by J. E. Taylor
“Excuse me?” Sarah’s indignant voice chirped.
“You two work well together and I figure you’ll keep him in line.”
“Yeah, right,” Steve said, grinning. He glanced at the boys. “Ted said you two could hang in the cockpit now that we are up in the air.”
Both sets of eyes sparkled at the prospect. As soon as they were seated in the cockpit, Steve escaped to the washroom and pulled out Lynn Trueman’s card, dialing the home number she’d scribbled under her name.
“Ms. Trueman?”
“Yes?” Her voice hesitant and laced with worry.
“It’s Steve Williams, I’m sorry to call so late, but I wasn’t sure who to contact. Mrs. Ryan was killed today.”
Silence filled the line followed by the release of a long breath. “Jessica Ryan?”
“Yes, ma’am, Jessica Ryan was murdered by a serial killer down in Atlanta and I’m not sure what to do with her boys. I know she has family in Connecticut.”
Another sigh. “Chris Ryan was very specific in the event both he and his wife passed on.” Very specific and very adamant.
“Can you give me the address for Jessica’s folks, I’d like to bring the boys there and give them the news in person.”
“I don’t think you understand, Agent Williams. Chris Ryan made provisions in his will for this eventuality. CJ and Thomas will inherit the estate and he named you as their trustee and guardian.”
Steve took a staggering step toward the closed commode. “Say again?”
“Chris Ryan named you as their guardian.”
He slowly sank to the toilet seat. “Uh, um, is that legal?”
“Yes. It is legal. There are a whole host of provisions that I need to go over with you and of course there are papers to sign.”
Steve was speechless, even with the small chuckle that erupted in his ear.
“Agent Williams?”
“I’m uh, I’m here.”
“When will you be back in town?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re, um, we’re flying now.”
“I assume you’re going back to Brooksfield?”
“No, Brainard, in Connecticut and now I’m not sure whether to go to Maine or New York with the boys.”
“Please let me know and I’ll bring the paperwork to you so we can discuss the provisions and conditions of Mr. Ryan’s will.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, Agent Williams.”
The dial tone followed and Steve folded his phone. He stepped out into the galley and took the first seat he came to. Shock filtered through his system and he looked up, meeting Jennifer’s questioning stare.
“I just got off the phone with Lynn Trueman. She said Chris listed me as CJ’s and Tommy’s guardian.”
“He did what?” The echo of all three voices filled the room and Steve looked from Jennifer to Sarah and then to Cleary.
“Chris Ryan named me as the guardian of his children.”
The chuckle filled his ears and he looked up at the ceiling of the flight cabin. “Why the hell would you do that?”
You are the only one capable of handling CJ.
“You’ve got Chris Ryan as a guardian angel and you are responsible for his kids?” Jennifer said, his words finally sinking in.
“We, Jennifer, we are responsible for his kids,” he corrected.
CJ leaned against the doorjamb of the cockpit with his arms crossed just staring at Steve. “So, we’re living with you now?”
Steve turned his attention back to Jennifer, raising his eyebrows before meeting CJ’s gaze. “Based on your dad’s will, I guess the answer is yes.”
CJ smiled. “Sucks to be you.”
Steve laughed and sighed, “I guess it does suck to be me.”
The End
Crystal Illusions
(Book 5)
“Taylor has a strong thriller where every single character has reasonable doubt flashing like a neon sign hanging over them, and right from the beginning you are trying to guess who the killer really is. Gripping, rich and magnificent - crime whodunnits don't get any better than this!” Author Poppet / Gemma Rice – Author of QUISLINGS, BLINDSIDED, DJINN and DUSAN
“CRYSTAL ILLUSIONS is a dizzying thriller with a terrifying killer, a unique detective, and some twists you will not see coming! This is Steve Williams’ most addictive adventure so far and J.E. Taylor at her very best!” Ty Drago - Author of PHOBOS and THE UNDERTAKERS: RISE OF THE CORPSES and Managing Editor/Publisher of ALLEGORY E-zine.
"This has to be one of the best mysteries I have ever read. Move over Agatha Christie there's a new sheriff in town, and she is great." - PRG Reviews
Chapter 1
Carolyn Hastings sat erect and damp with sweat. Her heart played a staccato beat in her chest while the last note of her shriek tumbled into the darkness.
Outside, lightning flashed, creating shadows on her bedroom walls. Carolyn’s gaze darted from one shaded spot to another expecting the clawed beast from her nightmare to step out of the gloom.
Carolyn's hand flew toward the lamp on her nightstand, almost knocking it over. Mumbling a prayer, she switched it on squinting from the light. She closed her eyes and trembled. "Only a dream. It was only a dream."
She glanced around the room, still hesitant to believe it just yet. “Nobody is here,” she reassured herself. Taking a deep breath, her heart slowed to a normal pace and her sweating skin dried, leaving her shivering.
Carolyn hugged her legs, reviewing the dream with a shudder. She swallowed the metallic taste in her mouth and scanned the room again. It took a while, but she finally relaxed enough to lie down and it was only a matter of minutes before she drifted into a restless sleep.
