By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Morgan let out a grunt and finished with a thrust of his hips. Kelly climbed off the spent man. She tugged the condom off him and tossed it out the window of the black sedan where it fell to the curb.
He stared at the long pink bunny earrings dangling from her earlobes. He’d told Kelly he had a fetish for big earrings the first day he had picked her up. Now she always wore them for him. He reached up and caressed them.
“You quit shaving, Morg?” She rubbed his chin.
Morgan watched while the young redhead pulled up her black panties. They had matching pink bunny ears on the front of them. Next came her skirt. She was cute for a prostitute, probably because she was fairly new to the game. He guessed she was maybe nineteen, twenty at the most.
“Not that I don’t like it, Morg. Kind of rugged looking, but you gotta take care of yourself. You look like shit.” He slipped her a fifty before she climbed out of the car.
He watched the cute ginger walk away, her shapely young hips swaying seductively back and forth. He had been with Kelly a handful of times. He preferred to stick with the same prostitute because it somehow seemed cleaner.
Morgan leaned forward so he could get a look at himself in the rearview mirror. At six foot, he was lean and had lost about thirty pounds over the past few years. Most men his age started gaining a few pounds every year but he was heading in the opposite direction.
Still, Kelly was right. He looked like hell. His blond hair was unkempt and he bore the first layer of what was growing into an equally unkept beard. The facial hair was completely unintended. He just hadn’t cared enough to shave.
What really caught his attention were the sunken, hollowed out eyes staring back at him. The green orbs looked haunted. Yeah that’s a great word for me. Haunted.
Morgan was a good looking man, but he had started paying for sex to avoid unwanted attachments. He just couldn’t handle the small talk and attention that needed to be put into dating normal women. Yep, that’s it. He was also aware that he liked to lie to himself.
“Hey, Morgan, you on air?” His radio came to life. Shit, what now?
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“Captain wants you to head over to sixth street. They got a body behind O’Ryans.”
“Copy. En route.” He quickly sucked down the rest of a nearly empty bottle of Gentlemen Jack, then pulled up his pants.
Morgan exited the car and, and went to the trunk to retrieve his tweed jacket. It doesn’t look terrible with my blue jeans.
He climbed into the front seat of the unmarked police sedan. Great. I may be on duty, but work's the last thing I want to do.
Ten minutes later he pulled in behind the seedy pub. O’Ryan’s was known to serve a shady clientele. Whores, pimps, drunks, and drug-users frequented the bar. Morgan was no stranger to the place himself. My kinda people.
When he exited his car, an older grey-haired Asian man with a pot-belly broke away from the usual throng of cops and looky-loos and approached him. “What do you know, Detective Harper?”
“Aww, come on, Mac. You saw me just pull up.” Morgan frowned at the inquisitive reporter.
“Thought maybe you heard something over your radio.” The older man scratched his chin.
“Nada.” Morgan pushed past the man.
“You know, you look like shit,” Mac called after him.
“So I’ve heard.” Morgan Harper shook his head while he crossed over the yellow police tape he hated. It usually signaled death.
“Here, Morgan.” A short dirty blond-haired women waved him over. Her name was Tamra and looking at her pained him. Morgan tried to avoid eye contact with the crime lab technician.
Tamra wore a white HAZMAT suit. The technicians used them to prevent cross-contaminating crime scenes and also to keep blood and other body fluids off themselves.
“What ya got, Tam?” Lying at her feet in the weeds was a dead woman. High heels, tiny skirt, and fishnet stockings gave away her profession.
“Dead hooker. Looks like she’s been here for a couple of days. Most of O’Ryan’s customers park up front, so she wasn’t seen until this morning when the trash guys came back for the dumpster.”
“Any ID?” Morgan noted the dead woman was still fully clothed, including panties that could be seen thanks to the combination of her incredibly low mini-skirt and one of her legs being propped up at an odd angle.
“Yes. Driver’s license identified her as Jennifer Collins. Looks like she’s a local girl. Thirty-one years old.”
“Jesus, much too young to die. Was she sexually assaulted?”
Tamra stared at the black-haired victim. “Hard to say at this point. I’ll know more when we get her to the coroner.”
“Okay.”
“Wait. She has piercings but isn’t wearing any earrings.” Tamra pointed toward an exposed left ear. “Don’t street-walkers usually bling-out to attract the Johns?”
“Yeah. Killer may have taken them as a souvenir.” Morgan rubbed his stubbled chin.
“Maybe. Not a hundred percent it’s a homicide yet. No visible injuries or bruising.”
“You thinkin’ OD? I don’t see any drug paraphernalia.” Morgan studied the ground around the body.”
“That’s going to be another mystery for the coroner to solve.” Tamra shrugged, then held one of the dead girl’s arms up for Morgan to see. “She does have needle tracks along both arms.”
“I’m the lead on this, Tam. Get everything to my desk as soon as you have it.” He took one last sad look into the dead girl’s glazed over lifeless eyes, then turned to go.
Tamra grabbed his arm. “We should do dinner. Talk.”
“I just can’t. I don’t need to talk right now.” Morgan still wouldn’t look the technician in the face.
“It’s not always about you, Morgan. Maybe I need to talk for once.” She let go of his arm.
“Okay. Sorry. Call me.” He sighed. “We’ll set something up. I’ll come by for dinner.”
“I will.” She gave him a half-smile. “You should shave that, by the way. Doesn’t look great.”
Morgan shook his head and walked back to his sedan. The dead hooker’s face joined the many other deceased faces rattling around inside the homicide detective’s head.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads.
I am taking on this contest simply as a challenge. I want to see if I can write a legible interesting book in such a short period of time. I am sticking to the intent of the contest and wrote the first word today on March 1st. I do have a general outline in my head as well as the primary characters in mind. I can not promote daily on this so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! Also, due to the nature of the contest, I may have to fall back and adjust something to make it work. If so I will annotate it in the notes. Let us see what happens. |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
“How many times are you going to ask the same question, Anderson?”
“As many times as I like, Detective Harper.” The pudgy-faced Internal Affairs Officer glared at him. “The truth would put an end to it.”
Ten years ago, Brian Anderson and Morgan had been classmates at the academy. They had gotten along well, competing in everything. One always trying to beat the other.
Once they got out on the streets, Morgan had excelled while Anderson had floundered. Morgan made great collars and got some key arrests that caught the attention of the press and in turn, their bosses.
It wasn’t so much luck or skill, even though Morgan had been a motivated hard worker, that pushed him ahead of his classmate. It was that Brian lacked the one thing it really took to be a good cop. Guts. When the shit hit the fan, the man just never stepped up.
This created a rift between the two former friends. When Morgan’s promotion to homicide detective came in, Anderson decided to join Internal Affairs. Now here they were.
“I know you took the money out of the evidence room. Hell, everyone at the precinct knows it. You may have turned off the camera, but your fingerprints were all over the lock box. Not too smart for such a hotshot detective like you.”
Morgan shook his head. “My fingerprints? Are you shitting me? I’ve turned in evidence at least a dozen times that month alone when the money went missing. You’re grasping at straws.”
“Yes. You did.” Anderson was smirking. “But you hadn’t turned in any money for over twelve months. Your prints had no business being on that safe.”
Morgan’s blood began to boil as he rose. “Listen here you piece of shit. I ain’t no thief. I didn’t take that fucking money.”
“Sit down.” IA Anderson remained seated and pointed at the now-empty chair, unfazed.
Morgan continued to glare at the smug man.
“I said sit, Detective.”
Morgan slowly reclaimed his seat.
“Now you listen, and you listen real good, Morgan. Everyone knows you took the $30,000.”
“I—-“ he started to protest, but Brian Anderson raised his hand, silencing him.
The porky man got up and switched off the interview camera although it was standard procedure for these types of inquiries to be taped. Then he turned back to Morgan and let out a long sigh, frowning at the still-seated man.
“We used to be good friends, Anderson. What happened to us?” Morgan stared at his hands.
“What happened to us? Super cop Harper got everything spoon fed and handed to him on a silver platter. Meanwhile, the rest of us had to crawl our way up the ladder the hard way.” Anderson shoved his chair out of the way, seething.
“We used to be tight.” Morgan looked up at Brian.
“You used to be a good cop. Highly decorated before your wife died.” Anderson smirked.
“Don’t talk about her.” Morgan slammed his fist on the table. “Debra has nothing to do with this!”
“Don’t go getting your panties in a bunch, Detective. I’m about to cut you a break.” Anderson leaned forward. “You’re right. We used to be friends. Good friends. So I made a strong case for leniency. This is what I’ve been authorized to do by the DA. First, you confess and return the money. Then you’ll be suspended for thirty days and, pending a hearing by the review board, possibly terminated. But, the good news is you’ll face no criminal charges.”
“Look, I—-“
Anderson cut him off again, “Morgan, you’re facing serious jail time here if you don’t put this to bed. Do you know what they do to former cops in the joint? It ain’t pretty, even for a tough guy like you. You have thirty days to think this over. We’ll meet back here in one month, when I’ll expect to hear a confession. You will put this to bed. Understood?”
Morgan shook his head and slowly rose, refusing to answer the man. Fuckwad. I have to get out of here before I do something I can’t take back.
Morgan drove straight home, seething at the pudgy Anderson’s attitude. Once inside his apartment he opened a cupboard where seven or eight new fifths of Jack Daniel’s awaited their turns at his lips. Half-gallons would be cheaper, but I like to have different types, and I have the money. Besides, they are easier to carry around.
He rarely left anything but empties these days, downing nearly a fifth a day. There was proof of this littering every room of his apartment.
How long have I been doing that? Geez, too long to remember. Maybe I should cut back? Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll start tomorrow. Next week at the latest. He took a deep swig straight from the bottle, wondering when he’d last eaten.
Morgan took off his two-piece gray suit and tossed it over the recliner. He knew it would probably stay there until his next IA meeting.
Morgan stood in the living room of his lonely two-bedroom apartment. Clothes, pizza boxes, and dishes were strewn about. Debra ran a clean ship. Me, not so much. He made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning up, but finally ended up on the leather coach downing shots. Debra had insisted on leather furniture.
I have to stop thinking about her. Something more positive. Hmm. . . Anderson used to be my friend. Now he has a vendetta against me. Asshole.
He knew what was coming tomorrow. More fun. The drinking went on for quite awhile until at some point Morgan passed out. He woke up the following morning, curled up in a ball in the corner of the living room.
Sleeping on the floor gave him several kinks in his body and a sore back that were all too happy to join his hangover in making him miserable. He grabbed the bottle from the floor next to him and downed the remaining swallow. Hair of the dog and all that happy horseshit.
He staggered into his bathroom and took a cold shower to prepare himself for his most despised 10:00 am appointment. I swear, if she asks about my dream even one more time . . .
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute. you know
| Author Notes |
Chapter one flowed out smoothly, but then this one just came to life on the page. So far so good.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily on this so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
“When’s the last time you had that dream?”
“I’ve only had it once, Doc.” Morgan lay on the couch watching the ceiling fan lazily spin, almost as if it were about to die. Ugh. So damn predictable. The good doctor loves to discuss my dream.
“Once?”
“Yeah. Once a night, anyways.”
“So you have it every night?” Doctor Millison Parker peered at him over her silver-framed spectacles. He wasn’t looking at her, but could see her out of his peripheral vision.
The psychiatrist was in her mid-fifties, wore a silver pantsuit, and was starting to sport some gray hairs here and there. Still, she was attractive in a sophisticated sort of way. Yeah, I’d hit that. There I go again. Thinking about nailing every woman I come into contact with.
“Yes, nearly every night. The same dream.” Morgan sighed.
“Exactly the same each time?” Still peering at him.
Morgan could feel his temper rising. “What do you want me to say? That I dream about my dead wife swinging from a rope every night? That suddenly she opens her eyes and looks down at me, saying, ‘Why didn’t you help me?’ Jesus, I don’t want to relive it every time I come in here. I don’t want to talk about this."
“What do you want to talk about, Detective?” Doctor Parker wrote for a moment in her journal.
She’s probably making her grocery list. “I don’t know, you’re the shrink.”
“Okay, let’s change the subject. Are you still having intercourse with prostitutes?” Her voice was monotone.
Morgan shook his head. “Your educated ‘doctor words’ take all the sexy out of it, but yes, one. I’m only screwing one."
Doctor Parker turned back a few pages. “Yes, Kelly. But there were others, no?” She wrote again.
“You know there was another. We’ve talked about her more than once.” Where’s she going with this?
“So why the switch?”
"The first woman started doing too many drugs. Acting weird. Getting bizarre. She became more trouble than she was worth.”
“Do you have any feelings for these women? Or can you just drop them and pick them up?” More writing.
“They’re hookers, Doc, that’s kinda how the whole thing works.” Morgan shifted uncomfortably on the couch and closed his eyes. “This is gonna sound weird, but I do care about Kelly. But, it’s more like a protector than a love interest. I’m not sure that makes sense.”
When the doctor said nothing and just continued to write what appeared to be a long entry, he continued, “That’s an odd question. Why did you ask?”
“I’m just trying to get a grasp on how you view these women. All women. Are they objects to you that simply fulfill your sexual urges? Or something more?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Let me ask you this. Have you thought of me sexually since you entered my office?” Her voice was still monotone.
“Another odd question, but you’re not my type.” Is this woman reading my mind?
“I think you look at all women as sexual objects.”
Morgan sat quiet for a moment, thinking. She’s right, but when did I start doing that? Right after Debra died. It really screwed up my head. “Maybe.”
“Maybe you have thought of me sexually or maybe you view all women as sexual objects?”
Morgan looked at the doctor who was staring at her notes. “Both.”
“Why do you think you do that?”
Morgan shook his head, the numerous questions making him feel hostile. “I don’t know. You’re the doctor. Why don’t you tell me?”
When she merely continued to write, he grew angry. “I mean, damn Doc, I’ve been coming here for over a year. All you do is sit there asking questions and taking notes. I do all the talking. Yet, I don’t seem to be getting over Debra. Why am I even coming here?”
“Talking about your issues is, in itself, a form of therapy.”
“How’s that?” Morgan scratched his head.
“It helps you see yourself.”
“Jesus, Doc. I see myself. I know exactly what I am! I’m a mess!” Morgan sat up, agitated. “How about you tell me how you see me? My department is paying you enough damn money that you should be able to provide some type of opinion or help.”
“Okay, Detective Harper.” The woman put her journal and pen aside and took a deep breath. “What I see is a self-destructive man. The suicide of your wife has broken you. Knocked you off the trajectory of your past life.“
“How so?”
“Look at your actions. Borderline alcoholic, if not full-blown. Sex with prostitutes. Trouble at work. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re using drugs. All this from a man who had been one of the most highly decorated officers in the Seattle Police Department. I mean, you made Homicide Detective quicker than any other officer in the history of your department. From that ‘you’ to this ‘you’ in just two short years.”
Morgan remained quiet, staring at his shoes.
“So my opinion is that you are trying to kill yourself. Not short and simple with a gunshot to the head, but slow and painful by dismantling your life piece by piece. With hookers, booze, and whatever else you are into. You’re intentionally making yourself suffer. All because you feel guilty about Debra’s death. That is what your dreams represent. Guilt.”
“You’re wrong. I didn’t even know Debra was suicidal or was even thinking about killing herself. It was a complete shock to me when I found her swinging from the beam in our living room. You’re so bad at this.” Holy shit she’s right. Damn she’s so good at this.
“You know I’m not wrong, Detective.”
“Fuck this noise!” Morgan stood up and headed for the door. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this malarkey.” Damn woman’s got me so flustered that I’m starting to sound like my grandfather.
“Detective Harper, you can fix this. You just have to find something worth living for. Once you do, you will find the old you.”
Morgan opened her office door and hurried into the lobby. “I’m out!”
“Same time next Wednesday?” she called after him.
“Yeah. Of course.”
CHARACTER/SUSPECT LIST
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
So far these are flowing out. I think about the upcoming chapter a lot the day before.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily on this so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Morgan had a firm grip on Kelly’s hips as he pounded into her from behind in the backseat. He was holding her so hard that the thorny rose ‘tramp stamp’ tattoo on her lower back wrinkled up. Kelly’s hands were pushed against the side window of the sedan while she groaned. One look at her dangling bunny earrings bouncing up and down made him finish.
“Geez, Morg, that was a bit rougher than usual,” Kelly complained as they got dressed and fixed themselves up.
“Sorry, babe.”
“Don’t be. I came when you did.” She grinned and, firing up a joint, took a long hit while she closed her eyes. Then she offered it to Morgan.
“I shouldn’t.” At least I still know the right things to say.
“We’ re both doing a lot of things we shouldn’t.” She held it to his lips and he took a long toke.
“Guess I’m just bad.” Morgan exhaled a stream of smoke.
“No. You’re a good man, Morg. You’re just doing bad things.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t mean to be so rough. I’m going through some shit at work.” He stared at the spunky young redhead.
“What are you looking at?” She stuck her tongue out at him.
“You’re cute.” He sighed. “Why don’t you get out of this line of work. It’s dangerous.”
“You thinking about the murdered girl, Jennifer? She was at the end of her run and got sloppy. Some of her regulars had dropped her and she’d been taking any John that had money.”
Kelly finished dressing with the joint hanging from her lips
“Doing tricks in alleyways and parks, well that’s asking for trouble. You have to be careful in this line of work. You have to be selective. If something doesn’t feel right, I just walk away. Besides, like I told you, we girls talk. I know who the beaters and freaks are out there and I steer clear of them.”
“I just want you to be careful, hon.”
Kelly laughed. “Aw, Morg, are you starting to get a little sweet on me?”
He scratched his head and smiled. “I like you, Kelly. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“So, what are you gonna do, Detective? Put me up at your place and get me cleaned up all proper and straight? Be my man? Hell, you’re at least fifteen years older than me.” She laughed again and caressed his bearded chin. “We both know that’s not the real world, Morg. Not my real world anyway.”
“I guess not, Kelly. “ He frowned. “How old are you , anyhow?”
“Nineteen. I turn twenty next month. The 23rd. Been working the streets for about a year now."
“A year?” He was surprised. He thought she was much newer at the game than that.
“Yeah, but it ain’t all bad. I room up with a couple other working girls in an apartment over on 7th Street. We have a pretty good thing going, sharing expenses and such.” She gave him an odd look, almost tender. “We all talk you know. Us working girls. I know that I’m the only one you hire for sex.”
“So?”
“So, don’t go getting all sweet on me. I’m a hooker, Morg. And, I can take care of myself.” The young lady gave him a stern look that made her look even cuter.
They sat quiet for a few minutes and finished the joint. Morgan hadn’t had weed since high school and the buzz hit him hard.
He studied the young lady. “Didn’t you have any dreams when you were growing up back in Anaheim?”
“No, Morg. Ten-year-old me used to just sit in class and dream about being a prostitute one day. Couldn’t wait to grow up and try out all them strange peckers.”
“Sarcastic a little?” He laughed. “So what did you want to be?”
“Honestly, I always dreamed of being a nurse. Use to play with the other kids and act like I was fixing up their boo boos. Guess I should have been ‘playing doctor’ more.” Kelly gave him a mischievous grin.
“What happened with the nurse thing?” He really was curious.
“I was a good student, but not good enough for scholarships. My asshole foster parents took out credit cards in my name and screwed my credit up real bad. That killed my chance for a loan. Nursing school isn’t for poor girls. I just needed that one break, but it never came.” For a rare moment, her face got serious. “Besides, I had to get out. I couldn’t take my foster dad climbing on me even one more time. I swear I was going to kill that pig.”
“That’s a shitty story.” Morgan frowned.
“Aw, don’t go getting all soft on me, Detective.” Her jovial bouncy demeanor had returned. “Don’t try to fix me. That isn’t your job. I like being with you and you pay me for it. That’s as good a win as I expect.”
“Okay. But I’m still going to get you a birthday present.” He laughed. “Twenty by the way.”
“Twenty what?” She raised her eyebrows in confusion.
“Twenty years older.” Morgan chuckled at her expression. “I’m thirty-nine.”
“Geez, you’re old enough to be my dad.”
“Well that’s an ego buster.” He shook his head.
“Relax, old timer. You're one of the few Johns I actually like having sex with. And you’re about the only one that makes me climax. So consider yourself special.” She held out her hand, palm up.
He dropped a fifty onto it, which she shoved in her bra, while he wondered how much of what she said was bullshit. Probably most of it.
Kelly got out of the car and then leaned over into the backseat and kissed him full on the mouth, where her lips lingered for a moment. She had never done that before.
“Watch yourself out there,” he called after the redhead as he watched her perfectly swaying hips.
“You watch yourself.” She looked back over her shoulder and winked at him. “Your job is way more dangerous than mine.”
“Hardly,” he yelled as Kelly disappear around the corner of a building.
Morgan lit up a cigar and rested his head against the back seat of his police sedan while he smoked it to a nub. Internal Affairs knee deep in my ass. A dead prostitute case that I have no idea how to solve. And I’m starting to have feelings for a teenage hooker I’m banging. I’m such a mess.
CHARACTER/SUSPECT LIST
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
Chapter Four was a little harder as I had a different path in mind here, but I felt the need to humanize Kelly and get her backstory in fit better now than later. Was that a pun?
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily on this so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Creak. Creak. Creak. The sound permeated his sleep. Creak. Creak. Creak.
Morgan opened his eyes, even though he didn’t want to. He knew he was sleeping and was well aware of what morbid scene awaited him.
Her body swung slowly back and forth. His beautiful wife’s neck crooked, just like the horrific day he had found her hanging in their living room.
Creak . . . creak . . . creak.
Even more hideously, Debra’s eyes popped open and her arm slowly extended, her finger pointing at him. “Why—-“
Buzz . . . buzz . . . buzz. Morgan’s phone sounded, rescuing him from the awful nightmare. Buzz . . . buzz . . . buzz.
“Morgan speaking.”
“Yes. Okay. I’m on my way.”
*. *. *
“Amy Henderson. Age twenty-six. Illinois driver’s license, so she’s not a local.”
Detective Morgan Harper stared hard at the dead blonde’s face. “The file you gave me on the last girl, Jennifer Collins, said she’d been given a fatal overdose and had not been sexually assaulted.”
