by Blake Pierce
C A U S E T O H I D E
(AN AVERY BLACK MYSTERY—BOOK 3)
B L A K E P I E R C E
Blake Pierce
Blake Pierce is author of the bestselling RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes seven books (and counting). Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising four books (and counting); of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising four books (and counting); and of the new KERI LOCKE mystery series.
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2017 by Blake Pierce. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Dimedrol68, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE
RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY SERIES
ONCE GONE (Book #1)
ONCE TAKEN (Book #2)
ONCE CRAVED (Book #3)
ONCE LURED (Book #4)
ONCE HUNTED (Book #5)
ONCE PINED (Book #6)
ONCE FORSAKEN (Book #7)
MACKENZIE WHITE MYSTERY SERIES
BEFORE HE KILLS (Book #1)
BEFORE HE SEES (Book #2)
BEFORE HE COVETS (Book #3)
BEFORE HE TAKES (Book #4)
AVERY BLACK MYSTERY SERIES
CAUSE TO KILL (Book #1)
CAUSE TO RUN (Book #2)
CAUSE TO HIDE (Book #3)
CAUSE TO FEAR (Book #4)
KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES
A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)
A TRACE OF MURDER (Book #2)
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
PROLOGUE
When he made his way out across the vacant lot, dawn was burning off the last of the night. The slightest bit of rain had fallen the night before, creating a mist of fog that crept along the ground. He walked slowly, methodically, as if he did this every morning.
To all sides were the foundations of houses—houses that would never be finished. He supposed the frames had gone up five or six years ago, only to be left abandoned when the housing crisis hit. For some reason, it enraged him. So much promise for a family and a builder, only to end up failing miserably in the end.
Against the fog, he looked gaunt—tall and thin, like a living scarecrow. His black overcoat blended perfectly with the light gray wisps. It was an ethereal scene. It made him feel ghostlike. It made him feel legendary, nearly invincible. He felt as if he were a part of the world and it, a part of him.
But there was nothing natural about his presence there. In fact, he had been planning this for weeks. Months, really. The years that had come before had really just ushered him along, pushing him toward this moment.
He walked through the fog and listened to the city. The hustle and bustle lay perhaps a mile away. He was in a forgotten part of town, decrepit, a part of town that had suffered economic collapse. So many dead hopes and dreams littered the fog-strewn ground.
It all made him want to burn.
Patiently, he waited. He paced back and forth with no real purpose. He walked along the edge of the empty street and then into the construction area among the skeletons of houses that never were. He stalked about, waiting for another figure to show itself in the fog. Knowing that the universe would send it to him.
Finally, it appeared.
Even before the figure came fully into view, he could sense it through dawn’s weak light and the slithering fog. The figure was feminine.
This was what he had waited for. Destiny was being knitted together right before him.
With his heart thundering in his chest, he stepped forward, doing his best to seem natural and calm. He opened his mouth and started to call for a dog that was not there. In the fog, his voice did not sound like his own; it was thin and wavering, like a phantom.
He reached into the pocket of his long coat and withdrew a retractable dog leash that he had purchased the day before.
“Sweet Pea!” he called out.
It was the sort of name that would confuse a passerby before they had time to really even give him a second glance.
“Sweet Pea!”
The figure of the woman came closer, stepping through the fog. He saw that she had her own dog, taking it for its morning walk. It was one of those small pretentious dogs, the sort that looked more like a rat. Of course, he knew this about her. He knew just about everything about her morning schedule.
“Everything okay?” the woman asked.
He could see her face now. She was much younger than he was. Twenty years, at least.
He held up the empty leash and gave the woman a sad sort of smile. “My dog got loose. I’m pretty sure she came this way, but I don’t hear her.”
“Oh no,” the woman said.
“Sweet Pea!” he yelled again.
At the woman’s feet, her little dog lifted its leg and peed. The woman barely seemed to notice. She was looking at him now. Something very close to recognition filled her eyes. She tilted her head. An uncertain smile touched the corners of her mouth. She took a tiny step backward.
He reached into his other coat pocket and wrapped his hand around the handle of the hammer he had hidden there. He brought it out with a speed that surprised even him.
He struck her hard on top of the head with it. The sound it made in the quiet lot, in the blanket of fog, was almost nothing. Thunk.
