Spider Web

by Danielle James

  Spider Web

  Copyright 2014, Danielle James

  Smashwords Edition

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  Spider Web is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are fictional and should be treated as such. Any resemblance of any real person, place, or event is strictly coincidental.

  This book has been a long time coming. I started it way back in 2009, long before the Forbidden Love Series was born. This book actually occurs before the books in that series. Some of the characters in this book made guest appearances in The Forbidden Love Series, and perhaps they will again. For way too long, it has sat in my computer waiting for me to breathe life into it again. Now, with the help of a few good readers and one excellent editor, here it is. I want to thank all of my betas for their honest and helpful opinions. I want to thank Lisa for helping me make it shine. As always, you have been invaluable.

  SPIDER WEB

  BY DANIELLE JAMES

  CHAPTER ONE

  JULY

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  It was six o’clock; Joe would be home in thirty minutes. Jules scrambled through the house, making sure everything was in order. It was their fifteen year anniversary, and Jules had planned everything down to a tee. Dinner was ready and waiting in the oven and dessert was in the fridge. Jules had noticed Joe looking at the chocolate mousse cake in the window of a local bakery the day before and she just couldn’t resist getting it for him.

  She had tediously set the table, using the china dishes his mother had given them as a wedding gift. She lit two taper candles in the center of the table as a finishing touch. She wanted everything to be perfect. As she worked, Jules couldn’t help but remember the day he had asked her to marry him.

  They were both in college, both studying law at Duke University. Joe had been taller than most of their classmates, slender, and had a mop of unruly dark curls on his head that framed his large, round blue eyes. Although they had only dated for a few months, Jules had known immediately that he was the man for her. Not only was he strikingly good looking, but he was sensitive, caring and absolutely hilarious. Most importantly, he loved Jules’s eighteen month old daughter with all his heart; as if she were his own.

  Her daughter, Kelly’s, biological father had taken off only two days after she told him she was pregnant. Jules didn’t hold any ill will toward him, though. They had been young and reckless. He had big plans for his life, and a baby wasn’t part of it. She hadn’t heard anything from the man since the day he walked out of her life. She had supported herself and her child while in school by working odd jobs and waiting tables at a nearby restaurant. She supposed some men just weren’t meant to be fathers.

  But that was not the case with Joe. He lavished affection on Kelly as if she were his own child. What more could a single mother ask for?

  On their way to class that warm day in April, Joe knelt down on one knee in front of the Humanities Building, in front of God and everyone, and said, “Jules, you are my entire life. I cannot imagine a world without you; I can’t even breathe without you. Please, stay with me forever? Be my wife?”

  Jules smiled as the words soared through her memory. They had been together ever since. A small wedding in July, and two years later, Joe adopted Kelly. He had made what he already felt in his heart, official. Jules was so glad that he did, since only a year after that she experienced some medical problems that resulted in a hysterectomy. Her child bearing years came to an abrupt and complete halt.

  Six-twenty. Almost time. Her heart still skipped a beat when it was nearly time for Joe to come home. It was amazing to her that after so much time, he could still have that effect on her. She couldn’t wait for him to come home every day and wrapped his arms around her. Even though they worked for the same law firm, Jules only worked part time, and most of her cases were pro-bono. She was only in the office three days a week, and even on those days, she made it home before Joe did. She waited for him patiently every day; waited to hear his voice, to smell his cologne. Over the years, Joe had only gotten more attractive. Where some men let themselves go after getting married, Joe kept his body in shape. His slender physique had only changed slightly, and that was for the better. His shoulders had become wider, stronger. His muscles were more defined. His face grew more distinguished. The small laugh lines around his eyes were simply adorable in Jules’s eyes. He made her feel like a teenager all over again on a daily basis.

  Six-thirty. It was time. Jules made a quick tour of the kitchen and living room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. For whatever reason, Joe hadn’t wanted to go out that night. Jules figured he had something up his sleeve. He said her only job was to make dinner, so she made his favorite; chicken and dumplings. She sent Kelly over to a friend’s house for the night. It wasn’t a difficult task as Kelly spent a lot of time with her friends.

  They would be alone for the night.

  Jules shivered all the way from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. She could barely stand to wait. Alone time with Joe was something she never got tired of.

  Jules pulled dinner out of the oven and set it on the table. And then she waited.

  And waited.

  And waited…

  At seven-thirty she was worried. At eight-thirty she was beside herself. Had he told her that he would be late and maybe she had forgotten? She searched her mind for anything that might have clued her in on this unusual delay.

  Nope. There was nothing. Joe hadn’t mentioned it. Occasionally, he would stay after hours at his office talking to his colleagues or working on a case, but Joe was never this late. And why the hell hadn’t he called? Joe always called. Even if he wasn’t running late, he called to let her know that he was on his way home.

  Jules picked up the phone and dialed very carefully. She wanted to be sure she dialed right. Joe’s voicemail answered. She sighed and depressed the button on the phone. Then she dialed another number.

