An onlooker screamed as Tammy’s arms fell to her side and her eyes bulged. The gun slipped from her hand, bounced on the concrete, and remained still. The killer buckled to the sidewalk beside her weapon.
Annie dashed over, kicked the gun aside, and knelt down beside Tammy. She looked into the face of the killer, the woman’s cold, hard eyes now softening, then slowly glazing over, then closing as the last breath escaped from her lungs.
Hank’s shot had found its mark. The hole through the killer’s heart ensured she would kill no more.
Epilogue
Friday, 4:40 p.m.
JAKE SIGNED his name at the bottom of his statement and turned to Annie. She had finished with hers some time ago and now leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed, waiting patiently for Jake.
“Done,” he said, picking up Annie’s statement and scanning it. Annie opened her eyes and sat forward as Jake shuffled the two pages together and handed them to Hank.
The cop looked up from his mound of paperwork, took the statements from Jake, and added them to his stack.
“Paperwork always ensures an exciting case comes to a tedious close,” Hank said. “Sometimes it takes longer to document the case than it took to solve it.”
Jake grinned. “That’s what you get for being a cop. We’re not hampered by such mundane details. A quick police statement, fill out an invoice, and case closed.”
“And you’re not hampered by having to shoot anyone,” Hank added. “That always makes the wrap-up twice as painful.”
“And twice as sad,” Annie said. “It was unfortunate Tammy was too stubborn to surrender, even when she knew she couldn’t win.”
“Suicide by cop,” Hank said. “To some, it’s the easy way out of an impossible situation. Rather than face life in prison, they choose to end it all.”
Hank looked up as King strolled over to the desk carrying Annie’s handbag. “That suits you well,” Hank said with a chuckle. “You should get yourself one.”
King ignored Hank and gave the bag to Annie. He held up a digital recorder and handed a sheet of paper to Hank. “Here’s some more papers for you, Hank. I had Annie’s recording transcribed.”
Hank took the transcription, scanned it, and whistled. “It’s all here,” he said, looking at Annie. “Tammy’s complete confession. That was quick thinking in a desperate situation on your part.”
“How’d you manage that?” Jake asked.
Annie shrugged. “After Geekly called me, I put my cell in my handbag and flicked the recorder on. Tammy took my cell phone, as you know, but missed the recorder, so I pumped her for as much information as I could get. Then I hid it in the trunk of the car for safekeeping, and there you have it.”
“That’ll save me a lot of headaches pinning all this on her,” Hank said. “And it should clear Rocky Shaft of murder charges.”
King laughed. “And to show you that bad guys finish first, the crown isn’t going to charge Shaft for assaulting Lisa Krunk.”
“I suspect that’s because they have a weak case.” Hank chucked. “And the fact Lisa has been none too kind to law enforcement in the past might have something to do with their decision.”
“You’re probably right,” King said. “And Lisa won’t pursue charges because she made a deal with Shaft for his complete story and an interview.”
“So everybody wins,” Jake said.
“Everybody but the dead people,” King said, leaning on the edge of the desk and crossing his arms. “Forensics is still going over the car, but so far, they found blood stains in the trunk, and I’m sure when it’s analyzed, it’ll prove to belong to her husband.”
“I’m not sure if there’s any way to prove it,” Hank said thoughtfully. “But I suspect the bruises on Tammy Norton were not because her husband beat her, but rather from a life and death struggle with him.”
“Did you find out who owns the house where she held Annie?” Jake asked.
Hank shuffled through the papers and withdrew one. “The Nortons were housesitting for a family on a European vacation. She took the liberty of using it as a safe-house, so to speak.”
“And where’s the money?” Jake asked.
Hank shrugged and looked at King. King shrugged back. “It might turn up in the search of Tammy’s house, but who knows? It could be locked away in a safe deposit box somewhere.”
“I bet Rocky Shaft would love to get his hands on it,” Annie said.
“It might never show up,” Hank said. “But if it does, it’ll be confiscated.”
Jake looked around the precinct. “I hope it’s found. You guys could use a few upgrades in here. Half a mill might get you a new desk, Hank.”
The cop laughed. “I’d be happy with a new chair.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “Maybe we could replace that useless air conditioner over there.”
Jake stood. “If we’re done here, I have a very important client I need to see.”
“What is it this time?” Hank asked. “A smuggling ring, or maybe international art thieves?”
“Something more important,” Jake said. “I have to find a lost dog.”
###
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Rayven T. Hill
Books by Rayven T. Hill
Blood and Justice
The First Book in the Series
When sixteen-year-old Jenny James goes missing, and the local police are unable to find her, the girl’s frantic mother hires private investigators Jake and Annie Lincoln to search for her daughter.
When the body of Jenny’s boyfriend is discovered, the mystery of her disappearance deepens. Shaken out of their comfort zone of Internet searches and poring over public records, the couple soon find themselves facing the frightening possibility they are looking for the latest victim of a serial killer.
As more bodies pile up, the town is gripped with fear. It seems no one is safe, and the Lincolns race to solve an impossible puzzle before they become the killer’s next victims.
Buy BLOOD AND JUSTICE Now
Cold Justice
The Second Book in the Series
Late one night an emotionally disturbed woman, Abigail Macy, witnesses a murder. She reports what she saw to the police, but out of fear that the killer will return to eliminate her as a witness, she keeps quiet about his identity. When the police investigate her claim, they find no evidence of a crime, and influenced by her psychiatrist’s diagnosis that she was delusional, the case is closed.
Abigail’s condition deteriorates, and she shuts herself away, withdrawn and distraught, refusing to speak to anyone except the occasional word to her husband. To ease her tormented mind, he hires private investigators Jake and Annie Lincoln to find a supposed killer, with no proof that one exists.
When Abigail is found dead two days later, the coroner concludes that she had committed suicide, however the Lincolns aren’t convinced of the verdict. Now, with the only witness dead, the challenge to unravel the truth and find a murderer becomes more baffling.