Targeted: A Ray Schiller Novel (The Ray Schiller Series Book 3)

by Marjorie Doering

  A nurse walked into the room and approached Liz with a face-splitting smile. “Well, well. How’s our fugitive from justice doing?”

  Liz glared at Ray and Waverly. “See? What did I tell you? Thanks a lot, you two.”

  57

  Five Months Later

  “Is that everything, babe?” Ray asked. He jammed another suitcase in the back of the SUV. Hopefully it was the last.

  “I think that’s it,” Gail said.

  “It better be. I don’t think we’ve got room for one more thing.” He wiped perspiration off his brow with the back of a forearm. “Maybe we should go over the checklist one more time before we call it a night.”

  “Good idea.” Gail took a quick look through the SUV’s rear windows. ”It’s jammed all right. We should’ve waited another month. We’d have had more room if we only needed our lightweight clothes.”

  “Hindsight’s a bitch,” Ray said.

  “True. If we’re going to get an early start, we’d better make sure everything’s packed tonight so we can just load up the kids in the morning and drive away.”

  “Oh. Was I supposed to leave room for them?” Ray leaned toward the connecting kitchen door and listened. “Phone’s ringing. I’ll get it.” He went inside and downed a last gulp of lukewarm coffee before answering.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ray. Dick. All packed up?”

  “We’re ready to go...finally. Gail and the kids have been looking forward to seeing Yellowstone for a long time.”

  “What about you?”

  “I guess, but all the preparations and drive time make a nice ‘staycation’ sound pretty good.”

  Waverly chuckled. “Hey, you’ll have a terrific time.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I just thought I’d call and wish you bon voyage, buddy. Hey, I almost forgot. Did you hear Amy Conley’s house was sold? Phyllis was in Elliott Park today and saw the sign on the lawn.”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “All I can say is, if the new owner is a woman, I hope she’s a skinny, cross-eyed, buck-toothed, hairy-legged octogenarian.”

  Ray laughed. “Yeah, that might keep the Retzingers on their own side of the street.”

  “At least Amy Conley won’t have to put up with them anymore but, hey, I’ve got more news on that front. Not only do I know she’s moving, I know where she’s going. You’ll get a kick out of this,” Waverly said. “Remember Officer Clay Lathrop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I put my ear to the ground at the station and I hear she’s moving in with him.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ray laughed. “Good for them. Seems like a good pairing, to me.”

  “Yeah,” Waverly said. “You know, I got to thinking. If they decide to tie the knot, I might suggest to Lathrop that your kids be part of their wedding party. Can you picture it? Jessica Hall would be the maid of honor, of course, and Laurie and Krista could be junior bridesmaids. Joey as the ring bearer… Hell, he’d be perfect.”

  “Tell you what, Dick… If there’s a wedding in their future, I’ll be there with bells on. Gail and I can sit right next to Liz Dunham and enjoy the ceremony. But if you get all three of my kids involved, you’re getting the bill for Joey’s tux and the girls’ gowns. I might even go you one better and suggest to Amy that she have you walk her down the aisle.”

  Waverly let out a belly laugh. “All right, buddy. Listen, you have a great time. Make sure you come back before bodies start piling up like cord wood.”

  “Thanks. I’ll bring something nice back for you, like a petrified buffalo turd.”

  Waverly laughed. “I’ll take it. I’ll give it to Roth and tell him it’s a Yellowstone paperweight. You take care, Ray. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Ray hung up, turned and nearly tripped over a forgotten overnight bag. Picking it up, he carried it into the garage. “That was Dick, babe. He had some interesting news.”

  “Okay, but first I’ve got news of my own. Either we eliminate some of this luggage, or one of us is going to have to stay home.”

  “All right,” Ray said. “I say half the Samsonite stays; all the Schillers go.”

  “So which luggage do we leave behind?”

  Ray grinned and wrapped her in his arms. “For starters, I say you ditch whichever bag has your nightclothes.”

  Dear Reader,

  Thanks so much for reading Targeted. I appreciate it, and so does Ray. He needs all the moral support he can get for his next case. If you enjoyed the story, please recommend it to your friends and leave a review for other readers. Don’t keep your opinion to yourself!

  Just click on this link: (Targeted) and go to the box near my picture that says “Write a Review.” Nothing to it. Thank you!

