They all did.
They'd found Mrs. Blessing. She was twenty feet away, lying in the snow on her back, clad in a sleeveless, floral nightgown bunched beneath her breasts. Like her neighbor, Danielle was delicate, dark-haired and—despite the gray cast to her flesh—almost painfully pretty. But there was nothing pretty about the knife embedded in her belly. Two men knelt along the woman's left. Judging from his sobs, Regan assumed the bare-chested man just past the woman's head, smoothing curls, was her husband. That pegged the man at her torso, leaning over to blow air through her lips, as the medic. Like the husband, the medic had removed his T-shirt. The shirts were packed around the hilt of the knife, immobilizing the blade in a desperate attempt to keep the flow of blood corked. Given the amount of red saturating the cotton, it wasn't working. Danielle Blessing was bleeding out. But that wasn't the worst of it.
She was pregnant.
"Jesus H. Chri—" Jasik swallowed the rest.
The MP regained his composure and grabbed his radio to yell for the paramedics as Regan and Wickham shot through the open slider and across the snow. She'd have to trust that Jasik knew enough to secure the interior of the duplex after his call.
Regan dropped to her knees opposite the medic as the man thumped out a series of chest compressions. Staff Sergeant Wickham was two seconds behind and two inches beside her.
Odds were, they were already too late.
Danielle Blessing's abdomen was extremely distended—even for a third trimester—and rock hard. An oddly sweet odor wafted up from the makeshift packing, mixing with the cloying stench of blood. It was a scent Regan would recognize anywhere: amniotic fluid. Worse, scarlet seeped from between the woman's thighs, pooling amid the snow.
Regan holstered her Sig and ripped off her camouflaged parka. "What have you got?"
The medic looked up. "No breathing, no pulse. Been that way since I got here—six damned minutes ago." The rest was in his eyes. Hopeless.
The medic continued thumping regardless. Working around the knife, she and Wickham covered the woman's lower abdomen, thighs and calves with their coats. Danielle's feet were still exposed to the snow and midnight air. Like her face, they were beyond gray.
Regan shook her head as the medic completed his latest round of chest compressions. "I've got it." She sealed her mouth to the woman's lips. They were ice-cold and unresponsive.
Wickham took over the compressions as Regan finished her breaths. But for the husband's raw sobs and Wickham's thumping, silence filled the night.
Two more rounds of breath, and Regan lost her job. So did Wickham. The paramedics had arrived.
Blessing's neighbor dragged the sergeant to his feet as she and Wickham scrambled out of the way. Two of the paramedics dropped their gear and knelt to double-check Danielle's airway and non-existent vitals as a third probed the saturated T-shirts. Ceding to the inevitable, Regan turned toward the duplex. Jasik stood at the kitchen window, his initial search evidently complete.
The MP shook his head. If someone had broken into the Blessings' home, he or she was gone now.
The slider was still open. The medic had reached the snow-covered steps and stood to the left. Sergeant Blessing had turned and slumped down at the top, halfway inside the slider's frame, his naked feet buried in a drift, his dark head bowing over bloodstained hands, and he was shaking.
From grief? Or guilt?
Unfortunately, she knew. As with the icy furrows left by a drunken Doe's stolen pickup, the snow provided the proof.
Footprints.
They covered the yard. But upon their arrival, there'd been but four telling sets. Once Regan eliminated those left by the his-and-her moccasins of the medic and his wife, she was left with a single, composite trail of overlapping, bare footprints. The leading prints were woefully petite; the following, unusually large. Both sets were dug into the snow as if their owners had torn down the slider's steps and across the yard...all the way to where Danielle lay. Finally, there was the blood. Save for the scarlet slush surrounding the body, there was no sign of splatter—at the slider or along the trail.
For some reason, Sergeant Blessing had deliberately chased and then stabbed his wife.
Regan turned to Wickham. "I'll take the husband, question him inside. You take the neighbor. Stay out here." She glanced at the paramedics. "They might need to talk to him." Though she doubted it. There was nothing the sergeant could say that would help his wife now.