“Yes. She was given a fatal dose of heroin that would have killed an elephant.” Tamra studied the ground around the victim. “And there was no bruising around her vaginal area.”
“So, do you think we have more of the same here? Are these two dead prostitutes linked, Tam?” He watched the Crime Scene Technician lean forward and pick something shiny out of the mud with tweezers. “I’d say they’re definitely linked.”
Morgan stared at the small silver piece held between the pincers. It was the backing to an earring. A quick glance at the dead girl revealed that she wore no earrings.
“Looks like you were right.” Tamra dropped the backing into a small plastic evidence bag. “We’ve got us a trophy collector on our hands. You find those missing earrings and you find your killer. “
The detective ran his hand through his thick hair as Detective Hutch Keller came up. Hutch often partnered up with Morgan and had arrived at the crime scene first, where he had started interviewing the prostitute who found the body. “Looks like Miss Henderson is going to be part of your Collin’s case.”
“The missing earrings?” Morgan liked the older black homicide detective. Hutch had been a detective much longer than he, and knew his shit.
“Oh, we have a collector? I didn’t know this vic was also missing earrings.” Hutch squatted down and peered at the dead woman’s earlobes. “No, I was referring to her pimp, Paco Sanchez. According to the hooker over there, this girl worked for him.”
“Paco Sanchez? What’s that low-level bottom feeder have to do with my case?” Morgan had arrested the street punk a couple of times back when he was a street cop.
Hutch stared at Morgan. “You’d better get a better look at your case file. Didn’t you see Paco was also Jennifer Collin’s pimp?
Shit. That’s a big miss. Especially since every good detective knows that there’s no such thing as coincidence. “I must have overlooked it.” Morgan shook his head and turned to go.
“Wait a minute, Mister. You’re not getting off that easily.” Tamra grabbed his elbow.
“What? What do you mean?” He looked confused.
“Dinner? You left me hanging.” She frowned at him.
“Oh . . . yes.” He shrugged, still unwilling to look the woman in the face. “I forgot. I’ve been very busy with this case.”
“Well, are you busy tonight?” She kept a firm grip on his elbow, staring at him.
“Tonight?” He really wasn’t in the mood to talk about the things he knew she wanted to talk about.
“Yes. Tonight. I’ll expect you at seven. “ Tamra raised her eyebrows.
“Seven?”
“Good it’s settled then. I’ll see you at my place at seven.” She turned back to the crime scene, giving him no chance to protest. Hutch looked at him and shrugged, then walked away.
Morgan stood there for a moment, hesitating. Then he shrugged his shoulders as well and turned to go. At least I’ll get a good meal out of it. Besides, I get along well with her boyfriend, Kevin, whom I haven’t seen in awhile.
When Morgan reached his black sedan, he saw the potbellied reporter, Mac, leaning against the front fender. “Detective.”
“What can I do for ya, Mac?”
“You have some information for me now, Harper?” The Asian man gave him a fake smile.
“You know it’s an open and active investigation.”
“So, no comment?” Mac separated himself from the car.
“Sorry.” The usually aggressive reporter’s demeanor seemed a bit lackadaisical.
“Well then, I’m going to have to go with my other story. “ Mac shrugged as he started to leave.
“Other story?” He had Morgan’s full attention now.
Mac turned back. “Yeah. My story about a Seattle detective who likes to spend his work time screwing whores.”
Shit. “You would need some serious evidence to back that story up.”
“Unidentified sources. More than one.” Mac smiled. “A story like that would make front page. The retraction, should it prove false, would be found on page 16.”
“Are you serious right now, Mac? You’d run an unvetted unproven piece of garbage story like that?” Morgan was practically scowling.
“Not if someone were to give me something to work with.” Mac winked.
“So much for ethical reporting.” Morgan shook his head. “You’d have to list me as an unidentified source.”
“Unidentified inside source.”
“Fair enough. But you only get one question. Deal?”
Mac scratched his head. “Deal.”
“So, fire.” There’s only one question I’m worried about.
“Does the department believe they’re dealing with a serial killer here?”
Damn. That was the question. Tread carefully. "We believe both of these women were killed by the same person.”
Morgan’s answer brought a smile to the reporter’s face. “Thank you, unidentified inside source.”
When Mac turned to go, Morgan hollered at him, “Hey, Mac, don’t I get a question?”
“Sure, why not?”
“How’d you get a name like Mac?” Morgan smiled.
This caused the reporter to emit a genuine laugh. “When I was a kid, Macaroni and Cheese was the only thing I would eat. My family started calling me Mac. It has stuck with me ever since. By the way, I still love a nice box of Kraft.”
“Who doesn’t, Mac?” Morgan climbed into his black sedan and drove away.
One thought dominated his brain. Jennifer and Amy? What the hell is going on?
CHARACTER/SUSPECT LIST
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
In my mind, the Kelly background came
later, but I bumped it up which mixed up my mental game plan including this second victim chapter. I think works better. This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily on this so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Morgan was immediately apprehensive when Tamra answered the door in a sexy red body-hugging cocktail dress. “Where’s Kevin?“
This brought an immediate frown to the short woman’s face, followed by her eyes moistening. She grabbed Morgan’s hand and pulled him into her apartment.
“We broke up last month. He claimed I was married to my job and said there was no room for him.”
Once inside, she sat Morgan down at an already prepared table, the aroma bringing a smile to his face. “Smells good.”
Tamra had made pot roast and potatoes, his favorite. They ate it with a bottle of red wine. He tried to focus on the meal and not look at the woman.
“What happened between you and Kevin? I thought you two were solid.”
“Ha! Solid? He was a momma’s boy. He’s the last insurance salesman I ever date. You know, he had a great body and worked out a lot, but I don’t think he got me off even once in the past year.” She noticed the look on Morgan’s face. “Sorry, that was too much information. Let’s just say he wasn’t my type. Besides, I’ll stay Tamra Burns. Could you imagine if we had married? I’d be Tamra Namra.”
They both chuckled.
“You two really did seem like a perfect match.” Morgan shrugged.
“A match that burnt out.” She sighed. “It came to a head when he bought two tickets for a Caribbean Cruise without asking me. I obviously couldn’t go with this dead prostitute case firing off.”
When they finished dinner, he helped Tamra clear the table and load the dishwasher.
“So what’d you want to talk about?” He grimaced because he knew the answer to his own question.
“Can we move to the couch?” She seemed nervous now.
“Sure.”
Tamra grabbed his hand and led him to the living room. He couldn’t help but notice how tightly the little red dress clung to her firm buttocks. Stop it, Morg. It’s Tamra.
When they were sitting comfortably, she poured him a whiskey. He tried hard to focus on the glass. Looking into her eyes hurt.
“So, this isn’t easy to discuss, but what’s going on with you at work? There’s a lot of talk. Rumors going about.” She was still holding his hand.
“You’re talking about the missing $30,000?”
“Yes, Morgan.” She squeezed his hand supportively. “Did you really take it?”
Morgan let out a long breath. “Shit, Tam. You know I took it. Everyone does.”
“Yes. I guess I needed to hear it from you.” She let out her own long sigh. “Why would you do that, Morgan? Why? I know you don’t need the money. I know you and Debra had a half million dollars of life insurance on each other. So why would you take $30,000 you didn’t need?”
“I don’t know. I guess I did it to see if I could get away with it.” He put his head back on her couch. “How did you know about the life insurance policies?”
“Debra told me everything. There was nothing we didn’t share.” She squeezed his hand again. “So, who over at IA is investigating it?”
“Brian Anderson.”
“Your classmate? Interesting.” She scrunched up her face in contemplation.
“ I don’t know how interesting it is.” Morgan pulled his hand free and took a long slug of booze. “We used to be friends, but now he has become consumed by jealousy. All he can think about is beating me.”
“Everyone at the department knows you met with Internal Affairs this week. Did you learn anything?”
Another long pull at his drink. “Anderson offered me a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” She refilled his glass from the crystal decanter on the coffee table.
“He said if I confess, and returned the money, then I would be suspended and probably terminated. But, there would be no criminal charges.”
“Ummm . . . sounds like a decent deal. What’re you planning on doing?”
He frowned again. It was becoming a common habit for him. “Anderson gave me thirty days to think it over, but what choice do I really have? They pretty much have me. I’m going to accept his offer and let the chips fall where they may.”
“That seems like the smart play.”
“This is depressing. Can we talk about something else?”
Tamra rose and began to pace nervously. “Can we discuss Debra?”
“Out of the pan and into the fire, Tam? I really don’t want to discuss her.“ He slammed back his entire full glass of whiskey, which she quickly refilled.
“This isn’t about you. We all lost someone dear to us. It hurt everyone that knew her. I need to discuss it.”
Why? “Okay, so talk.”
“Do you dream about her?”
Morgan caught his breath, unable to answer.
“I do. I see her. Swinging from that center beam in your living room. It haunts me.“ Tears flowed down her checks.
“How did you know she hung herself from the center beam?”
“I borrowed the file from the coroner’s office. I needed to know what happened.” Big sobs racked her tiny body.
Morgan rose and hugged the anguished Tamra. “Yes. I have the same dream.”
“I just feel so damn guilty.” The distraught woman cried freely now. “And you won’t even look at me. “
“I just can’t, Tam. It’s too painful. It physically hurts.”
“We used to be so close, Morgan. Maybe too close. I know you felt it too. Even when Debra was alive. There was a connection between us. A spark.”
“Yes.”
Tamra grabbed his chin and pulled his face down towards her. “Look at me, Morgan.”
“I can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut like a child.
“Look at me, Morgan. I need you to.” He felt her sweet warm breath on his face, followed by a soft tender little kiss on his lips.
His eyes popped open in surprise and he found himself staring into the electric blue eyes of his dead wife. Her skin and hair tone were slightly lighter, but the bone structure and gorgeous magnetic eyes were the same. He didn’t even notice her long silver strand earrings. Those eyes had him.
There was no turning back now. He shoved his mouth against her warm soft pliant lips in a much more passionate kiss. His wife’s identical twin sister went limp in surrender as their tongues intertwined.
Morgan’s hands found that perfect firm butt and pulled up her cumbersome red party dress exposing her matching red thong. Morgan gripped her cheeks firmly as he broke their lip lock. “God I really missed you, Debra.”
He felt the woman tense against him, then vehemently push away. “I’m Tamra!”
“Shit.” Morgan rubbed his eyes, the magic of her gaze broken. “I’m so sorry, Tam. I told you I can’t look at your face. I’m a mess. Forgive me.”
“Just go, Morgan. Please just go.” Sobbing, she made her way into her bedroom and slammed the door. He heard it lock.
Morgan stood silently for a moment, his head hanging low. Oh God please help me. I nearly slept with my sister-in-law. I need to feel numb. He grabbed his glass and downed the whiskey, then let himself out.
CHARACTER/SUSPECT LIST
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
This chapter took longer for me but turned out better than I expected.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily on this so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
Morgan walked down 7th Avenue, ignoring all passerby’s. He stared at the ground as he wandered, his mind racing.
Tamra? My sister-in-law? That’s the one woman in my life I wasn’t trying to have sex with. I mean, she was totally right. There has always been a little spark between us, but I just learned to ignore it. My God. How could I disrespect Debra that way? Never. Never!
He shambled about directionless for about an hour or so, before he found himself in front of a familiar pub he had not frequented since Debra passed. The Hammer Stone had been one of their favorite hang-outs. I’ll step in for just a minute. He hesitantly pulled open the front door and made his way to the bar.
Minutes turned into an hour. Morgan slung back a shot of whiskey and added the glass to his stack of empties. I’m going to keep drinking until I forget about that incredible kiss. The woman behind the bar had been watching hm intently and slid him another.
Vicki was just over forty, but she was a looker. Shiny long black hair and smokey blue eyes gave her a dark sexy look. She bore a deep hued skin that obviously came from a tanning salon since it was mid-November and already chilly around these parts. Come late December, Seattle should have its first snowfall.
After The Hammer Stone Bar emptied out, Vicki left a nearly full bottle of Jack so he could refill his glass at his leisure. “Gosh, it’s been awhile since you’ve come in, Morgan. How long ya think?”
“Not sure. Maybe a year?” He studied the woman’s face. A look of concern was hidden behind her smile.
“Nah, it’s been longer than that. How are you holding up?” The concerned look melted into one of sadness.
“I . . . “ he trailed off, tired of hearing his own lies.
“Look, Morgan, we’ve been friends for a long time. You don’t have to lie to me.” She stopped wiping the counter and stared him in the eye.
“Honesty is the best policy.” He half-laughed, pretending to examine his shot glass. “I’m doing terrible. I’m in a downward spiral with my life spinning out of control. I always thought I was strong, but Debra dying like that wiped the floor with my ass. How’s that for honesty?”
Vicki patted him on the hand. “You’ve been through hell. You need something good in your life.”
“Ah, enough about me, How are you and Steve doing?” The shot glass examination was over, so Morgan refilled his glass.
“Ahh. He’s still plugging away down at the car dealership.” The bartender got a distant look on her face. “Twenty years of marriage takes its toll. It just feels like nothing ever changes. I know it sounds boring. Because it is.” She finished wiping up the bar top.
Morgan smiled wryly. “I could use a little boring.”
When Vicki turned to put the dirty rag in the sink against the back wall, Morgan found himself studying her curvy behind hidden beneath a black and white plaid skirt. Her black tank top matched it perfectly. He noticed earlier that the straining material hadn’t been taking its job of covering her large bosom seriously. She knows how to dress.
He quickly looked away when he noticed she was looking at him over her shoulder and had caught him leering at her behind.
“Relax. That’s the first time I’ve seen you show any signs of life in a long time.” She laughed.
“I’m sorry. We’re friends.” Morgan shook his head, his cheeks reddening, feeling silly at having been caught. Vicki and Debra had been friends and he knew her husband, Steve. They had hung out on more than a few occasions.
“Don’t be. You’re a man.” Vicki came around the bar and sat on the stool beside him, a sadness marking her face. “You’ve been through so much.”
Morgan watched her pour both of them a shot from the half-empty bottle of JD. After clanging glasses they chugged them. She smiled at Morgan. I knew she was attractive, but why have I never realize how sexy she is? Stop it, Morg. She’s a friend and you know her husband.
“I’ll be okay.” Liar. I’m so not anywhere near okay in any way shape or form.
Vicki bit her lower lip. “No. I can see on your face that you’re not. Far from it. You’re lost. I want to help you.”
“How?” Her dark blue eyes were mesmerizing.
“I really shouldn’t.” Another nibble on her lower lip.
Okay, that’s just damn sexy. “Shouldn’t what?”
Vicki leaned in and kissed him tenderly. “We really shouldn’t.”
“No, we shouldn’t. It’s really wrong,” Morgan responded. Terribly wrong.
They both stood, their lips locking in a much more passionate kiss, neither offering any more false pretenses. Morgan spun Vicki around and bent her over the bar, knocking one of the stools over. He yanked up her plaid skirt.
If was over quickly the first time. Morgan frowned when he realized that in his lust-filled rush he hadn’t used a condom. Almost as if reading his mind, she whispered, “I’m on the pill.”
She locked up the bar and the second and third rounds took much longer. When he left at 3:00 am, with a smile on his face, their bottle of whiskey was empty.
I should feel guilty. But he didn’t. He felt relieved. It was so much better than sleeping with his sister-in-law, Tamra. That would be unforgivable. Damn. My world’s spinning out of control.
He found himself on Aurora Avenue where he wandered up and down the street. He recognized some of the streetwalkers, and most of the troublemakers. Within an hour, the street became empty and very quiet.
Morgan sat against an old brick building smoking one of his cheap Thompson cigars. The Churchill-shaped Honduran was harsh, but he really couldn’t complain much as they cost less than a buck each.
Once he finished his smoke, he drifted off.
Creak . . . creak . . .creak. The reason he didn’t want to sleep slipped through the cracks of his unsettled mind and came for a visit. Creak. . . creak. . . creak. His wife’s body swung back and for—-.
Bing, bing, bing. Oh thank God. Bing, bing, bing. The alarm on his cell phone woke him. It was 7:00 am.
Morgan slowly rose from the brick wall, stretching out his stiff legs. His apartment was just over four blocks away. When he got there, he didn’t bother going in. He jumped into his black police sedan and headed to work.
He called in that he was on duty, then parked in a shady alleyway and turned his vehicle service radio way up. Morgan promptly fell into a deep much needed slumber.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new-to-the-game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who has some unknown connection to Morgan.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
I have introduced all of the lady friends of Morgan. His relationships with these women are key to the building of the story.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily on this so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
“I agreed to meet with you here because you’re a damn good cop.”
The two detectives had left the Homicide Unit office and met up at the Red Door Bar. Too many people at work were interested in Morgan’s business.
“Was, Hutch. Was a damn good cop."
“Are a damn good cop. You’re still in there somewhere, Morgan.” Hutch wore a suit and tie and always dressed impeccably. “We just have to find you.”
Morgan slammed back another shot. “Oh yeah, how do I go about finding me? ‘Cause if I’m still in there, it’s buried deep.”
The black man pointed at Morgan’s shot glass. “You could start by cutting back on the whiskey. That shit’ll kill you.”
Maybe I should quit drinking? Morgan waved off the bartender who was about to refill his glass. “Don’t tell me you aren’t going to ask me the million dollar question. If I took the money from the evidence locker or not?”
“Shit, Morgan, everyone knows you took that money.” The senior detective frowned. “The real million dollar question is why?”
“I wish I could tell you. I really don’t know why. I didn’t need the money or even want it.” Distraught, he put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the bar. “My psychiatrist says I’m trying to kill myself slowly. I think she may be right.”
“So do I.” Hutch stared at him. “She sounds like a smart lady.”
“Doctor Millison Parker? Damn smart. So much so that she irks me.” Morgan shook his head.
Hutch rubbed his bald head and sighed. “Did she point out what a mess you are? Cause it’s true.”
“Yeah, I’m a real shit show, Hutch. And I don’t know how to fix myself.”
“I know, buddy. You never got past Debra’s death.” Hutch grabbed him by the shoulders. “You will destroy yourself if you can’t get over her.“
A tear ran down Morgan’s cheek. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”
“You do it how all great things are accomplished. By putting one foot in front of the other. One step at a time.”
“Okay. I can do that. I’ll start by confessing and returning the money.”
“That’s a start. But this is bigger than the job. You need to fix yourself for you. And remember it’s a marathon, not a sprint. Take your time and reverse course. Stop the dumbfuckory. Get your life back on track. Start by fixing the money thing.”
“Yeah, Brian offered me a deal. No jail time if I return the cash.”
“Really? You just watch your ass around him, Morgan. He’s been gunning for you for a long time.” The older man sighed. “He told some officers around the station, including me, that he’d been waiting for you to screw up and finally get what you deserve. Seems happy about it. Believe me, you can’t trust him.”
Morgan shrugged. “I don’t think I really have any choice here. Staying out of jail may be my best bet. Besides, I bet Anderson will be more than happy if I’m terminated. That’d be a big win for him.”
“I hope so, Morgan, but I wouldn’t take that bet. I can’t picture that turd will settle for anything less than destroying you.” Hutch shook his bald head and let out a low whistle. “That man hates you.”
“Hate's a strong word. I would say it’s more of a jealousy thing.” Morgan laughed.
Hutch changed the subject.” So let’s talk about Tamra.”
“Tamra?”
“Yeh. There’s something going on between the two of you. I could feel the sexual tension at the Henderson crime scene.”
“I kissed her.”
Morgan let out a sharp whistle. “Okay. That’s a start.”
“A start? She’s my sister-in-law, Hutch.” Morgan rubbed his temples.
“Was your sister-in-law.“ Hutch chuckled.
“So, I kissed Tam, then I ran away and had sex with an old friend. I just couldn’t sleep with Tamra.”
“I really don’t understand what the issue is here.” Hutch looked genuinely perplexed. “She’s a hot available woman and you’re . . . well . . . you’re available. “
“Thanks. I think.” Morgan chuckled. “I just can’t disrespect Debra that way. By sleeping with her sister. Can’t do it.”
Hutch laughed again while shaking his head. “Seriously? Disrespect her? Are you forgetting that I knew Debra, Morgan? And the one thing I know is that she would have wanted you to be happy. Maybe you could find that again with Tamra. That’s my two cents.”
“Just doesn’t seem right.” Morgan raised his eyebrows. “Regardless, I have much bigger issues to deal with right now than who I share my bed with. Anyways, thank you for meeting with me. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re my friend.” Hutch gave him a sideways glance. “Besides, I never forgot what you did for me with the Williams kid.”
“You don’t owe me nothing, Hutch.”
“Who said anything about owing you? I told you I was here because we’re friends.” Hutch shifted his chair closer. “I’m just sayin’ that I never forgot.”
“That was a bad deal. Sometimes things really go to shit in this line of work.” Morgan shook his head disdainfully. “Total shit.”
“Dealing drugs at fifteen. Damn. I’ll swear to the day I die that I thought Nevy Williams had pulled a gun on me.” Hutch’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
“That flashlight looked like a gun. Anybody could have made that mistake.” Morgan was the one to pat his friend’s shoulder now.
“I still haven’t forgiven myself. Even with all the drugs Nevy had on him, he didn’t deserve to be shot and killed. I was a mess for a long time.” Hutch let out a long breath of air. “If you hadn’t planted that throwaway piece, I may have gone to prison. Still, maybe that would have been the right path.”
Morgan cocked his head at the man. “You’re the one who taught me many years ago that sometimes there’s no right or wrong decisions in this job. Sometimes, they’re just decisions.”
“Shitty decisions, Morgan.”
“It just went shitty that day, Hutch. That’s all. Just shitty. But I thought we agreed never to talk about this again?” Morgan raised his eyebrows at his friend.
“I know. I just wanted you to understand that I never forgot what you did that night. That’s all.” Hutch gave him a weak smile. “Just know that I got your back. Whatever you decide to do. I got your back.”
“I know, Hutch.” Morgan nodded at him. “I’m gonna have to come clean about the money. Maybe I lose my job, maybe I don’t. Either way, that should be the end of it. Sometimes things just go badly.”
