by Misty Evans
1st Shock
Schock Sisters Mystery, Book 1
Adrienne Giordano
Misty Evans
Contents
Acknowledgments
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
Enjoy this excerpt from Stealing Justice!
For more with Grey, Mitch, and the rest of the Justice Team
Books by Adrienne Giordano
Books by Misty Evans
1st Shock, A Schock Sisters Mystery, Book 1
Copyright © 2019 Misty Evans & Adrienne Giordano
Publisher: ALG Publishing, LLC
ISBN: 978-1-942504-33-7
Cover Art by Fanderclai Design
Formatting by Beach Path Publishing, LLC
Editing by Gina Bernal, Elizabeth Neal
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Please Note:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authors’ rights is appreciated.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to John Leach who never seems to get tired of humoring Adrienne with answers to her wacky questions.
Huge gratitude and hugs to the Justice Team fans for following the Schock Sisters over to their very own series! If you haven’t read the Justice Team and would like to, you can find their links in the back of the book.
As always, much appreciation to our families, friends, editors, and street teams for their amazing support!
1
Meg
My name is Megan Eleanor Schock and I rebuild the dead.
I'm not being dramatic either. As we speak, I'm contemplating Emily, a woman who sits in the corner of my office where I greet her every morning and promise justice. She's young. Probably a teenager, tossed away like trash and left to the utter warfare imposed on a human body when animals and Mother Nature feast on it.
I'm not even sure Emily is her name. All I know is when they come to me, usually via a law enforcement official trying to solve a cold case, I need to give them life. An identity someone stole from them.
My sister, Charlie, thinks I'm obsessed.
I damn well might be.
Ask if I care.
We formed a private investigation firm and share equal partnership in it. Charlie, a forensic psychologist and one hell of a profiler, does most of the investigating while I do the sculpting. Forensic sculpting is one of my specialties and I, unfortunately, have a steady stream of subjects to further hone my skills on.
One of those is Joseph—at least, that’s the name I've given him. He was brought to me by a sheriff from Louisiana. It's yet another cold case that needs to be solved so I've volunteered my services to see if we can get this man identified. Maybe find his killer.
I peel my gaze from Emily and focus on Joseph. The chime of the back door sounds. Only staff and a certain other few come through it so this must be Matt, an investigator we hired to help with our caseload. Our only other employee is Haley, the receptionist, and I can hear her fielding calls at her desk near the front.
A second later, JJ Carrington, steps into my doorway. As usual, he's dressed to kill in an expensive gray suit, a crisp white shirt, and blue print tie. His dark hair is neatly combed and the artist in me itches to sketch him, to capture the perfect lines of his cheekbones and jaw.
At least until my eye snaps to the plastic shopping bag he's holding. "Swear to God, JJ, if that's what I think it is, I'll stab you."
Unruffled by my threat—he's dealt with far worse than me—the U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia, aka the Emperor of Cold Cases, steps to the worktable beside Joseph and clears a small space amongst my sculpting tools. He gingerly sets it down and I know, without a doubt, he's brought me yet another victim.
In a goddamned shopping bag.
For that alone I should maim him. Who am I kidding? JJ only brings me the ones investigators are absolutely stumped on.
Or that are possibly related to another case.
A case like the one from when I was in sixth grade and nine—I remember the number quite clearly—other sixth graders in the area went missing. My mother cried every time a child vanished and I spent the whole of my sixth grade paranoid I’d disappear too. That turmoil still sticks. No matter how old I get, it sticks.
To this day, none of those children have been discovered.
Not one.
I guess I keep hoping someday one of their skulls will come my way, and I’ll be able to help give them justice.
That case has made me a freak about my loved ones and the idea of a family having to live with the heartbreak of a missing person. Add to that my artistic talent and watching my older sister immerse herself into the justice system and here I am. Ready, willing and completely able to help. I can’t say it’s fun, but it satisfies something in me. Makes me feel as if I’m doing my part in some small way.
JJ points to the bag. "Found eighteen months ago in Rock Creek park. Zero leads. If we don’t come up with something, the case will go unsolved. There’s some public safety group making noise about the area being unsafe.”
“Crimes happen in plenty of parks.”
“Tell me about it. We’re getting pressure from the National Park Service who doesn’t want this case used for propaganda."
I peek inside and see a cast of a human skull. When it comes to my work, I'm only ever brought duplicates made from molds taken of the actual victims.
