Excerpt 6

We're going to talk about 4 of my series Failure's Legacy. Finding Jessica is one of my favorite books, in spite of its flaws.

I will admit I, should have written book 4 and 5 as a single book. It started that way, it got overwhelming for me so I decided to break it down into two books. The idea was to have Finding Jessia be less about Eric Combs finding his lost love Jessixa Cooper, and more about finding Jessica Rae the missing half sibling. It became obvious the book would be much to long as a single story.

The books overlap and share scenes from different points of view as Jessica Rae weaves in and back out of the story. Books 3, 4, and 5 tell stories happening congruently.  Deeick and Eric text each other as their individual adventures unfurl. Jessica Rae the main character of book 5 appears in book 4 as their paths cross a few times.

Finding Jessica is about Eric Combs. Eric suffers from severe learning disabilities. In high-school he was given a tutor to keep his grades high enough to play football. He fell in love with his tutor his senior year. She moved away letting him down easy by telling him she would come back or call for him.

On his lunch break at work he turns his phone on and finds a voice mail from Jessica screaming for help. He walks off his job and goes out to find her. He ends up leaving North Carolina and ending up in Buffalo New York in the middle of a manhunt for a serial killer.

The FBI believes he's somehow involved, a law firm wants him to go home, a dective wants him Finding clues... the killer wants him dead. A lifetime of coping skills to deal with his learning disabilities have made Eric Combs the one person capable of stopping the killer and finding the woman he loves.

I love Eric because his motives are so pure. He sees the world as it is, not as anyone tells him it is. He has an absalutist view, Eric sees the world in black and white without infinite shades of gray. People are either good or they are bad, as evident by his response to learning a human trafficker was murdered in the scene below. He is annoyed the police aren't seeing the clues that to him seem obvious. He relishes the news that the killer is focusing on him, because to Eric that means Jessica won't be a victim until the killer finds him. Eric is willing to put a target on his back and risk his life for a woman he has not seen in years because to him, that's just what good people do.

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"Eric! Eric Combs!" The familiar voice of Detective Thorpe seemed to echo off all the buildings in the still quiet night air.

“Damn, Eric I need to talk to you,” he said as he jogged to catch up. “Eric were you in Depew today?” he asked.

“I don’t know, maybe, I went someplace I never been,” Eric said.

“Some apartments, like this?” The detective held up his phone showing Eric an image of the apartments he had taken Pickles to.

“Yes, that’s exactly the place I went to,” he said, annoyed because his attention was pulled away from what he was there to do.

“Eric, this is important. Why did you go there?” he asked seriously.

“A girl I met, she wanted to go there, she borrowed a motorcycle from someone,” he said.

“Is this her?”  he asked, holding up another image on his phone. Eric looked, tilted his head to the left and nodded.

“Yes, her hair is shorter and messier, but it is the same woman,” Eric informed him.

“Jessica Rae Tripowsky. You sure?” he asked.

“She said her name was Pickles.” Eric had not been paying attention enough to catch the last name Thorpe used.

“Eric, please, go home, just go home,” Detective Thorpe said.

Eric was bewildered by those words.

“I thought you said I was a big help,” he finally said.

“Eric, the apartment you went to, the guy who lives there… he is a human trafficker, he sells women to overseas buyers who turn them into sex workers, now he’s dead,” he told the young man.

“Good.” Eric said and continued to look at the scene.

“They want to blame the two of you, Eric. The FBI just wants you off the street to see if the killing stops,” Thorpe said.

“It won’t,” Eric said flatly.

“Well, of course it won’t… Eric I’m trying to help you here,” Thorpe said.

“Then help me find the green van,” Eric said.

“Wait, Eric that green van in the picture doesn’t mean the killer drives a green van,” Thorpe said.

“I know, but a green van tried to run me over a little while ago, drove up on the sidewalk to do it too,” Eric said.

“Wait. What?” Thorpe said.

“Did you go back to where that picture was taken and try to find out about where that green van was parked? I bet there is a big oil stain,” Eric said.

“Okay, I’ll give that a look, but listen Eric, I’m just worried about you…” Eric spun around and cut him off.

“Worry has been your problem the whole time. First you were worried you’d look bad if you didn’t stop the killer. Then you worried the FBI would blame you for the problems catching the guy. You were worried the girl you were seeing would find someone new to make videos with. You worry about me. You worry about your partner. Stop worrying and just do what you know how to do, Detective,” Eric said in a voice that carried wisdom that seemed far beyond Eric’s years and capacity. Pete Thorpe was temporarily struck mute by the words.

“Now was this Detective Swan’s body here?” Eric asked.

“No, it wasn’t. It was a man reported missing a couple of days ago, it’s the same killer, same clues, but he is being more gruesome,” Detective Thorpe told the young man.

“More gruesome how?” Eric pressed.

“The body was dismembered; the M.E. thinks some parts were cut off while he was alive. There are signs of torture, too,” he informed Eric.

“Same bull junk with hair and a condom?” Eric asked.

“Yes and no,” Thorpe replied.

“That’s not an answer,” Eric said. He was growing tired of being treated like a child.

“Blonde hairs were found on the body, and his penis was inside a condom, his penis was not attached to his body though, and there were two extra fingers that did not belong to him scattered in the parking lot, like he had dropped them and not noticed them,” Thorpe finally admitted.

Eric nodded.

“You should check the roof,” Eric said.

“What? Why?” Thorpe was confused.

“Because the fold-up ladder is pulled down and even from here, I can see a hand on the edge up there,” Eric said flatly.

Thorpe peered into the dim light. He wasn’t certain if it was a hand or a trick of the dim lighting, but it looked like it could be a human hand.

Eric walked away towards his car.

“Eric where are you going?” he asked.

“To find a room, I’m tired,” Eric hollered back.

“Wait Eric. does the number 92 mean anything to you?” Thorpe yelled.

“That’s me,” Eric said as he kept walking, he turned his head over his shoulder and called back, “Fort Mills Yellow Jackets, defensive end, number 92, that was me,” he yelled.

“He carved ’92 is next’ on the victim’s chest, Eric!” he shouted.