Requital: "When the Seed of Vengeance Is Sown, It Has No Bounds..."

By Monique Gliozzi

A mother's desperate measures to save a critically sick child.
An ex-FBI operative turned business owner, balancing work and family life.
An unexpected kidnapping.
A serial killer behind bars without the possibility of parole.
When manipulation and deception cause these worlds to collide, the consequences are deadly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jun 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9780228867876

Monique Gliozzi

Born in Dublin, Dr Monique Gliozzi, a graduate from the University of Western Australia medical school, has a keen interest in forensic sciences and psychiatry. She works as a psychiatrist in Perth, with ties to the UWA School of Psychiatry, where she has had a role as a Senior Clinical lecturer. Her love for teaching has granted her a nomination for an Excellence in Teaching Award in 2016.Monique also holds an interest in aviation. She trained at the Royal Aero Club of Western Australia, where she obtained a commercial pilot licence. Following this, Monique completed her instructor rating and is now working on a casual basis as a senior flight instructor.Monique has only recently rekindled her passion for writing starting with the fictional thriller, Foresight.

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Requital

When the Seed of Vengeance Is Sown, It Has No Bounds…

Monique Gliozzi

Requital

Copyright © 2024 by Monique Gliozzi

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-5167-7 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-6787-6 (eBook)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Other titles by Monique Gliozzi

Foresight

Hunted

Vestige

Diversity

Facets of the Past

Once is Never Enough

Hidden

Disclaimer

This novel’s story is fictitious. Certain long-standing institutions, public offices and agencies are mentioned, but the characters involved are entirely imaginary. Any resemblance to actual persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgments

I would like to express my gratitude to the following people who have helped me create and publish my first and subsequent novels, including this latest - Requital:

Alexandra Davies, my editor who taught me the art of simplicity for the creation of suspense.

Tim Lindsay, CEO & founder of Tellwell Publishing and his team, who have worked tirelessly on all my projects.

Ruth Callaghan, a dear family friend and journalist who pointed me in the right direction during my journey as an author.

My parents and Goddaughter Dalia, for making this latest project a real adventure.

Finally, to all the avid readers of fiction who continue to inspire today’s authors.

Thank you!

Quote

The silence of the envious is too noisy.

—Kahlil Gibran

Dedication

To my family, friends, zealous fans, and collaborators

With love

PROLOGUE

It is said that when deprived of one of our five senses, as a defense, our other senses collectively take over, heightening our experience of the world surrounding us.

The rough fabric of a dark-colored blindfold felt tight around the captive’s head, denying even the smallest sliver of light from penetrating. The space was poorly lit by a naked lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, casting creepy shadows across the walls. A smell of dust and years of dampness filled the chilly air. Metal restraints around the captive’s wrists and left ankle still enabled limited movement on and from the simple low-lying cot. The captive sat quietly on the cot’s edge, the jagged rusty metal frame beginning to irritate the skin. A rhythmic hum of a distant generator broke the eerie silence. Overcome by a sense of vigilance, the captive listened astutely for any other useful clues. Suddenly, a new but subtle sound was heard. The prisoner’s head tilted slightly toward it, calling out, not once, but twice. No response.

In the shadows, the Mask stood motionless, watching, fascinated by what had been accomplished. The cat had finally caught its mouse and was ready to play a deadly game.

CHAPTER ONE

Los Angeles, Women’s Correctional Facility

The echo of a neighboring cell’s gate colliding against its metal frame had become a familiar sound to inmate 0661. Convicted felon Larissa La Roche had been given life without the possibility of parole. Only eighteen months had passed since the sentencing. Lying on a lumpy mattress, she stared at the ceiling, reminiscing about the luxurious life she’d once led. The family vineyard in Napa Valley was now being run by her brother Daniel and his wife, with lesser input from their ageing aunt and uncle. She thought of her successful career as a flight attendant, the marriage to Austin, her first husband, and subsequently to Greek real estate tycoon, Aleco. She sighed while pondering how it had all gone so terribly wrong.

La Roche! the guard called out gruffly through the dirty beige bars. It’s time. Larissa knew exactly what she meant, instantly obeying the uniformed woman. Automatically placing her hands through a small opening between the bars, she waited for a pair of handcuffs to be tightened around her wrists.

Thank you. I feel so much more secure now, Larissa taunted as the guard opened the cell. She was escorted down the hall to another wing of the prison, adjacent to the prison hospital. They reached a heavy metal door with a small, reinforced window. The guard peered through it before allowing the inmate to enter and be seated, then fastened the cuffs onto a metal hook on the table. She left to wait outside until the session came to an end.

