The Demon Within Read online

  THE DEMON WITHIN

  A Finn Delaney New York City Mystery

  Book 2

  Robert L. Bryan

  Copyright © 2019 Robert L. Bryan

  All rights reserved

  First Edition

  Amazon Digital Services LLC

  . This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental

  For Meghan

  Contents

  Introduction: The Woods

  Chapter 1: The Hero

  Chapter 2: Same Old Cases

  Chapter 3: Going to Prison

  Chapter 4: Moving Up

  Chapter 5: The Dark Path

  Chapter 6: The Church

  Chapter 7: Demonologist

  Chapter 8: The Case Folder

  Chapter 9: Freedom of Religion

  Chapter 10: Crime Scene

  Chapter 11: What You Don’t Know May Hurt You

  Chapter 12: Exorcism – NYPD Style

  Chapter 13: Discovery

  Chapter 14: The Agony of Defeat

  Chapter 15: No Stone Unturned

  Epilogue: Demons are Real

  Introduction: The Woods

  Two Years Earlier

  The woods were like a droplet of paradise. The air was still and only the distant laughter of children in a nearby park served to remind Kristen she was still in New York City. The sunlight streamed in like it was purer than the lights of Midtown Manhattan, white, yet liquid gold at the same time. Nearby, on a rotting, spindly tree, Kristen spied a woodpecker hunting for insects, its brilliant red crest rocking back and forth as it pecked. Tiny chunks of wood fell to the leaf litter below, the sound dissipating into the surrounding woods.

  The laughter of the children was fading away, making Kristin a bit anxious. She had been on the trails of Alley Pond Park hundreds of times, but never this deeply into the 655-thousand-acre expanse. She tightened her grip on Thomas’s hand. Kristen had faith in her boyfriend and wasn’t going to stop now. She believed Thomas when he told her he had found a spot deep in the woods that was private and romantic enough for two fifteen-year-olds from Queens to share intimacy for the first time.

  Kristen was breathing heavily, partly from the pace of the walk and partly from the anticipation of what was to come. Thomas led the way while maintaining a tight grip on Kristen with his left hand. His right hand struggled to maintain a hold of the large duffel bag that contained a blanket, a bottle of cheap wine, and assorted snacks – all the accoutrements necessary for a morning of passion.

  Thomas turned and smiled. “We’re almost there, Kris. The clearing is just up ahead.”

  Thomas stepped into the clearing first. He stood motionless and speechless like a statue that had been standing guard in this clearing for many years. Kristen’s knees buckled and she slumped to the ground. She wanted desperately to get up and run as fast as she could, but her body was not responding to her wishes. The best she could do was slither a few feet away from the clearing, bury her head in the ground and wail. Thomas was still frozen in place, but his mind was beginning to process information. The amount of blood splattered throughout the clearing caused him to initially miss the bodies. Once awareness set in, however, he could focus on nothing but the four bodies. They were laid out side by side in the middle of the clearing. Their throats had been slashed to the point that Thomas was uncertain as to whether the heads were still attached. Next to the bodies, blood was partially obliterating some type of symbol drawn in the hard dirt. The symbol had star-like qualities but was vastly different than any star Thomas had ever seen. His concern suddenly shifted to Kristen, as he turned to see his girlfriend shaking on the ground. He reached into his pocket for his iPhone. His hands were shaking worse than Kristin as he tried to steady himself. Slowly and methodically, he began to tap 9-1-1. With his phone pressed to his ear, Thomas’s eyes were fixed on the horrific scene. The 911 operator was on the line, but Thomas couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move either. All he could do was watch one of the blood-soaked bodies sit up.

  Chapter 1: The Hero

  April 8th – Present Day

  Finn shifted in the chair, trying to find some level of comfort, or at minimum the least possible degree of discomfort. His task wasn’t easy. He was sitting on one of those cheap, metal folding chairs his posterior had been tortured with throughout his grammar and high school years. Finn gazed out on the audience. They looked just as uncomfortable in the same chairs.

