Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

by Lashell Collins

  “Hi, Dave. I'm sorry to keep you waiting,” I smile somewhat sheepishly as he gives me a brief kiss on the cheek.

  “No, it's okay. We just got here,” he says, studying my face in that way that all cops do when they're talking to you in a business-related fashion, even if they're talking to a friend. “You remember my partner, Anne Marsh?”

  “Of course, how are you, Anne?”

  “Good, Mrs. Pierce.”

  “I know I'm the boss's wife, but please call me Samantha,” I smile as I turn and lead them into my office and take a seat in one of the chairs across from my desk. “I'm sorry that Josh sent you here,” I say, looking up at them. “The truth is I'm feeling very foolish right about now.”

  “Don't be silly, Sam,” Dave says as he sits in the chair beside me, taking out a notepad and pen from his pocket. “Guy sent me here because you were obviously upset enough to call him. Why don't you tell us what happened?”

  I take a deep breath, followed by a sip of my lavender tea. And then I tell them everything I remember about the strange phone call.

  “The music was so … familiar,” I whisper as the unshed tears sting my eyes, and I shake my head slightly.

  “I don't mean for this to sound condescending, Sam,” Dave says after a slight pause. “But Guy said you mentioned Timothy Echols. Are you sure that the music was the same, or could it maybe be that you just associate all music boxes with Echols now?”

  I take a moment to really consider his question. And I'm aware that Josh has just quietly walked into the room and is listening intently, watching me closely. I think back to four years ago when Echols attacked me and then proceeded to stalk me. How many times did he call me and play that eerie, hair-raising music? And how could anyone think I would ever forget it.

  Silently, I wipe an escaped tear from my cheek with my fingers as I slowly shake my head. “For nearly a year afterwards, I would hear that music in my nightmares, Dave,” I say softly. “It was the same.”

  “Okay,” he nods at me.

  “Baby,” Josh says as he walks further into the room and kneels down beside my chair, taking my hand. “Is this the first unusual thing that's happened at your office lately?”

  My eyes meet his in a questioning gaze as I wonder briefly why he's asking. And I frown as something comes to my mind. “No.”

  “No?” he repeats, and I see him exchange a look with Dave.

  I shake my head again. “No. Yesterday, there was a strange package in the mail. Addressed to me with no return address on it.”

  “Is that unusual by itself?” Dave asks.

  “Well, it actually wasn't so much the missing return address that was unusual,” I answer. “Normally all the mail I receive here comes addressed to Samantha Colby. Or to Samantha Colby Pierce. This came to Mrs. Pierce.”

  “What was in the package?” Josh asks.

  “Rose petals.”

  “Rose petals?” he repeats as his brow knits together.

  “Yes. Dead rose petals,” I clarify.

  “Someone sent you a box of dead rose petals?” Detective Anne Marsh asks, and I nod my head. “Any particular color?” she asks with a hint of sarcasm.

  “I think they used to be red,” I answer with a shrug, and I can see she and Dave trying not to smile. My husband, however, is looking at me with a deep scowl on his face.

  “Was there a note or anything, Sam?” he asks.

  “No. And I know it sounds silly. We all thought it was silly too,” I tell them. “That's why I just threw it all in the trash.”

  “Do you still have the trash?” Josh asks almost urgently.

  “What?”

  “Has the trash been emptied, Samantha?” He's looking at me with a very serious expression, and it suddenly makes me uneasier than I already was.

  “Um … no. It's there, by my desk,” I say, gesturing to the small wire waste bin beside my desk.

  “Go out to your car and get me an evidence bag,” he instructs Marsh as he stands, pulling a blue latex glove from his pocket.

  “Sure thing, Lieu.” She heads out as Josh carefully upturns the waste bin onto my office floor.

  “I know that look all too well, Guy,” I hear Dave say as I watch them. “You think this is connected …”

  “Yeah,” he says abruptly, looking Dave in the eye. “I think the mysterious rose petals might be connected to the phone call.”

