c h a p t e r
1
Friday
FBI Special Agent Kendall
Black knew she’d been to one too many crime scenes when in the midst of
the bloodiest she’d walked into lately—this one in a convenience
store—she wondered who had the tedious job of washing off all the blood
smeared on the cellophane of a five-pack of Donettes. Or did they
throw all the blood-splattered items away because, well, they were
covered in blood? Maybe they put them on a clearance rack. But did they
then have to disclose they were part of a murder?
Probably the
best thing would be to send the tainted snacks back to the station with
the patrol cops currently swarming the small store—what looked to be
half the force in Denver. None of them cared if the bag of Cheetos had
some spatter on the front. Free food. No law enforcement officer would
pass up gratis chips and donuts.
Mmm...donuts...What she wouldn’t give for a jelly right about now.
“Can I help you?” a cop asked, sidestepping around her as she stood in the middle of the doorway.
“Yeah.” She flashed her badge. “Can you point me to who’s in charge of the investigation?”
The
cop peered around the store and pointed to a man at the end of the
checkout counter. “There he is, dark suit, talking to the balding old
guy.”
Kendall didn’t need to see the lead investigator’s face to
know it was Adam Taylor. The two had met and worked together on a
case, one near and dear to Kendall’s heart—the murder of her best
friend. During the investigation, Kendall and Adam had grown close, and
she counted him among her tight-knit posse of confidants.
“Thanks.” She signed the crime scene log and strode toward Adam and one of his sidekicks, Saul Chapman.
“Don’t
think for one fucking second that catching this case means you won’t
be helping me move,” she said by way of greeting as she sidled up next
to Adam.
“Oh, goody, they sent you.” He gave her a sideways
glance. “I’ve been looking forward to your wit and charm all morning.
What took you so long? Decide on a bubble bath before coming in?”
“Full-body massage with a hot Swede.”
“How was it?”
“Hard.”
She tipped her head toward the body splayed on the floor in the middle
of a large pool of blood. “What’s the story here?”
“Dead guy,” Saul said, pointing out the obvious.
Kendall wrinkled her nose. “I don’t do dead guys. I do kids.” “Got one of those too.”
“Dead?” Kendall hated starting any day with a dead body, but a dead kid made it ten times more revolting.
“No,” Adam said. “But potentially a missing one.” “Elaborate.”
“Bad
Guy”—he pointed to the splayed body—“was trying to rob the store.
Apparently had the child with him. There was another customer at the
back of the store by the coolers, minding his own business. He hears a
ruckus at the front of the store. Bad Guy is demanding money from the
cashier, who grabs for a gun under the counter and aims it at Bad Guy.
Things go side ways, Bad Guy gets a shot off, cashier goes down. Bad Guy
kicks cashier’s gun out of the way and puts another round in cashier’s
head.”
“Meanwhile”—Saul picks up the story—“the kid is screaming, so the minding-his-own-business guy becomes a Good Samaritan,
picks up the cashier’s gun while Bad Guy is trying to
empty the till. Bad Guy sees Good Sam, lifts his gun to shoot him, but
Good Sam shoots Bad Guy first. Decent shot—looks like it was center
mass. But Good Sam is apparently so freaked out by killing someone, he
runs out of the store with the little girl in tow.”
“Cops found them down the alley. Some neighbor called about a guy with a little girl hiding behind his garage,” Adam said.
“Hiding from what?”
“Not clear on that,” Adam said. “I don’t do lost kids. I do dead guys.”
***
Kendall
mulled over the information Adam had given her as she walked across
the parking lot of the convenience store to where police were talking
to the Good Sam. The sun was breaking through the cloud cover, beams of
light bouncing off windows and illuminating the city. This would be
considered a rough part of town. Boarded-up warehouses covered in
graffiti and store fronts that hadn’t been painted since they
were first constructed competed with the fast-food conglomerates that
always seem to thrive in any community regardless of the
socioeconomics.
