Killer in Sight (A Tom Lackey Mystery)
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Killer in
Sight
A Tom Lackey Mystery
Other books by Sandra CarringtonSmith…
The Book of Obeah
While fulfilling the final request of her departed Grandmama,
Melody Bennet, a young professional raised in the genteel
suburbs of North Carolina, is plunged into the clandestine world
of an ancient West African religion – via the Louisiana bayou.
In unearthing a mysterious religious manuscript, Melody
collides with those seeking powers believed to be contained
within the text, from The Vatican to individuals claiming it as
their legacy. She accepts the task of safeguarding the book and
finds lives are threatened, including her own, sometimes from
unexpected directions. As her knowledge grows and
perceptions shift, Melody's path is fused with that of the sacred
book. She risks body and soul to protect both and, unbeknownst
to her, secures the future of an esoteric, divine prophecy.
“... captured me from the start and would not let me
go.”
Rebecca Cox, Reviewthebook.com
“An exciting, riveting novel with many twists, this
book will surely satisfy mystery fans and
paranormal/mystical fans.”
Betty Gelean, “Night reader”
“A fine choice and a highly recommended read.”
Midwest Book Review
“A psychological thriller filled with suspense.”
Stephanie Rose Bird, author of Stick, Stones, Roots and Bones Housekeeping for the Soul:
A Practical Guide to Restoring Your Inner Sanctuary
The first book to combine how-to, self-help and spiritual genres to
address the needs of millions of readers as they strive to detach
from the Culture of Chaos and embrace a life of balance. It is
through this inner harmony and balance that one may then create a
meaningful, authentic reality. With a down-to-earth approach, the
reader is guided through the process of emotional healing and
renewal of spirit through the familiar analogy of housekeeping:
cleaning, organizing, and "airing out" our lives, room by room, task
by task.
“...helps us clear out some spiritual cobwebs and
make our next 'spring cleaning' apply not to our
homes but to the deepest part of ourselves.”
Victoria Moran,
author of international bestseller Creating a Charmed Life
“...overflows with important concepts presented in a
style that is fresh and relatable. A unique, 'must
read' debut from this eloquent author.”
S.T. Underdahl,
Clinical Psychologist and author of The Other Sister and
Remember This
“A great soul gripping and informative book to live
by.”
Dr. Robert E McGinnis
Coming soon…
The Rosaries
Book two of the Crossroads series. After risking her life
to safeguard the prophecy hidden within the pages of
the famed Book of Obeah, Melody Bennet thinks her
life has finally settled into normalcy. Now the tables are
turning and Melody is once again thrust into uncharted
territory. As the prophecy closes in, new dangers are
lurking at the door…
Shadows of a Tuscan Moon
A beautiful mother of two mysteriously disappears
without leaving a trace, apparently swallowed by the
darkness of a frigid winter night. The local law
enforcement gets right to work, but as time goes by
every lead turns into a dead end. Has the woman
decided to run off and turn her back on her too-tight
family life, or is her disappearance the work of a skilled
killer who has left no clues behind? Many shadows lurk
in the timeless beauty of a small Tuscan town; one of
those shadows, maybe the darkest one of all, holds the
key to a terrifying truth…
Killer in
Sight
A Tom Lackey Mystery
Sandra CarringtonSmith
This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are the product
of the author's imagination and are used
fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by
Sandra CarringtonSmith
All rights reserved.
First Edition
ISBN-13:978-0-9855558-0-1
Crossroads Books
http://www.sandracarringtonsmith.com
To my guide and muse, P.L.,
thanks to whom I never walk alone.
Acknowledgments
Any time a new book hits the market, the name of the author
is usually the one that stands out, but truth is that no author
can produce a book alone.
There are many people working backstage, and although
their faces will likely remain behind the curtain, the value of
their work should share the spotlight.
I would like to thank my families, the CarringtonSmiths and
the Faiazzas, and also Riccardo Panessa -- the uncle I always
wished I could have – for always supporting me.
I would especially like to send a special thank you to all the
friends who helped me: Sherrill Suitt-Craig, your wonderful
graphic designing skills have saved the day; had I been
doing this on my own, the cover would have featured stick
people.
Julie Wall, as always I appreciate your eye for detail and
your fantastic photographic skills which allow people to
look at the author page without getting scared.
