by PJ Fernor
Letting You Down
AN Allie Down Mystery Thriller
PJ Fernor
Contents
Prologue
Hey there, Reader
Letting You Down
Prologue
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
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
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About the Author
Prologue
She looks at her watch.
She smiles.
She’s on pace for a record run.
Which means nothing. Nobody is waiting at the end of this run with a medal or trophy. Nobody is going to give her a raise or tell her tomorrow night’s winning lottery numbers.
But personally, it’s her against herself.
That’s what makes running so special.
To her, if she can beat her current pace, then she can do anything that life throws her way.
She’ll walk into the office tomorrow with an extra kick in her step. She’ll take on the bigger project by herself. She’ll close a deal that’ll get the attention of the bosses upstairs.
Tonight’s run is the most important run of her life.
That’s what she tells herself and that’s what she believes.
In reality, the better decision would have been to stay home.
The park is quiet and not very well lit.
The first few times she ran here, she would get nervous. She would see figures and silhouettes that weren’t there, or were just objects.
At one point, on her first run here, she told herself if a park bench starts chasing her, she’s got problems in her life.
That made her laugh. And it killed the fear.
As she runs around one of the bends in the park, she sees a figure up ahead.
Normally, it wouldn’t bother her.
Not even in the slightest.
Just think about the bench chasing me…
Except tonight, this figure it right in the middle of the path.
And it’s real.
It’s the figure of a person.
A man.
Tall.
Wide shoulders.
She sucks in a breath and focuses on herself.
The path is wide enough for two people.
Even though this person is in the middle, she can still run around the figure.
Which she does.
She doesn’t look.
In a fraction of a second, he’s in the past now.
Maybe the person is mediating or drunk or just being obnoxious and trying to scare people.
She looks at her watch again.
Now her pace is all messed up.
No record run tonight.
All because of that…
She looks back and the figure is right behind her.
Maybe even inches away.
She opens her mouth to scream, and the figure attacks her.
“Tell him it’s his fault. Tell him he knows why this happened. I promise you this, if you say one word about this to the cops, you’ll never talk again. Do you understand me?”
She hears his voice.
That rough, growling voice in her ear.
She’s hurt. Scared. On the ground, curled up in pain.
If being pushed to the ground wasn’t enough, the guy attacked her.
His large hand covering her mouth…
“Now you’re going to go to sleep for a minute or two, but that’s okay. When you open your eyes, you pick yourself up and get home. Tell him what I said, okay? And if anyone sees you, tell them you fell. You hit your head. Got it?”
All she can do is nod.
It’s so dark out, she can’t see the man.
She can feel him. Hear him.
She can barely make out his figure.
Her heart screams at her mind to fight back.
It’s too late.
He smashes her head off the ground and everything goes dark.
Her eyes start to flicker.
Fire.
Her lips begin to move.
Burning.
She can breathe.
Hurting…
She slowly turns her head and can barely open her eyes enough to see what’s happening.
Fire. Burning. Hurting.
Those are the only three words that her brain can process. That’s only because it’s how she feels.
She tells her brain to tell her hand to move.
It’s her hand that feels the fire, burning and hurting.
It’s not her entire body.
There is no real fire. There’s no flames. No crackling of anything.
The park isn’t on fire.
But the pain… her hand…
She can’t move her hand.
She’s not sure why.
Fire. Burning. Hurting.
There’s a figure next to her.
She hears grunting.
The pain gets worse.
She opens her mouth to scream but there’s nothing coming out.
Her ability to move, scream, anything is gone.
She blinks a few times and see’s where the pain is coming from.
It’s not good.
It’s not good at all.
It looks - and feels - like someone is cutting off her hand.
Hey there, Reader
I appreciate you taking the time to enjoy Detective Allie Down. And Ben. And Lo. And Miss Kesslier. And all the others who frequently appear in these books.
This was only my favorite Detective Allie Down novels to work o
n. It’s a privilege to bring these books to life.
Enjoy - and see if you can help Detective Allie Down put the pieces together!
Welcome back once more to Sandemor.
I’ll see you at the end.
Sincerely,
PJ Fernor
www.pjfernor.com
Letting You Down
A WOMAN FOUND MURDERED – HER HAND MISSING. A MAN FOUND MURDERED – HIS HAND MISSING. A KILLER LIKE DETECTIVE ALLIE DOWN HAS NEVER DEALT WITH BEFORE. AND A PREVIOUS CASE THAT CONNECTS IN A WAY SHE NEVER THINKS POSSIBLE.
A call comes in.
A woman’s body has been found in a park. Murdered. Her hand cut off.
Detective Allie Down takes the case and makes a quick connection to the woman and a shady loan company that has managed to skate under the radar.
Up against two mob style brothers, Allie isn’t afraid of them, their company, or their subtle threats.
All evidence points to the brothers – or one of their hired “associates” – for the murder.
Until another call comes in.
A man’s body has been found in a different park.
His hand cut off.
And he has zero association to the first murder – and to the loan company.
Just when Allie thinks she might be wrong, someone unexpected shows up with a confession.
Does it close both murder cases?
Not exactly.
Someone else gets attacked. Only this time, the victim lives to tell the story.
In the mix of this, Allie makes a startling revelation that has her thinking of a previous case. And seeking help from a source that not only could have her lose her shield, but also end up behind bars.