  About the Author

  Marjorie Swift Doering grew up, quite literally, on a golf course. Her father, a PGA pro, was the owner/operator of an eighteen-hole course in a tiny town in SE Wisconsin. The distinctly unique childhood surroundings laid the foundation for her lifelong enjoyment of “people watching”. Occasional reminders to “not bother the members” resulted in turning her into an introverted extrovert, a condition she’s since overcome.

  She graduated from WSU, Stevens Point with a B.S. in Secondary Education with a major in English and a minor in Psychology. She’s made continuous use of both ever since, but interests and circumstances led her away from the classroom setting. The love of writing has always been a constant in her life.

  Marjorie Swift Doering enjoys writing in various genres. Currently, she has completed her fourth murder mystery in the “Ray Schiller” series. In 2005 her first one-act play was produced and performed by Darknight Theatrical Productions in Chicago, Illinois. Omega Publications, in 2009, published a number of her short stories in an anthology titled Mosaic, A Collection of Short Stories.

  Marjorie and her husband, Denny, live in Northwestern Wisconsin with their Springer, Casey, and their three crazy, but lovable cats, Freddy, Dickens and JoJo.

  Click on the link below to take you to my author page.

  The Ray Schiller Series

  Web of Silence: Preview

  Out now.

  1

  The lull before the storm—

  Minneapolis, Minnesota – September

  I want Nathan at 9 tomorrow.

  Elena Dunn read her ex-husband’s text message and wanted to scream. Unfortunately that was no longer an option. It hadn’t been for years. The attack that had cost Elena her voice had created emotional damages that went far deeper than the wound which left the five-inch scar across her throat.

  For twenty-six of her thirty years, she had lived by the simple but comforting philosophy that every cloud had a silver lining. She had survived the brutal attack four years earlier, but her long-held philosophy had not.

  She texted back. We agreed on 11.

  Moments later his reply appeared. By then the day’s half over. Make it 9.

  Her final word on the subject was: No. Too early. She set the phone down in disgust. The last thing she had time for was another drawn-out argument over the exchange of their four-year-old son Nathan.

  He was at the kitchen table, an elbow propped on its surface, a cheek resting in the palm of his hand. The peas on his dinner plate were untouched.

  Elena’s hands moved with deft grace. What’s wrong with your peas?

  Nathan responded by shoving his plate aside in silence.

  Elena “signed” and shook her head. No, talk to me.

  In a clear voice, Nathan announced, “They’re yucky.”

  While not the answer she wanted, at least he’d said it aloud--a small but welcome victory of sorts. Although the boy was perfectly capable of speaking, he seldom did. It was a cause of concern and a serious bone of contention between Elena and Dave.

  “Can I watch a movie?” he asked, racing to the living room.

  Following him, Elena rewarded his verbalization by starting the latest Disney DVD she
pulled from a cabinet. She swept a hank of her son’s dark hair aside and planted a kiss on his forehead as the doorbell rang.

  Elena went to answer the bell, did a quick check through the peephole and flung the door open. Stepping aside, she tapped the back of her wrist as her friend Georgia stepped inside.

  “I know, I know,” Georgia said. “Sorry I’m late, Lainey. The time kind of got away from me.” She looked toward the living room and called out, “Hi, Nate.”

  He spun around and looked at Georgia like he’d been sucking on a lemon. “Mommy, where’s Kayla?”

  Her hands moving with well-practiced ease, she issued a mild scolding. Don’t be rude. Kayla can’t babysit tonight.

  Sulking, he turned his attention to the movie once more as Elena gave Georgia an apologetic shake of the head.

  “It’s okay. When I was a kid, I had a favorite sitter, too. Nate and I will be fine.” She took another look at Elena. “Why are you still in your robe?” Georgia hustled her into the bedroom. “Get a move on. You don’t want to screw things up by being late for your first date with this guy.”

  Elena discarded her robe and slipped into the white, sheath dress laid out on the bed.

  “Okay, so tell me,” Georgia said. “Which category does this man fit into? One: available. Two: available and respectable. Three: available, respectable and desirable. Four: none of the above.”

  Smiling, Elena zipped the dress and held up three fingers.

  Georgia laughed. “I’ll be damned. Threes are far and few between.”