"And you put him in a shopping bag?"
"I didn't say it's a him."
I like JJ, but his years as a prosecutor have gobbled up the last of his sensitivity. "Well, I'm not calling him—or her—it so until I determine a gender, he's a him."
I peel back the sides and, using both hands lift him, studying the eye sockets and teeth. It’s small and I immediately question myself. A woman then, perhaps. Just like Emily, who has sat in my office, each day reminding me her killer is still out there. Her case has suffered dead end after dead end, each lead fizzling and leaving investigators at a loss. For that reason, I can’t let her go. Or give up on her. Maybe because she’s young and pretty and deserved an ending far better than the one she got. All I know is I’m determined to help her.
<
br /> "Small head," I comment.
"A child?"
"I didn't say that. Maybe a woman. We'll see."
I set Avery—a nice, gender neutral name—back on the table and walk to the narrow storage closet where I keep extra sculpting stands.
"Tell me about her," I say as I place the skull on one. "Do we have the rest of her?"
"Not all, but some. ME has them."
"Animals got to her?"
JJ shrugs. "I'm guessing. They searched the area around the body, but we're still missing twenty-five percent of the bones."
Like I said, the wrath of the elements. "Cause of death?"
"Based on fractures in the neck area, ME says asphyxiation."
Interesting. "Can I see what you have?"
I have a process and part of it is seeing all the bones, getting the measurements and figuring out the person's height and age.
JJ nods. Of course. He knows I'm good. The myriad of awards hanging in our reception area attest to it. Plus, this isn't his first rodeo.
I circle the stand, examining the back, running one hand over the smoothness. I reach the front, my fingers lightly touching Avery's cheek and lower jaw and something inside me fires.
"JJ."
At the sound of my sister's voice, I glance at the doorway where Charlie's gaze is glued to the Emperor. He smiles at her and the energy in the room changes. Charlie and JJ have a...thing. Insane chemistry that crackles between them every time they get within ten feet of each other. I'd like to tell them to get a room, but their relationship is complicated. He's in the process of a divorce and my sister doesn't screw married men. He's been separated over a year, but until he works out his marital issues, Charlie has deemed him untouchable.
Even so, I'm a little jealous. I haven't felt that kind of passion in a long time and I miss the buzz that comes with it. Unfortunately, I have too many victims parading in and out of my life to focus on any living, breathing man that might spark something.
Like I said, Charlie thinks I'm obsessed.
As the stare down between them continues, she leans against the doorjamb and crosses her legs. She's wearing one of those fitted pencil skirts she likes and a blouse straight out of Vogue. Me? I play with paints all day. I'm a ripped jeans and T-shirt girl.
Charlie appears relaxed, but inside she's seething. I sense it in her slightly puckered and expertly lipsticked mouth.
"If you've brought her that skull," Charlie says, "I'll kill you."
Poor JJ. First I threaten to stab him and now Charlie will kill him. Our threats come for two very different reasons. I'm pissed about the shopping bag.
Charlie the skull.
JJ holds up both hands. "We need help with this one."
"I'm sure." Charlie nudges her chin at me. "But look at her, she's already bonding."
"I'm fine," I say.
My sister rolls her eyes. She knows me. Understands the second I put my hands on someone, they become part of me.
I look back at Avery. "This is Avery. She’ll be staying for a bit. JJ tell the ME I'd like to come by in the morning. After that, I need to finish Joseph." I point to the other skull. "Once I'm done with him, I'll work on Avery."
Charlie straightens and points at JJ. "You. In my office."
2
Charlie
I'm worried about my sister.
I'm pissed at the man in front of me.
Story of my life.
"What do you think you're doing?" I ask JJ as I lean on my desk, crossing my arms under my chest and giving him my best glare. I've practiced it for hours in the mirror, getting it just right to make men cower under it. Women too, if they get in my way.
JJ meets my stare with the crooked grin that irritates the crap out of me. His eyes start at my three-inch Louboutins and creep up my legs to my hips, the grin growing wider when he stops at my generous rack. I hold perfectly still, ignoring the way my pulse trips all over itself.
Breathe, dammit. Do not let him get to you.
Fat chance that.
Finally, his gaze moves to my lips then locks with mine. "What do you mean, Charlize?"
JJ Carrington III knows exactly what I mean. He's always pushing me, taunting me, teasing me. Just like using my full name. He tells me it's so much sexier than the gender confusing Charlie.
