Havoc-on-Hudson Read Online Free

place might have rusted out, and he could remove it without too much hassle. He’d try that first. If all else failed, he’d check out the windows and sliding doors at the back of the house. He needed money badly. If he could pick up enough sellable items here, he’d pay off the junkie who’d started threatening him. His pitiful earnings from the supermarket didn’t stretch that far.
    Danny Joe had to be real careful not to get caught this time around. He’d been in and out of jail for breaking and entering since he was nine years old. But last year had changed everything for him legally. Papa had come after him again. Danny Joe had cut him up pretty bad with the big carving knife. It felt real good, stabbing the creep in his gut. He’d only been thirteen when it happened. If he’d been any older, he’d have been sent to state prison for years. Papa survived, and the paramedics called the cops. The old creep didn’t press charges, but it was clear to the cops he’d been sexually abusing Danny Joe, and that’s why he’d grabbed the knife and gone after the old bastard. He was taken into custody anyhow, because of his long string of offenses as a juvenile delinq uent.
    So he served the maximum of a year in jail after the attack and then spent time in a half-way house. Rehabilitation, ha! His work at the supermarket was part of the rehab program and the Judge warned him if he got into trouble again he’d be spending a lot more time behind bars, so he better stay clean and away from the shit.
    “Yeah,” he’d said, to no one in particular, “let the damn Judge eat three squares on the lousy money I’m ear ning!”
    While Danny Joe was incarcerated, Papa had done him a big favor and died of kidney failure. After the years of sexual abuse and neglect he’d suffered, the boy felt nothing but disgust about his father’s death. Also, he swore that if he ever saw his mother again, he’d kill the bitch with his own hands, for leaving him in Papa’s care. She was no better than his Papa.
    Now, Danny Joe was able to slip through the vent and into the basement. He crept up to the main level of the house, picking up a couple of cell phones and an iPad from a desk on the way, dropping them into the plastic bag he’d hung on his tool belt. Then he tip-toed up a wide, carpeted staircase to the bedroom floor, where most people kept their cash and jew elry.
    At the landing he suddenly stopped and froze. Was that a TV set he heard? He hadn’t bargained for anyone being home. He knew he should get out of there as fast as he could, but he’d come this far and he wanted his re ward.
    The sound was coming from one of the bedrooms at the end of a long, dark hallway. He’d check it out. Maybe they’d just forgotten to turn the TV off.
    He crept toward the room. The door was ajar. He peered around it. A young girl lay asleep on top of a frilly pink bedspread, the TV on her nightstand illuminating the area around her bed.
    Oooh. Now he wasn’t scared. He slowly unwound some of the cord he was carrying and silently approached the bed. But she woke up before he even touched her, then started screaming and fighting him, making it impossible to tie her up. He ordered her to stop, but she kept kicking and punching, so he grabbed a small hammer from his belt and started hitting her with it, until she finally shut up and stopped fighting. Then, feeling empowered, he thought about raping her. He felt no remorse or pangs of conscience for what he did to the bloodied, unconscious girl on the pink quilt. While she continued to bleed profusely, a pool of blood soaking the bed linens around her, he pulled her nightie up over her bludgeoned face.
    During the break-in, Danny Joe had first listened for an alarm and was prepared to run if they had one, but all was quiet. He’d never even heard of a silent alarm, but one had been triggered by his entry into the basement. In a matter of minutes he was facing two cops with drawn guns.
    Although