by Leslie Wolfe
Matthew grunted and opened his eyes. He stared at his father’s body and smirked.
“Poor old Dad,” he said, “always on my side, no matter what I did. I think deep inside he liked it. He liked the thought of getting back at Mom.”
She trained her weapon on him and took a firing stance, crooked and weary, with no strength in her left shoulder.
“Here. Arrest me,” Dahler continued, extending his hands, wrists joined together, ready to be cuffed. “I’ll get out by tomorrow, as soon as I tell everyone about the good times we had in college, you and I.”
Julie moaned quietly.
“This was personal, a vendetta, a setup. Everyone will see it.”
“Get on the ground, face down, hands behind your head. Now,” Tess said. She wasn’t going to let this son of a bitch play games with her head.
“My mistake… My one and only mistake, staring me in the face,” he laughed. “Can you see the headlines? We’re going to have so much fun, you and I. Just like old times.”
He winked, and Tess felt a wave of rage boiling her blood.
“On the ground. Now.” Tess repeated.
“Or what? You can’t shoot me; I’m unarmed and wounded. And I’ll get out. She won’t say a word,” he said, tilting his head toward Julie. “She won’t testify. She’ll say it was consensual, and this was a setup. An old, vengeful girlfriend with separation issues turned federal agent. Silence can be purchased, you see. Freedom too.”
Tess looked at Julie, keeping her gun trained on Dahler. She whimpered and closed her eyes.
“Please, make it stop,” Julie whispered, barely audible.
Dahler laughed.
“It’s never going to stop, not for her, and not for you, Theresa Winnett.”
Tess couldn’t hide her reaction, hearing her name spoken by that despicable man.
“Yes, I remember you,” he continued, “the one who got away. The one who ran, and then became a fed. The one who never saw my face… Oh, how that must have pissed you off, huh, Theresa?”
She looked at Julie and nodded once. Julie nodded too, after holding her gaze for a long, loaded second.
“Please,” Julie whispered.
“On the ground, now,” Tess shouted, her gun trained on Dahler’s chest. “This is your last warning.”
Then she pulled the trigger, twice, double-tapping him in the chest, before he had a chance to react. Dahler froze in death, his eyes still open, conveying surprise as life left his body. She let out a long breath and holstered her gun.
“Come on,” she said, freeing Julie from the last cuff. “Time to go now.” She searched the room quickly and found a light blue, flat sheet. She wrapped Julie in it and helped her lie down on a couch, gently.
“I’ll get us some help, okay? Now it’s really over.”
“Don’t leave me,” she mumbled, panic seeping in her voice.
“I won’t. I’m right here.” She pulled out her phone and speed dialed Gary’s mobile number. She heard his phone ring close by, too close, right outside the window.
“Oh, no,” she gasped, and ran outside.
There he was, lying on the grass, immobile, blood dripping slowly from a head wound. She checked for bullet holes and found none. His pulse was stable, but weak. As she called for help, she heard sirens closing in, and a SWAT truck pulled up, followed by SAC Pearson’s SUV.
She waited for them just long enough to make sure Gary was taken care of. She rushed back inside and sat next to Julie, holding her hand. She listened closely as SWAT cleared the rest of the house, then some of the agents came downstairs.
One of the men offered to carry Julie to the ambulance. She whimpered and turned her head away.
“Don’t touch her,” Tess replied, squeezing her hand. “Let’s have EMS in here with a stretcher. No one touches her, you hear me?”
Chapter Forty-Five
An Invite
Tess sat on the rear bumper of an emergency rescue vehicle, while an EMT fussed over her. Her adrenaline was vanishing, and, in its absence, a wave of pain kicked in. Her left shoulder was in bad shape, her head pounded, and her ribs had caught too many of Dahler’s direct hits. But none of that mattered, because Julie was alive and safe.
The EMT unpacked a blood pressure cuff, and she offered her right arm, absently. She still reeled from facing her own monsters, from finding herself inches away from the man who had permanently altered the course of her life, more than 10 years ago. She still reeled after killing him. Now, with him wiped off the face of the earth, maybe she could hope to live again.
“Winnett,” SAC Pearson said, almost startling her.
“Sir,” she said, turning her roughed-up face toward him.
“I have a slew of complaints to deal with. Palm Beach County police called twice about your condescension and disregard for procedure. Apparently, you reassigned workforce without an approved overtime budget. Then the governor called right after your visit with the Dahlers, citing your name, and saying you had inappropriate questions for one of the most respectable families in the area. Mrs. Feldman Dahler is over there, threatening hell because you entered without a warrant.”
“Sir, I—”
“Don’t interrupt, Winnett. We had this conversation already, about you letting people finish what they have to say.” He ran his hand across his shiny scalp, then across his face. “It hurts me to say, but here goes. Great job,” he said, letting out a long sigh. “For God’s sake, I hope whatever method you used on this case never makes it in the Quantico manuals. What a bloody mess.”