  Dave nods his head but says nothing more as he watches Josh slowly pick through the trash. Detective Marsh returns with a couple of plastic evidence bags, and she hands one over just as Josh picks up the discarded box. It's small, like something a bangle bracelet would fit into, and I watch him lift off the lid and examine the petals inside. He replaces the lid and sticks the box into the bag. Then he finds the matching envelope the package was mailed in and places that into the other bag.

  “Give these the royal treatment,” he says as he hands them off to Dave.

  “You got it.”

  “And Conner, do me a favor and check on Echols, alright? Let's make sure he's still sitting where he should be.”

  “I'm on it,” Dave answers. Then he turns to me and says, “We'll get to the bottom of it, Sam.”

  “Thank you, Dave.” I offer he and Marsh a smile as they leave my office. And I take a deep breath and let out a huge sigh as I watch Josh replace the trash on my floor to the basket. For some reason, the mess makes me think of the twins.

  “Oh, my gosh … Olivia!”

  “It's okay, I called Mom on my way over here,” he says. “I let her know you'd be late. I figured you'd be too upset to think about calling home.”

  “Thank you,” I say softly. He smiles at me.

  “Sorry I made a mess of your floor,” he says.

  “Don't worry about it, the cleaning crew will get the rest of it,” I tell him as he pulls off his gloves and drops them in the basket with the trash. He walks over to me as I stand up and step into his arms. This feels so good. So reassuring. He kisses the top of my head as I breathe him in, and this does more for my anxiety than all the lavender tea ever could.

  “Come,” he says softly. “Let's get you home.”

  He walks me to the car, and then follows behind me in his unmarked cruiser, all the way home. And when I pull into the garage and get out of the car, I stand by the door of the mud room as I watch him get out of his car and walk toward me.

  “Aren't you going back to work?”

  “Yeah. I just want to make sure you and the munchkins are settled first,” he says, wrapping his arms around me. “I know you're still a little shaken up by that phone call.”

  I smile as I shake my head slightly. “How do you know that?”

  He smirks at me as he caresses my face. “Baby, you're my wife. I know you better than you know you. The same way you know me,” he says softly. He gently kisses my lips for a lingering moment and I melt into him.

  “Come.” He takes me by the hand, and leads me into the house where we are immediately greeted by the smiling, happy faces of our toddlers and his mother.

  Josh stays just long enough to kiss the twins and to fawn over the craft projects they made in preschool today. Then he turns to me and kisses my temple. “I gotta go. Why don't you take an hour and go lie down?”

  I roll my eyes slightly at the suggestion. “I can't do that. I'm sure Olivia wants to get going,” I say quietly.

  “What Olivia wants is for you to take care of that bun you got in the oven,” she says pointing to my belly. She gives me a warm smile. “The twins are fine, dinner's taken care of. And I got nowhere to be, so go. Go upstairs and take a nap.”

  I look from her to Josh. “You two are ganging up on me again and I don't appreciate it,” I smile.

  “Yes, you do,” they answer in unison, and I roll my eyes again.

  “Thanks for staying, Mom,” Josh says.

  “It's no problem,” she smiles. “Now you, back to work. And you, upstairs,” she says as she shoos us both from the room, a
nd Josh and I exchange an amused glance as we head our separate ways.

  Chapter Three

  Joshua

  I sit at my desk staring at the envelope with a sense of dread. It's identical to the first one. I spotted it as soon as I walked into my office after roll call, and I just don't get it. None of this makes any sense. Samantha was so relieved last night when I got home and told her that Conner's phone calls confirmed what I already knew. That Timothy Echols is still firmly ensconced in prison, and that the only phone calls he's made recently have been to his elderly grandmother who raised him. A quick toss of his cell revealed nothing even remotely similar to a music box, so whoever made that phone call to Sam yesterday wasn't him. But my question is, why are they trying to make Sam think that it was Echols? And more importantly … what the fuck is in this new envelope that I'm staring at?

