack thought of Donna after their first encounter when she approached him at the end of the seminar. He had participated in the seminar whenever he could. He could see she was watching him the entire evening and was flattered when she asked if he had time for a quick cup of coffee. He had been to nine different seminars over the past eight months looking for the right candidate, and Donna seemed to fit perfectly.

  "It was always about the money," he said aloud to the empty room. The fire crackled loudly as if to curse him.

  He let his thoughts drift back even further. Back to a time nearly three years ago, well before he met Donna. He had fallen on an idea. Jack knew at the time the idea was ludicrous. It was maybe stupid, and definitely foolish, but he had done the math and played all the risks through his mind hundreds of times. It just made sense to him, and he became so obsessed with his own creative brilliance that he could not ignore his plan.

  Jack always wanted to be rich. Very rich. Ever since he graduated from college and discovered that he would still have to work extremely hard just to earn an average income, he longed to be rich. He knew he was meant for greater things. Jack strived for more. He was an achiever with a huge appetite and believed no goal was out of reach for him if he desired it enough. So he set himself a goal: five million dollars.

  But to what extreme would he go to achieve such a goal? What was he willing to do to get there? How willing was he to betray people he loved to achieve his goal? He laughed to himself when he thought about his plan. He knew he was willing, even back then, to go as far as necessary. It was all about the payback. That was exactly what they taught him at college. The goal is always to achieve the best rate of return on your investment. And what was Jack's investment?

  Jack worked out the value of his plan. Five million dollars. If it took him four years to achieve that, then every single month for the next four years would be worth over one hundred thousand dollars. What would anyone do for one hundred thousand dollars a month? Jack knew what he would do for that kind of pay back. When Jack felt like putting off until tomorrow something he could do today, he thought about the one hundred thousand dollars he would be making per month, and the motivation drove him onward.

  Jack's plan was very simple: five simple steps to complete within four years. Who would suspect him if he planned it out this far? It was an unreasonable length of time to the average person, and Jack laughed each time he thought of it this way. Unreasonable. Who could believe such a scheme?

  And so Jack set about his plan: Get married. Take out a life insurance policy on his wife. Wait a couple of years, and love her to death every single day. Ensure a solid, airtight alibi. Murder his wife and collect the insurance money. It sounded simple enough. But had not this been attempted by other greedy men thousands of times already? No one had planned it in the way Jack was planning it, though. He had a new age plan. The perfect plan. He would use modern technology to prove his innocent when the time came. Well, the time had certainly come, and based on all the evidence collected, he was innocent of any crime. If he could just continue to keep his composure, he would be home free.

  Jack stood up, went to the window, and watched the winter storm under the glow of the streetlights. The wind was brisk, and unyielding. He could hear the house creak and groan at times as the gusts heaved against the house as if they attempted to move the house from its foundation. The snowdrifts continued to crawl down the street and left Jack with a feeling of uneasiness about what tomorrow might bring.

  He stared out at the snow, raised a toast to himself, and drank. He let the whiskey drain down inside him and leave a much-wanted burn to fester behind in his throat. He should have felt elated and prosperous at being so close to achieving his goals, but his victory was bitter. He hated how he felt now; each thought of Donna tortured him. He never imagined he could ever feel this way.

  He toasted himself again and drank more whiskey. "Does it taste good?" he shouted and began to weep.