  “Hello?” The voice of Joe’s best friend, Andrew, answered.

  “Hey Andrew, it’s Jules. Have you heard from Joe tonight?” she asked into the receiver. “He said he would be home at six-thirty, and I haven’t heard from him yet.”

  For an agonizing heartbeat, silence was his only response. Then he answered, “No, not since he left the office. He said he was going to stop by some store and then he was headed home. Did you try his cell?”

  Well of course she had tried. Repeatedly. “Yeah, but I just keep getting his voice mail. No worries, I’m sure he just got caught up somewhere.” Jules signed off and hung up the phone. A variety of emotions warred within her at that moment.

  What could he possibly be doing? Didn’t he know how upset she was? How inconsiderate of him! She wasted all that time preparing the perfect dinner just so he could forget to show up? So it could get cold? She was fuming; the back of her neck and ears burning like they were on fire. It wasn’t like Joe to forget anything. So why, oh why, did he have to forget about his own anniversary date? And was it really too much trouble to pick up the damned phone?

  She tried his cell phone twice more before throwing the thing across the room. She stomped over to the table to blow out the candles that were now nothing more than a puddle of wax on her tablecloth. A dreadful feeling took root in her gut as she watched the flames
die out. Anger began to turn back into worry. Where could he possibly be?

  Jules was twisting her long brown hair into a rubber band when she heard a car pull into the driveway. Finally! She raced to the door, but when she opened it to greet her very late husband, it wasn’t he who stood on the porch.

  “Good evening, Ma’am,” the tall, dark-skinned man said in a low voice. “I am looking for Julia Martin.”

  “I’m Julia,” she replied, “But please, call me Jules. What can I do for you, Officer?” The man was obviously a state trooper. His wide brimmed hat and blue uniform were a dead giveaway.

  He looked at her from under the brim of his hat, and she realized that he hung his head. There was a kind of procrastination in his dark eyes that immediately worried her. “Are you the wife of Joseph Martin?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a whisper. Oh no. No. NO. Her mind reeled at the reality of the situation. Joe was horribly and uncharacteristically late, there was a policeman on her doorstep, and there was a wretched, heavy feeling deep in her chest.

  Her legs suddenly felt too weak to support her weight and began to wobble. Jules held the door frame for support. She felt like she was trapped in a dream. Somewhere, deep down, she already knew what the officer was going to say. But regardless, no matter how badly she wanted to run away so that he couldn’t say it, Jules knew she had to hear the words anyway. Preventing the man from doing his job wouldn’t make the situation any less true.

  That hat came off his head and the officer held it to his chest. “Ma’am, Joseph was in an accident this evening. Around six o’clock he was traveling down I-72 and collided with a tractor-trailer,” he said. He continued to talk, but his words were nothing more than a blur to Jules. Jules tried to concentrate on what he said, but it was like trying to listen to a conversation from under water. She heard his every word, but no matter how hard she tried, Jules couldn’t get her mind to comprehend what he was saying. Joe. Her Joe. He was hurt. Worse than hurt. What? No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t make herself believe it. Her head started spinning and the whole world tilted on its axis. Then the concrete porch was cool on her cheek.

  “Jules? Ma’am? Are you ok?” She heard the words as if they were spoken from across an auditorium, not right beside her. She tried to focus, but her eyes wouldn’t cooperate. “Let her have some room,” another voice said. Had there been two officers? She couldn’t remember. All she knew was that there was a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest, and it was growing. Consuming her. She had to forcefully drag air into her lungs. “She’s hyperventilating,” the first man said. “Get her a bag to breathe into.” Why were they saying that? How could she be hyperventilating if she couldn’t breathe? Someone held her around her back and handed her a paper bag. She pushed it away only to have it thrust back at her. Someone said something about slow breaths.

  After what felt like hours, Jules finally got a grip on herself. She was lying on her couch. One of the men must have picked her up and carried her inside. She shook her head. She gathered that there had been an accident. She had heard what happened. She turned to the second officer that she hadn’t noticed before and asked, “Where is my Joe? Can I see him?”

  The look on the slim man’s face was all the answer she needed. No. He was not ok. No, she wasn’t going to see him. Not now, not ever again. “I am so sorry,” the officer said. His voice was sincere, the tone pained. “When you’re ready, we will need you to go to the hospital to identify your husband,” he said.

  Jules’s entire world came crashing to the ground.

  The ride home from the hospital was slow. She rode in the same police car that she had arrived in, partly because she didn’t trust herself to drive, but mostly because the officers had insisted. Her legs had turned numb in the hospital, but somehow, she managed to make her feet move to a small room where there were metal drawers lined along the walls. It was just like stepping into a movie; a really bad movie. Like one of those crime investigation movies where the grieving widow has to identify the remains of her husband. Oh wait, this wasn’t a movie; it was real life and she was the star. The entire room stank of formaldehyde, bleach, and something else. A sickly sweet smell that burned her nose. The smell of death.