  With a heavy sigh I don a pair of latex gloves before I rip the envelope open. And I'm aware that I'm holding my breath as I reach inside and pull out its contents. More photographs. This time there are people in the pictures, and I am seized with a gripping fear as I study the images of Samantha dropping the twins off at preschool. And I can tell from what they're wearing that these were taken yesterday. Flipping through them, I see there are also pictures of my mom picking the kids up at noon. And a couple of the twins on the preschool's playground. Who the fuck is targeting my kids?!

  All day yesterday, I fretted over the decision to put security on Sam and the kids, but that's over now. The decision's been made. I'm reaching for my cellphone when someone knocks on my closed office door and Lee sticks his head in.

  “How you doing, kid?” he says as he strides in and closes the door behind him. Without a word, I hold out the box of gloves for him. He frowns as he takes a pair and puts them on. Then he reaches for the photos in my hand.

  “Fuck.”

  “I was just about to call Lucas, bring him into the loop and see if he can set up some close protection for Sam and the kids.”

  “I think that's a wise decision,” Lee states as he hands the pictures back to me and sits down.

  As I carefully place the photos and envelope into an evidence bag, I tell Lee all about Samantha's phone call and the strange “gift” she got in the mail at the foundation. And Conner's subsequent calls to the prison.

  “You treating it like it's all connected?” he asks.

  “I don't see any way it's not connected, Lee,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “In the span of three days, I get two sets of pictures in the mail suggesting my kids are being targeted, Sam gets the oddest form of flower delivery and a phone call that she believes is from the man who stalked her and attacked her twice! There is no way in hell that's all random.”

  Lee nods his head at me. “I completely agree.”

  There's another knock at my door. “Hey, Lieu … got some info for you,” Conner says as he sticks his head in. And I actually almost smile at his show of respect. Since I stepped into this position nine months ago, Conner has insisted on addressing me as Lieutenant whenever his fellow detectives are within earshot. Even though he's been my best friend – and has called me everything from Guy to dickhead – for almost eight years now.

  I motion him into the office and he smiles at Lee. “Twice in one week, huh? What'd you retire for, old man?”

  “You just answered your own question with the 'old man' comment,” Lee smiles.

  “Whatcha got for me, Conner?” I ask.

  “Results from forensics,” he answers, handing me the report. “There's no prints on the pictures, or on Sam's box of petals. They did lift a sample from the lid of the box though that turned out to be carpet fibers. They're still tracing it, but it could just be cross contamination from sitting in that waste basket over twenty four hours.”

  “Okay. Here, I got something for you too,” I tell him as I hand him the evidence bag with the new set of pics.

  “Again?” he questions, as he begins to study them.

  “On my desk this morning.”

  “This prick's been watching Sam and your mom cart the kids back and forth to preschool,” he says to no one in particular.

  “Looks that way. I'm sure there probably won't be any prints on those either, but check anyway.” He nods at me.

  “What's your next move, son?” Lee asks, getting right to the point.

  “Well … first, I'm going to put in a call to Lucas. Bring him up to speed and ask for a security detail for Sam and the kids. Maybe even for my mother, I don't know. I mean … I'm assuming that this is about the kids, but it could be about any one of them,” I say with a tired sigh.

  “I hate to agree with you on that point, but … you might be right,” Lee says.

  “You're gonna have to come clean with Sam if you do that,” Dave says, looking at me pointedly. “I caught your warning not to mention these pictures yesterday at her office, but you're going to have to tell her the truth once you make that call to her brother.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I sigh as I turn to Conner and look him in the eye. “This is now your primary case, Dave. I'm reassigning the Norfolk case to Simon and Butler as of right now. I want you and Marsh working on this. And I want you to start by looking into anyone who was recently released from prison and doesn't like me. Check out all of our old collars. And our old informants, see if any of them can shed some light on this thing.”

  “Okay,” he answers.

  “You ruling out the Colby angle, kid?” Lee asks, and I shake my head.

  “No. Not at all. And I'm going to mention that to Lucas when I talk to him. See if any red flags pop up for him,” I respond. “But I have to admit that this feels … personal somehow. I don't know why. Just a gut feeling,” I say quietly.

