Doctors of Darkness Boxed Set
Page 98
“It’s okay. I don’t need an attorney. But I want Luke to be here.”
And later, after it’s all been spilled, the onion unwrapped right down to its ugly core, I know what I’ll say then: “There’s another murder I need to tell you about. DeAndre Mack’s.”
Because karma may be as slow moving as a freight train, but boy does she pack a wallop.
LA Times
“Seven LAPD Officers Charged with Corruption”
by W.J. Pierce
Seven decorated veterans of the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD), including two Narcotics Division detectives, were relieved of their duties on Friday after a stunning investigation revealed a sordid trail of greed, corruption, and murder that began over twenty years ago. According to a departmental spokesman, the investigation began with a confidential source implicating deceased detective Jerry Lawson in a 1994 conspiracy to murder LA native DeAndre Mack—a small-time cocaine dealer who apparently had begun working with Lawson in the 80s, offering him a portion of the proceeds from narcotics sales in exchange for protection from prosecution and confidential information regarding planned drug busts. As Mack advanced through the ranks of his criminal enterprise, so too did Lawson, who was eventually promoted to Narcotics Division Detective in 1982.
In 1994, Lawson was hailed as a hero when he shot and killed an armed Mack inside an Artist District warehouse. The incident made national news as a record drug bust after five tons of cocaine were seized from the location, and Lawson later earned the prestigious Medal of Valor awarded to those officers who distinguish themselves through bravery or heroism above and beyond the call of duty. According to the confidential source, Lawson later admitted to his family he had planned Mack’s death and staged the crime scene, planting a handgun on Mack, who had double-crossed Lawson. An investigation by Internal Affairs implicated numerous other officers as assisting in the cover-up of Mack’s murder.
Lawson eventually retired from service, citing personal reasons, and died by suicide in 1996. He is survived by his wife, Frances, and his daughter, Ava, who is currently serving jail time in Monterey County relating to her actions leading up to and following the 2018 slayings of Love Doctors Kate and Ian Culpepper. Though Lawson was cleared of the murder of her ex-husband, Culpepper, she pled guilty to charges of extortion, child endangerment, and food tampering. The Los Angeles District Attorney elected not to bring charges for any role Lawson may have had in the death of Wallace Bergman, the media mogul; however, she was forced to surrender her license to practice psychology in the state of California.
Citing his desire to spare his family further anguish, Former Carmel Police Department Officer, Cooper Donovan, pled guilty to Culpepper’s murder, as well as the attempted murders of Lawson and Cleo Campbell, and was sentenced to twenty-five years to life in prison. Inspired by the grisly tale, BXA President of Programming Marty Emerson recently approved production on a television series, Love Doomed, which is scheduled to debut in the summer of 2019.
Since the officers’ dismissal, Mack’s family has announced their intention to file a wrongful death suit against the LAPD seeking monetary damages. Though Mack’s mother, Carlotta, died of a heart attack in 2002, a spokesperson for the Mack family released the following statement: “DeAndre was a beloved son, brother, uncle, and father of four. He was no angel, but none of us are. Unfortunately, DeAndre paid the ultimate price for the mistakes he made, dying at the hands of a man who had been sworn to protect and serve. For years, DeAndre’s murderer was regarded as a hero, while DeAndre was reduced to a faceless statistic. As a family and a community, we cannot turn a blind eye to injustice no matter when or where we find it. While justice should be swift, it never comes too late.”
Epilogue
Valentine’s Day
One Year Later
Ava sits on a bar stool at The Mongoose Tavern, legs crossed. Just below the hem of her skirt, the waxy tail of a scar she’s chosen not to hide. Because it’s the mark of a survivor. Or as Marbles had told her: “It gives you street cred, girl.”
She orders a glass of champagne, because why the hell not? After eleven months and three days in a concrete box, she’s earned it. And the first dry, decadent sip is better than she remembers. A lot like her first sleep back in her old bed, ten nights ago. The first drive down Highway One, windows open and radio blaring. And the first bittersweet walk back down Wheelchair Row toward her mother. It tastes exactly like freedom.
She pops a handful of peanuts into her mouth, savoring the salty crunch—everything feels new again—and leans forward to the counter, reading the note she keeps tucked in her pocket now. The note she’d crafted with the help of Dr. Morris, her therapist in Monterey County Jail.
How to Kill a Hydra in Nine Steps:
Own your guilt.
Admit you did wrong.
Accept your punishment.
Learn to live with the consequences, dire though they may be.
Understand how you got here.
Help others.
Be okay with not being okay. Nobody’s perfect.
Forgive yourself.
Ask for a second chance.
Ava had placed a check next to items one through eight. A check, not a strikethrough, because this sort of work—the lonely drudgery of change—was never really done. Only nine stands alone, unmarked. A single indestructible head whipping, gnashing its teeth inside her stomach. On her wrist, her father’s watch ticks along, as predictable as always.
It’s nearly time, and she can barely stand the buildup. The wait. The wondering if he’ll show. This is better than sex . . . with Ian. But with him? Not even a close second. Though she’s prepared to accept she lost the right to have it again long ago. And possibly forever.
“Ava Lawson?”
Her face breaks into a wide grin even before she spins toward the voice she’s heard only in her head for the last eleven months. The voice she’d imagined with every unanswered letter she’d written.
