by KT Roberts
THE LAST WITNESS
K. T. ROBERTS
DEDICATION
To my wonderful sister, L. “Jessie” Esposito whose knowledge and expertise helped pave the way.
You’re the best!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, no book would be possible without the advice and encouragement of others throughout the process.
I thank my sister, L. Jessie Esposito, a former detective in the Port Authority of NY-NJ for her expertise in police work, the law enforcement officers over at Crime-Writers, former detectives John Bray, Skip Dorn, and Assistant State’s Attorney Megan Blade for answering my unending questions.
A heartfelt thanks to the Montgomerys for allowing me to use their two beautiful daughters’ names Tate and Kensington for my female character.
1
NEW YORK CITY
August 26, 2007
Run, Jessie, run. Her muscles screamed with pain and exhaustion. To stop was not an option—not now. She had to get away from whoever was chasing her.
Run, dammit, run. White-hot pain engulfed her lungs, and the dryness in her throat made her tonsils feel swollen. She curled her tongue and squeezed her mouth to create saliva, then swallowed. She ran up the hill and down the other side. The dirt shifted under her feet. She slid but managed to stay upright.
The wind kicked up, and Jessie coughed to expel the dust she’d inhaled, never letting up on her pace.
“Where the hell am I?” She screamed, unable to see what lie ahead. Her parched throat burned with every breath, yet she continued to run. She pushed the thought away.
His raspy breathing and the thunderous pounding of his feet told her he had gained on her. She must have slowed down without realizing it. The intensity of pain in her legs grew stronger, and she willed them to move faster, but they refused to cooperate. “Oh, God. Please help me.”
She turned her head to look over her shoulder and saw him a few feet behind her. A surge of adrenaline took over, and she sprinted forward, then tripped over the uneven terrain and fell to the ground. She tried to stand, but a sharp blow to the center of her back caused her knees to buckle and sent her sprawling forward. Pain shot through her nose when her face struck the hard surface. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the pain. Blood gushed down her face. The nauseating taste of copper made her gag.
When his evil laughter echoed in her ears, she knew it was all over. He was going to kill her. Fear, thick as the blood running down her face, froze her to the spot. She lay on the sparsely grass-covered ground helpless, and released a low, tortured sob, afraid to fight back.
He reached for her arms and pulled them behind her back. She could feel the sharpness of a rope cut into the skin on her wrists. A trickle of fluid ran down the side of her hand. Blood? Was it her blood? Or was it his sweat? The latter disgusted her and made her want to heave again.
“Oh God,” she gasped; her heart hammering out of control, so loudly she could feel the reverberations throughout her body. She whispered a silent prayer hoping whatever was about to happen would be swift.
He jerked her to an upright position, whirled her around, and forced her onto a large boulder. The black hooded cape he wore concealed everything except his piercing eyes. She focused on them trying to identify her assailant; if not for the police, for herself—so she’d know who was stalking her—know who wanted her dead.
The click of the hammer echoed in the still night. If Jessie hadn’t already been sitting, her legs would have given out when he pressed the cold steel of a gun barrel against her cheek. One last chance for someone to hear me, she thought, and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Detective Tate Kensington jerked and sat upright in bed, drenched in sweat. Her hand clutched to her chest as she gasped for air, unable to breathe from the suffocating sensation that gripped her. She scanned the dark room as she gulped in mouthfuls of air. This was a dream, wasn’t it?
The floor creaked. She narrowed her eyes and peered into the darkness, trying to ascertain whether someone was in her room or it was her insomniac neighbor upstairs. When footsteps tromped overhead again, she concluded it was her neighbor and chalked it up to her paranoia and the aftermath of her nightmare.
She flopped back against the pillows and willed her heart rate to calm down. The sounds of her ragged breathing broke the silence. Damn! The sensation of that gun against her cheek felt so real. She’d even smelled the hint of gunpowder. Her hand instinctively reached up to touch the spot on her cheek, the very spot at which he’d pointed the barrel end of that gun.
Relief washed over her when her fingertips touched the smoothness of her skin, reinforcing that it was indeed a bad dream. She reached over and pulled open the drawer on the nightstand and felt inside for her Glock. Thank God, it was still there.
The shrill ring of her phone scared her, and she jumped. Her heart kicked up its pace, and she feared it would burst through her chest. She raised her hand to answer it, then pulled back, afraid. The sensation of dread refused to go away. “This is ridiculous!” It was only a dream.
The ringing stopped abruptly. A few seconds later, her cell phone rang. This time, she checked the caller ID, flipped the lid of her cell open, and took a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand. A low guttural groan escaped her lips. “This better be good, Gerard.”
“Whoa, Jessie James, sounds like I’ve interrupted something,” he chuckled.
Jessie ignored his comment and shoved the phone away from her mouth. “Gerard, what do you want on my only day off?”
“Uh-oh. You’re with someone, aren’t you?”
“Oh stop, will you.”
“Somebody’s grumpy.”
