Deadly Price, Sarah Spillman Police Procedurals: Book 10

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

It was one in the morning, but downtown Denver still hummed with activity, cars passing by on Speer Boulevard and other surrounding streets, and a constant droning from Interstate 25. The buzz of noise matched the buzzing in Molly Lang’s head. The eighteen-year-old was drunk, had had way too much booze. She was still drinking as she walked a path toward the South Platte River Trail. She was a long way from the Littleton area, and Chatfield High School and her home. But her boyfriend, Josh, had a friend, Anderson, who lived at the Promenade Lofts, a luxury condo building near Confluence Park. Anderson’s parents were out of town, and he’d thrown what he considered a small party, over a dozen people. As Molly walked the trail, she snorted. If she’d ever tried to have that many people at her house while her parents were out of town, the neighbors would’ve surely called the police, and she’d have been in big trouble. No one at the Promenade seemed to mind, though, and the partying continued. After midnight, some teenagers had left, but Josh had wanted to stay. Molly didn’t care. She’d recently graduated, and since then, her parents had been giving her more freedom. When she’d left the house tonight, she’d told them she was spending the night at her best friend Paige’s house. Better not to let them know she’d be at Anderson’s all night. To her surprise, they hadn’t asked a lot of questions, had assumed that she’d be safe enough, and that she’d be fine with Paige.

Molly’s parents never worried too much about her. She’d never given them reason to. She was a straight-A student, had ranked high in her class, and she’d earned several scholarships that would help pay for a degree at the University of Texas. She took a drink of Coors Light and smiled. What her parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Although she’d excelled in school, had been on the track and cross-country teams, she knew how to party, too. She’d gotten into trouble here and there as well, but had always managed to keep her parents from finding out. She frowned. Unfortunately, her younger sister, Isabella, had found out a thing or two. But Molly really had figured out a way to keep her sister quiet. Molly grinned, gulped more of her beer, and walked on, thinking about the party.

Some kids had started doing drugs, but that had never been Molly’s scene. She’d been high on weed, sure, but she’d never done harder drugs. Pills had been passed around tonight, and they’d pushed her to take some. She refused and had finally walked away. She might have gone out onto the balcony, which had a tremendous view of the city, but people were out there as well. Instead, she’d gone down the elevator and outside. She’d stood for a few minutes near the building, then had started walking.

She reached the South Platte River Trail and paused to watch the water. It was generous to call the South Platte a river. Compared to the Mighty Mississippi or other big rivers, the Platte was nothing but a moderate flow of water, even though it was several feet across and fairly deep. During the summer, Confluence Park, where the South Platte River and Cherry Creek met, was full of people tubing over the rocks or hanging out in the park, and the trails were full of runners and cyclists. At this time of night, though, not a soul was around, just the ever-present traffic noise and the bubbling river.

Molly stood for a moment, then startled at a different noise. She whirled around and peered into the darkness. No people, only shadows. Denver’s homeless problem had gotten worse in the last few years, and people frequently camped out around the river and under the viaducts. She didn’t see anybody after a moment of watching. With a shrug, she strolled along the path, then cut off the trail and walked toward the river. As she neared the water, she sat down and finished the last of the beer and threw the can toward the water. It clunked against a rock and lay still. She wrapped her arms around her knees, surprised at the chill in the air this late June night. She rested her chin on her forearms and stared at the flowing water.

Her head buzzed, and her heart thudded with unease. She had so looked forward to graduating, to being done with high school. Now that she had, she wasn’t sure what to think. She was nannying for a neighbor family this summer, earning some extra cash before she left for college. But that left plenty of time for partying in the evening, and spending time with Josh. As she sat and watched the water, she was surprised that she felt something else.

Fear.

All along, she’d told herself she was looking forward to leaving home. But now she realized she might miss it, the familiarity, and even her parents and sister. And what would happen to her and Josh? They’d talked about how they would stay together even though she would be in Texas and he would be at Princeton. She shook her head in awe. He was class valedictorian, and had earned a full-ride scholarship to the Ivy League school. He was smart as hell, good looking, and a basketball star. They’d dated for almost two years, and she was in love with him. She’d known that even more after that one mistake. She frowned. She wanted to stay together, but she wasn’t so sure what he thought. Long-distance relationships were hard, especially at their age. She sighed, knowing the likelihood would be they’d break up. The dull droning in her head continued as she wiped away tears.

“What the hell?” she said to herself. “It’s a beautiful night, and you have everything going for you. Why the hell aren’t you happy?”

The river didn’t reply. Then she heard another noise. Molly glanced around, then pushed herself to her feet. She drew in a deep breath as she swayed back and forth.

“Man, I’m drunk,” she said to nobody.

Then she looked around, sure she had heard something. She couldn’t see anybody, but figured there were homeless people somewhere. It was dark down this close to the river. She chided herself for walking here. That wasn’t a smart thing to do. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, scolding about how choices have consequences. She shivered and took a couple of steps. She tripped on a rock and stumbled to the ground, one hand hitting the water’s edge. She swore as she wiped dirt off her red sundress, then got back to her feet. She was momentarily disoriented, and she started in the wrong direction, then turned around. She stopped short when she saw a figure in the darkness. Molly gulped as she backed up.

“Hey,” she said.

The figure moved toward her, and Molly thought she knew who it was. She smiled.

“I’m going back to the party,” she mumbled, realizing that she was slurring her words. She carefully repeated the statement.

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Molly said. She gestured toward the buildings in the distance. “I’m going back.”

“I don’t think so.”

Molly stopped as the figure rushed toward her, a wraith in the darkness. Before Molly could do anything, she was pushed to the ground, and her head struck a rock by the river. She cried out in pain, and as she tried to get up, hands rolled her over. Her head plunged into the water and strong hands held her down. She held her breath and tried to reach behind her. She clawed at the hands holding her head under the water. She was groggy and drunk, and her attempts were futile. Her eyes went wide as she suddenly gasped for air, sucking in a mouth full of water.

Josh, she thought.

Then blackness enveloped her.

CHAPTER TWO

I opened the door to see my younger brother, Hunter, standing in the glow of the porch light. My gaze immediately fell to a cut on his forehead, near the hairline. Several dark stitches stuck out, and the skin around the cut looked angry and bruised. Dried blood streaked across his skin, more on his hands and on his polo shirt. He stared at me grimly.

“Hey, Sarah, sorry to bother you.” His usually rich, upbeat voice was heavy.

It was late on a Saturday night, and Harry and I had spent the day weeding the flowerbeds and cleaning up the yard, and then we’d grilled chicken for dinner. We were debating what movie to watch when Hunter called, and it surprised me when he immediately asked for my help. He was brief on the phone, said there’d been a situation, and that he was at the ER. He assured me he was okay, that he was just getting stitches. Once he was finished, he wanted to come over to talk. I wondered what was going on, but there was one person I suspected might be at the heart of “the situation.”

Cassandra Ziegler. Hunter’s girlfriend.

“It’s no bother at all,” I said now. “Harry and I’ve been worried about you. Come in.”

I stepped back as Hunter walked in. My husband, Harry, stood behind me. After several years together, he and I had finally gotten married a little over a month ago, although I’d kept my surname, