Born Of Sin (Book 1) Read online

  Born Of Sin

  by

  Deanna Richmond

  Copyright © 2018 by Deanna Richmond.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents

  are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book was printed in the United States of America.

  For permission requests, write to publisher, addressed “Attention: Permission Request,” at the address below

  [email protected]

  Published by Deanna Richmond

  Cover Designer:

  Marlon Hayes

  Editing services provided by

  Elizabeth J. Connor, The Marginatrix

  Effective writing demands discipline.

  Marginatrix.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I want to say thank you to my husband, Kenny, for all his patience and understanding. Without him, I would not be grounded.

  I need to thank my brother-in-law, Mathew, for his continued support and his eye for detail. Without his help, Born Of Sin would not be what it is today.

  Thanks to my editor, Elizabeth, who did an amazing job. She raised Born Of Sin to the next level.

  Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Contents

  Chapter 1: 22 Years Ago

  Chapter 2: Octavia

  Chapter 3: Present Time

  Chapter 4: Victor

  Chapter 5: Octavia

  Chapter 6: Victor

  Chapter 7: Octavia

  Chapter 8: Victor

  Chapter 9: Octavia

  Chapter 10: Victor

  Chapter 11: Octavia

  Chapter 12: Victor

  Chapter 13: Octavia

  Chapter 14: Victor

  Chapter 15: Octavia

  Chapter 16: Victor

  Characters

  Books by Deanna Richmond

  Chapter 1: 22 Years Ago

  Octavia

  There was an eerie silence hanging in the air. All life appeared to stand still, as if waiting for something spectacular or life changing to occur. Dreariness blanketed the region, robbing the atmosphere of any form of warmth. A fierce wind passed through from time to time, disrupting the terrain, but even it was fairly silent. The breeze made little to no sound as it lifted the soil that lay still in slumber. A leaf blew out into the open empty two-lane road which was not visited by many travelers, other than local ranchers. Not even the animals that usually rustled about were heard. This day it seemed as if the earth stood quietly, regressing to before man had existed, where nature lay in wait for its next conquest.

  But there was life -- that of an innocent child, a little girl who had not a clue how she came to be at this moment in time. She was new, just like the first foundation of life. And as the cool, calming breeze swept across her face, this little one was too troubled to even notice the chill. She was too consumed with fear, having no memory of yesterday or the days before.

  The sullen child aimlessly roamed the side of the tar-laid road without so much as a thought to where she was going. She didn’t even know where she was. Every sound terrified her. Every movement scared her. She cried for no one in particular for there was no one she remembered to call out to. Nothing made sense to her. She only knew to keep walking.

  She couldn’t have been more than six, but her large doe eyes already sat upon high cheekbones; her dainty nose and her grimacing lips were held up by a distinctive jawline. Quite atypical, one would think she was not real if she stood motionless. But she was, in fact, quite real as she slogged along.

  Her petite body was smeared with dirt. Her legs held several cuts from the numerous times she'd stumbled over debris. But as if called forward, every time she fell, she picked herself back up. Her bare soles stung, bleeding from the jagged rocks underneath. The only clean spot on her was where the streaks of endless tears had fallen down her cheeks. A torn white peasant dress pulled along behind her; it was far too big for a girl her size. The clothes soaked up the grimy mud she kicked up as she trudged along.

  Other than the dress, her only other possession was a peculiar ring a few sizes too big for her tiny fingers. But she clung to it, for that was all she had. The piece of jewelry provided her with a minute amount of comfort for no other reason than it was something to hold on to.

  The girl headed in the southern direction of the highway. Against the dust-filled wind, she followed the sun as it was somewhat hidden behind the clouds, for the glimpses of bright light drew her ahead. Time lapsed as she trekked on for many miles, passing wooded areas, and farms raising animals of similar kinds.

  Far off in the distance, a peculiar noise caught her attention. It was faint yet audible, for it was louder than anything around. It was a steadily approaching sound of a particular kind. A fast-moving object barreled down the street towards her in such haste she stopped short in awe.

  It was a car that drove down this desolate road, forcing her to quickly hug herself from dread as to what might come next. She stood there clutching her only possession, her ring, letting the tears fall.

  The vehicle came to a halt, braking with a loud screech. The little girl covered her ears—she'd never heard such a loud sound before—and cried out in fear.

  While on spring break, four college students were on a joy ride down a bleak road known for its barrenness. They saw the filthy child from a distance and stopped to help.

  Betty, a twenty-one-year-old bubbly, vibrant red-haired girl leapt out of the still rolling car and ran to the girl’s side.

  She squatted next to the girl before laying her palm on the child's cheek. “Are you all right? What’s your name?” Betty asked. The answer came in the form of fallen tears. Truth be told, the child could not understand Betty.

  “What’d she say? Is she saying anything?” asked Betty's boyfriend Jake, who happened to be leaning out the side of the classic convertible Mustang.