The Good Sam, who looked to be mid-forties,
possibly skirting fifty, slouched against the back end of the police
cruiser, one hand grooming his closely trimmed gray beard. He wore
jeans, a light-gray button-up shirt, and tan canvas shoes.
Seemed to be a normal guy, which always set off Kendall’s warning
bells. Most “normal” people she met in her line of work tended to be
the lowest forms of life. Shit dipped in gold. Shiny on the outside,
just don’t scratch the surface.
As she approached the car, the
officer stepped forward. She flashed her badge; he nodded and stepped
out of her way. “Hi.” She stuck her hand out for the man, who was now
standing upright in front of her, an eyebrow raised. “I’m FBI Special
Agent Kendall Beck. I was wondering if I could ask you a few
questions?”
“FBI?” The man asked as he scanned her badge, then
met her gaze while shaking her hand. “I already told the police
everything about the shooting.”
“I understand, Mr....?”
“Craig,” the man said. “Melvin.”
“Melvin.
I know it’s hard to keep repeating a story that’s sure to give you
nightmares, but I’m more interested in the girl who was in the store
with you.”
“She wasn’t in the store with me,” he said, placing
emphasis on the word, most likely to ensure Kendall understood there
was a difference. “She was with that scum of the earth who shot the
cashier.” “I was told she was found with you.”
“Yes, that’s
true,” he said, drawing out the words. “But I just happened to be in
the store. And she was in the store. But she came with the other guy.
That’s all. I don’t know who she is.”
Kendall smiled, hoping to
put the man at ease. She didn’t want the man on the defensive when it
appeared he was trying to help the girl. She had learned a long time
ago to start soft. Bring out the barbed-wire-covered bat only as a
not-so-gentle means of persuasion when necessary. “Perhaps you should
start from the beginning.”
Melvin pulled his hand down his face
and stroked his beard while letting out a long sigh. “I stopped by to
get a Mountain Dew and a breakfast burrito—my usual breakfast. I was
standing at the back cooler when the guy came in with the little girl.
He looked sort of sketchy—”
“What do you mean by that?”
The
man scratched along his jaw, his eyes squinting just slightly, and
Kendall figured this was a subconscious act. “Well, he wasn’t the kind
of guy you expected to have a little girl with him. His clothes were
dirty, his hair was long, and he looked a bit scraggly. Probably
could’ve stood to shower, you know what I mean?”
Kendall nodded. She’d met many a sketchy dude in her line of work.
Craig
returned the nod and continued. “And the little girl looked scared. So
I kind of hung back and just watched them. Then the guy tells the
cashier to give him all the money from the register. Next thing I know,
both of those idiots had guns, and then the shooting started.”
“So, just so I understand, both of them were shooting and you decided to get the girl?”
Craig
looked up and away, as if trying to recall the scene in his mind. “I
don’t remember if they both were shooting—I think the guy shot the
cashier first and she dropped her gun.” “And is that when you decided to
pick it up?”
“Yeah—I don’t know what I was thinking—the little
girl was screaming and I was afraid the guy was going to shoot her. So
I just...acted on instincts, I guess.” He shrugged and looked down
at his feet as he rocked from one to the other.
Kendall gave
him a moment. It was never easy to kill people. Even law enforcement
agents had a tough time dealing with taking a life. This guy might have
only ever shot a gun at a range, taking out a paper man on a target.
Not even close to the same experience. Paper men didn’t bleed. And they
didn’t cry out in agony. It was a whole different ballgame when the
shooting involved live flesh and blood. “What happened after you shot
the man?”
Craig looked at Kendall, then swallowed, staring over
her shoulder at the front of the store. “I just took off. I knew I had
to get the girl out of there—she had already seen too much.” He ran
his hand over his beard again, and Kendall decided it was a nervous tic
he probably didn’t realize he was doing most of the time. “Truth be
told, I was a little shaken up as well. I’ve never seen anyone die. And
there was just...so much blood.”