"Why did you come in the back door?"
His eyes spark, ready for a sparring match. "The two measly spots out front were taken."
I'm a forensic psychologist, a former FBI profiler. I'm loyal to a fault but I'm a born skeptic. I question everything, including everyone's motives. "Correction, you deliberately parked in the rear lot and came in that way so you could avoid my office, and this very discussion, before talking to Meg. You brought the skull in a plastic shopping bag."
He lifts his hands, palms up, supplicating. Pretending not to know what the big deal is. "Walking around in broad daylight with a human skull tends to freak people out."
"You knew she’d be incensed and immediately champion for the person it represents. Which would lead to her bonding with the damn skull and offering her services, because that's what she does. You know that and took advantage."
The U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia handles local and federal cases. He oozes confidence, power, and control.
I have a thing for powerful, sexy men...and this one? Off. The. Charts.
He takes a slow, deliberate step toward me, staying just out of my personal space. Teasing once again. "You and I both know there is no one on God's green earth that can manipulate either of the Schock sisters. If Meg didn't want to do it, she would have said no."
"When was the last time Meg said no to a cold case?"
"When was the last time you did?"
Damn him. I talk a good game, but I'm just as obsessed as Meg, and he knows it. One of the reasons I left the FBI was all the red tape. Things move too slowly with them, there were too many rules. I'm all for them, but swift resolution is equally important. Families deserve closure, victims retribution.
"The local PD doesn't have it in the budget to get a reconstruction done," JJ finally admits, then rattles some other excuse about a public service group and the National Park Service giving his office grief.
We are not getting paid. Again. I reach over and tap a stack of files on my desk. "These are all paying clients. They deserve to come first, and since I'm not only the lead investigator around here, but also the accountant, I can tell you we don't have it in ours either."
"Give the paying clients to Mad Dog. He can handle them."
The other reason I left the FBI was to take care of Meg. Then Matt came along, and it was like we expanded our family. He became our younger brother. I have a responsibility to them to keep Schock Sister Investigations successful. Profitable. To watch out for them and our receptionist, Haley.
JJ inches toward me, officially crossing the boundary of my personal space. My pulse, already wonky, goes Code Red. "I need you on this too, Charlize. I don't think reconstructing the skull will be enough." Another step. "I need someone familiar with cold cases, murder cases. Come on, say you'll do it."
“You think murder is involved?” Dumb question, of course he does. Most bodies don’t end up buried in a park. “Never mind. The answer is still no.”
My sister doesn't know about this—no one but JJ and I do—but we slept together last year at a crime and evidence conference in Milwaukee. I didn't even know he was going to be there. I’d been asked to sit on a panel and had been enjoying myself in the thick of what I do best. Worrying too much about Meg and Matt took a backseat.
Then, as I looked over the group attending our session, I saw a familiar six-foot-four, dark haired man in a flashy Brioni suit. He gave me a wolfish grin and asked a question—I forget now what it was—and later, I drank too much brandy and ended up seducing him.
It was the easiest seduction ever.
Yes, he’d been separated from his wife for nearly a year, but that was no excuse. I n
ever should’ve done it. I've tried to wipe it from my mind.
But when he's this close? When I smell his aftershave that reminds me of the ocean and see the blue flecks in his gray eyes? I remember every moment of our night. The way he touched me, licked me, made me moan. The way we made love over and over again, as if we knew it was a one-time gig. We had to suck every ounce of pleasure from that weekend. And we did.
Worse? I want to do it again.
I lick my lips, having already forgotten JJ's question.
His gaze drops to my mouth. The grin appears. He's spontaneous and fun, like sex was in Milwaukee, and I wish I could be that way too.
But I'm not.
I promise myself no matter how my pulse is going wild and I desperately want a repeat of Milwaukee, I will not sleep with this man again until he's free.
"I brought you a present," JJ says, reaching into his inside breast pocket.
He pulls out an envelope. I open it to find a picture with a phone number. The woman staring back at me is of mixed heritage, her tawny skin decorated with freckles, her bright green eyes in contrast to her dark corkscrew curls.
"Who is she?" What I'm really thinking is, how is this a gift?
"Juanita Jones, works in my office. Adopted right after birth. She was recently diagnosed with stage four lymphoma and it's metastasized. She wants to find her birth parents before she dies, and it appears she’s located the mother."