Danielle Blessing had been placed on a spine board, stripped down to gray, oozing flesh and redressed with several trauma pads. Half a dozen rolls of Kling gauze anchored the pads and the hilt of the knife. As the brawnier of the paramedics finished intubating the woman's throat and began manually pumping oxygen into her lungs via a big valve mask, his female partner attached the leads of a portable electrocardiogram to Danielle's shoulders and left hip.
Silence had long since given way to a calm, steady stream of medical jargon.
"Patient on cardiac monitor."
"IV spiked on blood set. One thousand milliliters NS. Starting second line—LR on a Macro drip, sixteen gauge."
"I still can't get a pulse."
Judging from that last—not to mention the wad of fresh dressing one of the paramedics used to dry off Danielle's chest—the next step involved shocks. In a perfect world, the woman's heart would restart. But the world was far from perfect. Regan had learned that the hard way. Given that this woman's heart had already been subjected to eight-plus minutes of unsuccessful CPR, the odds that she'd recover were all but nonexistent.
Regan shifted her attention to Wickham. "Ready, Staff Sergeant?"
His nod was stoic. But his sigh was resigned. Bitter. "Merry Christmas."
The past crowded in despite Regan's attempts to keep it at bay. She shook it off. "Yeah."
Wickham doffed his camouflaged cap as they headed for the slider. Though his bald scalp was exposed to the winter air, he appeared not to notice. She couldn't seem to feel the cold either. Nor did the medic.
The husband was still staring at his hands, shaking.
Regan exchanged a knowing frown with Wickham as she reached for her handcuffs. Two strides later, the distinctive whine of a cardiac defibrillator charging filled the night.
And then, "Clear!"
A dull thud followed.
The shocks had begun. Even if Danielle made it, there was no hope for her baby. If that knife hadn't killed it, the electrical jolts would. Judging by the panic on the husband's face as he shot to his feet, Sergeant Blessing had figured it out.
"Wait!"
The neighbor grabbed Blessing's right arm. Jasik leapt through the open side of the slider and pinned Blessing's left.
"Charging to three hundred."
Blessing thrashed, nearly knocking both his captors to the ground. "Goddamn it! The baby—"
"Clear!"
Jasik regained his hold and drove Blessing to his knees, sealing the sergeant's shins to the ground as the paramedics ripped through the final steps of ECG protocol. As they hit three hundred sixty joules—for the third agonizing time—Blessing accepted the inescapable. His wife and child were dead.
He slumped into the snow as Jasik and the neighbor loosened their grips. A soft keening filled the night, laying waste to every one of Regan's meticulously honed defenses.
Her eyes burned. Her heart followed.
She pulled herself together and tossed her handcuffs to Jasik, her unspoken order clear. Get it over with.
Jasik caught the cuffs neatly and bent down.
That was as far as he got.
One moment the lanky MP was behind Sergeant Blessing, pushing him to his knees; the next, Blessing had twisted about, bashing his forehead into Jasik's skull.
A sharp grunt filled the air.
Regan caught the flash of blackened metal as Blessing ripped the 9mm from Jasik's holster. She lunged across the remaining three feet of snow, launching herself at Blessing as the weapon's barrel swung up.
She was too late.
The 9mm's retort reverberated through Regan as she and Blessing smashed into the slider.
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AIMPOINT: Book 1 in the Deception Point Military Thriller Series:
Has an elite explosives expert turned terrorist?
US Army Detective Regan Chase is ordered to use her budding relationship with his housemate—John Garrison—to find out. But John is hiding something too. Has the war-weary Special Forces captain been turned as well? As Regan’s investigation deepens, lines are crossed—personal and professional. Even if Regan succeeds in thwarting a horrific bombing on German soil, what will the fallout do to her career?
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Meet the Author
CANDACE IRVING is the daughter of a librarian and a retired US Navy chief. Candace grew up in the Philippines, Germany, and all over the United States. Her senior year of high school, she enlisted in the US Army. Following basic training, she transferred to the Navy’s ROTC program at the University of Texas-Austin. While at UT, she spent a summer in Washington, DC, as a Congressional Intern. She also worked security for the UT Police.
BA in Political Science in hand, Candace was commissioned as an ensign in the US Navy and sent to Surface Warfare Officer’s School to learn to drive warships. From there, she followed her father to sea.
