Table of Contents
Beyond the Shadows
Copyright
Praise for LaVerne Clark
Dedication
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
Epilogue
A word about the author...
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Beyond
the
Shadows
by
LaVerne Clark
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Beyond The Shadows
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by LaVerne Clark
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Arial Burnz
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Faery Rose Edition, 2013
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-987-2
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-988-9
Published in the United States of America
Praise for LaVerne Clark
“In two prior wonderful novellas, LaVerne Clark left me with only one complaint—the stories were too short! I am thrilled to know she has written a full-length book. With her strong writing skills and talent for spinning suspense and romance into her tales, we're all in for a most satisfying read.”
~Lynne Marshall, multi-published author of contemporary and medical romance
~*~
“With a strong, flawless voice LaVerne Clark crafts a beautiful edifice of works, emotions and ‘what-if’ possibilities that will remain with you long after you read the final gripping sentence of AFFINITY.”
~Vonnie Davis, award-winning author of
Mona Lisa's Room and Rain is a Love Song
Dedication
To my Simple Savings buddies
and hugely talented writers:
Kelly Matsuura, Aislinn Batstone, Heather Jensen, Kim Algarve, and Kira Gutowski.
Without your belief, love, support,
and occasional butt-kicking,
this book would never have left the confines
of my imagination.
Thank you for helping me bring it to life.
Chapter One
Constable Nathaniel O’Leary leaned forward in his seat, binoculars trained on a figure through the tinted windscreen. The man darted towards the back of the building he watched. The man’s shifty movements were as obvious as wearing a neon sign proclaiming he was up to no good. It seemed to Nate that the dark dank air in these filthy back alleys of Auckland’s inner city intensified whenever scum like the guy he and his partner tracked were around.
“Someone needs to eradicate these cockroaches from the surface of the earth.”
His partner, Kelly Appleton lowered her own binoculars and shot him a glare. With a subtle jut of her chin, she reminded him of their company. A cameraman sat in the backseat filming for a segment of the reality show Cops. The single eye of the lens focused in on him, and Nate cursed under his breath. Irritated, he turned his attention back to the action through the glass.
Damned, nosey people. Can’t a cop do his job without interference from all sides these days?
With public trust in the police of New Zealand at an all-time low, their Sergeant seized at the opportunity to lift the curtain on his division when approached by the national broadcaster. The idea was to humanize them, make them relatable. But, in his opinion, it only succeeded at making show-ponies of them all. When he walked the streets now, even out of uniform, he had women of all ages bat their eyelashes and suggest he cuff them—wink, wink.
Nate snorted in disgust and ignored Kelly’s quizzical look. His gaze sharpened as their target scurried towards the warehouse. Nate felt the old, familiar buzz of adrenaline kick through his veins. They knew this is where the deals were taking place. Now, they just needed the proof.
The man they watched glanced furtively around and lifted a small parcel from under his jacket. Bingo. Nate noted the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. His movements were jerky, and his gaze darted everywhere. The guy couldn’t keep still—the sure sign of an addict. That made him unpredictable and dangerous.
Clenching his hands into fists, he jiggled his knee before Kelly’s palm covered it. Speaking of dangerous things. Warmth crept up his thigh, traveling swiftly towards territory strictly out of bounds. He turned his head and scowled darkly to cover the reaction her touch evoked. Clear, blue eyes widened, and she snatched her hand back, touching the small gold cross around her neck instead.
“Sorry,” she mumbled and bit the fullness of her bottom lip.
He’d spent countless nights fantasizing about sucking that lip. It was bad enough he’d had a hard-on for her since the first time she strode into the station as a new recruit twelve months ago. But to have the sergeant buddy her up with him for front line experience was excruciating. It had been a very long four months. Thank God, it was almost over.
Kelly released her lip. Her attention riveted on the scene before them. She shifted closer to the windscreen and the movement sent a wave of her subtle perfume washing over him. It sent him straight back to rock-hard hell.
Biting off a groan, escape uppermost in his mind, Nate dropped his binoculars and shoved open the door. He needed air.
“What are you doing?” Kelly hissed making a grab for his forearm.
He avoided her touch and stepped out of the car. “Getting the show on the road.”
“O’Leary!”
He ignored her protests and softly closed the door. The reek of old cooking fat and fish greeted him. He filled his lungs full of the tainted air, flushing the warm, womanly scent threatening his sanity from his system. Relief flooded through him,
Once he could think straight again, he realized he’d made a rookie’s error. This was meant to be a surveillance mission only. If a transaction took place, they were to note the details, descriptions of the players involved, and report back. They’d been tracking the ringleader of the sophisticated methamphetamine outfit for a couple of weeks. The boss would have his balls if he messed this up.