Morgan frowned and signaled for another drink. Today just isn’t going to be a good day for me to quit.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
Hardest chapter yet. I was not sure where to go with the attitude of Hutch towards Morgan. Snarky, hard, disapproving? I went with fatherly.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
A loud pounding on the door woke Morgan from a very hazy sleep. His best friend, Gentleman Jack, wasn’t the only one who had visited last night. “Open this Goddamn door! I know she’s in there, Morgan, you bastard.”
He looked over at Vicki, whose eyes had just popped open. Now she had a look of anxiety on her face.
“Open this door, Morgan, before I kick it down.” More loud pounding. “I know you're here. Your car is down on the street. I want my wife!”
Morgan held his finger up to his lips to silence Vicki, who looked like she was about to speak. Steve pounded hard enough to shake the door a couple more times, then tried a new tactic.
“Vicki, baby, I love you. Please come home with me. I know you still love me and the kids. Please.”
When there was still no answer, her husband became angry again. “Damnit, Morgan, open this fucking door.” That was followed by more heavy pounding, and what sounded like possibly a few kicks. The heartbroken man was persistent.
A neighbor started yelling. Then another. Morgan couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he did hear something about someone calling the police.
“I’m going to be sitting down on the street until you send Vicki out, Morgan. All day if that’s what it takes.” Then Steve was gone.
“All day?” Morgan scratched his head and stared at the naked woman in his bed. “Do you want to go?”
“No. I’m not ready to go.” The black-haired woman slid down under the covers and took him in her mouth. A couple minutes later, when it was over, Vicki got out of his bed and went into the bathroom.
The smokey-eyed beauty had been stopping over for an hour or so every night after work. Last night they must have fallen asleep.
Morgan sat up in bed and stretched his arms, yawning. I really didn’t want dramatic ties with anyone. I should have ended this thing after that first night.
He hadn’t because she was insatiable. He had finally met someone who could not only match his sexual appetite, but his drinking as well. They spent the day trading shots of whiskey, peeking out of the windows to see if Steve had left, and having sex all over Morgan’s apartment.
From the living room window, they saw Steve drive away from the complex several hours later. Morgan let out a long whistle. He was relieved because he was physically and emotionally drained.
“What are you going to do?” Morgan had seen the wistful look on the woman’s face as her husband sped off.
“Go back to him.” Vicki sighed.
“Is that safe?”
“Oh, Steve’s a big pussycat. And I really do love him. Besides, we have children together.” She smiled sadly at Morgan.
“So why this?” Morgan was curious, if not feeling a little bit guilty.
“Boredom. I guess I just got tired of missionary position sex once a month. Steve and I are more like roommates than lovers. Besides, I’ve always had a small crush on you. You’re one sexy man, Morgan Harper.” Another weak smile. “This has been fun, best week of my life in fact, but it has to end.”
Hearing her words brought about a flood of realization. Damn. I don’t want it to end. This almost seems real. Normal. I could get used to having her around. “If I were in a different time and place in my life, I would never let you leave Vicki Vance, but I understand.”
Vicki finished dressing and leaned over and kissed Morgan on the forehead. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Sure. I’ll survive.” He smiled, knowing what she meant, but joked around anyways. “I mean, thank God it’s Saturday. You really wore me out. I’m pretty sure that once you leave I’m just gonna go back to bed and not get up until I need to go to work Monday morning.”
She shook her head while giving him a genuine smile, then went to the door and opened it. Standing there, just about to knock, was Tamra.
“Oh my! I didn’t know you had company, Morgan.” The short, flustered blond looked tiny next to the tall Vicki. “I’ll just come back later.”
“No, come in. I was just leaving.” Vicki squeezed past Tamra and, after blowing Morgan a kiss, disappeared down the hall.
Once Tamra closed the door, she pointed towards where the woman had departed and said, “Huh? Wasn’t that Vicki Vance? Debra’s old friend?”
“She’s not that old, but yes.” Morgan wondered how this was going to go.
“You know what I meant.” She hung her purse over a chair.” I didn’t know you two were—“
“It’s nothing. Just a fling.”
Morgan grabbed his robe and put it on, realizing his sister-in-law was staring at his revealing boxer briefs. “Why are you here?”
“Oh, I tried to call. But I couldn’t get through, so I grew worried and came over.”
“Oh, yes. I shut my phone off. Must’ve forgot to turn it back on.” He frowned.
“All night and day? That’s some fling.” He detected more than a hint of jealousy in Tamra’s voice.
Morgan grabbed her by the shoulders, managing to stare at her forehead. “Tam, that was goodbye with her. Why are you really here?”
“Look, I just wanted to apologize for hitting on you last week.” She grabbed his chin and turned his face to make him look at her, but he pulled away. “I’m sorry. It's just that Kevin had left me and I was feeling vulnerable.”
“Apology accepted.” He gave her a smile. “We’re always going to be friends, Tam. I hope you know that.”
“Friends? Okay . . . I’m guessing that you haven’t eaten anything today?” She was already digging through his cupboards.
“Does whiskey count?” He shrugged.
She gave Morgan a stern look. “Go jump in the shower and I’ll get you a good meal cooked right up. You could even shave off that scraggly mess.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he and Vicki had just spent an hour together in the shower. He went and rinsed off once more, and came back and joined her. The beard, if that were a legitimate term for what he had cultivating on his face, remained.
Tamra pulled together a pasta dish, which they enjoyed, laughing about old times.
Throughout the meal, memories kept creeping into his head. The same thoughts he had been having all week. But they weren’t about Vicki. They were about that one unforgettable kiss from Tamra. Best not to think about such things.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
I'm back on my original outline path. Things are still flowing well from my brain although I ran short on words here. Throwing Tamra in at the end played out well.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
“So, talk.” Morgan stared at the small Hispanic man. He wore an outlandish brown fedora with a yellow feather sticking out of the band.
His brown leather jacket seemed at odds with his dark mirrored sunglasses. Three of his top front teeth were gold.
The pimp looked like a character out of an old Beretta episode. The entire presentation gave Morgan a feeling that Paco Sanchez was more of a ‘wanna-be’ than an actual ‘heavy-hitter’. It took a moment before he got a response.
“You talk. You’re the one who called for this little meeting.” Paco had the habit of making sucking sounds with his lips.
“I asked you to come down to the police station. You told me you’d enlighten me if we met in your . . . office.” Calling the place an office was a bit of a stretch. It was more of a back room in a run down warehouse. “So enlighten me.”
“Jennifer Collins.” The greasy pimp said smugly, removing his shades.
“Do you know who killed her, Paco?”
“Let’s just say I know your dirty little secret, Detective Harper.” The Hispanic man was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Ah, so that’s what this attitude is all about? You think you have a hand in the big game? Now you want something from me?”
“You don’t even remember me, do you, Harper?” The man sucked his lips again. “We have history, copper.”
Copper? Is he stuck in a 1970’s movie? "I remember all my collars, little Paco.”
“That’s good, ‘cause I remember all the pigs who ever put cuffs on me. You were the first one to arrest me, ‘cause I always bolted. I stole a Lincoln over on Pike Street. Did a year in juvy for that. You remember that day?”
“I remember you were a fast little runt. You could barely see over the steering wheel. We chased you until you wrapped that big ‘ol car around a telephone pole and took off on foot like a rabbit.” Morgan smirked.
“Yeah. Any other ‘donut-eater’ would have given up after a couple of blocks. But not super cop Officer Harper. Jumped from yoir car all fresh with somethin’ to prove.”
A giant lip smack. “You were on my heels for thirteen blocks before you finally tackled me in my mom’s front yard. She watched you cuff me right outside her front window. My momma never looked at me the same after that, Bato.”
“Crime doesn’t pay, Paco.” Morgan refused to break eye contact with the irate man. “I bet the guy whose Lincoln you totaled couldn't care less about your sob story.”
“That cat got a fat check from insurance, homey. That’s what it’s for.” Paco shook his head. “The second time you got me for slingin’ dope up and down Aurora. When I saw it was you, I didn’t bother runnin’. I was twenty, so I did eight months that time.”
“Great history lesson, Paco, but I’m here to talk about some new shit.” I can’t stand this little creep. He was a shit-stain on the streets of Seattle then and he is now. “I wanna know who knocked-off your working girls.”
“We’re getting there, Bato. So, you know why I remember all the pigs who bust me? Here comes your enlightenment. I remember in case I get the chance for payback some day. Well, guess what time it is?”
“Time for you to make a point. I need to get to the bank before five.” Morgan stepped forward, placing his hands on the pimp’s desk, while palming one of the several heroin needles sitting there.
“Damn straight you need to get to the bank, homey.”Paco laughed. “Cause it’s payback time, Bitch.”
“Point?”
“Okay. What do you make as a fancy-assed homicide detective?” Another annoying lip smack. “Bet it’s over 100 grand a year. So let’s say I take ten percent.” He sucked his lips three or four times. “Yeah, I like that. You pay me $10,000 a year to keep your nasty little secret.”
“I wouldn’t pay a dirtbag like you a dime.” Morgan shook his head in disbelief.
“Oh, little piggy gonna play some hardball?” Paco chuckled. “Oink, oink.”
Morgan was losing his patience. “Did you kill those girls, Paco?”
“I’ll tell you what, puerco. Give me the redhead puta you’ve been slapping it to. Convince that little money-making spinner to join my fold and I’ll call it even.” Another annoying lip-smacking.
“You stay the fuck away from Kelly or I’ll bury you, you piece of shit.” It took all Morgan had to keep from ripping the little puke out from behind his desk.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. What do we have here? Has the naughty detective fallen for that sweet piece of puta ass?” Paco made a pouty face. “Pobrecito. Your girlfriend has a very dangerous profession. Anything could happen to her on the mean streets. She needs protection. My protection. Tell her to join my ladies.”
“You threaten her again, and you’ll be the one needing protection.”
Morgan stared at the man, keeping Paco focused on his face while he casually put his hands in his jacket pockets, securing the heroin syringe within. “Last chance, little Paco. Did you kill those hookers?”
“Estupido. The farmer doesn’t kill the hens who are laying his golden eggs. So let me ask you. Did you kill my whores?”
Morgan shook his head and turned to leave as the man called after him. “Seems to me you’re the most likely suspect, Bato. That’s why I didn’t even bother to hide my drugs. I got you by the balls, Harper and I’m squeezing.”
Squeezing my balls? Morgan had made it halfway across the room when the mouthy little man shouted out, again.
“Bad choices, Harper.” Paco signaled to someone standing in the shadows. “I want $10,000 or that beautiful pelirroja and I’m not taking no for an answer. “
A dark figure stepped from the shadows and whacked the retreating Morgan across the face with a 2X4 board. With a sickening crack the detective went down.
Morgan fought off passing out as he rose to his knees. He took a couple of kicks to the gut, dropping him again. This time he welcomed the wave of unconscious that overwhelmed him.
“You want me to finish him, Boss?”
“Nah, we don’t need the kind of heat that killing a cop would bring down on us. Besides, how’d I get my payment from him if he’s dead? Usa tu mente, Hugo.” Paco Sanchez sucked on his lips. “Throw that piece of garbage out in the alley with the rest of the basura.”
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
This was my hardest chapter yet. Rewrote several sections until I got the tense tone I wanted.
Estupido - idiot Bato - dude (Vato - more vulgar connotation of dude) Puta-whore Pobrecito - Poor baby Usa tu mente - use your head Basura - trash Puerco - pig Pelirroja - redhead This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
“Oh my God, Morgan, what happened to you?” Tamra grabbed the battered man and helped him into her apartment. “Who did this?”
The concerned woman guided him over to the couch, where he lay down with a groan. She peered anxiously at his bruised and battered face. “You need a doctor.”
“I need a drink,” he mumbled through a swollen jaw. “A really stiff one.”
“You need a doctor, Morgan.” Tamra went and got some wet cloths and started cleaning up the dried blood on his face. “Does this have something to do with our murder case?”
“Yes, I let my guard down with that little turd, Paco Sanchez. One of his boys blindsided me.” He groaned from the pain caused by speaking.
“Oh, I could kill that little punk.” For the first time ever, Morgan saw anger flash across Tamra’s face. "You've been chasing him around for years."
“I’ve never seen you so upset.” Morgan winced with his words.
“Sorry, but I agree that he may be killing those poor women. Nobody deserved to die like that and be dumped outside like trash.” The emotional woman disappeared again and returned with two pills and a glass of water.
He stared at the liquid. “That’s not the type of drink I had in mind.“
Morgan managed to painfully get the pills down and chased it with the disappointing water.
“You can’t mix alcohol with what I just gave you, but you won’t care in a moment or two.” She grabbed his hand and ran her free one through his blond hair. “Besides, you’re lucky I’m not driving you to Harborview Emergency Room.”
“What can an emergency room do that you can’t? Morgan caressed her cheek as the drugs took effect. Then he remembered the needle and took it from his pocket. “Test this against the heroin that killed our vics.”
Tamra took the syringe but remained focused on Morgan’s foolishness. “Why did you go alone to see Paco? That was stupid.”
“I went alone because I thought I would get more information since we have history.” Can’t tell her the truth. I didn’t know what that little turd was going to say. Too many of my secrets are already exposed.
It was no more than a minute before his aches and pains subsided and he felt like he was floating on fluffy clouds. Whoa. This is better than weed. Way better!
“So beautiful.” He stared into Tamra’s magnificent light blue eyes as he drifted off into a painkiller induced sleep.
Sometime in the night, he felt something was wrong. He was warm and wet down below. Am I bleeding?
Then he realized what was happening. He was too tired and sore to object, so he just lay back and enjoyed what Tamra was doing to him with her mouth.
Before long, the woman slid up the couch. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she was nude. The small woman’s body was firm and curvy. The fact that this had been a long time coming heightened the experience.
Staring into her all too familiar eyes, which were reflecting magnificently from a light over the kitchen sink, only added to the intensity. Tamra rode Morgan for several passionate minutes to their mutual satisfaction and, a moment later, he drifted back to sleep.
Morgan would have thought it all a dream if he hadn’t woken with the small woman nestled in the crook of his arm. When he tried to shift his position, a painful moan escaped from his lips.
Tamra woke and jumped up to retrieve more painkillers. He couldn’t help but appreciatively enjoy her bouncing nudity.
After Morgan took the pills, he made his way to the bathroom. The mirror revealed that some serious damage had been done to his face.
His lip was split, and his nose was crooked. He was sporting two black eyes, not to mention various deep purple bruises. It looks and feels like a Mack truck ran over my face.
After a soothing hot shower, a relieved Morgan made his way back into the living room. Tamra had breakfast plates set for them. His were all soft foods.
They ate a delicious meal punctuated by an uncomfortable silence, neither looking at each other. Once they finished, she broke the shared solitude.
“I’m sorry. You just seemed so vulnerable and your wounds scared me. I couldn’t help myself. I needed you.”
“I’m sorry it happened.” Jesus, am I genetically programmed to say stupid things?
“I’m not.” Now she stared hard at him.
Morgan refused to meet her gaze. “It should never have happened. I’m a total mess. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Damn it, Morgan, this feels so right and normal. Please don’t shove me aside.” Her face was wrinkled up in confusion and pain.
“I can’t do normal, Tam, and even if I could, it couldn’t be with you.”
“Just go, Morgan.” She headed for her room, tears flowing. “For someone who doesn’t want to hurt me, you’re sure doing it right now.”
“Tam.” He rose.
“When I come out, I expect you to be gone.” Her bedroom door slammed and once again he heard it lock. It was the same thing Debra had done the few times he had fought with his wife. The two women are so much alike.
“I’m sorry, Tam.”
“Yes you are.” He heard through the door.
Morgan left her apartment in a hurry, needing desperately to clear his head. Those eyes. I just can’t . . .
The disheveled detective called himself in, placing himself on duty, and headed down to the warehouses on the waterfront. He parked about a block away from Paco’s worn-down brick building and began surveillance.
The first half of the day, Morgan watched several streetwalkers going in and out. They all had the haggard look of sex workers who were at the end of their careers. Paco’s such a bottom feeder.
He found it interesting that the hookers went in looking twitchy and on edge and came out laughing and happy. They’re obviously getting fixes. We could hit them for the drugs, but one of his peons would take the rap and it wouldn’t nearly compare to a murder charge.
The problem with surveillance is that it’s often quite boring and gave him a lot of time to think. And there was only one thing on his mind. Tamra.
I want to be with her. But I won’t allow myself to have her. Yet I sleep with prostitutes. What the hell kinda logic is that?
The second half of the day, a scraggly black girl came out of the building. A very tall and robust Hispanic man followed her out, yelling. That must be the Neanderthal who clobbered me.
When the black girl turned around, the big man slugged her right in the face. The punch was hard enough to drop the woman. Morgan raised his seat from the reclining position and fired up the sedan, getting ready to intervene.
The girl dug around in her pocket, then handed the angry man a couple of syringes. She must have stolen them. The big man scowled at the prostitute and, after spitting on her, turned away.
The woman picked herself up and, as she tried to leave, the large Hispanic man turned back and kicked her in the butt. Morgan relaxed once the burly fella went back inside and the woman headed off.
The detective watched as the prostitute pulled three or four more syringes from her other pocket and smiled. Good for you, girl.
Okay, it’s time to go. I still have to take care of Kelly.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
The hardest part has been these relationship developing chapters. I know what I want to do in my head but getting it down in a day is challenging. So far, I am where I want to be with this.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
A few days later, Morgan saw Kelly standing near the Krispy Crème donut shop at Aurora and 125th. She was bent over talking to an older man sitting in a junky brown Chevy Malibu. Her white mini-dress left little to the imagination.
When Morgan waved her over, she came running up to his car. The man in the brown Malibu sped off.
“Thank goodness. That creep was a weirdo. Talkin’ about Golden Showers and strap-ons. I don’t do whackos. I told him you were my probation officer. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” She giggled.
“How’d you get the black eye, Kelly?” Morgan stared at the purple and red bruising around her right eye.
“I could ask you the same, Morg. You got two of your own and a busted lip.” She shrugged.
“Work related. Bad guy got the jump on me.”
“Mine’s work related, too.”
“Kelly, who did it?” Morgan’s voice had taken on a stern edginess.
The young woman stared at him. “A little turdy pimp named Paco. He and a much larger man cornered me in an alley and told me I would be working for him from now on.” She frowned. “This is what happened when I declined his offer. Honestly, Morg. It’s just part of the job. It’s really not a big deal.”
He could see from her eyes that it was a big deal, and that there was probably more. “What else? Show me.”
Kelly hesitated for a moment, then slowly raised her blue sweater. There were several large black bruises along her ribs. “After the big guy, Hugo I think, had his way with me, he kicked me in the ribs a few times. One of my roommates took me down to the free clinic. They’re just bruised, not broken.”
“Is that it?” Morgan watched a tear escape her eyelash and run down her cheek. Fucking puke is going to pay.
Kelly shrugged. “Paco said I had two days to show up at his warehouse, over near the marinas off Alaskan Way, and join his flock. Or else.”
“Get in.”
When Kelly reached for the back door he shook his head. "Up front.”
The redhead gave him an odd look. She’d never been in the front seat of his car, but did as she was told.
“No back seat romp today?”
“No. I’m going to take you for a drive.” He watched the road, but could feel her intense gaze.
“Come on, Morg. I don’t have time. I need to make my share of the rent this week.” She grabbed his free hand and slid it up her thigh to her panties “Don’t tell me you don’t want this. I know you too well.”
Morgan gently pulled his hand away. “Trust me, Kelly. This’ll be worth way more to you than fifty bucks.”
“Better be.” The young hooker sat quietly for the next ten minutes, until they pulled up in front of an apartment complex. “Morg, did you finally bring me to your place?”
“No, yours.” The detective exited the sedan and led the confused woman inside. They went up two flights of stairs to apartment number 303. Morgan pulled out a key and opened the door. Inside was completely furnished.
The bewildered young woman stepped into the apartment. “What’s going on, Morg? I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. I rented this place for you.” He handed her the key. “It’s paid ahead a whole year.”
“Huh?”
“Yes. And here on the kitchen table are your enrollment papers to UW School of Nursing. That’s also paid for. The first semester, anyways. Books and all. If you pass the first semester, then I’ll pay for the next and so on. It’s all set up.”
“But how? Why?” Her eyes moistened. “Fuck you! Are you shitting me sideways?”
“We’ll have to work on your potty mouth, but this is it. You said you just needed one break. I’m providing it for you.” He smiled. “One chance to get off the streets and lead a normal life. The bus routes will get you to the college. Their schedules are also on the table. Your only job is to pass your classes.”
“How’d you get me enrolled? I checked that place. There’s a waiting list.”
“My old training officer, Teddy Norton, is tenured over there. He pulled some strings for me.”
“But how’ll I survive? I only have street clothes—“
“I’ll pay your bills while you’re in college. Eventually you’ll need to find part-time work, a real job, but for now I set up an expense account. I’ll drop a grand a month in there so you have spending money.” He handed her a debit card for an account opened in her name.
“I can’t—-“
“You can if you want a fresh start. You can if you want no more weirdos or turd pimps like Paco in your life. He sighed.
“Why, Morg? Why would you do this for a girl like me? You don’t owe me anything.” She sighed back. “So what’s the catch?”
“Catch? Nothing major. You have to pass your classes. No more hooking. And absolutely no hard drugs.”
“You know I avoid the hard stuff. She frowned. “Weed okay?”
“You're a college student, aren’t you?”
Kelly came over and put her arms around his neck. “What’s the real catch, Morg? You gonna stop over whenever you get the urge? That wouldn’t be so bad.”
“I said no more hooking and I meant it. That includes me.”
“Then how about you and I get it on one more time for old times sakes Just two friends humping in my new apartment.” She planted a warm wet kiss on his lips, causing him to wince in pain from his injuries.
Damn, that’s way too tempting. But this thing with Tamra has me very mixed up. “Can’t. A fresh start means a fresh start. I want you to try dating normal boys your own age.”
“Dating? Ha! You mean like dinner, movies, and flowers? I’ve never done that sort of thing before. I don’t think I would even know how.” She giggled.
“You’ll figure it out, although I don’t think boys your age do the flower thing anymore. But yes, normal dating. Be a regular teenager for once.” He liked how excited she was “And, Kelly, don’t bang them silly on the first date. Make them wait for a bit. Any boy who’s really interested in you will hang around without getting sex right off the bat.”
“Geez, thanks, Dad.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Well, I never had a kid, so I thought, why not help you out. Besides, I haven’t done anything good since Debra . . . well, for a long time. This just feels right.”