“Luke, right?” she asks, playfully. Still nervous. “So how long has it been?”
Unsmiling, he takes the stool next to hers, and she’s instantly drunk on the proximity of him. His arm on the counter, fingers drumming. His muscled thigh a mere fingertip from her own. The clean scent of his shampoo, at once familiar and new. “A while.”
“Well, I grew up,” she says. “Which is crazy because I’m actually eight years older than you. And I have a doctorate degree I can’t even use anymore. And I made a lot of mistakes. Bad ones. And I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“Was there a question there, Ava?”
“Do I only get one?”
Luke nods, suddenly distracted, tapping on his cell phone beneath the bar. “I think one is generous. You are a psychologist so you should be good at questions. Or at getting answers anyway.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
She last saw him in another life, ancient and dust-covered. That’s how it feels. And in this new one, she’s a novice. A total rookie.
He’s different too. He must be. The cracks are there even though she can’t see them. His brother destined to rot in prison. His mother wracked with guilt, the way only a mother can be, by the endless refrain of what did I do wrong? And his father, a broken man—Ava had seen it herself in the newspaper photos, the hollows under Jack’s eyes, the pitiful slump of his shoulders. The way his starched uniform hung loose, his shoulders thin and bony as wire hangers.
Luke is no longer unscathed. And no longer a hotshot cop. She’d heard through the Mercer and Mercer grapevine that he’d quit the force and enrolled in law school at UC Santa Cruz. Even as a defense attorney, he wouldn’t be the biggest disappointment in the Donovan family. Not by a long shot.
And when she looks at him, a little awed by it all, she worries she’ll seem awkward or sad. That there’s too much darkness between them, a long stretch of
uncharted highway neither can cross. But she does it anyway, holding his gaze.
“Well, I could ask who you’re texting, but that would be too obvious. Or if you’re single, but that sounds like a line. Or if I can buy you a drink, but you’re clearly not drinking. Or why you’re here all alone on Valentine’s Day. But I think I’ll go with simple and straightforward.”
Finally—finally!—Luke smiles, and it already feels like a victory. “I like simple and straightforward.”
She allows herself a small sigh of relief. “Will you give me a second chance?”
He starts to reach for her—and she can already feel the warmth of him—but stops midway, leaving her cold. “Wait. Am I supposed to tell you to ask me again tomorrow?”
“Now why would I want you to do that?”
Luke looks down, twitters a little. “Because today is . . .”
“My new favorite day,” she finishes for him. And his laughter does it, swift as a blade.
The ninth head of the Hydra, not immortal after all, falls at her feet.
Now that you’ve finished The First Cut, please consider leaving a review. Reviews and star-ratings may not seem important, but to an author they are essential. They help readers like you discover my books! And they give an author a little “street cred” for those browsing for their next read.
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Acknowledgments
Though an author writes alone, so many hands go into making a book successful.
The AnnCastro Studio team provided all editing services for The First Cut, including Ann Castro’s developmental editing, line editing, and manuscript evaluation and Emily Dings’s proofing. Their work has contributed immensely to my growth as a writer, and I am tremendously grateful.
Giovanni Auriemma and Mallory Rock never fail to impress me with their artistic talents. Giovanni produces one-of-a-kind, unforgettable covers, and Mallory makes the artwork on the inside just as stunning.
I also owe a debt of gratitude to my friends, family, and work colleagues—my cheerleaders—who are always there to sing my praises whether I deserve it or not.
And to you, dear readers, for devouring every sinful bite of the Doctors of Darkness series!
Finally, we all have a space inside us that we keep hidden from the world, a space we protect at all costs. So many people have allowed me a glimpse inside theirs—dark deeds, memories best unrecalled, pain that cracks from the inside out—without expectation of anything in return. I couldn’t have written a single true word without them.
Also by Ellery A. Kane
The First Cut is the third in the Doctors of Darkness series of psychological thrillers by forensic psychologist and author Ellery A. Kane. Look for the next book, Shadows Among Us, coming soon. If you want to be the first to know when new books are released, sign up for Ellery’s newsletter at ellerykane.com.
If you enjoyed The First Cut, look for these other great reads from Ellery A. Kane.
Doctors of Darkness Series
Daddy Darkest
The Hanging Tree
The First Cut
Shadows Among Us (coming soon!)
Legacy Series
Legacy
Prophecy
Revelation
AWOL
About the Author
Forensic psychologist by day, novelist by night, Ellery A. Kane has been writing—professionally and creatively—for as long as she can remember. Just like many of her main characters, Ellery loves to ask why, which is the reason she became a psychologist in the first place. Real life really is stranger than fiction, and Ellery’s writing is often inspired by her day job. Evaluating violent criminals and treating trauma victims, she has gained a unique perspective on the past and its indelible influence on the individual. And she’s heard her fair share of real-life thrillers. An avid short story writer as a teenager, Ellery recently began writing for enjoyment again, and she hasn’t stopped since.
Ellery’s debut novel, Legacy, has received several awards, including winning the gold medal in the Independent Publisher Book Awards (young adult, e-book category) and the gold medal in the Wishing Shelf Independent Book Awards (teenage category). In 2016, Ellery was selected as one of ten semifinalists in the MasterClass James Patterson Co-Author Competition.