On this occasion there was another person accompanying her weekly visitor. Irritated by the intrusion onto what she considered to be privileged time with her therapist, Larissa ignored the younger woman.

Dr. Nelson, I see you’ve brought company. Her tone was one of superficial amusement.

I’m Dr. Tate, Dr. Nelson’s new resident medical officer, the woman volunteered, eager to break the ice and fascinated by what she’d learned about their subject.

Are you now? How lovely, she replied sarcastically, studying the thirty-something-year-old sporting a tailored navy pantsuit, and wearing shoulder-length brown hair pulled tightly into a ponytail. Neither pretty nor ugly. A nothing face, the prisoner observed, keeping her thoughts private.

Yes, I’ve studied your file and feel that we can build on the progress made thus far, the novice replied keenly.

Have you now? Well, I don’t deal with amateurs. Larissa directed her gaze at the experienced forensic psychiatrist with whom she’d established a superficial rapport over several months. He smiled at her before he spoke.

"Larissa, I know this is not exactly what you want, but Dr. Tate will take part in of some of our sessions. It’s a training requirement," he explained calmly but firmly. His tone soothed her temporarily. Larissa considered her options, one of which could have been requesting the allocation of another therapist, something she didn’t desire. This man had been the most reliable presence in her life, and she was not about to lose him courtesy of a nobody. His demeanor had brought her a sense of serenity from the day they’d met. She’d taken in every inch of his physical characteristics on that first appointment, from the short, wavy, gray hair and intelligent light-brown eyes to the muscular physique covered by a dark woolen suit.

Does your wife know about this little young thing you’re spending time with? she asked with seductive inuendo.

Larissa, really! Dr. Nelson, a faithful husband and father of four, was not amused by the insinuation. Are we going to talk today or are we wasting our time?

Sorry. I was just joking, she replied, giving him a weak smile. Let’s begin.

Perhaps I’ll let Dr. Tate start with some questions of her own, the consultant remarked, watching for his patient’s reaction. Larissa acknowledged with a nod, directing her attention to the young doctor.

Well, like I said earlier, I’ve studied your case, which I find absolutely fascinating. She shifted in her chair while making direct eye contact with Larissa.

"What in particular did you find fascinating? The seduction, the string of corpses I left in my wake, witnessing my mother’s murder at the hands of my greedy uncle at the age of ten and then testifying against him, which put him in the slammer where he died?"

For starters, yes, the childhood trauma that shaped your view of the world. Then there is a series of setbacks in your adult and romantic life which further enhanced your pre-existing inability to trust. Dr. Tate paused, expecting hostility, but to her surprise the patient remained composed.

My, oh my! You don’t waste time getting right to the point. Ever heard of developing a therapeutic rapport? You mentioned my trust issues so wouldn’t that be a first step in this process? she observed, glancing briefly at Dr. Nelson, who smiled nervously.

In my clinical opinion, there is no point trying to establish rapport with a sociopath, Dr. Tate remarked bluntly.

You sound more like an investigative reporter trying to get a scoop. Anyway, let’s see what else you have to say. Larissa relaxed against the back of the chair and cocked her head slightly to one side, occasionally exchanging glances with the seasoned shrink.

In spite of all that I’ve mentioned, you were a successful flight attendant for one of our leading carriers. Yet, you chose your victims, who were innocent passengers on your flights, then seduced and subsequently murdered them in the privacy of their hotel room.

I’d disagree with the term ‘innocent’. They were entitled businessmen seated in first class, who were willing to cheat on their spouses without batting an eyelid, Larissa corrected, leaning forward. "Honey, you can interpret it as a power trip, revenge for my first husband’s infidelities, a way of mastering and gaining dominance over my childhood. I really don’t care. What I do know is that they all deserved it."

What about others who crossed your path while you were on the run from the law? If I’m not mistaken you ended up reinventing yourself in Greece, where you met and married your second husband, who also turned up dead at your hand. Not to mention, fleeing that country after the FBI got wind of your whereabouts, and bumping off a few more bystanders to evade capture, until Special Agent Ashford finally caught up with you and put an end to your killing spree. The young doctor took a breath. Larissa averted her gaze toward the woman’s supervisor, who sat impassively.

"Bumping off? Doesn’t sound like professional lingo to me, what do you think Dr. Nelson?"

I guess… he began but was interrupted by the junior colleague who seemed intent on continuing the recap of Larissa’s criminal trajectory.

Do you have any remorse? How do you even sleep at night? Dr. Tate asked in quick succession.

Like a baby, she retorted. I think I’m done here for today. Guard! The officer entered and removed Larissa from the room, leaving the two psychiatrists to share their thoughts.

That was an interesting approach. You sure didn’t hold back on anything, the consultant remarked, gathering his notes.