  A man in a blue lab coat introduced himself to her, but she couldn’t remember his name five seconds after he said it. He led her to a drawer on the left side of the room. When he opened it, a form covered by a white sheet was inside. He carefully pulled back the sheet, revealing the body of a man underneath.

  At first, Jules did not recognize him as Joe. It just didn’t look like him. The expression lines on his face were smooth. He stared at the ceiling with a blank expression, his mouth hanging slightly open. She felt a momentary twinge of relief, but it was quickly squashed. The square chin, the dark curls, the blue of those eyes. The nose was straight and perfect, his handsome features called out to her mind. It was Joe. He was bloody and bruised, and he was dead. His skin was a sickly gray color, but there was no doubt that the shell of a man on that metal slab was her beloved husband.

  Jules stared at him for a moment, horrified. Then, she turned her head and vomited on the tiled floor. She retched until there was nothing left, and still her stomach heaved. She was rushed out of the morgue immediately.

  And so she rode in the back of the police cruiser, saying nothing and staring at the passing scenery with unseeing eyes. Her mind was blank. She didn’t know how to be without Joe. How could all of it be real? It must be a dream, she decided. She would wake up and Joe would be snoring away beside her in their bed.

  But she knew it was no dream. It was as real as it was going to get. And what would she tell Kelly? Her heart ached harder in her chest. She was going to have to tell her seventeen year old daughter that her father was dead. Gone and never coming home again. He was the only father she had ever known. How would it affect her? Jules shuddered at the thought of the inevitable conversation.

  By the time she got home, it was after eleven. She decided it would be better for everyone all around if she just let Kelly have the rest of her night with her friends before breaking her heart.

  Jules walked into the house, feeling how big and empty it truly was. She started to clean the kitchen up, but ended up standing by the stove and weeping. The dam broke and the tears flowed freely from her eyes. She had no idea how long she had been crying when her gaze settled on the pot of chicken and dumplings on the table. And to think, earlier that night all she wanted was a perfect night with her husband. Life was so unfair. And why did it have to be Joe? What had he ever done to deserve to die? Rage built inside Jules and without thinking, she slung her arm across the table. She knocked the cold pan off the table and onto the floor. She picked up the glasses and hurled them into the wall. Not Joe! He was a good man! Crash! The table cloth and all the silverware on the table hit the floor. Why? Why? Why! Her rampage continued until she came across the melting cake on the counter. What was the point in life if the ones who were special were just taken without reason? She picked up the cake and flung it hard against the wall. Chocolate and frosting splattered everywhere, effectively covering the kitchen in a horrible mess. There was chocolate on the walls, food on every surface, shards of glass everywhere, and in the middle of the mess, Jules sank to her knees and wept.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Louisville, Kentucky

  “FREEZE!! Stop! Stop right there! Put your hands above your head, and turn around. Slowly!” Shannon held her gun at arm’s length, her hands steady. “Keep your hands where I can see them, buddy. That’s right. Now, get down on the ground,” she told the perp. The man, knowing her gun was trained to the back of his head, did as he was told, sinking to his knees on the concrete.

  Michael watched as she shifted her gun to one hand, using the other to reach into her utility belt and grasp her handcuffs. She was careful to keep the muzzle of her gun pointed directly at her suspect. “Lie down and put your hands behind your back,” she commanded. He knew she couldn’t see him,
and he knew she was good at her job. Still, he was a bit overprotective, and he watched silently from the shadows.

  Shannon approached the man slowly and cautiously. She knelt over him, firmly placing one knee into his back. This guy was substantially bigger than Shannon, and if he really wanted to, he could overpower her. Her gun was her only advantage; that, and years of martial arts training. She pressed the gun into the back of his head while she slipped his wrists into the cuffs. She gave the silver links a tug to make sure they were secure before holstering her gun. She stood and helped the man onto his feet. She kept a sure grip on the handcuffs while using her free hand to manage her radio.

  “Ten fifteen, suspect is in custody. I’m bringing him in,” she said into the radio at her shoulder. She opened the back door of her patrol car and shoved the man inside. “You are under arrest for the robbery of the Seven-Eleven on Walnut and Birch. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.....” She leaned over the open door while reciting the man’s Miranda Rights to him. When she finished, she started toward her own door. She stopped suddenly and turned on her heel. She propped both fists on her hips. “Seriously James, what were you thinking?”

  She and James had gone to high school together. They hung out with a lot of the same people, traveled in the same circles. They weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t mortal enemies, either.

  “Sometimes, ya just do what cha gotta do, ya know,” he drawled at her in his Eastern Kentucky accent.

  “But robbery? I don’t understand. Knocking off a convenience store! You know better than that! What is your mother going to say?” Shannon couldn’t resist the urge to throw her hands in the air in a show of exasperation.

  “I know, she’ll be disappointed, as usual. Won’t never be anything but a screw up in her eyes,” James told her with his eyes downcast.