Revenge (Book 1, the Redemption Series)

Chapter 1

Jake Bryant stood at Tom's grave, trying to imagine a world without his best friend. He couldn't, not for a second; he would prefer Hell. Like a blazing inferno, his anger threatened to consume him. But he held it at bay, for now.

The cemetery was empty except for Jake. Yesterday's mourners had returned to their normal lives. Mary and the kids would be home wallowing in their misery— a typical day not an option for them. Yet instead of trying to comfort them, Jake had found himself here. He didn't recall the decision or even the trip, but he knew the reason. Tom shouldn't be alone while he lay in the cold damp earth.

Dirt had replaced the open hole. Jake could picture the casket's polished surface, no longer pristine but dented by rock and clay when the backhoe filled in the void. Soon, grass would cover the cracked soil, and his friend would be nothing but a memory. Yet the person responsible for his death still walked the streets. Jake couldn't let that continue— the killer would pay for his crime. He'd made that promise to Tom, and Jake would die before he broke it.

The working theory was Tom's death was a road rage incident gone horribly wrong. At least that was what the police believed. If that was the case, they were screwed. A crime with no motive, suspect, or witnesses would be impossible to solve; Jake knew that from experience. In this small town, the investigation would go cold without his help. Besides, who else would be more motivated to get justice for Tom? No one. Certainly, not the fat lazy detective in charge of the investigation.

Closing his eyes, Jake took several deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose to regain control of his emotions. He replaced his evil thoughts with images of the first time he met Tom. They'd played little league baseball together. Their team was terrible, but it didn't matter. They were learning the game and having fun. Everyone understood that except Jake's alcoholic father, who screamed at Jake every time he touched the ball. It was his lame attempt at parenting. It gave Jake a stomachache before every game. The other kids pitied Jake but kept their distance for fear his dad would turn on them too. But not Tom, he did what little a kid could do. He committed stupid errors just to make Jake look good by comparison.

For the last game of the season, the coach put Jake at first base. With runners in position, Jake let an easy grounder go between his legs, and the other team took the lead. Jake's dad had lost his shit. His mother tried to calm him down, but he was too drunk, so three large dads convinced him to shut up or leave the diamond. Jake's dad decided to shut up, but Jake knew he would pay for his embarrassment tonight with a beating. He wanted to throw up.

However, in the final inning, their team rallied and got runners in scoring position. The fate of the game fell on Tom. If he could get a hit, their team would win. No problem, Tom was a decent slugger, and the opposing team's pitcher looked tired. Tom took a practice swing as he cast a glance at Jake's still angry dad. Wincing, he grabbed his right arm and sat back down, telling the coach he pulled a muscle and couldn't bat.

So with Jake on-deck, it was up to him. He nervously approached the plate, avoiding his father's stare. The first pitch came right down the middle, and Jake miraculously nailed it over the centerfielder's head to win the game. His teammates carried him off the field while the fans cheered. To celebrate, Jake's dad went to the bar, and Jake got a peaceful trip to the ice cream parlor with his team.

As they ate their cherry-dipped cones, Jake noticed Tom ate his with his injured arm without a glimmer of pain. Jake called him out on his fakery, and Tom's only response was a smile. It was that day that their life-long friendship took root. Tom could've won the big game with all its childhood glory, but he'd quickly given that up to save Jake a night of torment.

By the next summer, Jake's parents were divorced, and his dad had moved to Chicago. Their circle grew by two more friends, but Jake and Tom were always the closest. And when Jake moved to Chicago after graduation to work for his dad against everyone's advice, Tom was the one who remained in weekly contact with phone calls and the occasional visit. He'd helped Jake through the loss of his job, a divorce, and a bout of alcoholism. Tom had literally saved Jake's life more than once, and then Jake hadn't been there for Tom when he'd needed Jake the most.

A cool breeze stirred Jake from his reverie. It cut through his shirt like a knife, but he remained on the cemetery's gently sloping hills. He wanted more time with Tom. Jake tried to conjure up another memory if only to keep his friend alive for a few more minutes, when a big hand grabbed him by the collar, nearly lifting him off his feet.

A deep voice growled, "Whatare you doing here?"