Lakeview Vendetta: A Gripping Vigilante Justice Thriller

by KJ Kalis

  Lakeview Vendetta

  A Detective Emily Tizzano Vigilante Justice Thriller

  KJ Kalis

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 KJ Kalis

  eISBN 978-1-7352192-6-4

  ISBN 978-1-7352192-7-1

  All rights reserved

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved, no part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise including technology to be yet released), without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of the book.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published by:

  BDM, LLC

  Also by K.J. Kalis:

  Kat Beckman Thriller Series:

  The Cure

  Fourteen Days

  Burned

  The Blackout

  The Bloody Canvas

  Sauk Valley Killer

  The Emily Tizzano Vigilante Justice Series:

  Twelve Years Gone

  Lakeview Vendetta

  Christian Non-Fiction (Karen Kalis)

  Miserable Christians: Eliminate Discontent, Rediscover Your Joy and Live an Abundant Life

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  1

  “It’s gone…” she whispered to no one in particular.

  Marlowe Burgess was no accountant. But trying to understand how the money disappeared was impossible, at least for her. Tens of millions of dollars out the door, with no record of where it had gone.

  Marlowe stood up from the computer where she’d been working, tugging at her hair. It had been early, way too early, when she’d woken up, the numbers from her latest commercial development project swirling in her head. The amount of money that she and her business partner had borrowed to rehab the Lakeview Office Building just didn’t add up. Money was what kept projects like theirs flowing. No money meant no work, and there wasn’t any cash in the account. Nothing. Marlowe sat down at the computer again, her head pounding, blood rushing in her ears, staring at the screen, hoping that somehow, in the moment she walked away, the numbers would have adjusted themselves to something workable.

  They hadn’t.

  The rest of the small office she shared with her business partner, Vince Olivas, was bathed in the dusky darkness that only the hours before dawn could bring. It wasn't a vast spread of space — just a few rooms in an office building where she and Vince felt comfortable bringing potential investors and clients. There was a small office for her, one for Vince, another office for their project manager and their assistant designer, a bathroom, and a large common area with space for people to sit and discuss their latest project. That’s where Marlowe had stationed her laptop. She leaned back in the chair, her breath stuck in her chest. It felt like her whole world was crumbling in front of her. She leaned forward, trying again to understand the numbers in front of her. She glanced at a pad of scratch paper that was off to the side, a jumble of numbers listed in small groupings all over the page, slamming her pen down on the paper in frustration.

  Marlowe walked over to the small kitchenette at the side of the lounge area and put a cup of water in the microwave, heating it for tea. She needed something that could settle her stomach, something she could lean on. The reality of what was going on around her began to settle like a pile of bricks, like a pile of rubble left at a demolition site. She felt buried underneath it. The microwave beeped, the light floral smell of chamomile curling up through the air. Pulling the tea bag out and dropping it in the trash, Marlowe took a sip, hoping it would calm her nerves. Taking the cup with her, she walked over to the window. Anywhere else in that hour of the morning, there would be nothing visible, just the hulking outlines of trees in the distance, but she worked in Chicago. Like so many other major cities, Chicago didn’t sleep — at least not really. It seemed there was always something going on, always someone driving down the street no matter the time of day or night. It was something she’d always loved about the city.

  Chicago was vastly different from where she had grown up in Montana. Big sky country. When she first heard the description of her home state, she thought it was just a marketing ploy, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized whoever wrote it was right. She and her three brothers had grown up outside, hunting, skiing, hiking. Marlowe took another sip of tea, blowing on it to cool it and thought back to her high school graduation gift. Her parents, who had inherited a bit of money from her mom’s parents, decided to send Marlowe and her older brother Dylan, on a once-in-a-lifetime skiing trip via helicopter. It was something she’d never forget, the feel of the helicopter lifting beneath her and the way the pilot hovered the skids just over the surface of the snow so she and her brother could leap out and start their descent down the mountainside, satellite tracking devices strapped to the front of their puffy jackets, helmets, and goggles already in place before they ever got off. Helicopter skiing was serious business in Montana. One wrong move could send a mountain of snow down to the valley, killing or destroying whatever was in its way.