“What do you expect?” She ran a hand over her face, and tried to clear the cloud of fog from her head. The last thing she wanted was her partner, or the guys in the department for that matter, to know how freaked out she’d become over a dumb dream. Not that she thought he would tell anyone, but men talked just as much as women—maybe even more. She and Zach had been partners going on three years, knew each other pretty well, but there were some things you just didn’t share with someone you worked with every day, regardless of how much you liked each other.
“Okay, so why are you bothering me?” she asked.
“We have a homicide out by your favorite place, Jessie—Central Park; more specifically, Bow Bridge.”
She pictured his handsome face as he spoke. Zach Gerard was definitely a gorgeous hunk of a man, but getting involved with a playboy type was the furthest thing from her mind—most of the time. His smile, his body—they did things to her mind no other man could claim, but being dumb and foolish about getting involved with a partner once before had left a heavy scar, and almost ruined her career.
“For chrissake.” Jessie forced her mind to listen to his words and not the sound of his sexy voice. “You mean Harwell couldn’t give it to Santori and Paige?”
“Actually, I believe his words were, no exceptions. He expects the entire team present and accounted for by the time he arrives, and I’m almost to your apartment, so get that cute little ass of yours out of bed. I’ll be outside in ten minutes.” The phone went dead.
“No exceptions, huh?” Jessie flipped her phone shut and huffed out another sigh, this time shaking her head annoyed Jack Harwell had been assigned to the two-one after his promotion to lieutenant, the very precinct where she worked.
Her fist pounded the mattress, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed and flipped on the lamp. The light flooded the room with an amber glow. She quickly scanned the room and shuddered when a fleeting recap of her dream caught her attention.
She’d had ten years on the force, but now that Harwell was her boss, t
hings were very different among her peers. Regrettably, she could almost pinpoint the exact day the rumor mill got word that she’d dated Harwell before his marriage. That’s when the threatening notes had started to appear. She couldn’t help but feel resentful that he’d taken the job. After they’d broken up, she’d vowed never to lay eyes on him again. But now that he was her boss, she had to make the best of it.
Jessie crossed the room and entered the bathroom, turned on the faucet, lowered her head and splashed cold water on her face. She brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her long auburn locks and pulled them into a ponytail with a scrunchie she’d found on the messy counter.
Seeing her reflection in the mirror, a groan escaped her mouth. A pair of bloodshot eyes stared back at her and resembled a roadmap. And the bags underneath, from lack of sleep, didn’t do anything for her appearance either.
Her fingertips pushed on the skin as if the pressure would release the puffiness and make the swelling go down. Vanity was still evident even at 3:50 in the morning. She sighed and flipped off the light.
Making her way over to the pile of clothes still folded in a neat stack on the chair, she groaned again. When would she ever find time to clean this mess? She slipped on her under garments and pulled a clean T-shirt over her head, pulling her long hair out from under the neckband, and then stepped into a pair of jeans. The reoccurring guilt of not having time to clean her apartment surfed through her mind again, and she wondered if her deceased mother’s spirit was shaking her head as she viewed the mess. She flung her hand in the air. The stack of clothes would have to sit for another day.
Still groggy, she walked to the nightstand, removed her Glock from the drawer, and checked the chamber to see if she’d remembered to load it the night before. Night before? Hell, it had only been a few hours since she’d gone to bed. She released another grumble of displeasure, then reached for her shoulder holster draped over her bedpost. Before snapping the holster into place, she checked the ammo carrier and snapped the stays around her belt. Her eyes took one last scan around her apartment to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, and she was out the door.
A warm breeze brushed against her face when she hit the outdoors, and she wished for cooler weather. August in New York City was always the worst month of the summer with the hazy, hot and humid days.
Zach’s lean body rested against the unmarked car, one ankle crossed over the other, a smirk spread across his handsome face and a large container of coffee in his outstretched hand. She accepted the coffee as she passed by him on her way to the passenger’s side of the vehicle.
The tight T-shirt he wore that was stretched across his chest deserved a second glance. But so did his other attributes, like his thick, dark wavy hair that rested on his collar, the stubble on his chin against his bronzed tan, and those piercing hazel eyes that made her shudder every time he gazed into hers. Yeah, those eyes were something all right. They made her feel as though he was digging into the very core of her being. Too bad he was her partner.
She pushed her mind back to the real world, and reminded herself if past history had taught her anything, it was never to repeat mistakes. Zach Gerard was mighty fine all right, but getting involved with another partner wasn’t worth the aggravation. Of course, there was no harm in dreaming.
“Glad to see you made it Jessie James.”
She sipped the coffee through the hole in the lid. Hearing him call her Jessie James always made her smile and reminded her of how she’d gained the moniker early on in her career when she was a uniformed cop. Anxious to prove she was one of the guys in the male dominated precinct, the opportunity presented itself during a night watch at the Lincoln Tunnel when two guys, armed with double-barreled sawed-off shotguns, ran across the Plaza and into the tower behind her. Scared to death, she knew she had to move fast, determined to make her mark in the department. She remembered creeping up behind them, weapon drawn, she held them at bay until backup arrived. Ever since then, she was known as the gun slinging Jesse James.
“Thanks.”
