Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  He nodded toward the man who entered the room behind the children as he passed through the door. Lacey met Caleb’s gaze.

  A deep wave of emotion crashed over her.

  “Caleb,” she said, her voice thickened by sadness and love.

  “Well, there’s our action hero.”

  Lacey’s mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile at the note of irony in his voice.

  “Sounds like you’re the hero. That god-awful watch you sent saved my life.”

  Caleb perched carefully on the edge of the bed behind the children and reached for her hand.

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “Seriously, Caleb. What in god’s name possessed you to buy me something like that?”

  Caleb’s eyes were serious as they locked on Lacey’s face. “When I saw it, it reminded me of when we first met. You were lost in the forest when I found you. Seems we’ve both been lost lately.”

  Tears gathered in Lacey’s throat. She tightened her grip on Caleb’s hand.

  “Daddy said you fell down a cliff. Were you scared?” Flynn asked.

  “Very.”

  Harper shook her head and shot her brother a disgusted look, as if she couldn’t believe the dumb things that boys asked.

  “Daddy said you have to stay here a few more days,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be home soon,” Lacey promised her.

  “Hey guys,” Amber appeared in the doorway and flashed a bright smile. “How about we give your mom and dad a little time to themselves. We were going to go across the street to the park, want to come?”

  The kids joined their cousins and ran from the room. Amber paused in the doorway catching Lacey’s eyes. Lacey nodded her thanks. Caleb watched them go before turning his attention back to her.

  “When did you get home?”

  “After we talked…” Caleb averted his gaze and broke off.

  Lacey didn’t need to ask him what he was talking about. She remembered being in the locker room when she’d said that maybe it was time they talked about ending things. That seemed so far away now. She was glad he was here. Glad they were together. When she was lying on the shelf above the river, worried that she might die, all she wanted was one more chance to make things right.

  Now he was here.

  “I hopped the first flight home,” Caleb said. “When I landed, I saw the alert from your watch, and called the chief from the tarmac.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that on the phone.”

  “No,” Caleb said, his eyes misting over. He cleared his throat. “You were right. It was the wakeup call I needed.”

  “I realized something while I was out there. We’re a family. My place is with you, wherever that may be.”

  Caleb shook his head. “I’ve been selfish.”

  “We both have. I thought that being a cop was more important than being a mother or a wife.”

  Tears glittered on Lacey’s lashes. She blinked them away.

  “I’m moving back.”

  “But what about the promotion?”

  Caleb hesitated. “When I got the call offering me the job, I should have been on top of the world. It was everything I wanted, everything I had worked so hard for and yet… And yet as I listened to their plans, I came to the realization that I couldn’t have cared less. Without you, none of it mattered. So I turned the promotion down and asked for a transfer closer to home.”

  He ran his thumb across the back of her hand. The two lapsed into silence. While this was everything Lacey had hoped for, she worried that in time, he might come to resent her for passing up the opportunity.

  “I thought it’s what you wanted,” Lacey said, unable to meet his eyes.

  “I want my family more.”

  Caleb’s voice was thick with emotion. She looked up and their eyes met.

  “You’re sure? What will you do?”

  Caleb shrugged and gave a laugh.

  “We’ve got time. We’ll figure it out.”

  About the Author

  Chris Patchell is the award-winning, USA Today Bestselling author of six gripping crime novels. A former tech worker turned author Chris pens suspense novels set in the Pacific Northwest.

  Find & Follow Chris Patchell

  Also By Chris Patchell

  THE HOLT FOUNDATION SERIES

  JUSTICE FOR ALL

  IN THE DARK

  DARK HARVEST

  THE JILL SHANNON MURDER SERIES

  DEADLY LIES

  VOW OF SILENCE

  Standalone

  DECEPTION BAY

  Learn More

  https://www.chrispatchell.com/

  Christmas in Greektown

  A Novel

  By

  Suzanne Jenkins

  Contents

  Author’s Content advisory

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  About the Author

  Also by Suzanne Jenkins

  Author’s Content advisory

  Christmas in Greektown

  Language intensity

  Strong Language

  Sexuality intensity

  Intense Descriptive Sexual Scenes

  Violence intensity

  Detailed Violence

  Preface

  When defendant Jacob Parker is acquitted for his daughter’s murder, arresting officer, Detroit Homicide Detective Jill Zannos becomes his target of hate. While Jill is stalked by Parker, she’s watched over by bodyguard, SWAT officer Mark Castro. In the meantime, Christmas unfolds in Greektown, and Jill’s crazy family continues with their usual shenanigans; new relationships blossoming, marriages ending, all while another murder is investigated.