  Marlowe made it down the mountainside that day without anything or anyone getting destroyed. She wasn’t sure that streak of luck would hold now. In just the couple of minutes she’d stood staring at the street below the office windows, she had counted three cars passing by and the outline of a single person — she couldn’t tell whether male or female — who walked by on the sidewalk across the street. Her tea had grown lukewarm. She turned, going back to her computer, staring at the numbers once again. An emptiness settled over her, she noticed, setting the mug off to the side. The columns of numbers began to swim in front of her.

  With a couple of clicks, Marlowe downloaded the latest figures that her project manager had sent her and sent an email to her lawyer. Not that he’d been any help. Marlowe had talked to him almost every day for weeks, the hourly retainer bills inching up and up faster than any work could get done on her building. What had started off to be an exciting project — one t
hat could make her career as a developer in Chicago — had now been sitting empty for months. Tightness formed in her stomach and throat, threatening to cut off her breath again. She was caught with no way out.

  Vince had been of no help. He was a fifty-fifty partner in their operation, Lincoln Park Construction. Over the last two months, Marlowe had hardly talked to him. With a couple of more clicks of the mouse, the printer whirred to life behind her. She had been keeping track of the financials for her office building. Her office building. Why she felt the need to print them off every single day, she wasn’t sure. The numbers weren’t changing. She glanced at the table where there was a late rent notice. She would have to put this month's rent on her credit card, again. Not that there was much room left on any of her credit cards. She was maxed out.

  Realizing she didn’t have the money for the office rent, Marlowe slammed her hands down on the table, standing up with a jolt, the computer, a pen and her cup of tea rattling on the glass counter. She knew her moods had become erratic, calm and happy one minute, furious the next. All she did every day was go over the numbers and go out to the site and stare at the building, not that there was any work getting done. The subcontractors had moved on to other projects months ago when they figured out they weren’t going to get paid.

  Marlowe walked back to the window again, stuffing her hands in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. Two more cars passed by, the glow of dawn over the horizon. From out of her pocket, she pulled her phone, quickly typing a text. It was early in Chicago, too early, but the person receiving the text wouldn’t mind since she was halfway across the world. It was her last play, the only hope she had relying on a drunken rumor she had heard years ago. As she hit send, she said a silent prayer that the rumor was true enough to save her.

  2

  Emily gripped the leash in her hand a little tighter as she and Miner approached the dog park. He liked to bolt, especially if any of his dog friends were already there, playing Frisbee. Miner's personality was almost as intense as Emily’s. She knew that’s why they fit together so well. As the gate creaked closed behind her, she dropped the latch and turned back to face her dog. Miner had dropped into a sit, his bright eyes staring at her, knowing that his job was to wait, no matter how anxious he was, so she could unclip the leash and he could run free. He was beautiful, an Australian Cattle Dog, with a mottled gray coat, a couple of patches of solid black, and a white spot on his head that all cattle dogs had. She’d rescued Miner from a local shelter, his sad eyes and wagging tail capturing her heart. Miner was Emily’s constant companion, to the point where, at times, she got frustrated when she was trying to walk and practically tripped over him. But, as there weren’t that many people in Emily’s life, having Miner with her was at least a reliable sense of company.

  “Okay, boy… go!” she said, unclipping the leash from Miner’s collar. Before the words were even out of her mouth, he was halfway across the park, bolting towards a yellow lab named George. Emily waved at the owner, a woman named Lissette. They had a couple of brief conversations in the past, leaning up against the fence, nothing intense or deep. Emily liked it that way. She glanced around the dog park to see who else might be there. A man at the far end of the park had scooped up his tiny fluffy dog when Miner bolted towards George. Emily used to feel a sense of guilt whenever anyone saw Miner’s intensity as a threat, but she was over that now. Her own intensity was nearly the same.

  Emily walked down the fence line, looping Miner’s leash around her neck. She wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone, not that she ever was. She reached up and adjusted the dark ponytail hanging behind her neck and zipped up her jacket a little bit more. The fall weather was starting to cool down and settle over Chicago. Pretty soon she knew the winds would start to blow off Lake Michigan, the very reason that Chicago had gotten the nickname the “Windy City.” Downtown, the winds howled between the buildings, but out in the suburbs where she lived, it was more of a gentle push of air. She didn’t mind, not really. She had grown up spending a lot of time outdoors, her mother always pushing Emily and her sister out the door to do something other than sit in the house. “Get some fresh air!” Emily could hear her mother say, the syllables rattling through her memory. Her mom had been dead for years, though her father was still alive. Emily made a mental note to give him a call later on that day. She didn’t call often, but did try to reach out to him every couple of weeks. Emily knew he was lonely, but there was nothing she could do about that. People were in charge of their own lives.