The alarm went off at six and Carolyn rolled over, slamming her hand on the snooze button, even though she had a busy day ahead. The shadows of her dream still haunted her and her eyes opened to the stucco ceiling. With an uneasy sigh, she climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.
The warm water and regular routine did nothing to quell the nightmare. "Shit," she muttered and turned off the water. Stepping out of the shower stall, she grabbed a plush towel and dried herself. It had been years since she had a dream that vivid and those memories were unwelcome.
She headed back to her room and picked out a cornflower blue suit with a pale pink silk shirt. Soft. She wanted to appear soft today, and as vulnerable as the state’s client. Thoughts of the case erased any remnant of the nightmare and she closed her eyes, pushing her emotions into a box and tying a sash securely around it. Angel needed her to be on her game and if those emotions got loose, she’d blow the case.
Peering into the mirror, she adjusted her belt and tamed the few flyaway hairs that fell across her line of sight. Carolyn turned and headed to the kitchenette, stopping to grab the newspaper left on her doorstep. Tossing the paper on the table, she poured herself a glass of orange juice before settling in to read the headlines. She turned the paper over and inhaled the juice, the burn forcing her to sputter and cough.
The headline screamed:
TWENTY-THREE-YEAR-OLD BRUTALLY MURDERED
But it wasn’t the title that caused her to inhale her juice; it was the photo of the woman. The woman killed in her dream.
God, it was real.
Deep down she knew it had been more than just her overactive imagination, but it took seeing the victim’s face splashed across the front page for the reality of her vision to sink in. With it came both shame for not doing anything and fear that there was some sort of connection—just like the last time and she shivered. Carolyn dropped the paper as if the beast from her nightmare would leap from the text and slice her to death.
"Boo!" A voice called from the kitchen doorway.
Carolyn let out a short yelp and spun. “Damn it, Olivia!”
Olivia chuckled, crossing the kitchen with a lithe, sultry stride that screamed catwalk—tall and thin and in high demand with perfect chocolate skin Carolyn secretly env
ied.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Olivia said, but the twinkle in her eyes belied her words.
Carolyn knew better and sent Olivia the ‘yeah, right’ expression she’d practiced on a number of juries over the years—one she knew Olivia was familiar with ad nauseam. Olivia was the queen of practical jokes and she totally enjoyed scaring the bejesus out of her. “Besides, it wasn’t you that spooked me, it was that.” She pointed at the paper.
Olivia gave a quick uninterested glance at the headline and turned her attention to preparing her breakfast. "You and Randy had some time last night! You woke me up you were so loud!"
"Randy wasn't here last night. I had a nightmare."
Olivia turned toward Carolyn with raised brows.
"You mean to tell me you don’t know the difference between a scream and the throes of passion?”
Olivia laughed. “With you, I’m never sure.”
Carolyn felt the blush coloring her cheeks and she changed the subject. “What are you doing today?”
"I'm modeling for a new artist. My agent said he's really good, but we'll see. Is today the day your client takes the stand?”
Carolyn sighed and nodded. “Yes and I hope we nail the bastard to the wall."
“I hope you do, too. That scumbag shouldn’t be allowed to walk free after what he’s done to that girl.”
“Agreed, but today is going to be a tough one. I hate putting kids on the stand, but I need the jury to have no doubts in order to put him away, and the defense is throwing up smoke screens at every shred of proof I’ve delivered. If they play the same song and dance with Dr. Rutherford, I’ve got no choice.”
“Well, good luck today.” Olivia said, turning her attention to her breakfast.
“You, too, and be careful out there. We’ve got another wacko on the loose.” Carolyn pointed to the paper as she walked from the kitchen and out of the apartment, heading to catch the subway downtown.
Carolyn stood on the crowded subway glancing around at the people surrounding her. The overweight suit clutching his briefcase by the door, poor bastard, wife left him last week, now he's thinking about suicide. Her glance passed over a couple of boys who were not quite in high school, yet. They’re trying to get into a gang, but the gang wants them to pull off a robbery, one is gung ho but the other has doubts. Too bad they’ll both end up across from me in court. The old woman with the carriage full of cans and other garbage, dying, Carolyn thought.
Carolyn closed her eyes against the silent assault of information. She hated the occasional flood of facts she encountered and had no idea when or why they triggered, but most of all, once they started she didn’t have a clue of how to shut them off. Today of all days, she didn’t need to be tuned into the psychic world, she needed silence, concentration, not the world’s din.
"Sweet Jesus, will you just shut up?" she whispered, gaining a strange glance from the man standing beside her.
She got off at Park Place and headed up Broadway to City Hall where the District Attorney’s office was located. She needed to review the facts and the sciences of DNA testing so she had her biggest guns in order, and she couldn’t focus with the extra noise.
She slammed her door and shook her head, clearing her thoughts and focusing on her case. If all else failed, she’d put Angel on the stand. Glancing at her watch, she took a deep breath and gathered the papers on her desk, shoving them into her briefcase. She hurried downstairs and across the street to the courthouse, entering the courtroom early and setting up her space.
