Rush

by Carsen Taite

  Synopsis

  Prosecutor Danielle Soto believes her position on the sorority killer task force is a perfect way to advance her career, but her plans don’t include falling hard for a captivating woman who lives in a completely different world. When the investigation and her attraction to Ellen Davenport collide, Danny must choose between the safety of sameness and the peril of the unknown.

  Ellen Davenport has secrets, but until Danny Soto entered her life, she hadn’t realized that protecting her privacy would come at such a high price. Can she explore her attraction to Danny without exposing herself and her family to danger, or must she risk everything for love?

  Rush

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  Rush

  © 2013 By Carsen Taite. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-007-2

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: December 2013

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  truelesbianlove.com

  It Should Be a Crime

  Do Not Disturb

  Nothing but the Truth

  The Best Defense

  Beyond Innocence

  Rush

  The Luca Bennett Mystery Series:

  Slingshot

  Battle Axe

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to all the readers who buy my books, show up at events, and write to encourage me to keep telling stories. Special thanks to fellow authors VK Powell and Ashley Bartlett for lending me their skills—they read and critiqued several versions of the manuscript before I shipped it off to editor extraordinaire, Cindy Cresap. Cindy, thanks for everything you’ve taught me. I can’t imagine a better mentor.

  Sheri, thanks for another excellent cover. Thanks to Len Barot and everyone else at Bold Strokes Books—you all make the business of writing fun.

  To my wife Lainey, thanks for everything you do to make it possible for me to pursue this dream. You are amazing and I love you.

  Dedication

  To Lainey. Life with you is the best rush ever.

  Chapter One

  Danielle Soto strode into the room, careful to step around the marked off areas, the blood splatter, and the once attractive older woman who lay on the floor with a noose around her neck. Like the last time, three weeks ago, she struggled to contain her mixed reaction of nausea and sorrow. It was a challenge. She wasn’t used to seeing dead bodies. Not in person, anyway.

  “Danny!”

  She turned toward the loud voice and smiled at the big burly man who waved from the doorway. “About time you got here, Ramirez.”

  Detective George Ramirez pointed at the body. “What, like she would’ve been any less dead, if I hadn’t stopped for donuts?” Before Danny could respond, he added, “And, I’ve been here. I was just out back, talking to the first on scene. You would’ve done well to stop somewhere and change. You’re already getting your fancy suit all messy.”

  Danny followed his pointing finger to her pant leg and shook her head. She’d come directly from the courthouse, not even considering her clothes. Too bad, since she was wearing her best and most favorite suit, which was now sporting splotches of black fingerprint powder. The dry cleaner better be able to work a miracle. George was right; she should’ve changed, but she hadn’t really had a choice. Her cell phone had started buzzing with texts during her morning hearing, and it had taken every ounce of restraint she possessed to make her arguments to the judge and appear to patiently address his concerns before running from the courtroom to this crime scene.

  “Whatever,” Danny said. The ruined suit didn’t seem like such a big deal compared to the fate of the woman lying on the floor. “Who was first on the scene?”

  “Patrol officer out of the West Precinct. Baxter. Dispatch got a call from a nosy neighbor saying she thought she saw a prowler. Baxter responds. Doesn’t see anything in the area, but he knocks on the door and it swung wide open. He called for backup. While he was waiting, he took a look around. Bet he won’t do that again. He’s out back, still throwing up.”

  “You’re such a nice guy. Like you never threw up at a crime scene.”

  “And waste a good lunch?” He shook his head. “Never gonna happen.”

  Danny placed a hand on her stomach. “Okay, stop talking about food. I haven’t eaten yet, and after this I may never eat again. Walk me through what you’ve got so far.”

  “Martha Lawson, white female, age fifty-nine. Shot once in the chest. Fatal. The rest of the stuff came after.”

  Danny forced her gaze back to the victim and took in “the rest of the stuff.” The distinct pattern of slash marks across her abdomen, the elaborate staging of the body, and finally, the same coarse rope tied into a hangman’s noose pulled tight around her throat. Just like the two victims before her.

  She’d seen enough. “Flowers?”

  “Yep. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  She followed Ramirez, appreciating his ability to know what she would want to see, what would be important to her. He treated her like a colleague, when a lot of cops with his experience thought the trial attorneys who prosecuted their cases didn’t get the system. When she’d started with the district attorney’s office seven years ago, she’d quickly realized she wouldn’t get far if she didn’t make friends with the cops she had to put on the stand. Many of her fellow prosecutors never got the memo, choosing instead to act like they knew everything and the cops who worked their cases were just like any other witness instead of a valuable resource. Ramirez was an asset and a friend besides. Didn’t hurt that he’d been her brother’s best friend since they were in preschool.

  “Looks like she was going to put them in a vase.” Ramirez pointed to the green wax paper bundle of white roses on the floor, next to a tipped over thick glass vase. “A dozen here and one by the body. Same as the others.”