“Want to drive?” he asked.
“Not unless you want to get into an accident. Maybe later.” She opened the passenger’s door and slid across the seat, holding her container of coffee in her left hand while she buckled her seat belt with the other.
“I figured I’d better bring you some kind of peace offering after interrupting your beauty rest.” His devilish grin accentuated the deep dimples in his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled like gemstones.
“Yeah, I can see the tears running down your cheeks.” She shook her head and changed the subject. “Who called in the homicide?”
“Your favorite law enforcer, Tip Jackson. He was first on the scene after dispatch got the call from a biker going through the park.”
“A biker in Central Park at this hour of the morning?” Her eyebrows creased. “What? He’s training for the Olympics? And how long did Jackson wait to contact us?” She fired one question after another, like it was an interrogation. When he didn’t respond immediately, and simply stared directly at her, she tossed her hand in the air. “What?”
“As a matter of fact, I believe it was right away,” Zach said.
“And how the hell did the biker see a dead body in the dark? Was it under a street light?”
“Whoa, slow down, Jessie,” he said, and reached over to pat the top of her hand. “You’re getting yourself all fired up over there. Two witnesses were in the park and found the body. They didn’t have a cell phone, so they did the next best thing—stopped a biker and asked him to call 911.” He gave her a side-glance; his eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “What’s the matter, I’m not talking fast enough for you?” He laughed. “I know your head’s not in the same place as mine right now, but I’ll get to it if you’ll give me a chance.”
“Only nut jobs,” she scowled, “would visit the park at this hour?”
“Dispatch said the couple, who claim they were out watching the stars . . . probably more like screwing in the bushes . . . fell over the body.”
“Who doesn’t carry a cell phone with them today?”
“Uh, Jess . . . probably naked people . . . screwing in the bushes.” He grinned at her impatience. “You’re a piece of work this morning.” He chuckled and glanced in the distance as though he had something on his mind. “You know, that’s just how I want my marriage to be; out watching the stars, or out in the bushes with my wife. Mmm,” his hand tapped the steering wheel, “that’s definitely what I want.”
“Are you kidding me? You? Married? You’re in and out of too many beds to ever settle down with one woman.” She snickered when she recounted how many women he’d talked about over the last month.
“I don’t tell tales out of school.”
“I wasn’t asking, hot shot” she countered, and downed a swig of coffee.
“Lighten up, will you?” His eyes narrowed in a frown. “What’s biting you?”
“Nothing, Gerard. You woke me up out of a sound sleep. How am I supposed to act?”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve gotten a call in the middle of the night. What’s the big deal?”
She eased off, and took a deep breath. He was right; she did need to lighten up.
When Jessie didn’t respond, Zach flipped the switch for the siren and remained silent until they reached the crime scene. He pulled over to the side of the road, jammed the gearshift into park, and they swiftly exited the vehicle. Pulling out his flashlight, he beamed it onto the ground lighting a path. Jessie grabbed the flashlight from the car and walked over to the paramedics as they lifted someone into the cavity of the EMS vehicle. She checked the time, noting it was four thirty-five AM.
“Who do you have here?” Jessie asked the paramedic.
In the background, the older of the two paramedics was talking to the hospital giving the victim’s stats. “A female in her mid to late thirties,” the young man informed her. He didn’t look old enough to drive, let alone be an EMT.
“Wait, I’m confused,” Jessie frowned, wondering why they hadn’t received a second call from dispatch confirming another casualty. “I thought we had a dead male.”
“You do,” he nodded in the direction he came from. “He’s back by Bow Bridge waiting for the coroner to arrive.”
“And is that where you found her?”
“We found her in the area of the Ramble, passed out on the edge of the rock slab. One false move and she might have fallen down those cascading rocks and drowned.” He wrote something down on the clipboard in his hand. “She has some bruising under her eyes, probably from the impact of the air bag, some abrasions about the face, a large gash on her back thigh, and she’s drowsy. Maybe a concussion, or maybe she’s on something.” He shrugged. “We’ve already asked the hospital do a Tox screen to be sure.”
Jessie entered the EMS vehicle to take a look at the woman on the gurney. She was pretty. Her long dark hair was slightly matted. Checking the woman’s hands, she noticed a large diamond ring and wedding band on her left hand. The woman’s nails were neatly manicured. Dried blood was caked under her nose and on the side of her face.
“Unless she has internal bleeding, Detective, I’d say she’s not critically injured,” the paramedic added.
Jessie watched the other paramedic insert an IV into the woman’s vein. The woman jerked from the prick of the needle and opened her eyes. Her dark brown eyes were filled with panic as she glanced from one person to the next.
“You’re going to be okay, ma’am,” she said softly. “I’m Detective Kensington from the two-one precinct.” She gently brushed away a strand of hair stuck to the woman’s cheek. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“A man, a man,” she mumbled through swollen lips.
“What man?”
“A man,” she said, and slowly faded into an unconscious state. The yellow paisley print dress she wore was torn in several places and stained with blood. Jessie exited the vehicle and stood on the sidelines watching the senior paramedic close the doors.