Her eyes went glassy. When she collapsed to the ground, the traces of that small smile were still at the corners of her mouth.
Her little dog sniffed at her and then looked up to him. It gave a pathetic little bark. He stepped toward it and growled lightly. The dog peed a little more, backed away, and then went running out of th
e lot, its leash dragging behind it.
He pocketed the hammer and the useless leash. He then looked down at her body for a moment and slowly reached for it, the only sound left that of the dog’s barking, echoing endlessly in the rolling fog of morning.
CHAPTER ONE
Avery sat the last of the boxes down on the floor of her daughter’s new apartment and felt like crying. The moving truck had pulled away from the curb downstairs five minutes ago and there was no going back now: Rose had an apartment of her own. Avery felt the pit growing in her stomach; this was completely different than her living in a college dorm, where there were friends at every corner and the security of the campus police.
Rose would be living alone now. And Avery still hadn’t accepted it. A very short time ago, Rose had been endangered because of Avery’s last case—and that was something that Avery still harbored massive guilt over. To have Rose now out on her own after such an ordeal felt irresponsible on Avery’s part. It made her feel like a failure as a mother. It also made her very scared for her daughter. And that was saying something, coming from a decorated Homicide detective.
She’s eighteen, Avery thought. You can’t hold onto her forever, especially when your grip on her was loose, if not non-existent, during her formative years.
How had Rose grown up so fast? How had she become such a beautiful, independent, and driven woman? Avery certainly couldn’t take credit for it, as she had been absent for most of Rose’s life.
All that aside, it made her feel proud to watch her daughter as she unpacked her own dishes and placed them into her own cupboards. Despite the tumultuous childhood and teen years she had faced, Rose had made it. The future was hers for the taking, and it started with putting her Dollar Store dishes into the cupboards of her first apartment.
“I’m proud of you, kid,” Avery said. She made her way through the maze of boxes that occupied the floor of Rose’s living room.
“For what?” Rose said.
“Surviving,” Avery said with a laugh. “I know I didn’t necessarily make it easy on you.”
“You didn’t. But Dad did okay. And that’s not a dig against you.”
Avery felt a pang of sorrow.
“I know.”
Avery knew that such an admission was hard for Rose. Avery knew that her daughter was still trying to figure out the footing of their relationship. For a typical estranged mother and daughter, reconciliation was hard enough. But they had both been through hell lately. From Rose being stalked by a serial killer and moved to a safe house, to the post-traumatic stress disorder Avery was wrestling with from running to Rose’s rescue, there were mountain-sized obstacles to get over. And even something as simple as moving boxes into her daughter’s new apartment was a huge step along the way of repairing the relationship Avery so badly wanted with her.
Taking that step required some sort of normalcy—a normalcy that wasn’t always available in the world of a work-obsessed detective.
She joined Rose in the kitchen and helped her unpack the boxes labeled KITCHEN. As they worked together to unpack them, Avery felt herself close to tears again.
What the hell? When have I ever gotten this emotional?
“Do you think you’ll be okay?” Avery asked, doing what she could to keep conversation going. “This isn’t like a college dorm. You’re legitimately on your own. Are you ready for that after…well, after everything you’ve been through?”
“Yes, Mom. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“Well, that’s very clear.”
“Besides,” she said, putting the last dish away and setting the empty box aside. “I’m not exactly alone anymore.”
And there it was. Rose had been a little distracted lately but also in a good mood, and a noticeable good mood was a rare occurrence for Rose Black. Avery had thought there might be a boy involved and that opened up a whole different can of worms that Avery wasn’t prepared to deal with. She’d missed the period talk with Rose, missed details of her first crush, first dance, and first kiss. Now that she was faced with the potential love life of her eighteen-year-old daughter, she understood just how much she had missed.
“What do you mean?” Avery asked.
Rose bit at her lip, as if she regretted having said anything.
“I…well, I might have met someone.”
She said it casually and a bit dismissively, making it clear that she had no interest in talking about it.
“Oh yeah?” Avery asked. “When was this?”
“About a month ago,” Rose said.
Exactly the amount of time I’ve been noticing her better moods, Avery thought. Sometimes it was eerie how her detective skills overlaid her personal life.
“But…he’s not living here, is he?” Rose asked.