  Lee nods his head. “Always trust your gut. It'll keep you alive. And it'll keep your family safe.”

  “I'm gonna get this to the lab,” Conner says, referring to the evidence bag of pictures. “Then I'll hand the Norfolk file off to Simon and Butler and get started on this.”

  “Thanks, Dave,” I say as he turns to leave.

  When he's gone, Lee looks at me. “You want me to clear out so you can call Lucas?”

  I frown as I shake my head at him, and pick up my cellphone to make the call. And as I put the phone on speaker, I feel my stomach knot up as I wait for the call to be answered. It doesn't let up when I hear the familiar, efficient voice.

  “Colby Coring, Inc. This is Lucas Colby's office. How may I help you?”

  “Hi, Dorothy,” I say anxiously, greeting my brother-in-law's secretary. “This is Joshua Pierce. Is Lucas available, by any chance?”

  “Hello, Lieutenant Pierce. Let me check for you.” Without another word, I'm put on hold, and Lee and I listen to an a cappella version of 'Carol of the Bells' for a few brief moments before the line is picked up again.

  “Hey, Josh! How you doing, man?” Lucas' friendly voice greets me warmly, as usual, and I can't help but smile as I remember how intimidated I was by him when we first met. But he and I have actually developed a close friendship over the last four years. One that means a lot seeing as how neither one of us ever had a brother growing up. But we bonded over things like football and cars and musical tastes. Not to mention our mutual love for Samantha.

  “Actually, Lucas … I'm not real good right now, and I need your help,” I tell him honestly.

  There's a slight pause from him, and then, “Well, you know I'll help in any way I can. What's going on?”

  “Are you alone?” I ask him. “I mean, is this a good time or are you in the middle of something?”

  “I am alone,” he says, as his voice changes to all business. “And you have my undivided attention. What's this about, Josh?”

  I take a deep breath to steady my thoughts. “I want you to know you're on speaker, and Lee's here with me.”

  “Hi, Lee,” Lucas says in greeting. And I can hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Haven't seen you in a while. You and Molly alright?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah, Molly's great, Lucas. Thanks for asking,” he responds. “How's that little boy of yours?”

  “Driving Karen and me nuts,” he answers easily.

  “Oh, I don't believe that,” Lee chuckles.

  There's an awkward silence then, and I know that they're both waiting for me. I take another deep breath and begin.

  “There's no way to ease into this conversation, Lucas, so I'm just going to say it,” I begin. “I have reason to believe that someone is targeting Samantha and the kids.”

  “What do you mean, targeting?” he asks, right on cue.

  “For the past two days, Sam has had some strange things happen at her office,” I tell him. “First a weird package is delivered containing a small box of dead rose petals. Then yesterday she got a call that she believed was from Timothy Echols.”

  “Echols?” His voice is incredulous. “That son of a bitch is supposed to be behind bars!”

  “And that's exactly where he is,” I assure him. “Believe me, I've checked. But there's more. On Monday, tucked in with my mail here at the station was a strange envelope containing pictures of the twins' preschool.”

  “What?”

  “Today, I got a second envelope. This one had pictures of Sam dropping the kids off there, of my mother picking them up, and of the kids out on the playground.”

  “Holy shit,” he whispers. “What do you need from me? You want security at the preschool?”

  “I don't know if I want to go that route,” I tell him.

  “But that might not be a bad idea, Guy, since he's apparently staking the preschool out,” Lee reasons.

  “I know, but I don't want to scare the teachers or any of the other parents,” I explain. “I think it makes more sense to just put a close protection detail on Samantha. And one on the kids,” I say reluctantly, shaking my head. “God … Sam hates the idea of a bodyguard. She's really going to freak when I tell her the twins need one.”

  “Then let her freak,” Lucas speaks up with an attitude. “She'll get over it!” He's quiet for a moment and then asks, “What is this about, Josh? Who is doing this?”