  Finn poured some water from the pitcher on the dais. The only other person on the stage was standing behind the podium, droning on about what a credit to society Finn was. Finn chuckled to himself. He didn’t even know the name of this sweaty, bald, overweight man who was raining accolades on him. All Finn knew was that he was sitting at the dais in the banquet hall of the Italian Charities on Queens Boulevard, receiving an award from The Association of New York State Private Investigators as their Person of the Year.

  As the speechmaker rambled on, Finn looked out over the crowd, if you could call it that. The large hall was set with at least two hundred chairs, but Finn estimated there could not have been more than twenty-five people sprinkled throughout the room – and most of the people were his guests.

  Finn’s dad, NYPD Deputy Chief Patrick Delaney sat proudly in the center of the front row. It was Patrick’s disappointment at having to see his son medically retired from the NYPD due to a knee injury after less than two years of service that led to him setting Finn up in his private investigations business. Sitting next to Patrick, but looking nowhere near as proud was 83-year-old Gladys Kowalski. When Patrick set up Finn with his P.I. office, he also supplied a secretary. Finn noted that Gladys appeared to be as happy to be at this ceremony as she did to be in his office. In between the speaker’s accolades, Finn could hear Gladys asking his dad in a loud voice how much longer the ceremony was going to be. Finn shook his head and took a sip of water. As he reached for the pitcher to refill his glass, he heard a loud “Ping.” Finn’s hand recoiled away from the pitcher. What the heck had just hit it? Finn’s eye caught sight of Kevin’s smiling face in the second row. Kevin discreetly waved and pointed to the rubber band and paper clips he was holding. Finn glanced at the ceiling and sighed. Nothing ever seemed to change. He had known Kevin Malone since the first grade, but now, at 26-years of age and standing 6’ 5”, Kevin was just as much a kid as he was at age six. Kevin was the daytime bartender at the Shamrock Pub, their local neighborhood hangout, and since Finn’s office on Woodhaven Boulevard was directly across the street from the pub, he had ample time to hang out with his buddy when business was slow – which was most of the time.

  Also sitting in the first row were Susan and Chelsea Garland. It was Susan who hired Finn to find her missing daughter. Finn studied the mother and daughter – mother still looking thankful and daughter looking as unappreciative and frustrated as when he found her. Finn looked into his partially filled water glass and snickered. It was actually a microcosm for the circumstances that had brought him here. On one hand, the glass was half full, and he was sitting at this dais being honored because his investigative skills and determination saved Chelsea and brought down a web of police corruption. Finn shook the glass in his hand. When the water settled he reflected that it could also be looked at as half empty. In reality, Finn realized that he originally didn’t have a clue how to find Chelsea, and it was only through a series of missteps and coincidences that he stumbled onto her whereabouts and almost managed to get them both killed in the process.

  Finn looked around the room. He figured the remaining attendees must be members of this private detective organization. There was, however, one other familiar face in the audience. Finn locked eyes with Meg and her smile grew wide. Finn force
d himself to match her grin. Finn grit his teeth under the smile. It was still an effort for him to show his feelings toward Meg, and it was all due to his guilt.

  Finn Delaney, Kevin Malone, and Meghan Conlon were inseparable growing up in Middle Village, Queens. Even past high school graduation, the three neighborhood friends were close. Then Finn met Jennifer in college and everything changed. Jen had a big problem with Finn having a female friend, so Finn took the cold and cowardly way out – he cut Meg out of his life. Even though she only lived a few blocks away, he had no more contact with her. When Jen unceremoniously dumped Finn after admitting that she had been cheating on him, losing Jennifer didn’t bother him all that much. What bothered him the most was how he had treated Meg. Even though she seemed perfectly willing to resume their friendship, and possibly something more, Finn’s Irish guilt was forcing him to keep her at arms- length. He gazed at that pretty face and knew that he wanted something more with her, but he also knew he was going to have to take it slow. Finn suddenly became aware that the speaker was finally wrapping up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our new Person of the Year, Finbar Delaney.”