He shrugged. There was no going back now, especially with a camera crew watching his every move.
Careful to keep to the shadows, he crept closer to the corner of the neighboring building. The smell of fish seemed to permeate from the very brick as he flattened himself against them. Risking a quick peek, he noted two men in a doorway, only a few meters away, conversing fiercely. One seemed especially agitated while the other remained icy calm and in control.
He ducked back, a grin stretching his lips. Jackpot.
The low murmur of conversation suddenly spiked with a raised voice, but the calm man squashed it with a firm reply, cowing the other into silence. It sounded like they were wrapping up the deal. His fingers touched th
e handle of his Taser. For protection, it was useless unless the subject was nearby. But until the policy for New Zealand police changed and they were permitted to carry firearms, it was all he had. Besides, it was more than they’d had a few years ago.
Nate took a couple of steadying breaths, unclipped his Taser, and stepped out into the open to confront the men.
“Police! Stay where you are, you’re under arrest.”
He approached them with slow, measured steps. Two shocked faces looked up at his sudden appearance. The junkie’s skin glistened with sweat. His eyes rounded into huge orbs and his body trembled uncontrollably.
“Don’t move!” Nate boomed and stepped closer, tracking the man with his weapon, anticipating flight. With his attention on the one about to flee, he didn’t catch the movement of the other man until it was too late.
The sharp crack of a gun registered in Nate’s ears a split-second before the bullet punched into him, stealing his breath. It pierced the protective vest like a knife through butter. The vest was stab proof, not bullet proof.
The impact spun him around, turning the world into a kaleidoscope of colors before he slumped to his knees. His eyes widened on the sight of Kelly running towards him, her mouth open in a scream. At least, he assumed she screamed. He couldn’t hear anything past the blood roaring in his ears.
The ground rose up to meet him and his temple hit the concrete, but he didn’t feel a thing. The darkness had already swallowed him whole.
****
Kelly paced the hallway of Auckland Hospital, a third cup of coffee in her hand. If only it were whiskey. The image of Nate going down, the blood blooming a red stain over his chest, and the sound of his head smacking the ground replayed in her mind. Her teeth began to chatter again, and she ruthlessly bit down on her tongue to halt the show of weakness she despised. Not here, not now.
She couldn’t shake the feeling she had been the reason he left the squad car so abruptly. If only she hadn’t sat there in stunned confusion when he left. If only she’d managed to prevent him from making such a foolish move, no matter that he outranked her. If only she’d been quicker, smarter. If only…
She pressed her lips together and stared down into the cup of murky brown liquid, blinking back the threatening tears. The waiting room was full of their peers. When one of them went down, it was personal. Outside, the media had descended like locusts. No way was she going to bawl like a baby in front of any of them. She’d worked too hard to be accepted as one of the boys to ruin it now.
Her hands clenched around the paper cup. It crumpled under the assault, sloshing coffee onto the shiny linoleum floor. Grimacing, she tossed the remnants into the bin.
The doors of the ER swung open and a doctor marched out, his mouth set in a grim line. She watched his dark eyes scan the room before finding and connecting with hers. Her stomach plummeted.
No. Don’t come near me with your bad news.
Ignorant of the silent order, he made a beeline for her. She swallowed and glanced over at the Sergeant for help. Surely, this was his job. The Sergeant stepped back and nodded, indicating he was comfortable with her conversing with the doctor. Kelly straightened her shoulders and set her jaw. She could do this.
“Constable Appleton?”
She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. “Yes.”
The doctor stopped in front of her and looked up to meet her gaze. He didn’t put out a reassuring hand or soften his gaze, but that wasn’t unusual. When a woman stood a touch over six feet tall, was built more solidly than a supermodel, and wore a uniform to boot, people assumed she wasn’t as feminine as her shorter counterparts. Therefore, they reasoned, she needed less comfort when times were tough. They forgot she bled just the same as anyone else. She heard him take a deep breath and steeled herself for the worst.
“I’m afraid it’s not good news.”
The blood drained from her cheeks and her head grew fuzzy. His voice continued as if at the end of a long tunnel, amplifying and echoing in the strangest of ways. Her breath came in short pants, a scream lodged in the back of her throat.
“We’ve put him into an induced coma to give his body a chance to heal itself. We’ve done all we can, but he lost so much blood. We’re not sure what that combined with the concussion has done to him, yet. We have him scheduled for a MRI scan later today. We’ll know more then. It’s up to him now.”
A touch to her arm jerked her back to full awareness, and she ordered her knees not to buckle.
“Are you okay, Constable Appleton?”