There was a great deal of
truth to the statement. She had been to many violent crime scenes
during her career with the FBI, and it was still unnerving to actually
see how much blood the human body contained. “So why were you hiding
when the police started canvassing the area?”
He inhaled
through his nose and rocked back on his heels. “Honestly, I think I was
in shock or something. I truly thought they were trying to hurt us.”
He shook his head, seemingly some what disgusted at the memory. “I know
it sounds silly, but I was just really freaked out.”
“It
doesn’t sound silly at all,” Kendall reassured him. “Even the most
seasoned veteran on the force gets shaken up in a gun fight. You did
just fine.” She glanced back at the store. “You said it’s your routine
to come here every morning, is that right?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “I am not usually in this part of town. I live in Arvada and go to the store there.”
“Where is that store? Do you know the cross streets?” “Yeah, it’s off Kipling and Ridge.”
Kendall made a note. “So why were you on this side of town this morning?”
“I
had a meeting with a client, but he didn’t show up. So I decided to go
into the store and grab breakfast before heading back to my office.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m
a small business owner. Sort of a courier. I do all the running around
for businesses who still deal in documents and stuff. Mostly lawyers,
but today I was supposed to pick up some paperwork for a general
contractor.”
Kendall hadn’t really considered there were still
businesses out there that didn’t do everything electronically. Didn’t
seem as if there would be enough work to make a living out of it. But
then again, if he was one of only a few who did that type of work, he
might be highly sought after by businesses who needed that service.
“And you’re certain you don’t know either of the people in the store?”
The man shook his head and dropped his gaze. “No. Like I said, I’m not usually on this side of town.”
“And you don’t know the little girl—at least you didn’t before this morning?”
“Don’t know anything about her,” he said quickly and firmly, looking Kendall in the eye.
“Okay,
thank you,” Kendall said, fishing a business card out of her pocket
and handing it to him. “If you think of anything else, please give me a
call.”
“Am I free to go now?” There was a slight edge of
irritation to his voice. Weird, but perhaps the day’s events were
starting to catch up with him. There were many instances where a person
went through stages—killing a man was one of them. Craig was probably
going through the stage where he was getting pissed at everyone
associated with this event, especially the person he shot. But it was
difficult to get angry at a dead guy, so he was going to turn it on the
next available living human.
Kendall was not up for being in his line of fire. It was too early in the day.
“Best
to check with the officer,” she said, and turned away. She wasn’t
going to get into a pissing match with Melvin Craig, and she had no
idea whether Adam still needed to talk to him. Let the uniform deal
with Craig and his attitude. It was good for young pups to learn how to
overcome adversity.
As Kendall walked back to the c-store to
find Adam, she hit the speed dial for her partner, Jake, and listened
to her phone ring until he answered. Loud chatter and children’s
squeals nearly covered his “Hello.”
“Where the hell are you?” she asked.
“I had to drop the kid at day care.”
“They let you in with a gun?”
“They’re not happy about it. I get lots of dirty looks.” “That’s not necessarily because you have a gun.”
“Did you call for a reason beyond damaging my fragile male ego?”
“Yeah, I’m at a crime scene. Looks like we found a possible missing girl.”
“Alive?” His voice was tentative. It sucked having to start the day finding a dead kid.
“Yes,
but I haven’t had a chance to question her. Apparently, she’s not
talking. Adam had her taken to the PD, so I’m heading over to see if I
can at least get a name and inform her parents.” “What do you need from
me?”
“I’m going to send you some info on the guy she was with.
It appears he’s the reason we’re not investigating her murder. I need
you to do some background on the guy, see if the info he gave me checks
out.”
She heard the sound of a car door closing and a vehicle engine starting. “Heading to the office now.”
L.S.
Stratton is an NAACP Image Award-nominated author and former crime newspaper
reporter who has written more than a dozen books under different pen names in
just about every genre from thrillers to romance to historical fiction. She
currently lives in Maryland with her husband, their daughter, and their tuxedo
cat.