  Finn shook the sweaty hand of the speaker and moved behind the podium. The polite applause from the sparse crowd created an echo throughout the hall. Finn took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “I’m very happy to be here today. Thank you very much for this honor.”

  Finn moved back to his chair. There was no applause, just silence. Finally, Kevin provided feedback when he yelled, “That’s it?”

  Gladys turned to Patrick. “Good, it’s finally over. Let’s get out of here. I’m hungry.”

  April 9th

  Finn fidgeted in the uncomfortable chair while focusing on the opposite wall. His office chair was just as bad as the folding metal chair from the ceremony. He couldn’t decide if the plaque was straight or just slightly tilted to the right. It was unclear how long he stared at the wall – maybe more than five minutes. A voice from the other side of the office provided the opportunity to refocus.

  “You can stare at that thing forever, and it’s still not gonna bring in any new business.”

  Finn forced a chuckle. He was annoyed, but Gladys was right. The New York Post headline secured under the clear acrylic was bold and dynamic – LOCAL PRIVATE EYE IN DRAMATIC RESCUE AND SHOOTOUT WITH DIRTY COPS.

  Finn thought such publicity would result in a line of new clients going down the stairs and out onto Woodhaven Boulevard. He soon learned the harsh reality of how fleeting fame can be. His rescue of Chelsea Garland provided nothing more than his fifteen minutes of fame before quietly slipping back into obscurity. True, business had picked up, but the clientele was still the same assortment of oddballs and crazies he had been dealing with before the big case – there were just more of them now.

  Finn yawned, slapped his hands on the desktop, stood up and stretched. He walked to the window to take in the view of the late morning scenery. Artists would not be lining up to capture the beauty of Woodhaven Boulevard traffic from his second-floor perch, but Finn was aware that the film of dirt on the window only served to make a less than attractive view even more unattractive. He glanced over to Gladys, who appeared to be fully engaged in a crossword puzzle. Finn made a mental note to ask his dad whether he included cleaning the windows in Gladys’s duties when he hired her. It seemed reasonable that the secretary in a small two-person office would be charged with performing some light cleaning duties, didn’t it? Finn turned to the dirty window and then back toward Gladys. He did this several times. Each time he faced his secretary he inhaled in anticipation of emitting words on the exhale, but each time he stopped, held his breath momentarily before releasing only air. He just couldn’t find the right words to ask an 83-year old woman to wipe a window. One more time Finn inhaled. This time, words accompanied his exhale, but they weren’t the words he had been searching for.

  “I’m going across the street, Gladys.”

  “What a surprise,” she mocked. Finn began moving toward the door when Gladys picked up a paper from her desk. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be doing the surveillance today?”

  Finn stopped in the doorway and spun around. “What surveillance?”

  “Mrs. Wesson – her husband is supposedly having an affair with the mailman.”

  “Oh yeah,” Finn acknowledged. “I never said I was doing that surveillance today. See you later,” Finn said while he was already halfway down the stairs.

  Finn pushed open the heavy wood door and stepped into his familiar world. As was the norm, at 11 AM the Shamrock Pub was empty. The red mane visible above the bottles on the opposite side of the square bar served to verify the presence of Kevin Malone. Finn winced as he settled onto the stool. He tried to think as little as possible about the shattered knee that changed so much in his life, but the shooting pain that would pulsate for a few seconds several times a day served as a cruel reminder of what might have been.

  “Well, well – if it isn’t our local hero.” Kevin reached behind him and plopped a bottle of Sambuca on the bar. “Let’s drink to heroes,” Kevin said while placing two shot glasses on the bar.

  Finn extended his right hand over the shot glass. “Just coffee for me.”

  “Whatever you say, hero,” Kevin commented as he refocused the aim of the bottle to his own shot glass. “To heroes!” he declared before downing the shot. Kevin wiped his mouth with his hand. “Feel free to perform more acts of heroism, Finbar. That was good!”

  Finn looked toward the rear of the pub. “Where’s Meg?”

  Kevin had begun wiping down the bar. “She starts at noon. I thought you would know that by now.” Kevin halted his work and threw the towel into Finn’s face.