Jon Batson, I don’t have enough words to thank you for
helping me format the book files, as all who know me are
also aware that I should probably receive disability for being
so technically challenged.
Many thanks also to Dara Lyon Warner who helped me edit
parts of the book, and to all the friends who read the story
and offered critique and blurbs: Scott Schultz, Tracy White
(the amazing sheriff deputy who helped me with police
protocol), Ed Powers, Thomas Smith, Victoria Roder, Don
Vaughn, Debby Marshall, Alice Osborn, Elaine Estes and my wonderful agent Natalie Kimber from Sunrae Literary
Agency.
Special thanks also to Donna Freeman, Toni Overby and
Pam Scarboro for the emotional support they are always
ready to provide.
Tremendous gratitude must certainly be extended to my
husband John and to my children, Stephen, Michael and
Morgan, for always believing in me and for being eternally
patient.
Last but not least, this book is dedicated to you, the
unknown reader. Thank you for giving my work a chance; I
hope you will enjoy the story.
Chapter 1
Tracey Newman held her breath, afraid the man
could hear her. He was close now—she couldn’t see him
in the darkness of the stuffy room,
but she could
somehow detect his presence nearby. She closed her
eyes, as if trying to delete this moment from her reality,
and her nostrils picked up a pungent smell, but she
couldn’t decide what it was or where it came from. It
was a strange, earthy scent—a mixture of mildew and
something else—slightly offset by the fragrance of
honeysuckle that filtered in through the open door.
Tracey shivered even though the temperature in the
room was hot and the air was still, and she wanted to
wrap her arms around herself in a gesture of comfort,
but was too afraid to move. Where is he? Has he left? Her mind raced back to the last few days, and she
thought of her family. Her mother had celebrated a
birthday the previous weekend, and Tracey planned to
fly home to St. Louis a week from today to surprise the
whole family, especially her half-sister Alexis. It was
hard for a physician assistant to get time off, and she
had to sweet-talk the supervising doctor into allowing
her to take five days of vacation. Now she wasn’t sure
her travel plans were going to work out after all. This
was so surreal! She quietly opened and closed her fists
just to feel movement, to know that she wasn’t trapped
in a nightmare. Unfortunately, she was awake and not at
all sure she would still be breathing even a few minutes
from now. The thought of dying made her head spin and
her stomach tighten. Her ears were buzzing, and for a
moment she thought she was going to faint. She could
hear the sound of water dripping in the distance, but
couldn’t determine if it was coming from inside the
cabin or outside. It wasn’t raining when she came in, but
the weather in North Carolina was crazy this time of
year, and anything could be expected. March had left
with a bang—violent storms and widespread power
outages had dominated the greater part of the month—
and April was already blistering hot, with temperatures
that were a bit uncharacteristic so early in the season but
quite welcome after the unusually cold winter. Rain was
often elusive in this part of the country, and it usually
showed up either on weekends when she and her friend
Shannon planned to go kayaking, or when she washed
her car.
A creaking sound exploded in the silence of the
room, and Tracey’s heart jumped to her throat. He was
getting closer, she just knew it…what could she do
now? She could remain hidden and hope he would not
find her, or she could try to escape outside again. Maybe
she would run into someone else out there, and she
would be safe.
“I know you are in here, Tracey. It’s not nice to
hide.”
Tracey did not respond, and swallowed hard to
smother the deep scream which threatened to rise from
her stomach. She could taste the salty, silent tears that
ran unchecked down her face and over her lips.
“You are just making this harder for yourself,
Tracey. I promise it will be fast. You will barely feel a
thing.” The man’s voice was sickeningly condescending
and fatherly, and Tracey was so distraught and confused
that she almost considered his words for a moment; but
as she glimpsed reflected light from the blade of a knife,
something else came over her. A primal scream erupted
from her pounding chest and ripped through her throat,
as she ran past the man toward the door. He lunged to
grab her and slid on the floor, the knife landing with a
metallic clunk on the wooden surface. Tracey ran
outside, unsure of where to go. She had jogged through
these woods dozens of times, but now the trees appeared
to connect together, forming a black wall that spread out
in all directions. It was barely dusk when she ran into
the unlocked cabin looking for a place to hide, after she
noticed she was being followed, and now it was pitch
dark—how long had she been in there? Her mother had
warned her often about jogging alone, but Tracey
always brushed off her mother’s worried comments with
a smile, believing in her heart that she could take care of
herself. Maybe she should have listened.