  Betty looked back and shook her head. When she refocused on the child, she quizzed, “Where are your parents?” The girl still didn’t reply, but instead, stared off like her mind was far away. “Can I hold you?” This time, the girl only let out a weary sigh and her worried eyes trailed along the Betty’s face. When the girl didn’t run from her, Betty quickly picked her up and headed back to the car.

  Too afraid to drive off with the child, uncertain whom she belonged to, they contacted 911. As they waited, each tried to get the child to speak, but couldn’t get a reaction. She just kept staring at their lips. The guys got out to see if they could see an accident of some kind, or her wounded parents, but discovered nothing.

  “What if she has a head injury? Maybe we should just take her to the hospital,” Betty yelled out to Jake as she clutched the child tightly to her chest.

  “Heck, no! I’m not getting arrested for kidnapping.” Jake refused to drive off. “I get that you’re worried, but I’d rather just wait, Betty,” he assured her.

  “Jesus, Jake…” Her plea fell on deaf ears. As they continued to debate, Officer McKenzie pulled up behind them, nearly ten minutes after he'd been contacted by the local police.

  Twenty-four-year-old Officer McKenzie had only been a cop for about two years. He had built a reputation for reliability and honesty, and was known for having a sharp mind. His ultimate goal was to work for the FBI one day, but for now, that dream was on hold. A year earlie
r, his mother had been stricken ill with pneumonia and hadn't fully recuperated yet. He needed her to get better before he could move on; for now,he needed to stay close to home. Plus, he felt strongly about remaining local until the time was right.

  McKenzie strode up next to the car as Betty held tightly to the child. Standing at six feet even, he towered over Betty. “Are you the ones who reported a lost child?” The answer was obvious, but in his line of work, you could never assume anything.

  “Yes, this child here,” Betty answered, stroking the child’s long, filthy hair.

  “Can you please tell me what happened?” he asked sternly while taking out his little black book from inside his brown uniform jacket pocket. As he was trained to do, he quickly scanned their faces and observed their behavior, making sure a group of young adults out this way were sober and not driving while intoxicated.

  After the initial interview, Betty reluctantly handed the little girl over to the officer. It was obvious he’d never held a child before. He was not sure how to hold her or where to place his hands; the child looked like she was going to fall out of his arms. Betty noted his awkwardness and decided it was best to stay behind to help him out. Besides, something about him made her want to stay to help them both. She felt a need to protect the child.

  “You better go on without me,” she whispered to Jake.

  “No, Betty, come with us. You don’t even know the kid,” her girlfriend in the backseat protested after overhearing Betty. The girl’s boyfriend agreed with a grunt.

  “Come on, Betty. They’re right.” Jake thumbed to his friends in the back. “The cop's got her now. We have a full day planned.” But she narrowed her eyes and formed a tight scowl in reply. “Fine, suit yourself.” He shook his head while gnawing down on the corner of his bottom lip, clearly pissed, and then drove off in a hurry. His rage was such that he ended up spewing dust into the air.

  After watching her boyfriend and friends drive off, she approached the officer. The little girl had wrapped her small dusty arms around McKenzie’s neck and rested her head against his shoulder. The officer was taken aback. He stared at Betty with his arms wide open in bewilderment.

  “I don’t get it,” he said, somehow looking even more uncomfortable.

  “Maybe you remind her of someone, like her dad, even though you have strawberry blonde hair, unlike her dark tangled curls.” Betty shrugged. “Well, don’t just stand there, hug her back.” He paused for a brief second, squeezed his eyelids shut and exhaled loudly. Once he lifted his lids, he peered at the little girl with a deep set of blue eyes, then did just as he was told.

  With child in hand, Officer McKenzie went on to follow protocol—calling downtown—which involved the fire department and hospital, letting them know a child would soon arrive. He knew it was only a matter of time before the FBI would get involved. As backup arrived, they vigilantly searched the grounds for clues to the child’s missing parents. Anything to do with a lost child took precedence over all other cases. All available hands were out and about taking this matter most seriously.

  The officer was in awe that the child refused to let him go throughout the course of these events. With every sound, she shuddered. Every person who approached, she withdrew from. In fact, her little arms clung more tightly, refusing to let go even as she was lowered onto the stretcher. She buried her face into Officer McKenzie’s chest, hiding from both medical personnel. While the search went full speed ahead, both Officer McKenzie and Betty rode to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, leaving the madness behind.

  The officer refused to let her go as she silently wept so much that his shirt became soaked, but he didn't mind. Every time she cowered, something within him wanted to protect her even more. Her weeping tore at his chest so greatly he placed his head on hers and held her next to his heart. Betty remained near, as she was the only other person the child allowed to touch her. So, Betty rubbed the little girl’s back for comfort measures as her face stayed hidden. With the child under their protection and in their sight, they felt almost obligated to stay by her side to keep her safe.