  Finn tossed the towel aside. “What’s wrong with you, jerk?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Kevin countered as he retrieved the towel. “I thought you were going to make your play for Meg. What happened?”

  “Nothing,” Finn responded. “I’m just taking it slow.”

  “Oh, you’re just being cautious so you don’t hurt the poor girl.” Kevin sarcastically stated. “How noble.”

  “What about you?” Finn attempted to go on the offensive. “I don’t see you walking around with a girlfriend on your arm.”

  “I’m taking a break,” Kevin said as he continued wiping around the corner of the bar.

  “A break?” Finn scoffed. “Is that what constantly striking out is called nowadays?”

  Kevin put down the towel and went to retrieve the fresh coffee. “Hey, I was on the verge of hooking up with this ultra-hot babe a couple of months ago.”

  Finn chuckled. “On the verge means that you got nowhere, right?”

  Kevin placed a cup in front of Finn and poured the hot brew. “There’s a lot more to it than that. I could have hooked up with her, but I had a really bad experience that scared me away.”

  Finn lowered his head to get a whiff of the piping hot coffee. “You’re full of crap. How come I don’t know anything about this?”

  “You were too busy being in hero mode at that time. But if you shut up and drink your coffee, I’ll tell you the story.”

  Finn gingerly sipped the coffee. “Go ahead. I can’t wait.”

  Kevin came out from behind the bar and took up residence on the stool next to Finn. “A few months ago, I was on this dating site and I hooked up with this gorgeous South American girl named Carmen. After about a week of playing footsie online, we decided to meet.”

  “Where did you go?” Finn asked.

  “She lives in Richmond Hill, so I kept it local. First, we went to Starbucks on Metropolitan Avenue, and then I took her to dinner at The Roundup on Jamaica Avenue.”

  “Big spender,” Finn commented. “Isn’t the menu on the wall there?”

  “Just shut up – do you want to hear the story?” Kevin snapped. “So, he next week we arrange to go out again, and I am thinking that this will be zero hour for me.”

  “What?�
�

  “You know, Finbar. It was going to be my time to shine, score, hook up – whatever you intellectuals call it.”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “Really?”

  “She wanted to go into Manhattan to visit some friends. I thought it was weird to be visiting her friends, but hey, this girl was gorgeous, and I was prepared to go anywhere she told me to go – or so I thought.”

  “What does that mean?” Finn inquired.

  “Patience, Finbar,” Kevin held up his right index finger. “I’m getting to it.” Kevin poured himself another shot of Sambuca and quickly threw it down his throat. “Okay,” he said while wiping his mouth. “So, we take the train into Manhattan to a place on 22nd Street on the East Side. I don’t remember exactly where it was. I do remember that the place was a residential brownstone in the middle of the block. As we were going through the front door, a small sign on the door caught my attention.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It read Church of Satan.”

  Finn reeled back in the stool and laughed. “Get the hell out of here.

  “That’s right,” Kevin nodded.

  Finn smiled. "And you just went right on in, didn't you?"

  Kevin extended his arms and shrugged. "This is Manhattan. I thought it was a sticker someone posted for a new hipster club."

  Finn continued sipping his coffee. "Go ahead. I can't wait to hear how this turns out."

  Kevin rested his left elbow on the bar and leaned in closer to Finn. "So, there's about twenty or thirty people in the apartment, and they're all wearing masks."

  "Masks?" Finn's laughter almost caused him to slip off the stool.

  Kevin didn't seem amused. "That's right, funny guy - masks! I thought it was some kind of costume party. So, this guy near the door greets Carmen and hands her two masks. She hands me this mask that looked like a demented goat with a long nose and she kept some ugly female looking mask for herself. So, we're milling around in this huge living room. Carmen was talking to some of the masked guests, but she didn't introduce me to anyone. I'm really beginning to feel uncomfortable, and I'm about to tell her that I want to leave when suddenly, a bright light comes on in one corner of the room. The light is illuminating this guy in a brown robe and hood, wearing a pig mask."