“I really appreciate it, Morg, but I’m not sure I can do this . . . can I? I mean . . . Yes. I can. Maybe?” She bit her lower lip in contemplation.
“I promise you this. You’ll never know if you can or can’t if you don’t try. So, that’s all I’m asking. Try.”
“Try? Yes, I can do that.” The happy young woman made her way around the apartment touching different objects and then looked in the bedroom and bathroom. It wasn’t the high rent district, but it was a lot more than she had ever had before.
“Is this really all mine?” A genuine grin covered her face from ear to ear. “I mean really?”
“Really really. So don’t blow it. Get your cute little butt to those classes. The paperwork’s on the table. Schedules and everything. All the books you need are in the backpack in your bedroom.”
She gave him a real, non-sexual hug. “Thank you so much, Morg. I won’t let you down. Promise.”
“Okay. So do you need me to drive you over to your old apartment to pick your stuff up?”
“Stuff? No. I don’t have anything of value over there. Just hooker clothes and shoes. Darlene and Steph can use them. I won't be needing that junk anymore. I made you a promise that I plan on keeping.”
“One more thing.” He frowned.
“Sure. Name it.”
“Do me a favor and lay low. Stay away from Aurora Avenue for a bit. Steer clear of all your old associates.”
“Because of Paco?”
“That, and other things. Just do me that favor, please.” He was insistent.
“Of course, Morg. That was my old life. I have no business down there anymore. The only place I’m going to go is to the mall to buy some proper clothes. Something cute, but collegy." She jumped and clapped her hands like a school girl. “I’m going to work hard and become a nurse. Thanks to you, it’s possible now.“
I helped her, Debra. Morgan left Kelly’s new apartment feeling something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Good about himself.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
This one is long. I have been looking forward to writing this chapter and it just flowed out. It is exactly how I wanted it as far as content.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
The big Hispanic man leaned against the wall hidden in dark shadow. Dim beams of castoff from the main room ceiling light nearly reached him, but his 6’4” three-hundred-pound frame was hidden in darkness.
Hugo Chavez was zoning in and out. His job was a bore, but each day that he agreed to stand guard for Paco, he got to have a free go with one of the working girls. Most of Paco’s sluts were run down, but he lived by the motto that beggars couldn’t be choosers and sloppy sex was better than no sex.
He thought Paco was a slimy little slug. He had no respect for a man who was unable to take care of his problems with physical violence. The turd didn’t even like to fight. Still, Hugo couldn’t turn down all that free ass.
Right now, Hugo was lazily reminiscing about Juanita Lopez. She was one of the cholas in his gang. He knew the other members had her at times, especially the brothers, but Hugo was getting a little sweet on the rough-and-tumble girl.
If he claimed her as his main chola, and she agreed, then the other Pike Street Surenos would have to lay off her. Unless he allowed it. So he had made his play last week.
When Hugo asked Jaunita to be his main girl, she had told him that he didn’t quite have what she needed. He had no idea what the hell she meant by that so he beat her up good. Still she refused him.
It didn’t matter though. Juanita would eventually learn her place was at his side, or he would dish out more and more severe beatings until she learned.
A movement to Hugo’s right disturbed his thoughts. He rested his hand on the trusty four-foot long 2X4 that leaned against the wall next to him and stared into the darkness, but could see nothing. He had busted too many noggins to count with the bloody board.
THUNK! A hammer came out of the shadows striking Hugo on top of his head. He staggered back into the wall, dazed, then fell forward onto his knees.
Two more blows followed Hugo to the floor, cracking him on the back of the skull, knocking him out. His assailant hauled off and kicked the unconscious man in the groin as hard as he could.
Annoyed, Paco looked up from his desk when he heard a thud. “Hugo?”
The pimp slowly rose from his seat and studied the shadows beyond his open door. He could barely make out his big bodyguard’s feet sticking out of the darkness.
“Hugo?” Realizing something was amiss, even with the big man’s propensity to fall asleep at any time or place, Paco opened a desk drawer and pulled out a nickel-plated .38 Special.
A man wearing a black sweatshirt and pants stepped over Hugo’s feet. When the intruder walked under the light, Paco could see he wore a black ski mask and was carrying a hammer dripping with blood.
“Oh, that’s a big mistake, Motherfucker. You brought the wrong weapon to a gunfight.” Paco grinned and, flashing his three gold teeth, raised the .38, showing it to his would-be attacker who had closed the distance. “We gonna dance the lambada now, Asshole.”
The ski-masked figure flung the hammer as hard as he could. It struck the pimp square in the forehead, knocking the little man back into his chair. Paco sat there stunned, a tiny whimper escaping his lips.
“I worked my way through college as a carpenter.” A gruff voiced hissed in his ear. “Let me show you.”
A groggy Paco tried to rise but was forcefully shoved back into his seat. His larger attacker pinned Paco’s hand on the desk with his knee and before the pimp knew what was happening, the masked man hammered a nail through it pinning him to the desk.
Ignoring Paco’s screams, the attacker grabbed the flailing man's free hand and drove a nail through it into the desk as well. This one took two strikes of the hammer. Now the pimp was stuck and completely at the mercy of his unknown assailant.
“Now that you’re not going anywhere, let me explain something to you. “Kelly's mine. If you ever come near her again, I’ll come back and finish the job.”
“Fuck you, Puto.” Paco spit out raggedly.
“Oh? Still haven’t got the message? Perhaps we should talk about that semester I wanted to be a dentist.” The masked man pulled a pair of pliers from his back pocket. “Time to mine some gold.”
Paco’s screams bounced off the warehouse walls for the next twenty minutes. Then the building fell silent.
Five minutes later, and just a few blocks away, the masked man put Paco’s .38 Special in the center console compartment of his car. After parking, he climbed out of the vehicle and pulled off the ski mask and tossed it into the East Waterway. That was followed by the bloody hammer and pliers. Finally, in went three blood-covered gold teeth.
* * *
Crackle. Crackle. Morgan’s radio came to life on the homicide department's designated channel. “Harper, copy?”
He reached in and grabbed his handheld radio. “Go ahead.” He had brought the radio along so he could scan the primary channels.
“Are you familiar with Paco Sanchez’s building down at the warehouse section of the wharf?”
“10-4. I’ve been there before.”
“Looks like there’s been some type of attack down there. Might have something to do with your dead prostitute case. Marked units are arriving now. Captain wants you to head that way.”
“Good copy. I’m rolling.”
“10-4. Hit me up if you need an address.”
“Nope. I’m good.” Morgan nearly chuckled.
There’s no rush. I think it best I arrive after the ambulances have taken the victims away. Morgan leaned against his red Charger and let out a long sigh, lighting one of his cheap cigars. He ran his hand through his sweaty blond hair.
I can’t believe that hammer hit him square in the forehead. Talk about lucky. Did he say ‘dance the lambada’? What the hell was that? Dumbass. I hate men who rape and beat women.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
Morgan making his own rules is easy to write!
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! Chola - female Latina gang member. Puto - masculine form of whore. Lambada - Hispanic erotic dance. |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Morgan sat at his desk, staring at a framed picture of him and Debra hugging from much better times. They both looked so very happy together. It seemed like a million years ago.
I don’t see any inner demons in her eyes. No hint of sadness. No clue to her terrible decision. Why didn’t she confide in me? Why? He wiped away a tear slipping down his cheek.
It didn’t escape him that he could easily have been looking at a picture of him and Tamra. The only physical differences were Debra’s slightly darker hair and skin tone. The identical twins’ light blue hypnotic eyes were a perfect match.
Aside from the photo, there were several notable personality differences between the pair. Debra was the more aggressive, wilder of the twins, and was much more mischievous. She had run away to California at seventeen and hung out with a transient druggie crowd that moved from beach to beach.
The end result was an unwanted pregnancy and Debra returned home to Seattle. A controversial abortion had caused a rift between Debra and her parents. It never really healed, even after Morgan had married her.
Tamra, on the other hand, had been the favored child. She was always somewhat of a ‘goody two shoes’ and when she followed a law enforcement career path, it only served to broaden her parents’ favor as they looked down on Debra’s struggling career as an artist.
The fairer sister could be aggressive at times, but had a more apparent timid side, causing her to be less experienced with men than her sister had been.
Heck, I’ve known Tamra since high school, and I don’t ever remember her having had more than two or three boyfriends. That’s one of the reasons I really need to keep from hurting her any worse than I already have. I’m no good.
Morgan noticed Officer Ronny Tate watching him from the hallway door. One of the reasons he hated coming in to work was the suspicious looks he got, but Ronny had never liked him.
“Can I help you, Tate?”
“I was just wondering what happened to your face, Harper.” The man bore an obvious smirk. “Did one of those whores you like hanging out with down on Aurora finally kick your ass?”
“Bite me, Ronny.”
“Oh, is it some kinda big joke to you, Harper? You’re a disgrace to the badge. I hope they lock you in a cell and throw away the key.” Before Morgan could respond, the man was gone. Son of a bitch. How does Tate know about the prostitutes?
The detective looked back at the picture of him and his wife. He laid the frame face down on his desk. He couldn’t take having Debra staring at him. Not after I slept with her sister . . . and liked it. Damnit, what is wrong with me? Okay, I’m gonna focus on work.
Morgan popped open the two files in front of him. They were labeled Jennifer Collins and Amy Henderson. Both of the dead girl’s faces stared back at him from photos taken before they began hooking.
What do these two have in common? Close ages. One was thirty-one and the other twenty-six. One had black hair and the other was a blond. Jennifer was a local while Amy came from the Chicago area.
The only real commonality was they both used heroin. Not much help since most working girls in Seattle shoot up.
The only solid lead was Paco. Jennifer had started working for the pimp about a year ago, while Amy had been with him her whole time in Seattle. Hopefully Tamra gets those test results back today.
Speak of the Devil. The cute blonde walked into the homicide office and came over to his desk. She was dressed smartly in a grey suit jacket with matching hip hugging skirt.
“Here ya go.” She handed him a sheet of paper.
Morgan chanced a glance at her face, but Tamra quickly looked away and turned to go.
“Tam.” She froze in her tracks, but kept her back to him, her hands on her hips. Damn she looks good.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking . . . about us . . . and I just need to sort some things out.” Morgan struggled to find the right words. Damnit . . . I’m falling for her.
“Sort some things out? You seemed to have things all sorted out the other night when you were inside me.” He wished he could see her face.
“Tam.”
“Don’t Tam me. When you get your ‘things’ sorted out, give me a call. Until then, I don’t want you showing up on my doorstep drunk or beaten up. I’m not here to rescue you whenever you’re in trouble. I’m not a shelter for wayward men.”
“Okay.” He sighed, wishing that had gone much better than it did.
“And Morgan, don’t wait too long. I won’t always be available.” With that, she strolled from the room, with just a hint of sass in her walk. Damn she certainly has her sister’s attitude.
Morgan shook his head and looked at the sheet of paper Tamra had given him. Negative? He read it again.
How can that be? I was sure that little punk, Paco, was behind this mess. How does the heroin not match? Maybe he used a difference batch on the dead girls? But he doesn’t roll in that kind of money to buy from two sources. Does he?
Morgan closed his eyes and folded his arms behind his head. There went my only lead. Where do I go from here?
Well, who am I trying to fool? There was one other link to both women. But nobody knows about it but me.
“Captain wants to see you down in the interrogation room.” Hutch had come in while Morgan had his eyes closed. “ASAP.”
“Captain Howitz?”
“Yep.” Hutch looked grim. “Please don’t tell me you engaged in more dumbfuckory?”
“I won’t tell you.” Morgan shrugged. “Why the interrogation room?”
“Not sure but, Morgan, Brian Anderson is there, too. I don’t think it’s good.”
“I was supposed to meet with IA next week anyways. Wonder what this is all about?” Morgan shrugged. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”
Morgan rose and grabbed his jacket. He nodded at Hutch as he left.
“Good luck, buddy,” Hutch frowned.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
| Author Notes |
I was trying to make it look like Morgan was having a conversation with himself in his head, but I did not quite hit the mark.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Things had changed since Morgan's last meeting with Anderson. A camera was still being used, but now they were in one of the actual police interrogation rooms, instead of the conference room like last time. IA had even made him lock up his gun.
There were also more people. Morgan’s boss, Captain Howitz was there as expected. Plus, there was also a uniformed officer named Darrin Belzer present.
Belzar was a good enough cop, but the man made Morgan nervous. He was a very ‘by-the-book’ cop and a bit too religious for his liking. Basically, Morgan’s polar opposite.
“You don’t need all this, Anderson.” Morgan looked at the other men and took a seat. “I’m here to confess.” Something ain’t right.
“Wait.” Anderson signaled Belzer.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”
“Miranda Rights? What the hell—-“
“Detective Harper, do you understand your rights?” Belzer was insistent.
“Of course I understand my rights, Darrin. I’m a freaking cop.” Morgan threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t need to remain silent and I don’t need an attorney. I’m here to confess.”
“To murder?” Anderson raised his eyebrows.
“Wait. What? No! I want to take the deal you offered. I want to confess to taking the $30,000. I’ll pay it back.”
“Detective Harper, there’s no longer a deal being offered.” Anderson took a seat and opened a file that had been on the table.
“What in God’s name is going on here, Brian?” Morgan took a seat across from the man, not liking any of this.
Anderson took out a photo and slid it across the metal table. It was a photo of a younger Jennifer Collins. The exact same picture Morgan had just been reviewing at his desk.
“So? She’s my case.”
“Tell me about her.” Anderson wouldn’t take his eyes off Morgan’s face.
“I just did.” Fuck, I don’t like this. “She’s my dead hooker case. “
“I want to hear about your relationship with her.” More intense staring.
“Relationship?” My God, the man doesn’t even blink.
“Word on the street is that you were having sex with her.”
Oh shit. What does he know? “Word on the street is you’re banging yourself.”
“Answer the question, Detective. Were you sleeping with Jennifer Collins?”
Morgan glared at the man. “Maybe we should both stop believing things we hear in dark alleys.”
Out came another photo. It too, was slid across the metal table. Morgan shook his head in disbelief.
“Oh, so now I slept with Amy Henderson?" They’re digging. There’s no way they know about her and I. No freakin’ way.
“You tell me. Did you have sex with Amy Henderson?”
“Go fuck yourself, Brian.” How did my secret get out? “This interview is horseshit and you know it.”
“We heard from a certain pimp you beat up that you were sleeping with these women.” Anderson pointed at the two photos. “Why’d you assault Paco Sanchez with a hammer? Did it have something to do with these two dead girls?”
“Maybe someone assaulted him because he’s a piece of shit criminal. And yes, I have suspicions about him for these two murders.” Morgan couldn’t stop shaking his head.
“Were you trying to pin these crimes on him, Detective Harper? Because the evidence doesn’t point there.” Morgan could see Anderson had a copy of Tamra’s negative heroin report in his file, as well as a couple more turned over photos.
“Where does the evidence point, Brian?” Dumb question, or I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.
The IA Officer pointed directly at him. Another photo came out of the file. Anderson stared at it for a moment. “Pretty girl. Shame.”
Shame? Holy shit! Do they know about Kelly? But she’s not dead. It felt like an eternity as the picture slowly slid across the metal table.
When it came to a rest in front of him, it took a moment for Morgan to realize what he was looking at. He leaned over and vomited all over the floor. The other two photos had shown the victims when they were alive. The woman in this one was not.
“Guess we got our DNA sample,” Brian Anderson had a large smirk on his face.
“What the fuck?” The photo was of a woman lying in a pool of blood in front of a bar. It was a woman he knew, but it wasn’t Kelly. It was Vicki Vance. Her throat was cut from ear to ear. The beautiful woman’s head had nearly been removed. No! No! No! Not Vicki!
“Someone slashed her after she closed up the Hammer Stone. I had an interesting talk with Mrs. Vance's grieving husband, Steve. He said you we’re screwing his wife behind his back. Is there anyone you’re not having sex with, Detective Harper?” Anderson sighed. “Did you kill these women?”
“Officer Belzar, I think I’ll take that attorney now.”
Captain Howitz spoke for the first time since Morgan entered the room. “You’re not being arrested as of right now, Harper. The Chief wants to make sure we have our ducks in a row. But you’re being suspended indefinitely, pending further investigation. You won’t be getting your firearm back and I’ll take your badge now.”
Morgan unclipped the tin star from his belt and tossed it on the table. It had taken so much effort to earn that badge.
“You’ve shamed this department, son. You don’t deserve to wear it.” Captain Howitz had selected Morgan for the homicide unit. He had a look of great disappointment on his face.
“Hutch and your former homicide partners are going over your apartment with a fine-toothed comb.”
Traces of poor Vicki will be in every room. Thank God I never took any of the hookers home.
And I’ve impounded your police sedan.” Anderson gave him an ugly knowing smile, almost as if he had been reading Morgan’s mind. “We’re already working with the DA to get a warrant for your arrest and, once we find the DNA evidence we need, you will be arrested. I’m fairly certain it’ll be in that car, aren’t you, Harper?”
Oh shit. I’m so screwed. That backseat will be a petrie dish of DNA from those prostitutes.
“No comment, Harper?”
“Am I free to go?” I really need to get out of here.
“Yes. For now.” Captain Howitz held the interrogation room door open for him. “Officer Belzer, escort him to his desk so he can clear it out. Make sure you get his door cards so he can no longer enter the police station. Then escort Mister Harper from the premises.
“Yes, Sir.” Belzer led Morgan from the room.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
Okay, we are halfway done. You have been introduced to ALL of the main characters, including the serial killer. I just eliminated Vicki from your list of suspects. How generous of me. I have mainly followed my mental outline and will be looking for your guesses before the last few chapters.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Morgan Harper sat in his red Dodge Challenger parked along a curb on Aurora Avenue, feeling sorry for himself. I’ve screwed my whole life up.
In his right hand was a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels Single Barrel Select. In his left hand was a freshly lit Cohiba Spectre. Both items came in at over a hundred dollars apiece.
Might as well splurge. Probably celebrating my last days of freedom. Somebody is setting me up and setting me up good.
Morgan took a long pull from the bottle of expensive whiskey then an equally long one from the ultra-premium cigar. Take away my badge and gun. Fuck ‘em all. Now I can do what I want.
He stared out the car window at the throng of people walking by. It was 1:00 am, but still all levels of society were passing by. The homeless who had nowhere to go, late shifters rushing home, teenagers that were up to no good, and the many prostitutes looking for tricks. The latter was what Morgan was staring at intently.
Tamra was off limits. Being with her now would only serve to hurt her when he went to prison. He could not do that.
He did not try to call Kelly either, now that he had set her on the right path. If he talked to her, he would want her to fall back into old habits and he knew she would let him. Still, it’s time to relieve some stress.
After several more swigs of whiskey, he started to feel good. Real good. Finally, one of the street walkers caught his interest. Not that he was in a hurry. Aurora Avenue didn’t start to quiet down until after 4:00 am.
A whistle brought the girl over. She was a black woman wearing heavy make-up and had big hoop pearl earrings. Her hair was braided, and she looked to have a tight body.
“Nice car.” She admired the Dodge as she came over. “You lookin’ for a date, baby?”
The woman turned to show him the leopard-patterned tights that covered her well-rounded butt. Then she leaned in to make sure he was the only one in the vehicle. “You ain’t no cop are ya’, baby?”
“Not any more.” He laughed.
“Wait one minute.” The hooker studied his face. “Yous that detective that runs with Kelly. I heard you were a ‘one whore Johnny’.”
Geez, these women really do talk up and down the strip. Morgan flashed her a hundred dollar bill. “I bet you’ll get in my back seat and let me have a couple of goes for this.”
“A couple of goes? I bet you’re too drunk to get it up for one.” She looked at him skeptically, then opened his back door and got in. “But for a ‘Benny’ I’ll let you try anything you want.”
Morgan drove into a nearby alley and, after taking another long drink, handed the three-quarters empty bottle to her.
When he climbed out and got in the backseat with the hooker, she was smoking the nub of his cigar. She must have grabbed it from the front seat console.
Morgan put on some protection and after the prostitute pulled down her tights, he started going at it. Every time he looked at her, she was sucking on the bottle or smoking the last of his cigar.
Once he finished, they made small talk while she killed off the expensive Jack. The cigar was long gone. “This is some good shit.”
Morgan laughed, feeling quite drunk now. “What’s your name?”
“My street name’s Sweet Sugar, but I’m guessing since you're a cop I can tell you my real name is Beth Mackie.”
“Beth?”
“Aw come on now.” She frowned. “Don’t tell me yous one o’ them racists sons-o-bitches. A black girl can’t be a Beth? Bet you thought I was a Tanisha or an Ebony.”
“No, I—-“
Beth interrupted his flustered defense. “I was just funnin’ ya. My parents were weirdos. I have a brother named Winston. Try growing up in the hood with names like Beth and Winston! Freakin’ nightmare.”
“Sounds rough.” Morgan shook his head. “But at least you weren’t named after someone of the opposite sex. My parents thought I was going to be a girl and chose the name Morgan after the actress Morgan Fairchild. When I popped out as a boy, they decided to keep the name anyways.”
Beth let out a loud belly laugh. It always surprised him when these women turned out to be real people just like everyone else, albeit a bit down and out. “What do you know about those two dead girls?”
“Oh, first you gonna sex me up, then you gonna interrogate me?” She gave him an over-exaggerated look of disbelief.
“I told you I’m no longer a cop. I just wondered if I was on the right track before they canned me. I suspected Paco, their pimp.”
“That little Puerto Rican pussy? Not a chance. He didn’t off Jennifer or Amy.” Beth laughed.
“Why’d you say that?” Morgan shook his head to try and clear the whiskey fog.
“He’s a pussy because I beat the shit out of his ass when he tried to make me his Bottom.”
“Bottom?”
“Yeah. Tried to recruit me. Knew I was a high-dollar ho. I don’t trick for no twenties. You want the Sweet Sugar you pay the full price. Paco said if I came into his fold he’d put me in charge of the other ladies. In order to keep them in line. It’s called a Bottom.”
“You didn’t like that?”
“Sugar don’t play that. I’m my own pimp. All da money’s mine.” The aggressive woman shook her head and smirked.
“Why don’t you think Paco killed those women?”