“No, Mom. But he might be here a lot.”
“That’s not the sort of thing the mother of an eighteen-year-old wants to hear,” Avery said.
“God, Mom. It’ll be okay.”
Avery knew she should leave it alone. If Rose wanted to talk to her about this guy, she’d do it on her own time. Pressuring her would only make it worse.
But again, her work instinct took over and she couldn’t help herself from asking more questions.
“Can I meet him?”
“Um, absolutely not. Not yet, anyway.”
Avery sensed the opportunity to go deeper into the conversation—the awkward conversation about protected sex and the risk of diseases and teenage pregnancy. But she almost felt like she didn’t have that right, given their strained relationship.
Being a Homicide detective, though, it was impossible not to worry. She knew the caliber of men out there. She had seen not just murders but severe domestic abuse cases. And while this guy in Rose’s life might be a perfect gentleman, it was much easier for Rose to assume that he was a threat.
At some point, though, didn’t she have to trust her daughter’s instincts? Hadn’t she just complimented Rose on how well she had turned out despite her upbringing?
“Just be careful,” Avery said.
Rose was clearly embarrassed. She rolled her eyes and started unpacking DVDs in the small living room that joined the kitchen.
“What about you?” Rose asked. “Don’t you ever get tired of being alone? You know…Dad’s still alone, too.”
“I’m aware of that,” Avery said. “But that’s none of my business.”
“He’s your ex-husband,” Rose pointed out. “And he’s my father. So yeah, he sort of is your business. It might do you some good to see him.”
“That wouldn’t be good for either of us,” Avery replied. “If you’d ask him, I’m sure he’d tell you the same thing.”
Avery knew this was true. While they had never talked about getting back together, there was an unspoken agreement between them—something they’d felt in the air ever since she’d lost her job as an attorney and had basically ruined her life in the weeks that followed. They would tolerate one another for Rose. Although there were mutual feelings of love and respect there, they both knew there would be no getting back together. Jack was only worried about the same thing she was worried about. He wanted Avery spending more time with Rose. And it was up to her to figure out how to do that. She’d spent time coming up with a plan over the last few weeks and although it would require sacrifice on her part, she was ready to try.
Sensing that the touchy topic of Jack was already passing over like a storm cloud, Avery tried broaching the topic of that sacrifice. There was no way to subtly get to it, so she just came out and said it.
“I was thinking about maybe asking for a lighter workload for the next few months. I figured you and I should really give things a real chance.”
Rose paused for a minute. She looked taken aback, genuinely surprised. She gave a little nod of acknowledgment and went back to unpacking. She made a little hmmph sound.
“What?” Avery asked.
“But you love your work.”
“I do,” Avery agreed
. “But I’ve been thinking of transferring out of Homicide. If I did that, my schedule would be freed up a bit.”
Rose now stopped unpacking completely. A range of expressions crossed her face in the space of a second. Avery was pleased to see that one looked very much like hope.
“Mom, you don’t have to do that.” Her voice was soft and unguarded, almost like the little girl Avery could easily remember. “That’s like uprooting your life.”
“No it’s not. I’m getting older and realizing that I missed out on a lot of family stuff. It’s what I need to do to move on…to get better.”
Rose sat down on the couch, littered with boxes and stray clothes. She looked up to Avery, that gleam of hope still on her face.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Also,” Rose said, “I see where I get my awesome ability to swerve subjects. You hopped off of being alone all the time pretty quickly.”
“You noticed that, did you?”
“I did. And to be honest, I think Dad has, too.”
“Rose—”
Rose turned to her.
“He misses you, Mom.”
Avery slouched. She stood there, quiet for a moment, unable to respond.
“I miss him sometimes, too,” Avery admitted. “Just not enough to call him up and dredge up the past.”
He misses you, Mom.
Avery let that sink in. She rarely thought of Jack in any real sort of romantic sense. She had told the truth, though: She did miss him. She missed Jack’s weird sense of humor, the way his body always seemed just a little too cold in the mornings, how his need for sex was almost comically predictable. More than anything, though, she missed watching him be an excellent father. But that was all gone now, part of a life that Avery was trying very hard to put behind her.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what might have been, realizing that she’d had the chance for a great life. A life with picket fences, school fundraisers, lazy Sunday afternoons in the backyard.