Candace is married to her favorite soldier, a former US Army Combat Engineer. They live in the American Midwest, where the Army/Navy football game is avidly watched and argued over every year.
Go Navy; Beat Army!
Candace also writes military romantic suspense under the name Candace Irvin—without the "g"!
Email Candace at www.CandaceIrving.com
or connect via:
Also by Candace Irving
Deception Point Military Thrillers:
AIMPOINT
Has an elite explosives expert turned terrorist? Army Detective Regan Chase is ordered to use her budding relationship with his housemate—John Garrison—to find out. But John is hiding something too. Has the war-weary Special Forces captain been turned as well? As Regan’s investigation deepens, lines are crossed—personal and professional. Even if Regan succeeds in thwarting a horrific bombing on German soil, what will the fallout do to her career?
A Deception Point Military Thriller: Book 1
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BLIND EDGE
Army Detective Regan Chase responds to a series of murders and suicides brought on by the violent hallucinations plaguing a Special Forces A-Team—a team lead by Regan's ex, John Garrison. Regan quickly clashes with an unforgiving, uncooperative and dangerously secretive John—and an even more secretive US Army. What really happened during that Afghan cave mission? As Regan pushes for answers, the murders and suicides continue to mount. By the time Army comes clean, it may be too late. Regan's death warrant has already been signed—by John's hands.
A Deception Point Military Thriller: Book 2
Buy it: Here
BACKBLAST
Army Detective Regan Chase just solved the most horrific case of her career. The terrorist responsible refuses to speak to anyone but her. The claim? There's a traitor in the Army. With the stakes critical, Regan heads for the government's newest classified interrogation site: A US Navy warship at sea. There, Regan uncovers a second, deadlier, terror plot that leads all the way to a US embassy—and beyond. Once again, Regan's on the verge of losing her life—and another far more valuable to her than her own...
A Deception Point Military Thriller: Book 3
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~More Deception Point Thrillers Coming Soon~
Hidden Valor Military Suspense
THE GARBAGE MAN
Former Army detective Kate Holland spent years hiding from the world—and herself. Now a small-town cop, the past catches up when a fellow vet is left along a backroad...in pieces. Years earlier, Kate spent eleven hours as a POW. Her Silver Star write-up says she killed eleven terrorists to avoid staying longer. But Kate has no memory of the deaths. And now, bizarre clues are cropping up. Is Kate finally losing her grip on reality? As the murders multiply, Kate must confront her demons...even as she finds herself in the killer's crosshairs.
A Hidden Valor Military Suspense: Book 1
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IN THE NAME OF
He’ll do anything for his country…even murder.
Kate Holland is back!
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A Hidden Valor Military Suspense: Book 2
Coming in 2021!
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~More Hidden Valor Books Coming Soon~
Dedication
To my husband David,
for everything.
Acknowledgments
My eternal gratitude to CJ Chase for her late-night brainstorming, vigilant eye & razor pen.
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My profound thanks to my editor, Sue Davison, for her outstanding editing.
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I’d also like to thank Judi Shaw for her fantastic input, as well as my Beta readers/ARC team in the Goat Locker. I appreciate all the awesome support!
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Finally, a huge thanks to Ivan Zanchetta for yet another gorgeous—and perfect—cover. And for all the amazing extras & support along the way.
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You’re all incredible!
Copyright
eBook ISBN: 978-1-952413-24-7
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-952413-25-4
THE GARBAGE MAN
Copyright © 2020 by Candace Phillips Irvin
This first edition was published by Blind Edge Press in 2020.
Cover art & Blind Edge Press logo: © 2020 Ivan Zanchetta & Bookcoversart.com
This is a work of fiction. The characters in this book do not exist outside the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All incidents in this book were invented by the author for the sole purpose of entertainment.
All trademarks mentioned in this book remain the property of their respective holders and are used only to reference the products discussed.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of Blind Edge Press.
Contents
Starter Library Intro
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
Did You Know?
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Meet the Author
Also by Candace Irving
Dedication
Acknowledgments
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The Garbage Man Page 35