The doors opened and child services escorted Angel, a ten-year-old Asian girl, to the prosecution table; giving a nod to Carolyn before leaving the girl at her side. Carolyn offered a smile even though a little part of her heart broke every time she saw Angel, every time the girl’s fear raked across her skin.
Since her mother died two years before, Angel’s stepfather had subjected Angel to every abuse imaginable, repeatedly taking her at his whim, like a slave concubine.
“Good morning, Miss Hastings,” Angel whispered.
“Good morning, Angel. Are you ready for today?” Carolyn asked.
Angel nodded, taking a deep shaky breath.
Carolyn put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I promise; he will never hurt you again.”
Her oval brown eyes glazed with tears and she nodded, taking the seat next to Carolyn, folding her hands neatly in her lap. When the door at the side of the courtroom opened, Angel’s hands clench until her knuckles blanched of all color.
Guards escorted Mitusi Yamakura into the courtroom. He was wearing the signature orange jumpsuit of the city lock up. He glared at Carolyn and Angel.
Anger laced Carolyn’s mouth with a sweetness that made her want to spit. Instead, she took a deep breath and boarded up the emotions, saving them for the right moment.
“All rise. The Honorable Judge Burke presiding,” the court bailiff announced.
Judge Burke settled into his seat and looked at Carolyn. “Miss Hastings?”
Carolyn looked down at her docket. “I wish to call Dr. Rutherford to the stand,” she announced to the court.
A petite woman in her fifties navigated the aisle and found her way to the witness chair.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.” Dr. Rutherford sat in the witness chair.
“Please state your name and occupation.” Carolyn approached the stand.
“Dr. Anna Rutherford. Forensic specialist.”
“Please explain your specialty for the court,” Carolyn directed.
“My specific area of expertise is in acid phosphate testing and DNA profiling.”
“Can you tell the court what acid phosphate testing is?”
“Acid phosphate is an enzyme secreted by the prostate gland and is present in large amounts in seminal fluid. Finding significantly elevated acid phosphate levels is consistent with the presence of semen and is the basis for testing sexual assault victims. It also aids in DNA testing.”
“And why is this important in this case?”
“Because a significant level of acid phosphate was found on Miss Yamakura’s sheets.”
“Was that the only test you conducted?”
“No. The semen was subjected to DNA testing and we found the sequencing matches Mr. Yamakura’s DNA.”
Murmurs spread through the courtroom and Carolyn let the statement hang on the air as she looked at the jury.
“Thank you. No further questions, your honor.” Carolyn crossed to the prosecutor’s bench and sat down, satisfied with how today’s witness had performed.
The defense attorney was looking through his notes. He stood. “How long have you been doing forensic studies of rape victims?” He addressed the doctor.
“Close to ten years,” she answered.
“Have you ever been wrong?”
“Yes,” the doctor began, “But...”
“Now, I understand acid phosphate testing is not always indicative of sexual contact, is that correct?”
“With the levels…”
“Please answer with a simple yes or no.”
“Well, yes, but…”
“The stains you found were on the sheets, is it possible that Mr. Yamakura had sexual relations on those particular sheets with someone other than Angel?”
Dr. Rutherford blinked and looked in Carolyn’s direction, her mouth slightly askew.
“Answer the question, Doctor.”
“I guess that’s possible.”
“Thank you. That’s all I have your honor.”
Carolyn scanned the jury and saw doubt in both their expressions and their minds.
Shit. She didn’t want any doubt about what a sleazeball this guy was. She needed Angel on the stand. The bastard was careful not to leave any DNA inside Angel so this was going to be a case of her word against his, but she was betting on Angel’s innocence.
“Miss Hastings?”
&
nbsp; “No further questions, your honor.”
“You may step down,” the judge instructed.
Dr. Rutherford climbed out of the witness stand and exited the courtroom.
“The prosecution would like to call Angel Yamakura to the stand,” Carolyn said and stepped around the desk into the center of the courtroom.
Angel stood and approached the bench where she was sworn in by the bailiff.
Carolyn inhaled, calming the building frustration in her chest. “Angel, your mother died when you were eight, correct.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Was your stepfather granted custody by this court after your mother died?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How did you feel about that?”
“I was happy. Mitusi was good to my mother. He was a good father when she was alive.” Angel studied her clutched hands.
“Do you still think he’s a good father?” Carolyn asked.
Angel shook her head, her fearful gaze shot to her stepfather and back to Carolyn.
“Please answer yes or no for the record,” Carolyn said.
Angel leaned forward into the microphone. “No.”
“What changed?” Carolyn asked.
“He started hurting me.”
“How?”
Angel bit her lip and looked down at her hands again before speaking. “At first he hit me.”
“Do you mean he spanked you?”
“No, he slapped me across the face in the beginning and then later he began using his fists when he wasn’t happy with me.”
“Can you give us an example of when he wasn’t happy with you?”
Angel bit her lip and nodded. “When I emptied the dishwasher, if the silverware wasn’t lined up in the drawer, he would hit me and send me to my room without dinner.”
“Was that all he did?” Carolyn asked, her voice gentle and prodding.
“At first.”
“What else did he do, Angel?” Carolyn asked again.