  1

  Soft snowflakes blew against the windshield of Officer Mark Castro’s unmarked car parked under a burned-out streetlight on Brush Street, a week before Christmas. Mark was a member of the Special Response Team, the Detroit equivalent of SWAT. He’d picked up overtime watching over Detective Jill Zannos. Former Dearborn cop Jacob Parker, recently acquitted of murdering his daughter, was following Jill, the homicide detective assigned to the case of the murder of Gretchen Parker. All the evidence pointed to Parker as Gretchen’s murderer until his accomplice wife committed suicide, casting reasonable doubt. Jill’s work partner, Albert Wong, insisted she have a protection detail assigned when Parker started contacting her, the creepiness factor made worse because she lived alone in the city, and now Parker knew where.

  The force was short of staff and money, and overtime opportunities were rare. As soon as they posted the job at his precinct, Mark jumped on it. It was his weekend off anyway, and he wasn’t married and had nothing to do. With Christmas just around the corner, he could feel the depression setting in. Having to babysit a spoiled homicide detective was better than staying up all night drinking a six-pack and eating a large pizza by himself, watching reruns of Big Bang Theory.

  Mark arrived to pick Jill up from the Beaubien Street Precinct in Greektown, and the corridor bustled with officers and their defendants, civilians dropping off gifts for the Christmas toy drive, and homeless people looking to
get in out of the weather. There was one empty spot in a line of chairs along the wall, a ripped vinyl-clad aluminum cast-off from the bullpen upstairs. He looked around, disgusted at the condition of the precinct, glad the SRT operated out of a nicer, newer facility. This place reminded him of the morgue at Detroit City Hospital.

  After he sat down, he did a double take when his eye caught the sight of a pair of shapely legs coming down the green-tiled stairway. She was wearing slim black pants and a white T-shirt, black leather holster and carrying a Kevlar vest and a winter coat; cop clothes, but on her it looked perfect.

  Her companion was a scruffily dressed, familiar-looking Asian man with long black hair in a ponytail. Sitting far enough off to the side of the room, she wouldn’t see Mark watching her; his first impression was that she was beautiful, but he’d later discover that she was also modest and in denial about her appearance. Mark was usually attracted to zaftig blonds, just the opposite of Jill, who had dark hair, olive skin and was tall and slender. Struck immediately by her exotic good looks, he felt a wave of emotion flowing through him that he’d later identify as love at first sight. Leaning forward in his chair, he fidgeted, watching her.

  She didn’t notice Mark until he stood up and walked toward her. The guy with the ponytail smiled at Mark in recognition, waved and left the building. She reached out to shake his hand.

  “Sorry,” Mark stuttered. “I didn’t expect a, a…” but he was suddenly aware that not only was it inappropriate to say, but she might not appreciate him calling her gorgeous, so he thought quickly and blurted out, “A female.”

  Frowning, she pulled her hand back. “Oh,” she said, looking confused. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.” Her delivery was a perfect blend of sarcasm and disgust, but they both laughed.

  “No, I’m sorry, didn’t mean it to sound like that. My social skills are getting rusty from sitting in a tank with a bunch of guys every day.”

  “I heard you were SRT,” Jill replied. “A detail is overkill, but my partner and boss think it’s important.” They walked to the door together, and he asked her about Jacob Parker. “He’s your typical creepy child abuser.”

  “He won’t hurt you on my watch,” Mark said, and the minute the words were out of his mouth, he regretted saying them, feeling like a jerk, the heat flooding his face.

  He held the door above her head, and she walked through, ignoring his comment, telling him about being at the casino with Detective Wong and looking up just as Parker smiled at her and walked out in the night. They found out he’d been following her ever since the murder charges against him were dropped.

  “I saw a copy of the letter he wrote you,” Mark said. The isolated incident at the casino didn’t scare her, but when the emails to her personal email address started to come, and next a letter to her house, she was finally convinced her safety might be at stake.

  “I had a feeling about him the first time I saw him,” Jill confessed.

  “I hate when that happens,” Mark said. Turning to him quickly, Jill wondered if he was being sarcastic, but he was serious. “What would we do without our gut feelings?”

  “Yes, tell me about it,” she said, distracted by Mark’s physicality, knowing in seconds he’d be sitting next to her in the car. The men she worked with were married and middle-aged. Albert, her partner, was like a brother. In addition, she didn’t think she’d be attracted to someone like Mark: A macho, muscle-bound…kid. It just goes to show you how fickle the heart is, she thought and then, Why on earth am I thinking about my heart?

  They got into the car, and she avoided looking over at him, but his flat stomach, evident under his jacket, and big, strong hands gripping the steering wheel were hard to miss. A wave of goose bumps made a trip across her arms, and she tried not to giggle at the unexpected sensation. Maybe I’m not dead in that area after all, she thought. Starting the car, he pulled out into the beginning of weekend traffic and asked for her address.

  “Do you need to make any stops before we head to your place?” he asked.