She could hear the man’s steps crunching leaves in
his path, and his breathing was labored. Tracey wanted
to turn around to see if he was behind her, but she
couldn’t risk stopping. The eerie silk of a spider web
touched her forehead, but even though she was terrified
of spiders, she kept running blindly through the dense
forest. The path was gone, and all the trees looked alike;
menacing hands seemed to be reaching out in the night,
to capture her and deliver her to the man who was after
her. An owl hooted frighteningly nearby, as if to signal
the man of her whereabouts, and Tracey tripped on a
root poking from the ground but didn’t fall. Suddenly,
she heard her name being called, and the voice was a
familiar one…someone else was in the woods, someone
who knew her! She thrust herself toward the voice,
knowing her assailant was only steps behind and safety
was near. She could feel branches scraping her ankles as
she ran, but she was numb to pain.
“Tracey! Where are you?”
She could see a shadow in the woods, running
toward her with a flashlight. She wasn’t at all certain
who the person was, but she was happy someone else
was there. Oh yes, thank you, God! Please watch over
me. I’m coming… Tracey ran faster, nearly throwing
herself into the arms of the person who had come to
rescue her. Her body shook with deep sobs as she
looked up, and her eyes registered surprise when she
saw who it was. It didn’t matter. She tried to formulate
words to convey what was happening. “He is coming
after me! I don’t know why he is doing this! He has a
knife!” Her voice was so shrill she almost couldn’t
recognize it as being her own.
“It’s going to be okay, Tracey. I’m here now, and I
will take care of things.”
Tracey nodded, and turned toward the man who was
quickly approaching. He stopped and spoke, and his
voice echoed in the stillness of the woods. “I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have let her get away. I screwed up.”
Tracey shook her head, struggling to grasp what was
happening, but when she turned to look at her rescuer,
her eyes locked with the cold mouth of a revolver
pointed at her. Words jammed in her throat, and her legs
almost collapsed beneath her.
“I’m sorry, Tracey. I didn’t want to be the one to do
this, but you leave me no choice. Goodbye, Sweetheart.”
Before Tracey could speak a word, even to ask why,
the gun went off, and she fell into a heap on a bed of
leaves. Before she died, she looked at the two people
who were standing there—waiting for her to take her
last breath—knowing she would never see anyone else
aga
in. Their features were photographed by her fading
eyes, but sadly, nobody would ever see them.
Chapter 2
The phone rang just as Tom Lackey got ready to sit
down for breakfast with Kathy Spencer, his girlfriend of
over ten years. People often wondered why Tom and
Kathy were not married after being together for so long,
but neither worried enough about the opinions of others
to actually care. Both in their mid-forties—Tom was
going to be 45 in just another month, and Kathy had
turned 43 in February—and both with failed marriages
behind them, they had come to see marriage as
chloroform when applied to a relationship. Tom and
Kathy were happy just the way they were; Tom was
confident that Kathy loved him and was attracted to
him, even if his hairline was slightly receding and a
small tire had begun to inflate around his midsection.
Aside from those two age markers, Tom still had a good
build and a handsome face devoid of wrinkles, and his
full lips and deep brown eyes—a bit droopy and
hauntingly soulful—were still his most attractive
features. Despite his own good looks, Tom felt his lucky
star had shone brighter the day he met Kathy. Aside
from being a beautiful woman, with sparkling, sapphireblue eyes, she was also extremely intelligent, and her voice was as soft and as smooth as velvet.
Kathy took a look at the caller ID and handed the
phone to Tom. “It’s for you…the station.” That was his
Kathy, a woman of few words.
Tom took the receiver, tucking it between his ear
and shoulder while he buttered a piece of toast.
“Lackey.”
“Lieutenant, Sergeant Parker asked me to call you.
A couple of joggers found the body of a young woman
in Durant Park a short while ago. We have already taped
the area.”
“Have you identified the woman?” Tom hurried to
spread some jelly over his toast, knowing that he was
not going to have much time for breakfast today.
“No, Sir. We haven’t looked around yet, but she
doesn’t appear to have any ID.”
“Okay, I will be there as soon as possible. Keep
everybody away, especially the media.” Tom clicked the
phone off, placed it down on the table, then he took a
hurried sip of coffee and bit into the toast as he walked
briskly toward the small table near the door to grab his
car keys. “I don’t know what time I will be home. They