I did hold back.

In what way? He closed his leather briefcase and turned to face her.

Didn’t have the heart to mention the miscarriage. While on a layover, her colleague was murdered in their hotel room. Larissa discovered the naked body stuffed in the cupboard. It seems that up until then, she had compartmentalized childhood events and was a functional member of society. Losing the baby followed by her husband’s infidelity led to a flood of rage which she couldn’t control.

I’ll see her on my own next week, just to get her feedback on this session in the secure confidential setting she is used to. I think you handled yourself well today, didn’t let her rattle you too much, the senior clinician complimented.

Thanks. I’ll catch up with you at the clinic.

See you later, he replied as they parted ways.

CHAPTER TWO

The door leading into the living room is ajar enough for young innocent eyes to pry. A man stands over the lifeless body of a woman. His sadistic laugh echoes throughout the mansion. He turns to face the door and calls out to the girl watching. She tries to flee but is riveted to the spot, paralyzed by fear. Then…

The hellish sound of the morning siren jolted Larissa from the nightmare to a state of semi-wakefulness and vigilance. Once again, the dream had been detailed and vivid. She sat on the edge of the bed, wiping the sweat from her face with the corner of the bedsheet, allowing herself to recover from the terror. She thought back to that fateful night when her mother had been strangled by Uncle Mike, a man driven by greed and hatred for those in control of the family fortune. The La Roche Estate spanned acres of thriving vines producing the best wines Napa Valley had seen in years. The childhood memory of playing hide and seek with her brother Daniel, their cousins and friends on the vast grounds made her smile.

Suddenly the metallic clanging of the cell being unlocked interrupted the train of memories. Glancing at the guard, she noticed an uncharacteristic air of quiet despair in the woman’s face.

Come on, let’s move it, La Roche. You know the drill, the woman stated harshly. Larissa knew it very well indeed. Exiting from the walls of confinement, she joined the other inmates and walked down to the huge dining hall where breakfast was being served. Picking up a tray, Larissa helped herself to Corn Flakes, a banana and black tea.

Hey! La Roche! a female called out, motioning for her to join the table.

Cindy. How are things? she greeted, taking a seat next to the buxom blond inmate. They had become acquainted during laundry duty, where Larissa had been assigned after a period of good behavior.

Cool. Hey, I want you to meet Tammy. She pointed to a woman seated opposite her.

Hi, Larissa acknowledged, noticing a calm and jovial presence about her. You seem chipper. What are you in for? She took a mouthful of cereal and waited for a reply.

I’m a transfer from a Thai prison. The US government negotiated the completion of my sentence on US soil, after serving four years and eight months, Tammy explained.

Let me guess. You got caught smuggling drugs, am I right? Larissa asked.

Spot on! My fiancée was meant to carry the merchandise. It was his idea, not mine. I flatly refused. We had a huge argument about it. I was on the brink of breaking up with him. I’ve seen what drugs do to people’s lives. I once worked as a triage nurse in the emergency department of a major teaching hospital in Chicago. She sighed before continuing. So instead, the son of a bitch switched the tags on our suitcases, leaving me with the load. The women listened intently until another prisoner sitting next to the newcomer spoke up.

What stuff were you carrying?

Cocaine. Three kilos, Tammy replied.

Wait a minute, if the tags were swapped, when the customs officers opened the case, wouldn’t they have seen men’s clothing? It would point to him being culpable, Larissa asked, looking for flaws in the woman’s story.

"We had two medium-sized cases each. It was a matching set given to us as an engagement present by family. One was for clothing and the other contained souvenirs. That’s the one on which he changed tags," she explained, already taking a dislike to being doubted.

I guess you must be happy to be back on US soil, Cindy remarked.

Are you kidding? Have you ever seen the inside of a Thai prison? The filth, the stench of human waste, the despair of humanity. Food contaminated by maggots and so much worse. This place is like Club Med. Tammy drowned the last of her coffee.

I suppose you hit the jackpot by coming back, Larissa stated sarcastically, getting to her feet. See you ladies later. Laundry duty calls. They watched her place the tray on a metal rack on wheels then walk past a guard toward the exit, disappearing from view.

What is she in for? Tammy asked the group.

Murder, they answered in unison.

A chill ran down the newcomer’s spine.

Here’s another delivery for you hard working ladies. Larissa looked up from the ironing board. A large basket filled to the brim with dirty linen was being wheeled into the laundry room by a scrawny looking woman. Stopping in front of an industrial style washing machine, she was joined by two others to help unload its contents. The smell of soiled bed sheets was repulsive. Larissa turned away in disgust and continued with her task.

Ironing had never been a favorite