  Walking down the fence line, Emily found a spot to lean. Miner was involved in a game of tug with George when all of a sudden George dropped the rope they were pulling on. Miner took that as his cue and ran away with it, glancing over his shoulder as George took off in pursuit, his yellow fur flapping as he tried to keep up with Miner. Within a couple of seconds, the dogs made a pass right in front of her, as if Miner were saying, “Look, Ma! I got the rope from George!” Emily smiled and yelled after him, “Easy, Miner.”

  On some days, Emily made more of an effort to go and talk to the other dog owners. Today wasn’t one of those days. She’d just gotten home from working a case, a particularly difficult one, where a child had been abducted and had their identity changed. With a bit of work and some help from Mike Wilson, her tech guy, she had located the child after seven years and returned him to his parents. There had been a lot of driving between Chicago and Kansas over the last couple of weeks as Emily resolved the case. Remembering the tears flowing down the face of the parents as she returned their child to her, Emily realized it was a case she felt particularly good about.

  Miner zoomed by her again, George still in tow. Emily realized she felt better most of the time about the work she did since being terminated from the Chicago Police Department than while she was working there. While she was a detective, she was hampered by all the rules and regulations she had to follow to close a cold case. Although the process of being unfairly terminated was painful, in some respects she knew it had given her the freedom that she wanted. The only real gap in her life was relationships. Financially, she was set — her father-in-law had made sure of that, sending his own attorneys in to help her resolve the issue. She chewed her lip, her ex-father-in-law, she thought. Her ex-husband, who had left her shortly after she had been arrested, had OD’d the year before. Not that it was a shock. Luca Tizzano had issues with drugs and women while they were still married. Losing him had to be one of the greatest disappointments of his father, Anthony Tizzano’s, life, though Emily hadn’t spoken to him about it. Anthony was a man of very few words, normally caught up in his family business dealings that centered in Chicago but moved internationally. There were things he did that Emily knew he would never share with her, even though she wasn’t part of the police force anymore, especially now that Luca was gone.

  Emily shifted her weight onto her right hip as she leaned on the fence, feeling her phone buzzing in her pocket. Miner trotted over, laying down at her feet, his tongue hanging out. George stood behind him, nosing Miner’s tail as if to say, “Is that it? I was just getting started.” Emily grinned at the two dogs. They were entertaining, if nothing else. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, seeing there was a text from her sister, Angelica. Looking down, a wave of curiosity covered her. The last she had spoken to Angelica, her sister was in Scotland, making her way to Greece.

  Angelica’s lifestyle was one of the frustrations in Emily’s extended family, not that Emily cared. Her sister had taken off after completing her medical education, deciding that working for stuffy hospital administrators and being more concerned about liability than healing wasn’t something she was willing to do for the rest of her life. Angelica was as wild as her hair, a mass of bright red curls that would have caused someone to assume that she was full-blooded Irish. She wasn’t. Emily’s family was full-blooded Sicilian. Where the red hair had come from, no one knew. Emily guessed that Angelica's red hair had come from their grandmother, who Angelica
favored, not only in features, but in her fiery personality. Where it originated from before that, no one knew. The reality was pretty much everyone conquered Sicily at one time or another. Emily glanced down at Miner. In that respect, they were the same. Cattle dogs were purebred mutts. So was she.

  “My friend needs your help,” the text read. Emily clipped the leash onto Miner’s collar and looked down at him, giving him the hand signal to come. With all the free time Emily had on her hands between cases, they had spent quite a bit of time at dog training, trying to focus Miner's energy in the most positive ways. Her dog trainer, a small, balding, round little man named Ted, had proven to be a real dynamo in dealing with Miner. Miner loved Ted. Emily swore Miner would try to stand on his head if Ted asked him to do it.

  As they closed the gate behind them, Emily gave a little bit of a wave to Lisette and George. She replied to the text, “I’m not looking for any new cases right now. Just got back from one. Taking a break.”

  Emily had been considering going to Europe to see Angelica. There had been a run of several cases over the last six months. With the money in the bank from her termination lawsuit settlement sitting there plus the five thousand dollars in mystery money that showed up in her mailbox every single month — probably from Anthony Tizzano -- Emily didn’t need to work. Rather, she could choose when to work. She didn’t want to make that choice right now.