  “No, home first, please,” she said. “Then I’d like to go to Greektown for dinner if you don’t mind. I’ve got a favorite place.” It wasn’t usual to have dinner with the person you were supposed to be protecting, but it wasn’t illegal, either.

  “Gotcha, Greektown’s awesome,” he said, aware he was scrambling for words, and thought, Calm down, asshole. She’s just a woman.

  “What’s your cell number?” Jill asked. Mark told her, and she put it into her phone as he pulled in front of her building. They got out of the warm car into the cold night air.

  “Do you want me to go up with you?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said, her poise slowly disappearing as she felt more and more like the gauche teenager she once was. “You should get back in the car. It’s freezing out here. I’ll call you when I get upstairs.” She walked up the flight of stairs on the side of the building. The light was on over her door, and she looked down and could see Mark in all his handsome glory, leaning up against the car watching her, ignoring her advice. It made her nervous, and her movements felt forced and robotic. What’s going on with me? Quickly unlocking her door, she pushed through, out of sight. What the heck is wrong? she thought. He’s just a kid. Once she was inside the apartment with the door closed, he walked around the perimeter of her building, with his flashlight sweeping the area.

  Jill leaned up against the door, locking it. Reaching over to the wall, she flipped on the light switch and could feel her heart banging in her chest. It wasn’t from fear Jacob Parker might be lurking in her apartment, but because Mark caught her off guard. “Pull yourself together, Zannos.” She turned the light on in the bedroom, walked through to the bathroom, and pressed the call button on her phone.

  “Nothing in here,” she said when he answered.

  “Good. It’s clear out here, too.” Quickly changing out of her work clothes into jeans, Jill brushed her teeth and washed her face, put lipstick on and ran a brush through her hair. She put her gun back on, dressing in warm layers to walk to her father’s grocery store in Greektown for dinner. It was part of the ritual of her days: eating breakfast with Gus every morning, a lunch he packed in a brown paper bag at lunchtime, and then in the evening they’d have dinner together.

  Taking a last peek in the mirror, the idea that she was concerned about what he thought of her appearance annoyed her. Pull yourself together, will you, please. He’s just a guy.

  Locking her door behind her, Jill stepped out onto the landing and saw Mark Castro looking up at her. Knowing he was watching, she imagined how ridiculous she’d look slipping on the snow-covered wooden steps and sliding down on her rear end, so she was extra cautious. He got out of the car to open the door, but Jill didn’t want to get into the car with him again. “Do you mind if we walk?” she asked. “I need to stay out of the car for a while.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” he answered. “I know what you mean about the car. Opportunities to walk anywhere are practically nonexistent.” They didn’t talk for a while until they reached the casino.

  “Oh boy, I’d be in big trouble if I lived this close,” he said. Signs of Christmas were everywhere; the street lampposts had lighted wreaths suspended from their cast iron curlicues and the decorated storefronts were elaborate, each place trying to outdo their neighbor.

  “Do you gamble?”

  “I love the slot machines, just like a little old lady,” he replied, and they laughed. Awkward silence followed.

  “The casino has been great for the neighborhood,” she said.

  “I bet the people who’ve lived here all their lives might disagree with you,” he said, thinking, Why did I say that? What a jerk! Jill didn’t answer him; he’d find out soon enough that she was born and raised in Greektown.

  “Where are you from?” she asked.

  “Here in Detroit,” he answered. “Born, raised and educated.”

  “Where’d you go to school?” she a
sked, stopping.

  “Wayne State, where else?”

  They high-fived, laughed, and continued to walk. She decided he must be in his mid twenties. It was a relief thinking he was younger and would probably have a young girlfriend. There would be no threat of involvement for her, and their conversation became easier knowing he was too young for her, but she was still guarded, afraid of putting her foot in her mouth. He was a typical young guy, too; she gave him prompts and he ran with it, not seemingly interested in her. It was easy to engage him because all she had to do was listen while he talked, but he was a nervous wreck and knew he was talking too much.

  Five minutes later, they arrived at Gus’s Greek Grocery. “Here we are,” she announced with relief.

  Mark looked up at the façade, frowning. “I didn’t know this place served food.”

  Jill pushed open the door, and the delicious smells of Gus’s cooking wafted out at them. Gus was at the counter, taking cash while Jill’s cousin Andy was dishing up food in take-out containers, and Estelle Nickopolos, Gus’s lady friend, was chatting with customers seated at the few small tables. Everyone waved hello to her.

  In a few weeks, a larger space would be available for dining next door to the store; a hole cut through the wall to Estelle’s place, the gun shop she once owned with her late husband, would be the new entrance, the opening currently covered with tattered opaque vinyl. Jill pulled the plastic aside so Mark could see in. “This will be the Mount Olympus Café,” she said. “It will not only have the best view of Greektown, but the best food.” Estelle lived in the apartment up above the gun shop, closed since the death of her husband.