Prologue
She looks at her watch.
She smiles.
She’s on pace for a record run.
Which means nothing in life. Nobody is waiting at the end of this run with a medal or trophy. Nobody is going to give her a raise or tell her tomorrow night’s winning lottery numbers.
But personally, it’s her against herself.
That’s what makes running so special.
To her, if she can beat her current pace, then she can do anything in life.
She’ll walk into the office tomorrow with an extra kick in her step. She’ll take on the bigger project by herself. She’ll close a deal that’ll get the attention of the bosses upstairs.
Tonight’s run is the most important run of her life.
That’s what she tells herself and that’s what she believes.
In reality, the most important decision would have been to stay home.
The park is quiet and not very well lit.
The first few times she ran here, she would get nervous. She would see figures and silhouettes that weren’t there, or were just objects.
At one point on her first run here she told herself if a park bench starts chasing her, she’s got problems in life.
That made her laugh. And it killed the fear.
As she runs around one of the bends in the park, she sees a figure up ahead.
Normally, it wouldn’t bother her.
Not even in the slightest.
Just think about the bench chasing me…
Except tonight, this figure it right in the middle of the path.
And it’s real.
It’s the figure of a person.
A man.
Tall.
Wide shoulders.
She sucks in a breath and focuses on herself.
The path is wide enough for two people.
Even though this person is in the middle, she can still run around the figure.
Which she does.
She doesn’t look.
In a fraction of a second, it’s in the past now.
Maybe the person is mediating or drunk or just being obnoxious and trying to scare people.
She looks at her watch again.
Now her pace is all messed up.
No record run tonight.
All because of that…
She looks back and the figure is right behind her.
Maybe even inches away.
She opens her mouth to scream, and the figure attacks her.
“Tell him it’s his fault. Tell him he knows why this happened. I promise you this, if you say one word about this to the cops, you’ll never talk again. Do you understand me?”
She hears his voice.
That rough, growling voice in her ear.
She’s hurt. Scared. On the ground, curled up in pain.
If being pushed the ground wasn’t enough, the guy attacked her.
His large hand covering her mouth…
“Now you’re going to go to sleep for a minute or two, but that’s okay. When you open your eyes, pick yourself up and get home. Tell him what I said, okay? And if anyone sees you, tell them you fell. You hit your head. Got it?”
All she can do is nod.
It’s so dark out, she can’t see the man.
She can feel him. Hear him.
She can barely make out his figure.
Her heart screams at her mind to fight back.
It’s too late.
He smashes her head off the ground and everything goes dark.
Her eyes start to flicker.
Fire.
Her lips begin to move.
Burning.
She can breathe.
Hurting…
She slowly turns her head and can barely open her eyes enough to see what’s happening.
Fire. Burning. Hurting.
Those are the only three words that her brain can process. That’s only because it’s what feels.
She tells her brain to tell her hand to move.
It’s her hand that feels the fire, burning, and hurting.
It’s not her entire body.
There is no real fire. There’s no flames. No crackling of anything.
The park isn’t on fire.
But the pain… her hand…
She can’t move her hand.
She’s not sure why.
Fire. Burning. Hurting.
There’s a figure next to her.
She hears grunting.
The pain gets worse.
She opens her mouth to scream but there’s nothing coming out.
Her ability to move, scream, anything is gone.
She blinks a few times and see’s where the pain is coming from.
It’s not good.
It’s not good at all.
It looks - and feels - like someone is cutting off her hand.
Chapter One
Everything has to match.
It has to balance.
Things have to be equal.
If things are unequal… then the work isn’t done.
It’s really as simple as that.
It’s kind of funny to think about. Years of learning, training, planning, and even executing, and it all comes down to balancing it out.
The even more simple way to explain it?
One plus one must equal two.
There’s no other way to survive life.
If I have one pencil and you have one pencil, how many pencils do we have together?
“Two,” he says. “It’s always two. The answer is two.”
It’s been that kind of day. And that kind of night.
The glow from the twenty-four-hour diner is like the lights of heaven shining down.
He hasn’t eaten yet today.
Breakfast had been two bites of a piece of toast. And even that, he immediately threw it up.
Work had been nothing short of a grind.
The computer screen had been a blur but the reports got done.
And you know what?
They all matched.
Everything equaled out because that’s how life was.
He stands on the corner and watches traffic for a minute.
There’s really not much traffic this late.
He waves at a police cruiser
as it speeds by.
That part makes him laugh.
Only because he’s carrying a bag in the other hand.
In that bag is a woman’s severed hand.
That’s okay though.
Things are becoming even again.
He crosses the street and walks to the diner door.
As soon as he opens the door, he takes a deep breath and the sweet smell of syrup hits him. Along with greasy bacon and a hint of sausage.
The smell takes him back to college.
The late nights of studying and then going out to a diner well after midnight just for the heck of it.
A woman greets him.
He points to her shirt. “Marge.”
“The one and only,” she says. “Just you?”
“Just me and my friend,” he says and lifts the bag.
Of course, Marge laughs.
Who wouldn’t laugh at such a dumb joke?
The bag is leather, looks professional, and for all Marge knows, she thinks he’s some lawyer or something getting off work late and in need of food.