  “You think he followed her in?”

  “Yep. No sign of forced entry. Maybe she was going to get him a tip after she put the flowers away.” He pointed at the sink. “Water was still running when we got here.”

  “You’d think after we released that detail, people would learn not to open their doors.” After the second kill, the DA’s office and police department tipped off the local news outlets that flower delivery had been linked to several assaultive attacks. They hadn’t wanted to hold a big press conference and scare the community, so they’d been purposely vague, not even releasing specific details about the type of flowers connected to the crimes. It looked like the subtle approach wasn’t working. She shook her head. “Show me what else you’ve got.”

  He walked around the room, pointing out various areas marked by the crime scene unit. A purse was sitting open on the kitchen table, but it appeared the contents were completely intact.

  When he finished his tour, Danny asked, “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

  “Subpoena phone re
cords, bank records, whatever else we can get to piece together a pattern. No way this guy is picking these women at random. They are all in the same age range, but there’s another connection. I can feel it in my gut.”

  “I’ll do whatever you need, but you should know I may not be on this much longer.” At his raised eyebrows, she added, “This is number three, and you know as well as I do, this sicko’s not going to stop. If we don’t get a solid lead soon, your boss and my boss are going to start considering other options.”

  “This is our case. No way am I handing it over to a bunch of cowboy feds. Guess we better move quickly. I’ll get you an affidavit in an hour.”

  Danny looked at her watch. “Great, but make it two. You can’t type for shit, especially when you’re in a hurry. I’ll be at the courthouse and we can walk it over to Judge Amos.”

  “Thanks for coming out.”

  “No problem. Gory murder scenes are great for my waistline.”

  Danny waited until she was several blocks from the scene before she pulled over, opened the door, and dry heaved in the direction of the road. In her career as a prosecutor she’d gotten used to the sight of maimed and bloody bodies in autopsy reports and crime scene photos, but she’d never get used to the sight of atrocity in the flesh. She couldn’t let the aversion handicap her; she had to channel it so when they finally caught the monster who did these horrible things, she could use her emotion to paint a picture for the jury that the flat, glossy photos never would. What she’d just seen fueled her desire for justice like no written report, no pictures ever would. The wrenching pain would fuel her arguments to the jury that the person who committed these crimes didn’t deserve freedom. She lived for the opportunity to bring this monster down, and no amount of personal discomfort would get in her way.

  Chapter Two

  “Ellen, Mrs. Lawson’s daughter dropped this off for you. She said you wanted it delivered directly to you.”

  Ellen Davenport took the plain brown envelope from her assistant who stood waiting at the edge of her desk. “Thanks, Jill.” She slit the envelope open with a lapis handled letter opener and carefully removed the photograph inside. “She didn’t have a digital version of her favorite photo so she sent this over. I promised to guard it with my life.” Marty Lawson sported crazy plaid pants and a collared pale yellow shirt. She held a golf club in one hand and a tee in the other. Happy, sporty. Alive.

  Not anymore. She’d been killed in her home by an intruder just last week. Her vibrant life cut short. A tragic waste and a huge loss. Marty had been an active alumna of Alpha Nu, and the organization wouldn’t be the same without her. In the over thirty years since she’d graduated from college, Marty had continued to be an active member of the sorority, working on numerous regional committees, mentoring young women in the university chapters, and eventually serving on the national board. Ellen, executive director for the sorority’s national organization, enjoyed working with her on a daily basis and planned to write the tribute for the website herself.

  “I’m headed out for lunch. Do you want me to bring something back for you?”

  Ellen looked up from the photo on her desk. She’d forgotten Jill was still there. “Actually, I think I may go out, stretch my legs. Thanks, though.” She ignored Jill’s curious look and handed the photo to her. “Could you scan this and e-mail it to me? I’ll send it to the webmaster as soon as I’ve written the tribute. And then send the photo back to Marty’s daughter as soon as you’re done.”

  The time she’d spent working on Marty Lawson’s tribute left her feeling empty. All that life, suddenly gone. Cliché, but true—life was indeed too short to take precious moments for granted. She glanced at the clock on her computer. She had lots of work to do, but no more appointments for the rest of the day. Anxious and unsettled, she decided a walk wasn’t going to calm her nerves, but a visit to one of Marty’s closest friends might. She stuck her head out of her office and watched Jill disappear down the hall. When she was out of sight, Ellen grabbed her purse and keys. She scrawled a note on the stack of Post-its on Jill’s desk, letting her know she had a personal matter to take care of, that she’d be back in a couple of hours. She wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t told Jill face-to-face she’d be gone longer than a stretch of her legs, except that Jill already thought it was strange she was deviating from her usual lunch at her desk routine. Ducking out now would avoid her inevitable questions. She didn’t like having to explain her personal life.