“Baby, pimps don’t kill moneymakers. They may smack them around a bit and, pending no lesson needed, they usually don’t kill. Especially some lightweight Rico Suave that can barely keep a handful of ladies on the line. What you got is some weirdo on yo hands running around Aurora killing us ladies. Maybe a sex pervert.”
“The killer doesn’t have sex with them. That’s the weird thing.”
“Oh no it ain’t. I bet you got some nerdy white Poindexter who can’t get it up. He’s taking out his pent up blue ball frustrations on us ladies.” She grinned, showing a gold tooth. “But don’t you worry none, Baby. They ain’t made the Poindexter that can finish off ol’ Sweet Sugar. I’ll bust his ass up.”
“I don’t doubt that, but your suspicions sound reasonable”. Her theory’s stronger than any of mine.
“Damn right it do.” Beth pulled a fat joint out of her weave. “You shared with me, baby, so I guess I can share with you.”
Doctor Parker’s voice sounded in his head. My opinion is that you’re trying to kill yourself. Not short and simple with a gunshot to the head, but slow and painful by dismantling your life piece by piece. With hookers, booze, and whatever else you’re into.
Morgan grabbed his lighter from the front seat and fired it up. Some weed’ll throw the good doctor out of my head. Sugar held the blunt to his lips and he took a long draw.
“Take it easy, baby. This here’s some strong Jamaican kush. Not that yer expensive cigar wasn’t a treat, but this here’s the real thang.”
The dope hit Morgan immediately. His mind grew even more hazy than it already had been from drinking all day.
The two of them went at it again with Morgan behind her this time. They passed the joint back and forth through the entire romp. Nearing the end, Morgan was in a mental fog, feeling no pain.
Still, Doctor Parker’s voice wouldn’t leave him alone, no matter how hard he pounded the woman under him. You’re intentionally making yourself suffer. All because you feel guilty about Debra’s death. That’s what your dreams are about. Guilt.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Nance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - Prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
I laughed hard when I wrote that now he could do what he wanted. Morgan has been the whole time.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
The last thing Morgan could remember was climaxing. Now he was lying facedown on the back seat with his head pounding and his pants around his ankles. It’s not like I can get any lower than this. Or can I?
Morgan pulled his face from the puddle of drool that stuck it to the seat. Damn, I need a bottle.
He saw his wallet lying open on the center console. Morgan reached over and grabbed it. After rifling through his billfold, he realized the cash was gone, about $200. Beth was nowhere to be seen. Ah, who cares. She more than earned it.
Shit. He popped up the console lid and saw that Paco’s .38 was also missing. Damnit!
Morgan quickly dressed, realizing the sun was already up. When he exited his Charger, he froze in his tracks. Sitting against the alleyway wall was Beth Mackie.
The woman’s eyes were rolled back up into her head, showing only the whites. Her mouth and chin were covered with frothy spit. Her legs were slightly spread, exposing her privates.
Beth was obviously dead, but he reached out to check her pulse anyways. Then he hesitated. I don’t want to leave my DNA on her. Dumbass, my DNA is already all over this woman. A quick check of her wrist and neck verified she was long gone.
Holy shit, her earrings are missing! Okay, what should I do? Think. Think! Take the body? Hide it? No. If I get pulled over with a dead hooker in my trunk there’ll be no explaining that, ever. Besides, they’re gonna have tons of damning evidence from the back of my police sedan. DNA links to a third dead hooker won’t really make much difference to a jury.
Morgan had hopped in the front seat of the Charger when a new thought stormed into his mind like a tornado. Holy shit, did I kill her? The last thing I remember was pounding her hard when I got angry about that damn shrink’s words.
Morgan took one last look at Beth. Damn it, she’s a human being. He got back out of the car and grabbed a blanket from the trunk. He laid it over her exposed body. Morgan knew he was possibly placing more trace evidence, but he just couldn’t leave her lying there displayed like garbage.
When Morgan drove forward to exit the alleyway, he saw Mac Yung, the aggressive reporter standing across the street. Mac recognized Morgan and waved him over. Not a chance!
Morgan sped off, heading straight north and out of Seattle. I’m done with this nonsense! Someone murdered four women I'm associated to and is trying to pin it on me. Time to disappear. Canada’s the ticket!
Twenty minutes north, red and blue lights, followed by a siren, alerted him that he was being pulled over. Holy crap, how did they get me so quick? Panic threatened to overtake him and the thought to take off hit him full on.
A second later, he pulled over, the panic having subsided when logic won out. No way they figured out anything yet. Nobody gets DNA results that fast. I must’ve been speeding.
“Holy Crap! Morgan Harper! I thought it was you!” The Washington State Trooper who walked up pulled off his sunglasses. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me?”
“I do . . . Berry . . . Berry Marson? The Hatfield killing?”
“Close. Berry Marston.” The deputy beamed a huge smile. “Yes, we worked the task force together when the Hatfield boy went missing. Damn shame that hadn’t turned out better.”
“Yeah, it’s never easy when a parent kills their own child.” Morgan grimaced.
“Anyways, just thought I’d pull you over for old times sakes, and say hey.” He shook Morgan’s hand. “How’s things in the big city down there?”
“Not great.” Morgan sighed. “Work troubles.”
“Oh boy.” Marston sighed back. “Well, you’ll work it out. The way you worked that dead kid’s mother into confessing and leading us to the body. Everyone else thought it was a random abduction. But not you. You read her like a book.”
“It was nothing, Berry. That woman did a lot of crying but there were no real tears coming out of her eyes. It clued me in.” He smiled at the trooper.
“Regardless, I’m sure you’ll take your problems head on, like you do everything. You’re a damn good cop.” He patted Morgan on the shoulder and headed back to his cruiser. Morgan waved as the deputy headed back out onto the highway. “
Once Morgan was back on the road, a voice in his head started as a minor nuisance. About an hour from Seattle, it had become a full blown nuisance. Harpers don’t run.
He tried to ignore his father’s voice. It didn’t work. Harpers don’t run.
Morgan punched his steering wheel several times in anger, then shouted, “I know Pops, but what do you want me to do? Rot in some jail cell for the rest of my life!?”
He didn’t need an answer for that one. Morgan already knew. His dad had been a Korean War Vet and had fought the Chinese in the great fighting withdrawal from the Frozen Chosin.
His dad had never talked about his Marine Corps years, but Morgan knew the man had engaged the enemy several times all along the Korean Peninsula. He also knew his old man would rot in a jail cell before he would ever run. I bet you’d be pretty ashamed of me right now, Pops.
Didn’t matter. Morgan had already pulled over into the parking lot of a diner near Lacey, Washington. Dad also liked a juicy steak.
Morgan parked and entered the rustic cafe. Once seated by a middle-aged waitress with her hair in a bun, he ordered a 12-ounce T-bone steak with all the fixings. Better get a good meal before they lock me up and throw away the key.
“You look troubled, handsome.” The waitress had returned to refresh his coffee. Her name tag identified her as Bonnie.
“Well, Bonnie, you’re looking at a real genuine shit show.” Morgan laughed.
“Awww, honey, it can’t be all that bad.“ She winked at him.
“Wanna bet?” Morgan shook his head.
“I’ll tell you what. I get off work in a couple of hours and, if you’re interested, we can go back to my trailer and ‘discuss’ it over a bottle of whiskey.” The waitress eyed him like he was a T-bone.
Morgan gave her his best smile. “As good as it sounds, Bonnie, I just can’t. I have to get back to Seattle and face my ghosts.” My dick has gotten me into enough trouble.
“Well, it’s your loss, sugar.” She walked away.
“I bet it is, Bonnie, I bet it is.”
After his nice dinner, Morgan found himself back on the highway. Only now he wasn’t heading to Canada. He was heading back to Seattle, because Harpers don’t run.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
I am going to hold off on posting anymore Lair of the Seductress until I finish this as it is getting harder to write this one as the mystery deepens.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
An unemployed shiftless Morgan wandered up and down Aurora Avenue most of the day, having bought a fifth of Jack which he steadily pounded. The more he drank, the more voices from the past haunted him.
Once he was lit, his dad’s mantra of ‘Harpers don’t run’ seemed funny to him. We may not run, but we sure do drink and hump. Morgan laughed out loud at that.
I’m sure you’ll take it head on, like you do everything. You’re a damn good cop. Trooper Barry Marston's voice came back to him. I don’t think so Barry. I’m so confused about what to do now. Besides, Barry, I’m finished as a cop.
The wayward man found a burn barrel with a couple of homeless men standing around it. He shared the remainder of his whiskey with them. Soon, a joint was passed around.
When it reached Morgan, he heard Paco Sanchez. Bad choices, Harper.
Morgan took a long puff. Shut up, little Paco. Once the blunt was gone, Morgan started wandering again.
Soon he started to feel really odd. His limbs got tingly and his thoughts began to scramble, taking on swirling colors and form.
“I think that joint was laced.” His own voice sounded funny to him. Note to self: Don’t accept weed from homeless men. This brought about more odd sounding laughter.
Within minutes, Paco’s giant floating head appeared in front of Morgan, fading in and out. It was laughing uncontrollably and kept saying over and over again, “Bad choices, Harper.”
Morgan ran from the large drug-induced vision and bumped into three young men. One of the guys slugged the stoned Morgan in the side of his face and shoved him to the ground.
The other two men started kicking Morgan until they grew tired. The trio walked off laughing, leaving him lying in the gutter.
You’re lost. You’re lost. You’re lost. Vicki Vance's face was before him repeating her words. He reached for her. “You’re dead. Sorry.”
Next came the sassy Beth Mackie with her gold tooth, pointing her finger at him. Don’t you worry none, baby. They ain’t made the Poindexter that can finish off ol’ Sweet Sugar. I’ll bust his ass up.
Morgan pointed back at the black woman and yelled, “You’re wrong. He got you. He got you real good!”
“I ain’t dead, baby. Yous dead.” The woman’s eyes rolled up into her head showing only the whites, while froth poured from her lips.
Debra’s disembodied voice followed, rattling around in his rampaging mind. Why don’t you help her?
“How can I help her? I couldn’t even help you! I can’t help anyone. I’m bad!”
A couple of people walking by gave the screaming Morgan a wide berth, but he could only hear the cute Kelly now. No. You’re a good man, Morg. You’re just doing bad things.
“Glad you got off the streets, Kelly. It’s hell out here,” he was mumbling again as he sat up and vomited in his lap. It was so foul that Morgan unloaded a follow-up stream in the gutter.
For someone who doesn’t want to hurt me, you’re sure doing it right now. “Oh, sweet good Tamra. I think I love you, Baby.” Morgan tried to grab her, but she turned into wisps of smoke in his fingers.
“Come back, Tam. I need you.” He tried to stand, but got dizzy and fell back down. “I don’t want to be here anymore. No . . . I’m not here. I’m not here!”
You’re still in there somewhere, Morgan. “Good ol’ Hutch. I can always count on you.”
Then came the mean cops. All three of them screaming at him at the same time, pointing their angry fingers in his face. Ronnie Tate, Captain Howitz, and IA Brian Anderson spraying spittle as they yelled over each other. Still, he understood each one.
You’re a disgrace to the uniform . . . You’ve shamed this department, Son You don’t deserve to wear it . . . Do you know what they do to former cops in the joint? It ain’t pretty.
Morgan screamed repeatedly, until he felt arms grab him on both sides. Two uniformed officers dragged him to their awaiting squad car. They tossed the filthy man into the back seat and drove away.
“Jesus H Christ, Belzar, we should have just left the bastard where he was and let the streets devour him,” Ronny Tate scowled at his partner.
Belzar, a devout Protestant, gave his partner a disapproving look. He did not appreciate the gruff cop’s blasphemy, which was exactly why Tate took the Lord’s name in vain so often.
“He used to be one of us. A street cop. And a good one. We’re not leaving him out here. He’s got a one-way ticket to prison. Until then, the least we can do is drop him off at his apartment.”
“You’re a real bleeding heart, Belzar,” Tate scoffed. “I’ll tell ya this. I ain’t touching that foul puke-covered asshole again. You can take him into his place and tuck him in if you want to.”
“I’m trying to kill myself slowly,” Morgan repeated Doctor Parker’s words. “I feel guilty about Debra.”
“I got him.” Belzar sighed, answering Tate and ignoring Morgan.
“And I’ll tell you another thing. You’re hosing out the back seat when we get back to the station.”
"Debra killed herself, so now I’m killing myself slowly,” Morgan mumbled, wanting very badly to go to sleep.
“Whatever, Tate.” Belzar continued to ignore the man in the back seat.
“Hey, are you fellas real?” Morgan asked, then belched loudly. “Or are you just giant floating heads in my mind?”
“Shut up!” Both of the cops ordered simultaneously.
The next thing Morgan felt was freezing cold water washing over his body when Belzar put him in his shower fully clothed. He could hear the man praying over him.
“Won’t work. I’m Catholic,” Morgan groaned, then laughed. “Besides, He and I aren’t on speaking terms.”
“Same God. And maybe you should be.” Belzar shook his head. “He forgives everyone, but you may be too far gone. People think His love never runs out but it does.”
“What?”
“God’s love runs out. He put generations of Israeli’s in slavery. He also left an entire generation to die in the desert, including Moses. They’d pushed Him too far. Maybe you pushed Him too far as well, and He’s done with you.”
Morgan merely shrugged. Sounds about right.
“You’re correct about one thing, Harper, you’re killing yourself. But you ain’t doing it slowly.”
Belzar took one last grim look at him, then left.
Morgan stripped out of his wet clothes and fell onto his stomach into his bed, completely exhausted. He slid a wooden box from underneath the bed and opened it, grabbing his father’s .44 commemorative US Marine Corps pistol.
“Sorry Pops, I’m a disaster.” Morgan sat up and racked the slide, putting a bullet in the chamber.
Morgan took a deep breath and raised the gun to his temple, a slight tremble in his hand. It’s for the best.
His finger slid to the trigger, his mind made up. Just then the alarm sounded on his night stand, causing him to jump. He nearly pulled the trigger from surprise.
Oh boy, I almost forgot. I have an appointment with my shrink. I should let her know she was wrong about the pace of my demise.
Morgan grabbed his keys, then on second thought, tossed them aside. Better take a taxi.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
This chapter turned out exactly how I wanted it and is my favorite so far.
Edit Alert: I had to go back to Chapter 3 and switch Doctor Parker saying same time next Wednesday to same time next month to make the timeline for the next shrink appointment to fit. Curse of writing on the fly! This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
“My dream changed.”
“So now you want to talk about your dream, Detective Harper?”
“Listen, Doc. Debra’s saying ‘Why don’t you help her.’ Don’t you see? It’s changed . . . or maybe it was always that . . . or . . . . I don’t know. . . I thought she meant, Kelly . . . So I did, but she still comes . . . it must be Tamra . . . I—-“
“You're rambling, Detective.” The psychiatrist peered at him from over her silver-rimmed glasses.
“My recurring nightmare. It changed. Debra is saying ‘Help her. Why don’t you help her?’ What does that mean?”
“Are you certain it changed?”
Morgan raised his hands in exasperation. “I’ve been having the same dream nearly every damn night for two years. Of course I’m certain.”
After some scribbling, she asked, “The dreams are coming from your own subconscious mind, Detective. What has changed in you?”
Morgan grimaced while his shoulders slumped. “Well, first off, I’m no longer a detective. They suspended me.”
“For the money theft we discussed before?” She flipped through her notes.
“No. They found Jennifer Collins dead several days ago.”
“The first prostitute? The one you were seeing for over a year?”
“Yes, but she wasn’t the first. The first was a girl named Amy Henderson. I paid her for sex one time. But I noticed a lot of needle marks on both of her arms, so I moved on to Jennifer."
“You didn’t tell me about Amy Henderson, did you?” Doctor Parker was searching through her notebook. “How does this relate?”
“They also found Amy dead. Looks like the same killer. Internal Affairs thinks I did it.” Morgan sighed.
“Did you?” The doctor seemed tense, but her blank facial expression never changed. “Did you do it?”
“Wait. It gets much worse. I slept with a friend’s wife, a woman named Vicki. Someone killed her too.” Morgan watched Doctor Parker for any expression. There was none. “After IA accused me, I went on a bender and spent the evening with another prostitute. I blacked out and, in the morning, found her dead outside of my car.”
“Are you telling me that I am sitting here with a serial killer?”
Stoic. How’s she staying so calm? This woman’s a stone-cold professional. “No . . . okay, honestly I don’t know. Could I have blacked out and killed them all? I don’t remember blacking out more than once. I’m so confused right now.” Morgan put his head in his hands.
“I’ve been seeing you for over a year now. I don’t believe you’re a murderer. A sex addict and an alcoholic yes, but not a murderer.” She paused. “So the real question is, who hates you bad enough to set you up like this?”
“Nobody hates me that bad.” Morgan frowned. “At least, not that I know of.”
“Are we going to discuss what happened to your face?”
“Oh, I got into a fight with a 2x4 and lost.” He shrugged.
“I can see why you’re so frazzled and, truthfully, aside from the bruises, you look like hell.” She wrote several things in her journal.
“Honestly, Doc, the thing that freaks me out most is that I slept with Tam.”
“Tamra, your sister-in-law? The twin?” She thumbed back a couple of pages. “Says here you claimed she was off limits.”
“It just happened.” He shrugged again. “I’m so damn attracted to her."
“Sex never just happens. It’s a conscious decision.” She flipped forward a page. “What about, Kelly? You said last time you had feelings for her.”
“Oh, that’s over. I got her off the streets and in school. She’s living a normal life now.” He smiled at the thought.
“What a change.” She stared at him. “That doesn’t seem like something a killer would do. Are you worried about her safety?”
“Not really.” Morgan thought for a moment. “She’s out of the game. And I told her to lay low for a bit. I think Kelly should be okay if she stays off the streets.”
“Okay, so you had a busy week. When do you think they’ll arrest you?”
“Probably any day now. It’s only a matter of time before they get their tests back and find some incriminating DNA. I could be in a cell as soon as tomorrow. Any suggestions?”
“Of course, but first, what are you planning on doing?”
“I really don’t know. My head’s a mess. Things are coming at me from all sides. I can’t even think straight.” He grimaced in frustration.
The doctor thought for a moment. “Don’t you think it would be wise to face these charges with a clear head?”
“Yes. What’re you suggesting?” Morgan stared at her anxiously.
Doctor Parker set her journal aside. “Why are you on their timeline?”
“What do you mean?”
“You told me you have plenty of money. Why not leave? Go on vacation.”
“Vacation? At a time like this?”
“Why not? You said yourself you may be in jail in a few days. Go somewhere far away and exotic. Spend some of that insurance money. Have a good time. Clear your head. Come back in thirty days ready to face whatever you need to face.”
“That does sound good.”
“So do it. But I did say clear your head. You know what that means?”
“No booze?” Hope that’s all.
“Yes, no booze.”
Oh good, that’s it.
“Or sex, Detective. Also shut off your cellphone. Take time for yourself.”
“Seriously?” Guess that wasn’t all. I mean, no booze, fine. But no sex?
“Are you telling me you can’t go without booze or sex for thirty days?”
“Of course I can.” He frowned. I don’t think I can. “Just doesn’t sound like much of a vacation. Sounds more like the Brady Bunch episode when they went to Hawaii. Besides, taking off doesn’t seem to be very doctor-like advice. Especially when the police department is footing the bill.”
“I had a son who would have been around your age. He took his own life with his Service gun. He would’ve had twenty years on the force this month.” She sighed, her eyes moistening. “Now I’m looking at a patient who is in a fog and teetering on the edge of utter destruction. My patient.” She reached over and patted him on the knee. “You need to clear your head if you have a chance of surviving this and of properly facing your future. Don’t you want that for yourself, Morgan? A future?”
She had never called him by his first name before.
I nearly shot myself. Something needs to change. “Yes.”
“Good. Then what’s stopping you?”
“Well, I was told not to leave town.“
“Since when do you do what you’re told?” For the first time in more than a year her expression changed. Morgan could swear the good doctor had a very slight smirk on her face.
Detective Morgan Harper cracked a smile.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
I learned that there is a Nicki Nance on FS so I will be going back and switching the name. I am thinking about Vicki Vance of Nicki Vance. Not sure.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
The warm sun beat down on his face, feeling incredible. Morgan couldn’t get enough of it. He had spent the last several days lounging around the beach on towels and in lawn chairs.
“Your drink, Mr. Benson. A young Hispanic male held a tray holding a large frosted glass with a colorful umbrella sticking out of it.
“Thank you, Jorge.”
“Virgin Pina Colada, just like you requested, Sir.”
Morgan was feeling good. Not that the first week hadn’t been rough. It took two days alone for his hyper anxieties to drain away. Then came the shakes.
Morgan had not expected detoxing off alcohol to be so rough. The tremors and sickness, followed by a terrible headache that lasted for days. But now, he was feeling great.
Morgan took the drink and tipped the young man, then lay back down. He wanted more of that beautiful sunshine.
Harpers don’t run from their problems. His father’s voice popped into his head. Oh great, Dad's back. Apparently we Harpers don’t drink or have sex anymore either. He chuckled to himself.
Morgan really had adored the man, whom he had considered to be his best friend. His father died the year he graduated from the police academy. His mother died two years after. Both from cancer.
Nobody’s running dad. I just needed a break to get my head straight before I return and fight to get my life back.
Not that the thought hadn’t crossed Morgan’s mind in the past two weeks. It would be hard for the burnt-out man to return to Seattle. Hard to leave this incredible sun that felt like a warm hug. But return he would. Harpers don’t run.
That night, Morgan enjoyed a delicious lobster dinner, followed by an incredible massage. Oddly, he only thought about sleeping with the cute masseuse a couple of times. Normally, it would have been all he could think about.
Morgan knew he was doing the right thing. He hadn’t touched alcohol the entire time he had been here. Nor had Debra visited him in the dream world. Not even once. He had even declined hitting some weed one night while hanging around a beach campfire with some local youths. Now I can think straight.
Doctor Parker had told him to find something worth living for. But what? Maybe she meant me? Or my job? Hell no. Kelly? She’s just a kid. Tamra? Damn, that night was something to remember. Not even Debra had electrified me like that.
What had Hutch said? One step at a time. Well, I guess staying out of prison will be my main focus.