She smiled, a tiny twitch at the corners of her lips.
“I’m willing to bet your report will be a mess, just like this is,” he continued, gesturing vaguely toward the street, blocked by emergency vehicles and flooded in red and blue flashing lights. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Winnett? When you come back from whatever R&R these guys prescribe, you’ll get your new partner.”
“All right,” she replied, no longer feeling apprehensive. Maybe she was too tired, or maybe things could begin to be different.
“All right?” Pearson reacted. “What, you hit your head, or something?” He didn’t wait for her answer. As usual, he just turned and walked away, ending the conversation Pearson-style.
She smiled for a while after he left, absentminded again, while the EMT removed her vest and cut her T-shirt to evaluate her shoulder. His fingers danced on her skin, and she no longer cringed inside. She took out her phone and retrieved SSA McKenzie’s number from memory. She gave his name a long look, but then decided to call him later, from a more private setting. It was time for her healing to begin.
“This will need X-rays and probably surgery to set it,” the EMT said. He was a young man, not even 30, with steady, cool fingers and a calming demeanor. “Some ligaments and nerves might be torn. Then you’ll need other X-rays too. We’ll take you in.”
“Oh,” she reacted, not thrilled with the perspective. She wanted a hot shower and one of Cat’s burgers and fries. Make that a double, with cheese and bacon and pickles. Artery-popping, soul-mending, Cat therapy. Then she remembered something, and her blood froze in her veins again, and a feeling of revulsion hit her hard.
“Hey, do you mind checking here, on the hairline?” she asked, exposing the left side of her neck to the EMT. “I can’t see… what’s there? Something like a scar, maybe?”
“This is nothing; it’s not even bleeding,” the EMT said. “It looks old.”
“Yeah, but what is it?”
He touched her skin with his gloved finger.
“There are three parallel lines, very thin. Like shallow cuts or something. You don’t remember getting these?”
“No,” she shuddered. “I don’t. But it was years ago, so it doesn’t matter. How’s my partner, Gary Michowsky?”
“He’s fine. He has a concussion; he’s going in too.”
“Is he conscious?”
&nb
sp; “Yeah, he’s over there, giving us trouble. Cops, what can you expect?” The EMT scoffed and pointed at Gary, who sat on his stretcher instead of lying down, while two EMTs were struggling to keep him in place.
“Give me a minute, will you?” She hopped off the ambulance bumper, instantly regretting it, as the abrupt move sent waves of throbbing pain to her shoulder and her head. She went over to Michowsky’s stretcher and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Lie down. It’s over,” she said. “You can afford to relax.”
“I’m fine. I don’t want to be carried around like a baby. It makes me dizzy.”
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.
“Lie down, or I’ll tell everyone about your midlife crisis.” Then she winked at him, and watched him lie down, letting the EMTs secure him on the stretcher. “We’re going to the same X-ray party, you and me. So relax. Maybe someday you’ll tell me what the hell you were doing in Dahler’s backyard, when you were supposed to stay in the damn car.” She hesitated, and smiled at the ground. “Thanks for having my back,” she added.
He waved her away, and she turned to leave.
“Winnett?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we can grab a mojito after we’re done with this mess, huh? A real one.”
She grinned and continued to walk away.
“Hey, Winnett?” he called again.
She turned on her heels, feigning frustration, but smiling still.
“What now?”
“You know, for a stuck-up fed bitch, you ain’t that bad.”
~~ The End ~~
Read on for a preview from:
Executive
A different kind of investigator, an unexpected killer.
~~~~~~~~
Thank You!
A big, heartfelt thank you for choosing to read my book. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave me a four or five star review; I would be very grateful. It doesn’t need to be more than a couple of words, and it makes a huge difference. This is your customized shortcut: http://bit.ly/DawnGirlReview.
Did you enjoy Tess Winnett and her team? Would you like to see her return in another story? Your thoughts and feedback are very valuable to me. Please contact me directly through one of the channels listed below. Email works best: [email protected].
Connect with Me!
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @WolfeNovels
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wolfenovels
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wolfenovels
Web: www.WolfeNovels.com
Free Preview: Executive
EXECUTIVE
Leslie Wolfe
A Novel
*** PREVIEW ***
...Chapter 1: Beginnings
...Thursday, March 25, 9:42AM
...Corporate Park Building, Third Floor
...Irvine, California
"I checked her out, and everything is just as expected." Steve pushed a thin file over the large desk, toward his boss. The man took it and flipped carefully through the pages, mumbling his agreement to the various things he was reading.
"Is she available yet?"
"No, sir, waiting for your approval."
The man gave the file and the photo attached to it another thoughtful look.
"Do you think she's ready?"