Her eyes focused on the concerned gaze of the doctor, and she nodded quickly. “Yeah, sorry. Just taking it in. It’s been a crappy day,” she understated with a tight-lipped smile, barely acknowledging the sympathetic one in response. “How long before you bring him out of his coma?”
“A couple of days should be enough to stabilize him.”
“And when is he likely to regain consciousness?”
“If the trauma isn’t too bad, I’d expect him to wake up a day or so after that.”
Kelly frowned at the use of if. “And if it is?”
The doctor sighed heavily. “Then he may not wake up at all.”
****
Nate floated in total darkness. Weightless in body, his mind drifted, uncluttered and free. Light. For an endless moment, he gloried in it. For a man who’d lived a daily routine of struggling not to put a gun to head, the sensation was alien.
Gradually, he became aware he’d been wrong. The darkness wasn’t complete. A gentle glow of light illuminated the space, and he realized he wasn’t alone. He glanced over at the person who’d appeared next to him and frowned in confusion. The harder he peered at the figure, the more their features blurred, as if he viewed them through a smeared pane of glass.
“What the hell?”
“Not hell, Constable O’Leary,” a voice replied with a laugh.
Nate squinted harder, frustration building.
“Stop trying so hard,” the voice soothed. “If you relax, you’ll be able to see me as clearly as I can see you. Just let go.”
Nate scowled at the figure. “Cut out the airy fairy bullshit and tell me where I am, and why your voice is so familiar.”
“Ah, O’Leary. You were always so adamant everything was black and white. Gray was an impossible shade in your well-ordered life. Have a look around.” The blur of an arm swept to encompass their surroundings and despite himself, he found sprinklings of joy touch him as muted clouds of silver and gray sparkled and danced around them. “Gray is to be celebrated along with all the other rich palettes on Earth’s plane. Nothing is overlooked or impossible here. You’re here to have your mind forced open to the possibilities life offers before you’re sent back to make amends for the mistakes you’ve made.”
The face of the man finally materialized before he could demand what he was on about and Nate inhaled sharply.
“Surprised to see me, Nathaniel?”
Evil personified gazed back at him through unconcerned eyes. Scott Williams. The man they’d dubbed the mortician murderer. Images of the man’s victims flashed through his mind as if on a screen. Beauty destroyed with such abandon. Rage suffused him.
“You bastard,” he choked, wanting nothing more than to strike that hated face but his limbs failed to obey. “Why aren’t you in hell? I would have thought you’d be right at home there.” He strained towards him and let out a growl when his body refused once again to budge.
“Violence isn’t condoned here.” Williams smirked. “It’s impossible to raise a hand in anger. Only good thoughts may be acted on.”
“The thought of pummeling your face felt good to me,” Nate snarled and tried again.
“Now, now, Nathaniel. If anyone has the right to pummel the other, surely it’s me.”
Nate narrowed his eyes on the other’s face at the retort. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
Williams held his gaze. All trace of humor fled. “You put away the wrong man.
You were so blinded by what you believed and frustrated by the law’s inability to hold me, you ignored your instincts. Why look deeper when you were handed the case on a nice, shiny platter? It was bad enough being a suspect for so long, but when that piece of dodgy evidence pointed to me and those photos of my hobby came out, my wife left me. I never wanted her to find out. I knew she wouldn’t understand.” A flash of sorrow flitted across his features. “She was humiliated and couldn’t bear to look at me again. That’s the true reason I killed myself. Not for any misguided sense of remorse.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “But I guess the thought helped you sleep at night, did it, Constable for your part in my death?”
Nate stared at him. It was a trick. There was no way they’d gotten the wrong man. Denial ran hot and a vein throbbed at his temple. “How do you explain being photographed outside that girl’s house—spying on her? It’s just a little too coincidental she was killed that same night don’t you think?”
He waited for a response then sneered as Williams’ bland expression faltered. Words spat out of him, machine-gun furious. “I don’t know of many others whose hobby consists of dressing corpses in evening-wear and staging them for photographs. That doesn’t strike me as something a normal, innocent man does. That’s just flat-out nuts you sick fuck. You probably could have kept that quiet, but you decided to share the photos with your weirdo buddies. You should have known any kind of pressure exerted on them and they’d squeal, just like the pigs you lot are.”
Williams shook his head, his expression mournful. “My friends never truly understood my reasons for the photos. To them, it was all a bit of harmless fun, a way to pass the time. It became a game to see who could be the most outrageous. Working with the dead can get too maudlin at times and you need something to release those emotions.” He glanced up, his gaze sharpening. “To me, it’s always been more than that. I celebrated their time on earth, giving them the final farewell they deserved and were cheated of when death took them too early. I respected those girls. Their lives were cut short.”
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