That afternoon, Ted Norton arrived. After he checked in, the two men met up in a poolside cabana.
“Teddy!” Morgan gave the man a tight embrace. Ted Norton had been his favorite Training Officer at the police academy. “I can’t believe you flew all the way down here to see me!”
“I’m retired. Besides, I’ve never been to Brazil, so I thought, why not?” The older man laughed. “You’re looking very good.”
“Hutch filled you in on all the gritty details?” Morgan hated for this man to know his shameful secrets.
“Every grimy one. The minute he told me you needed me, I jumped on the first plane I could get a ticket for. Imagine my wife’s surprise when I told her I was leaving for Brazil the following morning!” Ted let out a hearty belly laugh. “Are you really so surprised that I came?”
“No. I actually knew you would.” Morgan nodded. “I never forgot what you did in the academy when my father was sick and then died a couple days before graduation. You let me fly home several times and miss classes. Not to mention, you drove me all the way home to Spokane the day before graduation for the funeral and drove all night to get us back that morning. Also, you helped out, Kelly. That was huge.”
“Morgan, you were the best student I ever had. Possibly the best the academy has ever seen. You certainly would’ve had the highest marks if you hadn’t missed those classes.” The man shrugged.
“Still, you went way above and beyond.” Morgan smiled.
“I saw a young man with a lot of potential who needed a helping hand. So I helped. And getting the young woman off the streets and into nursing school was a no-brainer. Everyone deserves a chance to succeed.”
“So what should I do, Teddy?” Morgan shrugged.
“You're doing it.” Ted smiled. “I understand you came here to get yourself straight. To clean up and come up with a game plan.”
“I’m clean, relaxed, well rested and well fed.” Morgan laughed. “But, I have to go back and I still have no idea what to do.”
“You know exactly what to do. What’s the number one thing I taught you men at the academy? The one thing more important than any other?” He stared the younger man in the eye.
“Always take responsibility for our actions.” Morgan sighed. “I’m afraid that’s a heavy load.”
“Regardless. Take responsibility and accept whatever repercussions that may come. That’s what being a man is all about.” Morgan couldn’t break his gaze because he knew his wise mentor was correct. “But don’t forget the follow-up. Stop being an idiot and change your course. Stop engaging in bad behavior. You’ve grieved long enough. When you get back to Seattle, climb on top of the cute sister-in-law you have the hots for. What’s her name?”
“Tam . . . Tamra. Hutch told you about her?”
“Yeh. The sooner you accept Debra is gone and not coming back, the quicker you’ll realize she’d have been okay for you to be happy. Whatever internal demons she was facing, she’d never have blamed you for her death. Not if she really loved you.”
He’s right. It’s time to let her go. Tears started flowing freely down Morgan’s cheeks. “She did. I know she loved me.”
“I’m sure she did, dear boy. I’m sure she did.” Ted gave the distraught man a hug.
Later that evening, the two friends enjoyed a tasty T-bone steak dinner. They spent a whole week together, basking in the sun, swimming, and eating large meals.
One day at the pool, Teddy watched Morgan swim up. “I forgot what an incredible swimmer you are.”
“Four years on the high school swim team. Made varsity three of those.” Morgan smiled at the old memories.
“Yes, I remember seeing all those trophies and ribbons at your parents’ house when I took you home for the funeral.” Teddy smiled at him. “I guess you’ve never lost the talent.”
Morgan shrugged off his praise. “Being in the water has always felt like second nature to me. I used to be able to hold my breathe underwater for three minutes. Doubt I could do that anymore.”
“Give it a try.” Teddy challenged him.
Morgan made a few attempts, but barely broke two minutes. The pair played around in the pool for another hour then had a fabulous seafood dinner.
The following morning, it was time for Norton to go. Morgan saw him off, outside of the resort.
“Thank you, old friend.” Morgan hugged the man warmly.
“When you return in two weeks, you do what you need to do. Be the man that I know you are, Detective Harper.” The man gave him a wink.
“Thank you, Teddy.” The fact that Norton had called him by his title showed Morgan a lot of respect. Then Ted was gone.
Another week of beach time at the all-inclusive resort passed by quickly and the day arrived for Morgan to return home. I’m ready.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
Wow! No warnings! This chapter is not filler. It was in my original outline plan as I needed 30 days to pass in Seattle to make something happen.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
When Morgan flew to Brazil, he had purchased a one-way ticket. That way, he could choose when and where he would like to return. He landed in Portland, Oregon, hoping to avoid getting arrested immediately.
Once he was on the ground, there was only one person he wanted to talk to.
“Tam, it’s me.”
A long pause. “Are you back?”
“Yes. Just landed.”
“Morgan, the entire department is looking for you. They’re going to the Grand Jury this week to get indictments on you for murder.” She sounded upset.
“I expected that. I’m in for the fight of my life, but I’m more worried about us at the moment.”
“Us? Morgan, I accepted it when you called me and said you’d be gone for awhile. I even understood why you turned your phone off. You needed time away.” Tamra let out an exasperated gasp. “But my God, don’t think it didn’t cross my mind that you wouldn’t come back.”
“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind either, Tam.” He sighed. “You’re not going to ask me if I did it? Killed those women?”
“Of course not. I don’t need to. I know you didn’t do it.” She was emphatic.
“Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.“ He wished he could see her face.
“Listen to me. One thing I learned from this separation is that I need you.” He could hear tears in her voice. “But you would’ve been smart to stay away.”
“Look, I know I told you I can’t do us. Nothing is normal for—-“
“I’m pregnant, Morgan.”
“Wait . . . what?” Find something to live for. “Are you sure? I mean, we only did it once.”
“Sometimes once is enough, Morgan. I’m a week late. I took one of the store test and it was positive. I’ll be getting a test at my gyno tomorrow morning, but I’m pretty sure you knocked me up. I’m sorry, Morgan, but with you in my life or out of it, I’m having our baby. Please don’t be mad at me.”
Mad? “I’m not mad. I’m ecstatic. Are you telling me that I’m going to be a father? Seriously? That’s awesome!”
“Really?” He could hear her voice switch immediately from apprehension to joy.
“Look. It’d be an understatement to say that I have to straighten out some things but, after I’ve handled some stuff, I’ll come over tonight.” He felt a shiver of anticipation run up and down his spine.
“Tonight?” She seemed hesitant.
“Yes. I can bring dinner with me and we’ll discuss us.” He held his breath, unsure of how she would respond. Am I too damaged for her?
“Don’t you dare. I’ll make your favorite roast. What time?”
He did some quick calculations in his head. With the three-hour drive to Seattle and his intended stops, it would be a bit. “How about 7?”
“Perfect, but Morgan, enter the building the back way. You know, through the alleyway door. I’m pretty sure they’re watching my place, waiting for you to show up.”
After he hung up, Morgan rented a car and headed to the north end of Seattle, where he found himself in a place he never thought he would ever be in again. With a sigh, he went in.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been twenty-one years since my last confession.” He could swear he heard the man behind the screen sit up with a start.
Morgan began slow, with the alcohol abuse and drug use. But, by the time Morgan got past the hooker sexual stories and started on his affair with the married Vicki Vance, the screen slid open. There sat a familiar looking gray-haired spectacled old man.
“Father Flanagan?”
“In the flesh. Who are you, young man?”
“Morgan Harper.”
“Dale and Jane’s little Morgie?” The priest smiled.
“Well, I haven’t been called that in many years, but yes.”
“Lean forward.” The priest stuck his hand through the opening and ruffled Morgan’s hair. “Yep, that’s my Morgie!”
It had been something everybody did when he was a child. People loved to rustle his blond mop back then. Now it’s more of a blond mess.
“I remember you, Father Flanagan. I suppose Father Benson is still around, too?”
“No, he died some six years ago. It’s just me now.”
“Oh, sorry. Should I continue with my confession?”
“Listen, Morgie, it sounds like you’re a sin-riddled mess of a soul.” Morgan could see a sad smile on the man’s face.
“Yep. That about sums it up.” Morgan shrugged. “Although just saying ‘a mess’ would’ve sufficed.”
“When’s the last time you talked to God? I mean really got down on your hands and knees and talked to the Almighty Creator?”
“Umm . . . I think Bill Clinton was still president.” Morgan sighed. “So, a few decades.”
“I’m only asking, because unconventional sin needs unconventional methods.” Father Flanagan gave him a knowing smile.
“I’m not sure I follow.” I’m sure I don’t.
“How about this. Go over to the pews over there and get down on your knees and talk to God directly. I mean really talk to him. Lay it all out. Whatever’s on your heart. Can you do that?”
“I can try."
Father Flanagan let out a snort. “Try? No Morgie, you do more than try. You do it. I’ll leave and keep everyone out so you’ll have the entire sanctuary to yourself.”
“I don’t think He wants to hear from me.” Morgan slumped down in the confessional, as if he were trying to hide. “I’ve done terrible things.”
“Nonsense. He listens to everyone. He’s God. How He responds, well that’s a different story.” Father Flanagan winked at him.
“Okay, Father.” Morgan rose.
They both exited their respective confessional doors. Father Flanagan came around and rustled Morgan’s hair one more time. “Good to see you, my boy.”
“You too, Father.” Morgan meant it. The man reminded him of his parents and of better times.
“Now go. You don’t want to keep Him waiting. And next time, don’t wait twenty-one years to visit. Maybe even shave that jungle thingy you have growing on your face.” With that, the elderly priest walked away.
The shamed-filled Morgan slowly made his way to the front pew. A sad-looking Jesus on a large cross stared at him from the back wall. He had always heard Protestants had crosses without Jesus on them while Catholics had Him on there. Odd thing to think about at this moment, but I think I’m stalling. Okay, I know I’m stalling. God still scares me.
Morgan got down on his knees and folded his hands in prayer. “When I was a kid I used to go to confessional and each time I would confess my greatest sin. It was always cursing. Well, God, it’s much worse than that now. Much.”
He paused for a bit, collecting his thoughts. “They say You know a person’s heart. That means You know I’ve always believed in you. I just started believing that You don’t care about what goes on down here. I think that came from all the bad I’ve seen. So many bad people doing really bad things.”
Morgan frowned. I didn’t come here to make excuses. What’s in my heart?
“I mean, You watched my parents drag me here every Sunday, kicking and screaming. Please tell them hello and I’m sorry, by the way. Anyhow, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to come to church. It was that I didn’t like to be forced. That never worked well for me in any matter.”
Morgan let out a long sigh. “I know I don’t deserve it in any way, shape, or form, but I have to ask for a favor from You. It’s a big one.”
Morgan shifted his weight from one knee to the other.
“See I’m about to have a child. And selfishly, I really want to be there for that kid. If You could find it in Yourself to grant me one miracle and get me out of this mess, I’d be so grateful. I’m not going to make any crazy promises, like I’m not going to Fuc. . . ah . . . screw up anymore, because we both know me. Let’s not kid ourselves by sugar coating it. I’m gonna screw up plenty more in my life. So please, I’m begging You. A little help here? Not because You have to, but because You can. Okay, I’ve said my piece. Amen."
He rose, having surprised himself. Not that he had prayed, or that he had been so honest. Or even that he had begged for help. No, he was surprised to see that his eyes were flowing with tears.
Now that Morgan had spoken with God, he needed to visit someone a bit less holy. He needed to see Kelly.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
Longest chapter yet. I went back and switched all the Nicki Nance names out for Vicki Vance. Long night!
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
When he entered Kelly’s apartment building, he found himself getting excited to see the redhead. It wasn’t the sexual excitement he used to feel, he only wanted one woman now, but it was a genuine excitement to see how she was doing. Only he wasn’t as excited as Kelly was.
“OMG! Detective Morg!” The young woman ran and jumped in his arms, wrapping her shapely legs around him. She hugged him so tightly he nearly lost his breath.
Once Kelly climbed off, he got a good look at her. She wore light brown Capri pants, a pink Gap ribbed turtleneck long-sleeve shirt, and tan loafers. She looked like a regular teenager.
“Damn that’s a nice tan! Where were you?” Her face scrunched up in concern. “I thought you’d abandoned me.”
“Really? Didn’t I tell you I was getting you a birthday gift?” He tossed her a plastic bag.
She broke into a big grin when she opened it and pulled out a red Snoopy sweatshirt. “You remembered!”
“You were wearing tiny snoopy earrings the first night we met.” He laughed. “You told me you liked the Peanuts Gang.”
“Seems so long ago, but it really hasn’t been.” She got a far-away look.
“Anyways, here’s your real present.” Morgan handed Kelly a small wrapped gift. “Don’t open it until the day after tomorrow, on the real date of your birthday.”
There was a key fob in the box. The dealership would be delivering a brand new Ford Fusion for her down on the street the night before her birthday. She’s going to be so surprised.
A call to Ted at the college had revealed that Kelly was doing great and had not missed a single class. Morgan thought that earned her the privilege of getting off the buses.
“Are you kidding me? I really have to wait?” She shook the box with it next to her ear, looking like a kid at Christmas.
“Promise me, or you’ll ruin the surprise.” He gave her a stern look.
“Okay. I promise.” She set the box on the table. It’ll sit right here. But the second I wake up on my birthday, I’m tearing it open.”
“Fair enough. So how’s it going?”
“Oh my gosh! Let me show you.” She ran to her bedroom and came back with a paper and handed it to him. She was now wearing the Snoopy sweatshirt he had gotten her and held a hint of pride in her expression.
It was a progress report from the college with the name Kelly Pierson at the top. It showed her assignments, quizzes, and even a couple of test grades. All were 90% or higher.
“Damn girl. You weren’t joking when you said you were a good student.” Morgan beamed.
“Fucking right!” She covered her mouth. “Oops. I’m working on that. They still slip out sometimes.”
“If that’s your biggest sin, then you’re ahead of the game.” He chuckled remembering his visit to the church.
“It is, Morgan.” She raised an eyebrow inquisitively, making her look adorable. “Is that your biggest sin?”
“If you're asking where my pecker’s been, I’ve been a good boy. At least for the past thirty days.” He smiled with pride at his own success. “But, I am interested in someone. How about you? Any boyfriends yet?”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “I dated a couple fellas, but I followed your advice and have been wiener free since I moved here. Just wanted to clear my head and not complicate things. Ya know?”
“I do. Smart girl. So how’d these dates go?”
“Okay. One guy, Billy, was a little too handsy, but I put him in his place. I also went out with a boy named Dave a couple times. We kissed a little, but he was such a bore. Wait . . . why are you grinning like that?”
“It’s just nice to see you being a normal college student.” Why do I feel so proud right now? “Is that it?”
“No.”
“Do tell.”
“You won’t make fun?”
“Of course not.”
“Okay, I met this really great guy. His name’s Brock. We’ve only been dating for about two weeks now, but look!” She pointed at a vase full of roses on the table. “He got me flowers. I really like him. He’s so cute and fun.”
Beaming, she pulled up a picture on her cellphone and showed Morgan.
“He looks athletic. Brock and Kelly. Sounds good.” He laughed.
“I know, it’s sorta Barbie sounding, but I really like him.”
“Then take your time. If he’s into you, he won’t be going anywhere. You’re worth the wait.”
“Aw, thanks, Morg.” She hugged him again. “You really saved my life. And didn’t ask for anything.”
“Yes I did. Become a nurse. And a damn good one.”
“Well, thanks to you, that’s actually going to happen.” She couldn’t stop smiling because she was so happy to see him.
“Have you been lying low like I asked?”
“I’ve only gone to school and then way north into the burbs to shop or go on dates.” She frowned, then bit her lower lip in the cute way that she did. “I did go to my old apartment one time.”
“Oh, why?” He frowned back.
She held up her wrist, showing a snoopy charm bracelet. “I forgot about this. It was a gift from my sister, Julieta.”
“You have a sister?”
“Not blood. We were together in the foster home. She was younger. I felt bad leaving her with my perv foster dad, but I had to get out of there.” Kelly shrugged her shoulders. “So, I had to go back for it.”
He smiled. “Well, it doesn’t seem like you had any trouble.”
“No.” Darlene told me that Paco and that sleaze Hugo had been there several times looking for me. So I was in and out as quickly as I could to grab my bracelet.”
“You didn’t tell those girls where you’re living did you?”
“Shit, Morg, I ain’t stupid.” She shook her head. “Of course I didn’t.”
“Good. Smart girl.”
“So, I want you to meet Brock. Just to check him out and tell me what you think, but . . . “ She hesitated.
“But what?”
“Well, how do I introduce you? A friend at your age may intimidate Brock. I mean, you’re more like a dad.”
“Okay, that’d be too weird after the things we’ve done.” He shook his head. “How about . . . older brother?”
She thought for a moment. “Still weird, but yeah, I like it. I’ve never had a brother. Not blood, but kinda like Julieta. Can you be that?”
“It’s official, Sis. I’ve been an only child my entire life. Having a younger sister would be awesome. We’ll treat each other as siblings from now on.”
Kelly gave Morgan such a warm loving smile that it felt like his heart would melt. She wiped away a tear, then made him lunch.
They spent the afternoon laughing and talking like two real siblings would. When it was time to go, Morgan didn’t want to. Kelly was the closest thing to family he had left, besides Tamra and the baby that was growing in her belly.
The smile on Morgan’s face remained there all the way down to his rented Honda. Next he needed to find Hutch. We have to solve these murders if I’m going to avoid prison.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
This chapter turned out better than I expected. I am still not having trouble producing content thanks to my initial outline. Editing is where
I am lacking. This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Staying off the radar was his number one goal. Renting the common-looking tinted-out blue Honda Accord was part of that plan. It wouldn’t stick out like his red Charger would.
Good job, so far. Things seem to be going well.
CRASH! A brown, beat-up, early-70’s Camaro shot out of a nearby alleyway and slammed into Morgan’s Honda. The impact sent the man careening into oncoming traffic.
Morgan swerved hard right, then hard left, avoiding head-on collisions amidst a barrage of honking angry and frightened drivers. Once he maneuvered back into his own lane, he could see the Camaro in his rearview mirror. It came up fast and slammed into the rear bumper of the Honda.
Morgan could see big Hugo driving the car, with a tatted out scraggly white guy riding passenger. In the back seat was Paco Sanchez, holding his bandaged hands in the air, trying to keep from bumping them.
What the hell? They must have been watching Kelly’s place. I bet they followed her from her old apartment. Morgan slammed down the accelerator and tore through the light traffic.
At the next signal, he ran through a yellow light with the gang members right on his bumper, catching the red. The next light was also red. Morgan feathered the break, avoiding one car passing through the intersection then accelerated before another came.
Hugo clipped the second car on the tail end with his left fender, sending it spinning. Surprisingly, the Camaro was still rolling and came on quick. It slammed into Morgan’s rear bumper again. I can't shake them. That Camaro is too fast!
The jolt caused the detective to nearly lose control of the Honda. Morgan made a hard right off the main strip, his rear end power-sliding into several trash cans which went flying.
Another block, and Hugo had the Camaro on his rear bumper again. This time shots rang out!
“Crack! Crack! Crack! The tattooed white man was leaning out the passenger’s side window, firing a long-barreled revolver at the Honda Accord.
Morgan tried to push the gas pedal through the floorboards, but it was already as far down as it would go. A quick glance at his odometer revealed that he was racing down the street at just over eighty miles per hour.
“Shoot that motherfucker, Stu!” Paco screamed.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Morgan’s back window exploded as a bullet ricocheted around the passenger compartment of the car.
Morgan punched the brake and cut the steering wheel hard right careening around a corner as the back end of the car slid. Head for the wharf. Fewer people and less traffic.
The Camaro navigated the turn and was back on him in seconds. That car may look like junk, but they must have souped up the engine on that thing.
The detective crammed the accelerator to the floor again as the Camaro tapped his bumper a couple more times. He swerved slightly right to avoid hitting an old white man standing in the middle of the street.
Hugo swerved the opposite way, barely missing the elderly pedestrian just to the left. The old man stood there holding a fishing pole, his mouth hanging open, while his fishing hat chased the fleeing cars’ draft.
The Honda surged forward, racing through another red light, with the Camaro matching his speed through the signal. Luckily, there was no cross traffic.
Hugo pulled up beside Morgan’s car with Paco screaming. “Payback for my hands, Bitch!”
The detective could see Paco sliding around the back seat like a rag doll unable to grab anything to hold onto. If it wasn’t for his seatbelt, the pimp would already be laying in the street.
It would have been comical if the tattooed white guy wasn’t leaning out the passenger window aiming in on him with a rusty black revolver. The Honda's gas pedal was floored.
Morgan could see another traffic signal coming up where the street ended at the boardwalk. They would have to make a right or left at the water front.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! The man unloaded the pistol, bullets striking everywhere but their intended target. ‘Spray and pray’ shooting rarely hits anything.
The Camaro fell back in on Morgan’s bumper as they reached the traffic light which turned red. Morgan saw a fancy silver Mercedes Benz start into the intersection.
He could see a blonde woman who was about his age driving. She was wearing sunglasses and pointing at a barge up ahead. The woman had not seen the approaching danger.
Morgan stomped his foot down on the brake while he yanked the steering wheel hard to the right, sending the Honda careening around the accelerating Mercedes. He went into a power spin, his tires belching black smoke into the air. The passenger's side of the rental car slammed into several two-foot high concrete posts that protected the wharf, leaving him facing the intersection.
Hugo had not seen the silver Mercedes, being focused on shoving Morgan into the East Waterway. The Camaro slammed dead center into the fancy sedan with a sickening crunching metal sound. The Camaro’s engine sputtered, then died.
Morgan observed several things happening at the same time. The white tattooed man named Stu, who must have reloaded the gun, had climbed halfway back out the passenger side window, making the last mistake he ever would.
Stu’s body went spinning through the air where he slammed into the metal crossing signal pole. He came to rest on the ground in a bloody, mangled mess.
The Mercedes was pushed by the Camaro through the intersection, where it hit the barriers, flipping over them. The car rolled across the boardwalk and teetered against the railing on its side. For a second, it could have fallen either way, but it plunged into the East Waterway five feet below with a tremendous splash.
The last thing Morgan saw was a young blonde girl, maybe six or seven, staring out the back window with a terrified look on her face. Her booster seat had kept her in place.