  If anyone would know, it would probably be Georgia Schwartz. A woman with a quick smile, a warm heart and a propensity for marrying the wrong men, at thirty-five, she’d already gone through three marriages, each ex-husband richer than the last. Georgia was prepared to look for a fourth prospect—one whose last name would be an improvement over the one she’d been burdened with for the past twenty-three months. Men were drawn to Georgia like bees to honey. It wasn’t likely to take her long.

  “What does this man look like?” Georgia asked.

  Elena held up six fingers, then two. At face level, she held her hands two feet apart and drew them down in a V shape, smiling and rolling her eyes in a dreamy fashion.

  “Six-foot-two with a great build? Hot damn, girl. That’s great.” She checked her watch. “For now, though, you’d better forget about that and finish dressing.”

  Although punctual by nature, Elena found herself in no particular hurry. “Alone” and “lonely” were two different things. Having or not having a man in her life didn’t define her.

  The alimony and child support agreed to in the divorce settlement had been generous. The house she’d been awarded was more than adequate. Elena tried to convince herself that any judge would agree Nathan was living in a safe, stable, loving environment. She felt certain those factors couldn’t be overlooked despite Dave’s ability to provide a grander home and greater financial advantages for their son.

  Still, with Dave going for an adjustment to their shared custody arrangement, Nathan’s lagging verbal communication was a serious concern. TV and radio were poor substitutes for instilling normal conversational skills. Most children grew up in households brimming over with verbal give-and-take. That was something Elena couldn’t offer Nathan.

  Dave could.

  And in his care, their son couldn’t avoid reprimands by simply turning his head away or closing his eyes as he sometimes did with her.

  Elena ran a brush through her blond, chin-length hair, then completed her outfit with a pair of diamond stud earrings, a matching pendant and a pair of sky-high heels. Finished, she spun around for Georgia’s perusal.

  “You look absolutely beautiful.”

  Elena shrugged skeptically.

  “Don’t argue with me,” Georgia told her. “You’re positively gorgeous.”

  Taking a final look in the mirror, she tilted her head back and ran her fingers over the scar at the top of her throat. For one horrific instant, it was as though the weeks, the months, the years had been stripped away. The terror she’d experienced seemed to radiate through her fingertips like an electrical charge. The breath caught in her throat as, she saw the rage in her attacker’s face once more and the glint of light on the blade as he drew it back and swung it left to right. She felt the pressure of its sharp edge as…

  Georgia’s voice jolted her back to the present.

  “You should stop worrying about that scar. No one but you notices it.” Georgia paused. “Lainey, you’re trembling. Are you all right?”

  Nodding, Elena forced a smile.

  Georgia followed her from the room and nearly bumped into her as she stopped short to read another incoming text message from Dave.

  Georgia read the text over Elena’s shoulder. Don’t worry about dropping Nathan off. I’ll come by at 9 to pick him up.

  Elena didn’t send a reply.

  “Your next custody hearing is coming up soon, isn’t it?” Georgia asked.

  Elena held up five fingers.

  “Five weeks?” Georgia asked, checking. “Well, put it out of your mind for now and have a good time tonight.”

  Elena hurried to give Nathan a hug and a kiss before leaving. She lifted his chin, forcing him to focus on her and signed, You be good. She gave him a hug and slipped into her coat.

  Georgia followed her to the back door in the kitchen, watching as Elena hurried to her car. “Hey,” Georgia called after her, “you didn’t tell me this hunk’s name.”

  Out of time, Elena tapped the back of her wrist again and waved goodbye.

  “Have fun, Lainey,” she called after her. “And you really do look stunning.”

  Elena threw a kiss in Georgia’s direction and got into her car.

  Locking the kitchen door after her, Georgia returned to Nathan. “Well, it looks like it’s you and me tonight, Nate.”

  With a none-too-subtle pout in his voice, he pointed at the TV screen and said, “Shh. I’m watching this.”

  “A little rude,” she said, ruffling his hair, “but at least you said it. Good job.”

  She sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him. “Oh, Lord,” she groaned, tugging at the waistband of her skinny jeans. “I should’ve worn Spandex for this gig.”

  As Nathan slipped back into his characteristic silence, she prepared to hold up both ends of the conversation.

  “Carry on, Nate,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She got up again and made certain the front door was locked. As she joined him on the floor again, Georgia tickled the boy. He rolled on the floor, giggling, as she announced, “All safe and sound. Snug as a bug in a rug.”