  The girl was quarantined and given police supervision while at Yale New Haven Children’s Hospital. When it came to missing children, people always become fanatics. Extremist felt it was their job to get involved even when not asked. Logic always lost the battle when it came to zealous matters such as these.

  ***

  It was now late into the evening, news of the lost child had spread across neighboring towns, so the local police stood watch in case of unwanted attention. The local media was there with microphones and pens in hand. A few families of missing children arrived at the hospital, hoping for a glimpse of the child. Questions were asked as to where, when and how this could occur. The reporters enthusiastically tried to get in, but the hospital was locked down. Every person was checked entering the facility. Eventually, they called in for backup since the crowd had turned into a cluster of chaos. It was as if the early nip in the air set the mood of confusion.

  The search party continued to scour the highway in search of the girl’s family, in hopes of receiving answers to this bizarre mystery. The crew traveled up and down the road for a car accident or private plane crash; they went door to door to question residents, but nothing manifested. The only thing they were greeted with was a distressing wind the further they hunted, as if the atmosphere set the temper of those they questioned. Neighbors were not helpful at all. As a matter of fact, they were agitated, as was the search party, becoming more frustrated with the lack of answers.

  The further they dug in the direction the child may have come from, the more exasperated they became. They could not locate a wrecked vehicle or parents, but what they did stumble upon bewildered them. Miles away from where they had discovered the roaming child, all the crops had mysteriously withered and dried up on two neighboring farms. Not too far off, they found a twenty-foot, blackened patch of grass in between those farms. To make matters worse, the weather had altered drastically in this very spot. The law enforcers, and those who had volunteered to help in the hunt, stood under a most heinous thunderstorm, and as water rained down on them, they could see that the weather was as clear as it should have been, in the distance. They were mystified. That’s when they stopped the search and called in the Centers for Disease Control. This was beyond New Haven’s scope.

  ***

  Hours later, the girl still hadn’t said a word, continuing to gaze far off whenever anyone tried to communicate with her. No language they used worked. They called in translators of all kinds: French, Celtic, African, Spanish, Creole, Portuguese, they even tried Mandarin, Japanese, and Arabic, and the list went on, but nothing worked.

  The only thing for sure was neither McKenzie nor Betty were to never leave the child's side. And they didn’t. She didn’t allow it. She buried her face into McKenzie's chest or gripped at Betty’s hand whenever they attempted to move, and those big hazel eyes would well up with moisture. She was a mystery, as was their connection to the child. They protected her as if she was their own.

  After numerous attempts to get her to talk, the little girl finally enunciated in a clear tone, “Annulo meo.” She pointed to the floor at a lone, shiny ring.

  Everyone in the room dropped what they were doing. “What language was that?” Officer McKenzie asked.

  No one could decipher, but the doctor observed, “That sounds similar to Latin, but that’s impossible. How could the child know Latin?”

  “I have an idea. Hey, Betty, can you keep her busy while I make a phone call?” the officer asked the only other person in the room with whom the girl had bonded.

  “Sure. Who are you going to call?” she asked.

  “Help,” he answered, nodding to the girl to offer reassurance that he'd be back. While Betty was keeping her occupied with the odd-looking ring, he managed to step away long enough to call the local college to request the head of the linguistics department, Professor Emily Vail.

  ***
>
  Emily Vail, a small framed, middle-aged woman with dirty blonde flyaway curls, was known as a workaholic since her husband had died in a tragic accident ten years prior. Fall was coming early, as evidenced by the crispness in the air. The trees on the campus had already started to lay to rest on the deep-rooted green. She had been heading out from a long day of grading finals when the chairman’s office manager caught up with her. She was standing outside the main doors of the administration’s office, rummaging through a large duffel bag she used as a purse.

  “Emily, stop! Stop,” hollered an out-of-breath Arnold. He took the stairs down two at a time.

  Emily stopped digging and stared at the poor man now trying to catch his breath. “You know Arnold, I walk every day for lunch; you should come with me.” She felt bad for her friend, but he refused to work out. “Just catch your breath and tell me what’s going on.” She suppressed the laughter by wrapping her favorite gray sweater around her shoulders.

  “The cops are looking… whew… for you,” he panted as his lungs finally started to fill with air.

  “For what?”

  “There is a missing child and no one can get her to talk, so they’re requesting you,” he said with a full breath, right as a cruiser pulled up to the curb about fifty feet away.

  “Me?” she asked Arnold, but curiously watched the cop get out of the car and head her way.

  “Ms. Vail?” asked the uniformed officer, who had a photo of Emily in his hand in order to recognize the woman.

  “Yes, that’s me. Can you tell me more about the girl?”

  “I’m Officer Pete.” He reached out to shake her hand. She obliged. “I’m sure they will fill you in more when we get to Yale New Haven Children’s Hospital,” he said, guiding her towards the car.