"No, sir," Steve answered. "But she could be, with a little bit of time and effort."
"She's so young," the man said, "so young. I hope we're right about this."
"She's not any younger than I was when I met you," Steve replied.
"True."
The man stood up and paced the floor for a few minutes, looking out the windows of his office. The sun was climbing in the sky, inundating their world with the crisp morning light. Everything would turn out all right.
"OK, please proceed."
Steve could hear the smile in his voice.
...Chapter 2: Blackmailed
...Friday, April 2, 11:13AM
...Traveling Tech Corporate Offices
...San Diego, California
"I can't do that. We're talking about one of the best tech support analysts I have ever had." George Auster's chubby face was sweating heavily, while trying to persuade his visitor.
His morning was turning into a nightmare that he could not begin to comprehend. The man standing in front of him was not willing to negotiate. This man had stepped through the door, put a picture on his desk, and looked him straight in the eye.
"She has to go. You have 48 hours. Or you lose everything."
He had no choice.
...Chapter 3: Job Search
...Saturday, April 10, 6:22PM
...Ridgeview Apartments
...San Diego, California
Your next opportunity awaits.
"I definitely hope so," Alex mumbled, waiting for a new search page to load, while staring at the promising slogan of yet another job board.
With little patience for what she was doing, and in desperate need of a job, Alex was browsing page after page of countless job postings, reading ads, and looking for possible fits. With rent due in just two weeks' time and no money left in the bank, she was considering a variety of jobs, spanning from boring-to-death customer service to marketing, but not ignoring any other available options. It was no longer the issue of making the right career choice; it was about survival and paying the bills.
At 29, she was living alone in a small two-bedroom apartment that looked like a war zone. Not preoccupied by the appearance of her home, she had furnished the apartment with a bizarre selection of items, all serving the purpose of functionality. She had focused on what she needed at particular stages in her life, with no consideration given to furniture styles or colors.
Her desk was huge, quite old, and made of solid wood. It had two sets of drawers, one on each side. Not one square inch of the desk's surface was visible, as it was covered with bills, handwritten notes, and office equipment. Her computer took most of the available space, together with a modem, two printers, a scanner, and a phone, all connected by numerous intertwined wires.
The past few days had been carbon copies of one another— search after search, application after application. She had no choice but to keep going.
...Chapter 4: Timing
...Friday, April 16, 8:40AM
...Corporate Park Building, Third Floor
...Irvine, California
"She's available and running out of money."
"Good. Place the ad in a couple of days. Let me know the minute she sees it."
...Chapter 5: Labor of Desperation
...Tuesday, April 20, 5:17PM
...Ridgeview Apartments
...San Diego, California
Her chair looked as if it had been taken from a high-end, downtown office setting—black, massive, and all leather, in total contrast to the rest of the room. Leaning comfortably back in it, Alex was reviewing job posting after job posting, and applying to whatever would have had even the slightest chance of landing her an interview. Although she was quickly going through the ads, one caught her attention.
The Agency is looking for highly motivated, independent individual, possessing a variety of business skills and an adventurous spirit. Please email résumé.
"That's weird. The Agency? What kind of name is that?" Alex said out loud, breaking the silence. That had to be just another recruiter. The email address was a Yahoo account, and, without giving it much thought, she submitted her résumé and moved to the next ad.
Seconds later, a familiar sound let her know that she had new email. One look at the sender's name and she opened it right away.
From: The Agency
Subject: Received Application
Thank you for your application.
In order to perform an assessment of your skills, please click on the link below and complete the form. Please note that this process will take at least an hour of your time. Please give truthful answers to all question
s, and indicate all the skills you possess. We will carefully review your online application. If selected to move forward in this recruiting process, we will be in contact with you.
"Oh, no, not another form," Alex cried. Most online recruiting forms had proven to be nothing but wasted time, without any benefit for her. Spending an average of 15 minutes on each online application form—creating profiles, usernames, and passwords for a variety of companies—was like shooting herself in the foot. She needed to spend less than one minute on each ad, because of the high volume of ads she had to browse every day. "And this has to be way worse, they say it takes at least a full hour," she complained, but there was no one there to hear her. "You have got to be kidding me . . ." Continuing to grumble, she clicked on the link indicated in the email. A browser page opened up.
Thank you for giving The Agency an hour of your time, the message read.
"Oh, we're not there yet, pal. I've only given you 15 seconds so far," Alex replied to the written text, as she continued reading.
Please grab a cup of coffee, and let's proceed.
"OK." Smiling at the thought of having a conversation with an online recruiting form, Alex rose and went into the kitchen. Seconds later, she came back to her black leather chair, carrying a large, steaming cup of coffee. "Got it, what else do you want from me?" She clicked next.
If you promise total honesty, I promise a recruiting process without any bullshit, the following page stated.