A limping Hugo, with a bloody gash across his forehead, climbed out of the Camaro dragging a dazed Paco over the back seat. Their car’s engine compartment was crushed against a concrete barrier pole with smoke pouring out of the scrunched up hood. The two battered scumbags headed up the street.
Shit. What a clusterfuck! It was a word he had learned from his father who had picked it up in the Marines.
Morgan climbed out of the broken window of the Honda Accord. He was a bit bruised up but was amazingly none the worse for wear.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
Back to the action!
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
The urge to chase the fleeing criminals pulled at the cop-side of Morgan but the image of the terrified child was even stronger. The choice was clear.
Morgan dropped his jacket and kicked off his shoes as he ran to the sea wall. An elderly Asian couple, who had been walking their dog, stood staring at the churning waters and descending headlights as the Mercedes sank.
“Call 911!” Morgan tossed his own cell phone onto the boardwalk and, without hesitating, dove into the frigid cold waters.
The freezing blast brought his mental state into complete focus. Have to hurry. I’m not going to last long in this cold water.
He could see from the headlights that the Mercedes was settling on the bottom in an upright position. The car must have turned upright as it sank.
Barely visible in the gloomy water was a ‘Kerns for Senate’ bumper sticker. Great. They support the biggest anti-police politician in the state. I’ve got an idea. Focus, Morgan, or they’re dead.
He rapidly swam down ten feet, reaching the roof of the Mercedes. The headlights and dome light flickered off and on.
He used the roof to pull himself down to the driver’s side window. Through the stirred up muddy water, he could make out the blonde woman struggling with her seatbelt. When he went to help her she frantically pointed to the back seat where the little girl was strapped into a booster seat.
Thank goodness the lights are still on! Almost as if he had reminded them they shouldn’t be working, they flashed off, back on, then went off for good, plunging the compartment into complete darkness.
Doesn’t matter. I saw what I needed to. Morgan swam back to the child through the rear window, which had also broken in the impact. She had been floating limp against her lap restraint. He found the seat belt and managed to extract the young girl from the booster chair. Tucking the unmoving child under his left arm, he headed to the front seat.
A moment of panic seized him when he slammed his head into a head rest. Am I upside down? It didn’t help that his lungs were starting to burn from lack of oxygen.
Calm down. My years of swimming tell me I have at least thirty seconds of air left. Stay focused or we all die down here.
When he reached his arm around to the front seat he felt the steering wheel. No woman. Had she escaped? Then he touched her hair.
The driver was floating on the ceiling of the car. She must’ve released her seat belt. Is she unconscious, or worse, dead? Maybe I should leave her?
Morgan grabbed the rim of the driver side door, cutting his fingers on shards of broken glass. Ignoring the injury, he squeezed past the woman and was back outside the car.
I’m lucky she isn’t a big lady. His oxygen deprived lungs started to ache. I must’ve been down for over two minutes now. Don’t think about that, numbnuts! Focus! Can’t leave her.
He reached back into the cold dark car. For a moment he panicked when he only felt open water. Then, reaching in deeper, he struck her hand.
Morgan rapidly located the woman’s hair and wrapped his hand in circles, looping several strands around his palm. Sorry, but if we’re all very lucky and somehow manage to survive this, you’ll thank me later. With a hefty tug, he yanked the motionless woman from the car.
Now his lungs were screaming for air. He was mere seconds from passing out. Morgan kicked hard with his powerful swimmer’s legs.
With the child under his arm while pulling an adult by the hair, the ten-foot climb to the surface took what seemed like an eternity. The extra weight slowed him immensely while darkness threatened to take him as he finally broke the surface.
Luckily, the elderly couple were still there. Sucking in sweet cool air, he quickly handed off the child whom they pulled up near a built-in metal-rung sea ladder. A tired Morgan struggled to climb up the ladder with the lifeless woman in tow.
The old man came over and grabbed her by the hands and, working together with Morgan pushing from behind, they got the lady up onto the boardwalk.
When Morgan climbed out, he was breathing heavy, freezing cold, and exhausted. Staring at the two bodies sprawled out in front of him, he knew he didn’t have time for any of that.
Both of the females’ half-closed dull eyes stared skyward. He had seen that look many times before. It was the look of death. There was no time to waste or all his efforts were for naught.
He could barely make out sirens in the distance. Still far off, but close enough to give these girls a fighting chance. That was the good thing about living in a big city. Rescue was always nearby, often beating the police to accident scenes. Still, the ladies had been without oxygen for a couple of minutes already.
Seattle Police Department policy was to wait for EMT’s or to use an airbag for disease prevention. I won’t be following any of that nonsense.
The soaking wet Morgan began CPR on both of the victims. Breaths, pumps breaths, pumps; he rotated back and forth as quickly as he could.
The elderly Asian couple offered to help him as he progressed. He showed them where to push and they took over the chest compression rotations, while he sat between the two females and rendered breaths back and forth.
A crowd of onlookers gathered around. Two younger men came forward and took over doing chest compressions for the tired older couple.
While Morgan continued administering breaths, his mind raced. Please God. PLEASE! I know I begged you to give me a miracle in that church. I know I said just one. Tell you what. These people shouldn’t have gotten caught up in my mess. Give them my miracle. They can have it. Please let them live and I’ll take whatever I have coming. I’m not sure if you work that way, but I’m begging you. Please!
Just as the ambulances and police were arriving, the little girl began to cough. After being turned onto her side, she vomited up a rush of brackish sea water. A moment later, her eyes fluttered to life. Crying came next. This brought about loud cheers from the onlookers.
When the EMT’s ran up, a shivering Morgan fell back onto the boardwalk and closed his eyes. He was no longer feeling cold as his entire body had gone numb.
So much for staying off the radar.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
You all knew Morgan was going for a swim. Now the Teddy Norton scene makes more sense.
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Morgan watched the Emergency Medical Technicians working on the older woman as they loaded her into an ambulance. He couldn’t tell if she were dead or alive.
He, himself, was on a stretcher, wrapped in warm blankets while an EMT named Grady rubbed his arms and legs to get the circulation going. The child had already been taken away.
“You two still tailing me?” Morgan stared at Ronnie Tate and Darrin Belzer as they walked up.
“Is he injured?” Belzar addressed Grady.
“Hypothermia, minor lacerations on his hands, some bruises, and he’s pretty much exhausted. Other than that, your officer should be okay.”
“He ain’t our officer.” Ronnie Tate scowled.
“Any life threatening injuries?” Belzar ignored his partner.
“He really should go to the hospital to get his body temperature back up.” Grady shrugged.
“We’ll run the heater on high.” Tate aggressively grabbed Morgan by the shoulder and pulled him from the stretcher.
“Take it easy!” Grady yelled at them. “That man just rescued two woman from the river.”
“Why don’t you go find someone else to save?” Tate yelled over his shoulder at the frowning Grady.
The two uniformed officers escorted Morgan to their marked Seattle Police car. Tate shoved Morgan over the hood of the cruiser and put cuffs on him while Belzar began searching him.
A flash bulb on a large old-fashioned camera, held by reporter Mac Yung, flashed brightly in Morgan’s face. The reporter snickered, “Sinner or Saint, Detective Harper?”
The crowd, who had just watched Morgan save a child’s life, immediately began booing the cops. One man even threw a half-empty Coke can that bounced off the cruiser’s front bumper. Mac headed off to get pictures of the angry mob that was forming.
The two cops unceremoniously shoved the shivering Morgan into the back seat caged area of the unit and, a moment later, sped away.
“You know it’s against station policy not to buckle in your prisoners. I’m going to have to report you. Safety first.” Morgan’s words dripped with sarcasm.
“Shut the fuck up, Harper. And you can read yourself the Miranda rights. Nobody has questions for you. IA’s case is solid.” Tate smirked. “You’re going to rot in a tiny dark cell for the rest of your life.”
“Dark cell? Did WADOC (Washington Department of Corrections) stop paying their electric bills?” Morgan couldn’t help but goad the jerk.
“Okay smart ass. You can forget about that heater.”
By the time they reached the station, Morgan’s teeth were chattering and he was shivering uncontrollably. Should’ve kept my big mouth shut.
Once at the station, Morgan was printed, photoed, and booked into custody. His one call went to Tamra. It was nearing 7:00 pm.
“Hey, Tam. Things didn’t go as planned.” Morgan leaned his head against the block wall.
“Are you running late. I have dinner on the ta—-“
“They got me.” He sighed.
“No. What? How?” He could hear the distress in her voice.
Another long sigh. “Paco Sanchez.”
“That pimp again?”
“Yeah. He and his boys tried to kill me. There was a high speed chase that ended in a bad accident. I wound up in the East Waterway.”
“Oh no! Are you okay, Morgan?”
“Yeah, for the most part. Let’s just say it’s a good thing I opted for the insurance on my rental car.” His joke failed to lighten the somber mood.
“So what now?”
“They just processed me. It’s Friday night, so I’m guessing I’ll be sitting in county jail until they get me in front of a judge on Monday. I’ll know more then.”
“You want me to find you an attorney?”
“Nah. I already have a couple of names in mind. Guys I like from past dealings, even though they were always on the other side of the aisle.”
“Will the judge give you bail?”
“Not sure. I did leave the country for a month after being told to stay in town. Still, on paper, I was a great cop. I guess I’ll know more Monday.” He did some quick calculations. “I have a bit over 400 grand in my accounts. Plus my retirement IRA, if I need it.”
“You only have to pay 10% of what the judge sets. Your money would go a long ways." Now she sounded hopeful.
“Don’t hold your breath. They think I’m a serial killer. Everything they have is circumstantial, so I think I can beat this, but I may be gone for a long time.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But it doesn’t hurt to have hope.”
“Okay, Tam, they’re signaling me that I have to go.” He paused. “I know this is crap timing, but I think I love you.”
“I know I love you, Morgan. I always have.” Then she was gone.
Ronny Tate took Morgan to an interrogation room. “Right where you belong. Transport will be here soon. I’ll be sure to let some of the boys I locked up over in county know you’re coming. Bet they’re going to take real kindly to a cop in their midst.”
Tate cuffed the dejected Morgan to the bar that ran along the top of the metal table and put his face inches from Morgan’s. "I have twenty years on the force and they gave that homicide promotion to you? Should’ve been mine. Guess justice was served now.”
“You should invest in some mouthwash,” Morgan quipped.
Tate grabbed the back of the restrained man’s head and shoved it against the metal table. “You’re getting what you deserve, you son-of-a-bitch.”
“Smile. You’re on camera.”
“Cameras ain’t gonna save you in County.” Tate released Morgan and, scowling, turned and looked at the security camera in the upper corner of the room. He left the room, locking the door behind him.
Morgan kept his head on the table, shivering uncontrollably from the cold. At least my clothes finally dried. I guess I’m in the shit now. I’m going to have to get in the proper mindset to survive prison.
A long time later, the lock clicked and the door swung open. Time to go. Let the games begin.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
Had a few structure issues. Working it out!
This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
On the other side of town, at a waterfront warehouse, a figure emerged from the shadows.
"Is that badge supposed to mean something to me? ‘Cause it don’t. You better be here to tell me you’ve arrested that asshole, Harper, for assaulting me.” Paco made a loud smacking sound with his lips and held up his two bandaged hands as if to validate his wounds. “That bato's a filthy animal.”
“What the hell? Are you just gonna stand there in the dark like some kinda creepy stalker? I want that Harper in jail for his crimes against a good citizen, myself.” Paco signaled the shadows, but nothing happened.
Look!” He opened his mouth wide, showing gaps in the front where his gold teeth had been removed. “Bastard took my teeth and put my boy Hugo in the hospital for two days. My homey’s lucky he has a thick skull. He should be around here somewhere.”
The figure still didn’t speak.
Paco assumed there was no way they knew about the chase earlier. The Camaro was stolen. “Why don’t you step forward so I can see your face?” Paco stared at the dark form before him. “I know I never saw Harper but I know it was him. Wait . . . is that you, Morgan?”
The silent figure stepped into the light.
“What the hell are you supposed to be? Are you even a cop? Hey, you don’t need that. What are you doing? I surrender. Put it away.”
BAM!!!
*. *. *
“Shit, Belzar, get Harper a blanket and warm cup of coffee.” Chief Charlie Wilson walked into the interrogation room. “Uncuff this man, Captain!”
The taller, broad-shouldered Howitz had followed the Chief into the room and rushed over, uncuffing Morgan. The chilled man quickly began rubbing his arms and legs to get the circulation going.
What the hell is this? Soon, a warm blanket was put over his shoulders and a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of his face. Darrin Belzar gave him a big smile. This is unexpected. Not that I’m complaining.
Chief Wilson took a seat across from Morgan at the metal table. His phone immediately started vibrating. Morgan’s top boss pulled the cell from his pocket and, after shutting it off, set it on the table.
“Damn thing must’ve rung fifty times in the last thirty minutes.” The grey-haired, slightly balding man was wearing grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He looked like he had jumped out of bed and come straight to the police station.
“Your story is a tough one, Harper.” He sighed. “You went from hero to bad guy the moment your wife killed herself. Tragic.”
Morgan just sipped his coffee, unsure of what was going on or why the top brass was here. Something changed…
“Son, you’re not the first person to suffer tragedy or lose someone. I was widowed at twenty-three when my first wife, Linda, was killed in a traffic accident. Taken out by a drunk driver who already had three DUI convictions. I lost it. I spent the following year in a drunken stupor. My superiors took me under their wings and took care of me until I was able to put it behind me. It’s far past time for you to do the same.”
“Excuse me, Sir, but why are you here? Shouldn’t I be on my way to county lock-up?”
“No, Morgan. I’m here to help you put this mess behind you. Officer Belzar’s going to drive you home tonight.”
Morgan’s mouth popped open. From county lock-up to home?Did I hit my head in that accident? “I don’t understand?”
“You still don’t know who you pulled out of that car do you?”
Morgan shrugged. “I don’t even know if the driver survived.”
“She did, thanks to you. She has some broken ribs and is missing some hair, but she’s alive. You rescued Karen and Megan Kerns tonight.” He held a barely noticeable grin. “That’s why my phone has been blowing up and I’m not lying in my warm bed right now. Every official in the state has been calling me. All the way to the governor."
“Kerns, as in State Senator Larry Kerns?” Morgan was shocked.
“The one and only. You not only saved his daughter, but also his granddaughter.” The man’s smile grew, slightly. “The Kerns ladies were in Seattle enjoying a shopping trip. Seems the kid likes ships and boats, so they always drive around the wharf when they’re in town."
“Okay.” He was at a loss for words so that was the best response he could come up with.
“This is big, Harper. Very big. Kerns is behind the Defund The Police movement in Washington State. And you, a cop, just saved his closest family members. So you go home now, get a good night sleep, and think about what I said. Time to leave the past in the past. Come to work tomorrow at 9:00 am sharp, in your dress uniform. We’ll all sit down in the conference room and work some things out. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.” Completely.
“9:00 am sharp, Detective Harper. And make sure you shave off that . . . whatever it is on your chin.” That ended the unexpected meeting.
Belzar drove Morgan to Tamra’s place, rambling on excitedly about the accident and the rescue. “Do you know who saved you? Jesus did! You got a freaking miracle. Not that you deserved it. But who does?”
Morgan didn’t pay much attention. His mind was focused on three things: He was sitting in the front seat this time with the heater on as high as it would go, the Chief had called him Detective Harper, and Tamra was waiting for him.
When Morgan knocked, Tamra answered the door naked. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into her apartment, never breaking eye contact with her exquisite eyes. “When you called and said you were on your way, I agreed that we needed to have a serious talk about us. But then I realized I had something more important to take care of first. You.”
The first time he took her it was a quick and passionate lust-filled need for fulfillment. The second time, it was much longer as they explored each other’s bodies and learned what the other liked. Finally, they slept in each other’s arms, deep and fulfilled.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
The suspect field narrowed. One more chapter then I will be looking for your guesses as to who the killer is!
Bato - Slang for Bro or dude more commonly used by Hispanic islanders. Vato would be the same with a more vulgar connotation. This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Tamra and Morgan rose early to prepare for their day. They glanced at each other throughout breakfast, giggling and laughing.
The smiling couple headed out at the same time. At their cars, Tamra gave him a long, tender kiss before she went to work and Morgan went to his apartment.
Once there, he shaved and put on his dress police uniform. A quick glance in the mirror brought a grin to his face. There I am. Then he drove to the station.
When Morgan arrived, Chief Wilson, Captain Howitz, Detective Hutch Keller, and IA Brian Anderson were seated in the conference room waiting for him. Both bosses wore their dress uniforms while Anderson wore a gray suit. Hutch, who wore slacks and a collared shirt, stared at his hands.
“Are you clean?” The Chief looked over the rim of his glasses after Morgan was seated. The man bore a stern look. “Off the booze and drugs?”
“Yes.”
“Can you stay clean? Pass a piss test?”
“Yes.”
“Good, Son, because Senator Kerns will be putting you in for the Law Enforcement Medal of Honor. That’s usually reserved for those killed in the line of duty. You’re a bonafide hero, so I’m sure it’ll be approved by the governor. The political ramifications around your rescue are huge. It’s making national news, just when the department needed it with all this anti-cop crap going around.”
“Hero, my ass.” Anderson scowled, unable to contain himself as he rose from his seat.
Chief Wilson gave the IA officer a sharp look. “They found Paco Sanchez and his henchman dead last night, Officer Anderson. Is that right?”
“Well, yes, bu—-“
"What was in Sanchez’s mouth?” Chief Wilson cut him off.
“One earring from each of the dead hookers.” Anderson whispered. “That doesn’t—-“
“Now, I’m not sure what that means, except whoever killed those scumbags also killed those women. Wouldn’t you agree, Officer Anderson?”
“Maybe, but—-“
Wilson continued to roll over Anderson’s objections. “What I do know is that Detective Harper was here in our custody until after midnight which means he couldn’t possibly be the killer. That’s why I made the decision to release him.”
Holy shit. What the hell is going on here? Paco’s dead and I’m cleared? Morgan was flabbergasted.
“So, you’re no longer suspended, Detective Harper. In fact, you never were.” The Chief had turned back to him.
“What? Are you crazy? That man was banging whores and using drugs. You can’t do this!” Anderson rose, knocking his chair backwards. “I won’t let you do this!”
“I can and I did. In fact, Officer Anderson, you’re no longer needed here. You’re excused. You can take take the rest of the day off to calm down.”
“Huh? He stole $30,000 from the evidence room. There’s no way you can bury that.” Anderson fumed. “No way!”
Chief Wilson signaled Captain Howitz who slid a piece of paper across the table. It was a back-dated form releasing $30,000 to Morgan for investigative purposes. “You mean the money Detective Harper signed out to pay informants to work his serial killer case?”
“Fuck that!” The angry IA Officer’s face turned red as he leapt at Morgan.
Hutch saw it coming and, jumping up, grabbed Anderson. He pushed the screaming man from the room. “This ain’t over, Morgan! Mark my words, I’m gonna bury you! Bury you!”
After the room settled, the Chief continued, “Here’s the story. You were deep undercover, Morgan, working the hooker murders. Only the three of us in this room knew about it. The $30,000 was to pay informants. The indictment, investigation, your arrest, and your trip south were all part of the cover. That’s why you were on the streets. Belzar has already been told you were deep undercover and I placed Tate on suspension for abusing prisoners. That’s the story. Only the three of us will ever know the truth. Understood?”
“Will my fellow officers buy that?” Morgan was skeptical.
“They’ll buy whatever I tell them to, Son.” Chief Wilson grinned. “The potential political gain for this department is huge. We can’t squander this opportunity because of your bad judgement and poor behavior. Are we on the same page?”
“Yes, Sir.” Saved by politics?
“No more screwups, Harper. Not one, or I’ll wait until this all blows over, and I’ll fire you quicker than you can say ‘civilian life sucks’. Also, Detective Hutch Keller will be the new lead on your prostitute case. You’ll be too busy doing interviews, smiling for the cameras, and collecting awards.”
“Fair enough, Chief.”
“Damn right it’s fair. I hope you understand what a lucky break you’ve been given. Somebody upstairs must’ve been watching out for you. It’s a miracle you didn’t end up in prison.”
“I know.” Morgan’s voice was hoarse. “No more nonsense. I’m not going to let you, or my new family down.”
“That’s exactly what we wanted to hear.” Wilson nodded at Howitz, who pulled out Morgan’s badge and unloaded Glock and pushed them across the table to the grateful man.
“Welcome back, Morgan.” Captain Howitz smiled, then he and Wilson left the room.
Hutch rose, his eyes on the table. “They told me to stay away from you.”
“What?" Morgan frowned. "Who?”
“The day after we met in the bar. IA Officers came to the Homicide Office and told me, actually everyone, to steer clear of you. They said they had you under surveillance. “
“Really? And you not only stayed away, but you didn’t warn me?” Dang, he’s my friend. “I thought we were tight.”
Hutch rubbed his bald head. “We are, man. But I’m only a couple of years from retirement. I couldn’t afford to lose that by openly defying them.”
“You told me at the bar that you had my back.”
“I know I did, and I still had your back.”
“You did? By avoiding me?” Morgan was more than a little miffed.
Hutch stepped in close, whispering, “Who do you think funneled the information to Tamra about the impending indictment and that IA was watching her apartment? I also kept an eye on the girl you put up in that apartment. Tried to keep her safe. Not to mention I got your message to Ted Norton that you needed to see him. It was the best I could do.”
Morgan sat quiet for a moment, thinking, then slowly rose. He did do right by me.
“Are we good, Morgan?”
“Of course.” He leaned in and gave Hutch a tight hug. “Always.”
Once Hutch departed, Morgan sat alone in the conference room, shaking his head in disbelief. How did this possibly work out? Oh my gosh, Belzar and the Chief were right. I got my miracle.
The realization sent him to his knees. Thank you, God. I didn’t deserve this.
He let out a long sigh. Substance abuse, prostitutes, assaults. I couldn’t see what a mess I was until I got away from all that crap. I should be dead now. I understand that You have given me a second chance. Your grace has given me redemption and healing. I won’t blow it.
Morgan rose with a strong sense of joy. He knew he had been forgiven.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
Time to guess who the killer is! And yes, there will be one more victim!