  The drive was about thirty minutes. As many times as she’d taken this route, the way the steel and cement of downtown Dallas suddenly burst into rolling hills and wooded forest still amazed her. She’d picked the place carefully. Had to be close to the city, but had to be serene. Had to be secure, but hospitable. Luckily, cost hadn’t been an issue. She’d found the perfect place only miles from Dallas.

  She pulled into the broad circular drive, handed her keys to the valet, and strode over to the large glass doors of the main building. The doorman smiled and greeted her.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Davenport. Nice to see you early in the day.”

  Ellen heard no judgmental inflection, but her failure to schedule regular visits during the day tugged at her conscience. “Nice to be here. Do you happen to know if Mrs. Patterson is in?”

  “I saw her just a few minutes ago. Would you like me to call her for you?”

  “That would be great. I can wait here.” She pointed to a sofa in the lobby.

  “Your mother’s outside on the veranda if you’d like to join her.”

  She didn’t, but she knew she should. “Thank you, Virgil. When you see Mrs. Patterson, you can let her know I’m out there.”

  “Will do.”

  Ellen took a deep breath and headed out to join her mother. The older female Davenport was seated in a wicker chair, facing the lush grounds. She didn’t move as Ellen approached from behind, but just as Ellen wondered whether she should clear her throat to keep from surprising her, Vivian Davenport spoke. “I hear you, trying to sneak up on me.” She turned in her chair and Ellen pulled up short. And waited. She hated this part.

  “Why, Ellen. Whatever are you doing here in the middle of the day? Did you lose your job?”

  Judgment. Ellen was relieved rather than annoyed at the familiar trait. “Hello, Mother. Nice day, isn’t it?”

  Vivian waved a hand at the great outdoors. “Nice enough, I guess. I’m bored though. Sit and talk to me. There aren’t enough intelligent people to talk to around here.” She pointed to the chair next to her, and Ellen dutifully took a seat.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Vivian bristled. “I feel fine. Who wouldn’t feel fine with people waiting on you hand and foot? Did you bring me any books? I’d like the new John Grisham.”

  “I think I brought that to you last time.” She was certain she had. “Maybe it got misplaced in your room. I can help you look for it.”

  “I don’t misplace things. Hell, I don’t have enough space to lose anything. I’ve been thinking about getting a bigger place.”

  “Sure, maybe there’s a bigger suite available. I can check with Mrs. Patterson, if you want.”

  “I mean something like a townhouse. Smaller than the house your father picked out, but big enough for me to have more private space. I might even do something crazy, like get a roommate.”

  Vivian looked so happy at the prospect of living somewhere else, Ellen didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble. “We can definitely look into that. In the meantime, I’ll get you another copy of the book. Deal?”

  “Deal. Are you hungry? I’m ravenous. Why don’t you go sneak us some sandwiches from the canteen?”

  Ellen glanced around. The director, Mrs. Patterson, was standing in the doorway to the veranda. Seizing on the perfect opportunity to speak to her alone, she said, “Will do. I’ll be right back.”

  As she approached Mrs. Patterson, she signaled she wanted to speak to her inside. Once they were safely out of hearing ra
nge from her mother, Ellen asked, “Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Of course.” She walked them over to a sofa near the lobby. “I’m so glad you could make it by. She’s having a good day.”

  Ellen pushed aside the exchange about the lost or stolen Grisham book and considered the reason for this visit. Her mom looked healthy. She was focused. She was indeed having a good day, but before she did anything ill-advised, she wanted Patterson’s advice. “She does seem to be doing really well, and that’s what I want to talk to you about.” She paused. The subject of Marty’s death was still difficult to discuss. “A good friend of my mother’s died this week. You may have seen her here. I know she came to visit when she could. Marty Lawson?”

  “Of course. Ms. Lawson was a devoted friend. Your mother loved her visits. They talked for hours. I’m sorry to hear that she died.”

  “Actually, she was murdered. I know that under normal circumstances, mother would want to hear about it. From someone she knows, not on the news or some other less personal method. I want your advice about what, if anything, I should tell her.”

  “That’s a tough one. How long were Marty and your mother friends?”

  Ellen laughed. “Forever. At least it seems that way to me since they met before I was born. They went to college together. They were in the same sorority and they were both active alumnae until…” her words trailed off into sadness. Marty would never be part of that world again, and her mother? Well, Vivian probably never would be either.

  “Does your mother ever mention Marty to you?”

  “No, but…” Her mother tended to focus on one subject during her visits, and it wasn’t her sorority sisters. Familiar guilt crept in. If she’d visit more, especially during the day, she might be able to talk about more pleasant things. But the visits she made time for were hard enough. She pushed the guilt aside. “Well, I know from Marty that she enjoyed their visits. I just don’t want her to see something on the news, read it in the paper and not understand why I didn’t tell her first.”