Only 3 chapters left. I very kindly eliminated Paco and Hugo as suspects for you! It is time to make your guesses. The killer is one of the 11 people listed below. Who do ya think? Morgan Harper all along? Kelly the reformed hooker? Tamra the pregnant lover? Dr. Millicent Parker the motherly shrink? Anderson the jealous IA Officer? Captain Howitz the disappointed boss? Hutch the detached partner? Tate the angry suspended cop? Belzar the religious cop? Steve Vance the scorned husband? Mac the nosy reporter? This story is a graphic and gritty crime novel. Do NOT read this if you do not like harsh reads. I can not promote daily, so if you are one of my two free reviewers please correct something! |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
A little past noon, Morgan was driving to lunch. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. He felt his heart jump for joy the moment he saw Tamra was calling. That’s a new feeling, but a good one. I’ve fallen head over heels for Tam.
“Hey, Babe. Is everything okay?”
“Of course. I just stopped home for lunch. I was wondering what you wanted for dinner tonight . . . “ Tamra suddenly stopped talking.
“Tam? You still there?”
“Yeah, babe. Thought I heard a noise in the bedroom. Expectant mommy nerves, I guess.” She giggled. “So, checking the freezer tells me you basically have two choices. We have fish or chicke . . . what. . . the bedroom door just opened.”
“Tam, get out of there!”
“What the hell are you doing in my home, Officer . . .” Click. Her phone went dead.
“Tam? Tamra, are you still there?” Shit. Shit. Shit. Morgan was on Pike Street and only ten minutes away from her apartment. He made the drive in five.
Morgan climbed Tamra’s stairs, three at a time, and rushed to her door. It was unlocked. Once inside, he found a mess.
A lamp was smashed on the tile floor near the door. The couch and end tables were over turned. Please no, not Tam!
Farther in, the kitchen table was lying on its side. Then he heard it. Whimpering.
Tamra was in the corner of the kitchen, curled up in a ball, crying. Morgan rushed over to her and helped the distraught woman to a kitchen chair that was still upright. She bore a bright blue circle around her right eye and the fingers on her left hand were crooked and purple. The injuries looked painful.
“Who did this?” Morgan’s blood started to boil.
“An-An-Anderson. He-he-he just left.” She tried to control her sobbing, while big wet tears ran freely down her cheeks. “He-he said he wanted y-y-you.”
“Where else are you hurt?”
“He punched me in the face. Th-then he put my hand in the drawer and slammed it. Sa-said it was a message for you,” she cried.
I’m gonna kill that bastard.
“It’ okay, Tam. You’re safe now.” Morgan went and got the distressed woman a glass of water. “I need to know everything he said.”
Tamra took a long drink and continued, “Anderson said he would meet you at 303. He said you’d know exactly what he was talking about. He said if you didn’t come alone, your last whore would die. What was he talking about, Morgan?”
“Oh, shit.” Panic threatened to take him. Kelly!
“What did he mean, Morgan? What the hell’s going on? Is Brian Anderson the killer?”
The question is, who hates you enough to set you up? Doctor Parker’s words hit him hard, followed by Hutch’s ominous warning, Watch yourself. Anderson really hates you.
“Oh my God, how did I miss it?” Morgan grimaced at his own stupidity.
“What’s going on, Morgan? I really don’t understand?”
He gently placed a cold rag over her injured eye. “It looks like Anderson’s the killer. I don’t have time to explain everything right now. I have to go.”
She looked anguished, her shoulders slumping. “Seriously? You’re leaving me like this?”
“Uniformed officers and an ambulance are already en route. I called them after we were disconnected. You can hear the sirens. They’re almost here.”
Morgan tenderly caressed her cheek, his anger simmering. “Go to the hospital and get yourself checked out. Make sure the baby is okay. But I have to go now, Tam, or another woman is going to die.”
“Okay. I understand. Just be careful.” She rubbed his smooth chin with her good hand and gave him a slight frown. “You know it’s a trap. Don’t let that creep get a jump on you.“
He hugged Tamra tightly and kissed her on the forehead, then hurried from the apartment. As Morgan drove away, he passed two cop cars and an ambulance that were running code as they arrived. Great.She’s in good hands.
Morgan pushed the limits of the Dodge Charger, nearly losing control on a couple of hairpin turns. I have to get to Kelly. That sick bastard’s going to kill her.
Morgan drove up on the grass and slid to a stop at the front door of Kelly’s apartment building. A light snow had started to fall, the first of the season, but Morgan didn’t notice in his anxiety driven fear. He raced from the Charger and into the entryway.
Huffing and puffing, he reached the third-floor apartment in less than thirty seconds. Morgan went through the unlocked door, his Glock 9mm in hand.
His eyes fell on the dining room table where the key gift for Kelly’s car still sat, unopened. Her birthday’s tomorrow.
When he came around the table, the scene that met him was horrific. Kelly lay on the kitchen floor, on her side facing him. Her mouth was covered in dried froth, with her dead eyes staring directly at him. A needle protruded from her upper butt cheek. Maybe there’s still a chance. He ran over to her in a panic.
“Hands up, Harper. Looks like I’m going to be the super cop this time,” Anderson’s voice held a sneer.
Stupid. Rookie mistake. I saw Kelly and got tunnel-vision. Never saw Anderson lurking in the adjacent living room. “It doesn’t have to go down like this, Brian.”
“You’re the only one going down, Morgan. Everyone is going to hear about how I took down the serial killer, Top Cop Morgan Harper. I won in the end.”
“I can get you help, Brian.” Morgan couldn’t break his gaze from Kelly’s dead stare. She was wearing the snoopy sweatshirt he had bought her and Julieta’s bracelet. She’d never see twenty. A steely resolve overcame him.
“Help? You're the one who needs help, although I think it’s a little too late for that now. I told you I would bury you.”
Crap, he’s going to shoot me! Morgan swung about as fast as he could, throwing himself to the floor. The room exploded with gunfire.
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Kelly Pierson - reformed prostitute victim.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
These were the guesses readers gave me:
Two for Anderson Tamra Not Kelly or Tamra. Two said not sure Doctor Parker Hutch or Belzar |
By Douglas Goff
When he came to, an aching throb permeated throughout Morgan’s left shoulder. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital, babe.” Tamra squeezed his hand.
“I was shot?”
“Yeah, hon. It was a through and through. In and out. The doctor said no permanent damage, thank God.” She kissed him on the forehead.
“And you?” Morgan noted her free hand was in a cast.
“Anderson broke all my fingers. Four for four.” She held up her cast. “Still, better than being dead.”
“Is he?”
Chief Wilson stepped forward, surprising Morgan that he was in the room. “You hit Anderson dead center, right between the eyes.” He’ll no longer be killing women in our city, thanks to you. My God, son, what other tricks do you have up your sleeve?”
“Is it a clean shoot?” Morgan tried to sit up, causing intense pain to shoot through his upper body.
“We got him dead to rights. Buckets of evidence that he’s our serial killer. It looks like he was hiding in Miss Tamra Burns’ apartment for some time before he attacked her, because we found a lot of his fingerprints and DNA in there. We think the sicko may have even masturbated on her bed as there was traces of his semen on the sheets.
“Oh goodness, that’s my home.” Tamra looked like she was going to be sick. Morgan squeezed her hand.
Wilson shrugged. “Hutch and the boys are finding a lot of evidence in Anderson’s apartment as well. This is over.”
Captain Howitz rushed in, “Chief, the press is getting out of control. They want to interview our hero.”
“Tell them we’ll all meet back here tomorrow morning in the press room.”
“Are you going to take their questions then, Sir?” Howitz asked.
Chief Wison smiled and pointed at Morgan. “No, he is.”
*. *. *
“Can you handle this?”Captain Howitz held an unsure look on his face. "You were just shot"
“I—-“
Of course he can handle it.” Chief Wilson lightly patted the injured Morgan on the arm, laughing. “My top cop is going to come through with flying colors. Just two rules. Always make the department look good. Also, try not to lie. The press will tear you apart if they catch you in a lie.”
“No worries. I got this,” Morgan sounded more confident then he felt. “How do I look?”
Tamra rushed over and adjusted his collar and tie. She planted a kiss on his cheek, then wiped away her red lip marks. “You look mighty damn handsome, Detective Harper. Just relax and be yourself. You’re very likable. You’ll do fine.”
Could use a stiff drink. Morgan stepped up to the podium, wearing a shoulder sling as any movement of his arm caused pain. He held up his good hand in a gesture to quite the crowd. “I’m going to make a quick statement, then I’ll take a few questions.”
He adjusted the microphone. “First off, let me say that working together as a team, the Seattle Police Department has solved the case of the Aurora Avenue Assassin.” It was a name the press had created while he was in Brazil.
“Suspicion fell on one of our own early on. The man was more of a secondary employee than an actual street cop. It’s my understanding that his name was released earlier. That man was Brian Anderson.”
“Question, please, question!” a reporter shouted out.
Morgan simply held up his hand again and continued, “Concerning State Senator Kern’s daughter and granddaughter, they’re reported to be doing fine. Both are suspected to have a full recovery. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for their Mercedes Benz.”
This brought about a chuckle from the crowd of reporters.
“Keeping in mind that this investigation’s still ongoing, I”ll take some questions now.” Morgan pointed at a young woman in the front row.
“Katie Pellar, Channel 5 News. About how long has this investigation on the serial killer been ongoing?”
“Couple of months.” Easy one.
“John Miller, Channel Seven News. How many people did Brian Anderson kill?” I hope they stay this easy.
“Sadly, there are seven victims that we know of.”
“Mac Yung, Seattle Times. Are the rumors true that you had to sleep with some of these dead prostitutes to solve this case?”
Morgan managed a forced chuckle. “I can assure you that the Seattle Police Department doesn’t condone that type of behavior. But, let me reiterate, I was deep undercover.”
“Carl Perkins, local tribune. When did the police department start suspecting that the killer was actually one of their own?”
“As I said in my statement, it was very early on.” Only they were looking at me.
“Mac Yung again. If you were so deep undercover, why’d you just spend thirty days down in Brazil?”
“I can see you did your homework, Mac. I was following a lead.”
“A different case? Was that wise considering you had a serial killer running loose in Seattle?” Mac pushed.
“I am not at liberty to discuss that issue.”
“Katie Pellar, Channel 5 News again. Are the two Incidents related. The Kern’s crash and the murder case?”
“At this point, we don’t believe so.”
“Then how’d you just happen to be there, Detective Harper?” Mac shouted out.
I need to choose my words carefully here. “Let me be clear. I was engaged in a car chase with the gang members who hit the Kern’s car. They’d been suspects early on in the prostitute killings, but had been cleared. They came after me as part of a personal vendetta. I had arrested the leader of the group a few times in the past. It was simply bad timing all the way around.”
Several more hands shot up. Morgan pointed at a middle-aged black male. “Is it true those same gang members were later found dead?”
“Yes. They were also killed by Anderson.”
“That’s mighty convenient, Detective,” the voice was twice as loud as the other reporters.
“What’s convenient, Mac?” Here we go.
“Several hookers claimed they were sleeping with you. A group of thugs reported you beat the hell out of them. Pretty much everyone who made complaints against you are dead. Coincidence?”
Morgan paused for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. “As far as I’m aware, there have been no formal complaints against me. It seems that you’re putting a lot of weight into mere rumors and speculation, Mac. Look, the Aurora prostitute murders was my case, and I took down a serial killer. In the process, I took a bullet for this city and also managed to save a mother and daughter amidst all that. What’s got you upset? Did you expect me to find Bigfoot as well?”
This brought loud laughter from the room. But Mac wouldn’t be assuaged.
“Kelly Pierson. What was your relationship with her, Detective?” Mac pushed.
For the fist time, Morgan was unnerved. After clearing his throat he answered, “Relationship? She was like a kid sister to me. I tried to get the young woman off the streets. Got her a safe place to live, a car, and enrolled her in college. Sicko Anderson found her and killed her. That’s the real tragedy of this story. Ruined dreams.”
More hands shot up, including Mac’s. Morgan raised his hand for quiet, again. I’m hurting. It must be time for my meds.
“I think that concludes our press conference. Just know that the city of Seattle is much safer tonight thanks to the Seattle Police Department. I appreciate your time.”
“I saw you come out of that alley where they found Beth Mackie, Harper,” Mac shouted as Morgan turned away. "Anderson killed those gang members to clear you? Doesn't add up, Detective!"
When Morgan walked off the stage, Tamra came up beside him and took his hand, whispering,” Oh, I could just punch that Mac right in the nose.”
“He’s only doing his job, Tam.” I would like to do a lot more than punch him in the nose. I'm surprised I handled that without booze, but those days are over. “I’m just glad you have my back.”
“Always.”
Character/Suspect List:
Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.
Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.
Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.
Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner.
Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit.
Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.
Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop.
Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.
Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter.
Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer.
Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.
Kelly Pierson - Reformed prostitute victim.
Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.
Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.
Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer.
Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute.
Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute.
Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.
Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.
| Author Notes |
This last week has been particularly hard as I have been in Chattanooga with family for Spring Break while trying to finish this. (Ruby Falls is beautiful by the way.)
I will be on the road all day tomorrow heading back to Michigan so I can not post the last chapter until later Saturday night. If you have been following along, you will not want to miss the ending. ;) |
By Douglas Goff
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Tamra glanced over at a lightly snoring Morgan. Several bouts of energetic sex had helped put him to sleep. I let him treat me like Disneyland and go on every ride. I know how to take care of my man.
Now she was sitting up in the bed beside him, struggling to crochet a baby blanket. She found it difficult to hold the needle between her thumb and the cast.
Tamra had already bought a crib and several newborn outfits. I know it’s early, but Morgan’s so excited.
Once she was sure he was sleeping, she sat her crocheting aside and pulled a manila envelope from between the mattresses. Opening it, she dumped two pink objects into her hand. They were the bunny earrings Kelly had worn.
Of course, she had planted the other dead prostitutes’ remaining earrings in Anderson’s apartment, as well as a couple needles to match the ‘hot shots’ that killed the hookers. She hadn’t left anything to chance when it came to her man. My poor baby was a mess for a long time but I got him straightened out.
"Now, I know you can't hear me, but that's not going to stop me from sharing. What crazy timing when that filthy whore Beth Mackie bent over to grab your wallet and I shoved that heroin overdose into her fat butt." Sometimes, when you’re a good person, things just work out perfectly.
“Silly hookers thought they could get in the way of our love, Morgan. I showed them, didn’t I baby.“ It wasn’t too hard to tail him around when we worked the same schedules. Surprised he never saw me, but that’s what happens when a man thinks with the wrong head.
“I bought the cutest little whore outfit, Morgan. Showed up behind O’Ryan’s in it and found Jennifer Collins blowing a fella out in the back parking lot at closing, just like clockwork. Once she finished, she was all too happy to take a needle from the ‘new girl’. So, she actually killed herself when she injected my ‘hot’ shot.”
Tamra hummed the entire tune to ‘Rock A Bye Baby Baby’ before continuing, “Amy Henderson was just as easy. Heck, easier. She was practically salivating when she saw my needle.”
Her face scrunched up in anger.
“That Kelly was harder though. Cautious. Had to badge my way in and tell her you’d been hurt. When she turned to get her coat, I shoved the needle in deep. Boy, I could see why you had a thing for her. She had a firm cute behind. Didn’t expect her to elbow me in the eye, but what an awesome opportunity to add some flavor to my story.” Slamming my hand in the drawer was a small price to pay for my man.
She giggled again.
“Killing Kelly was all about timing. It was no easy task getting Anderson and you to show up at her apartment at the same time, Baby. But you’d be so proud of me. I pulled it off perfectly.” She watched Morgan breathing for awhile while she sang some of the words to ‘Every Breath You Take’.
“Anderson came over for a lunchtime quickie and got really worked up when he saw my injuries. All I had to do was say you did it. I mean, I only screwed the guy three times and he was already declaring his undying love for me. Even gave me the key to his apartment.” Such a pansy.
“You’d think that would have knocked me up, but I guess the silly man was shooting blanks. Aw, don’t worry. You’d never have known it wasn’t your kid, Morgan. I told him you said you were heading to Kelly’s address to wrap up some loose ends. Boy but was he so excited to rush out and bust you all by himself!” I’m brilliant.
She let out a wolf whistle. “You’re so darn handsome, Morgan.”
Yeah, that Kelly had to go. “You didn’t really think I’d leave that young slut around to tempt you? Not a chance, Baby.”
Tamra began crocheting again, and after humming for a bit, frowned at the sleeping Morgan.
“I'm not going to lie, seeing that floozy Vicki Vance in your apartment really hurt.” Tamra wiped a tear that was forming from her eye. “I mean, how could she treat my dead sister that way? Sleep with her man when they’d been friends? Dirty backstabber! I went there to confess my love for you and once she was paying full attention, I slit her throat from ear to ear. Trollop certainly got what she deserved.”
Morgan rolled over and mumbled. Tamra quickly adjusted the covers around him so he wouldn’t get cold.
“And that little poop, Paco. What a foul turd he was. Shouldn’t have tried to kill my man. After we got off the phone, I showed up at his warehouse in my ‘hooker getup’ and found that fat Hugo sitting out front in an old Cadillac. Told him I wanted to join Paco’s fold. Didn’t take much convincing while I jerked him off in the front seat. Can you believe that huge man had a tiny little dick? Hard not to laugh. I was expecting a monster, but I could barely get ahold of the little thing. When Hugo closed his eyes, I put a bullet in his temple.”
She stopped and studied the baby blanket she was working on, then held it up for Morgan to see. “What do you think, hon?”
Morgan mumbled something unintelligible.
“Awww. I agree. Looks great. I’m going to be such a dang good mother.” Tamra started working on the blanket again. “So, imagine Paco’s surprise when I stepped out of the shadows flashing my badge and wearing my hooker outfit. I walked right up and put one in his temple too. Killed him with his own .38.”
She sighed, stopping to contemplate. “Initially, I thought hard about making that heroin needle you gave me match up with the batch from the dead hookers. But that wouldn’t have cleared you from Anderson’s IA witch hunt. That’s where it really got tricky. No, I had to be much more clever that that.”
She hummed ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’ before staring at him again. I couldn’t have Morgan lose his job. It’s important that we work together. That way I can keep my eye on him. He likes to get into trouble. Boys will be boys.
Tamra giggled. “You’ll be happy to know I kept the sexy little hooker clothes. They’re hanging in my closest.” Just in case he gets the urge for more filthy street sex.
“Someday I’ll put that dirty little number on and let you ravage me. Won’t that be fun?”
She opened a drawer on the end table and put her crocheting away.
“But first, we have work to do.” I really need to get pregnant, or my man might get suspicious. “Don’t worry, Baby. We keep this sexual pace up and you’ll give me little Morgan Jr. in no time at all.”
She reached over and ran her hand through his thick blond hair. The sleeping man merely moaned. Now that he’s mine, he’s never leaving.
Tamra turned off the bedroom light, nestling close to Morgan. “I know you’re trying to get clean, baby, but I slipped you a Valium.” I’m so proud of him. “No more pesky nocturnal dream visitors for you. My man needs his sleep.”
Besides, I need to visit that nosy reporter Mac Yung tomorrow. He’s trouble.
Tamra had wanted Morgan since the very first day she met him and she would never have let that aggressive Brian Anderson, or anyone else, take him down. Especially after I went through all the trouble of drugging and hanging my own twin sister in order to win my dream man.
| Author Notes |
Thank you to all who journeyed with me, kept me straight, and motivated me to complete this. I appreciate you all. I stuck to my goal of a chapter a day. Prior to March 1, this book did not exist! I hope you enjoyed the ending twist. I mean, Anderson as the killer was way too obvious and I am sure some of you were saying really? One reviewer, Debbie DArcy, thought it was Tamra very early on, and would not waver.
Footnote: Intramuscular injection of heroin is very rare, but skin-popping does occur. The massive amounts of drug Tamra injected would have caused Beth and Kelly to OD in just a few moments. CLUES: The first clue came in Chapter Five when Tamra told Hutch and Morgan that when they find the missing earrings they will have the killer. It was early, with only two bodies, to assume they had a trophy hunter. She was planting the idea. In Chapter Six there were a plethora of clues. Tamra wore a sexy cocktail dress to have dinner with her brother-in-law Morgan. It did not match the scenario. Then she interrogated him and learned about the IA Anderson investigation. Also in Chapter Six, Tamra knew Debra had been swinging from the center beam in the living room. This would be in the police report and not the coroners report as that would focus on cause of death like asphyxiation, head trauma, etc. Finally, she admitted that she felt guilty about the death of Debra. In Chapter Nine, Tamra sees Vicki Vance leaving Morgan. Her jealousy is a small clue, but the fact that she knew about the fling left only her and Steve as possible suspects having that knowledge at the time of the murder of Vicki. In Chapter Eleven, there were two strong clues. First, couple of you keen minded women called me out when Tamra jumped Morgan even though he was injured. They said it was not the correct behavior of a normal woman. (This was a huge clue that she was cray-cray.) Second, Tamra said she was going to kill Paco. The next clue does not come until Chapter Twenty-One. Tamra admits she knows Morgan did not kill the women. The only way she would know he did not do it is if she knew who did. In Chapter Twenty-five there were a couple small hints. Morgan called Tamra from jail and she told him that she has always loved him. Also, Morgan told Tamra about Paco trying to kill him. The pimp ends up dead later that night. (I think this is a pretty big clue since no one else knew who rammed the car. She is firmly the only one with motive in all the killings at this point.) In Chapter 28, Tamra was lying in a corner whimpering after Anderson supposedly hit her. She is tougher than that and in law enforcement. The behavior did not match her character. Also, she never called 911. Also, they found semen from Anderson in her bed. (Another big clue as none of the murders were sexual.) Clue themes throughout: Tamra was super stalky. Showing up at his apartment after fight, etc. The killer knew about Morgans earring fetish. That meant it had to be Tamra, Kelly, or Vicki. No one else knew and the other two ladies were victims. All of the female victims were sleeping with Morgan. Vicki Vance was not killed until she banged Morgan. Then Paco and Raul were killed after they tried to kill Morgan. Whoever the killer was, they had a vested interest in Morgan. That should have eliminated everyone other than Anderson, Paco, and Tamra. Anderson claimed Morgan needed help in their final confrontation. Normally a killer would confess his accomplishments to his nemesis before killing him. He never said he was the killer because he really thought Morgan was the killer. |
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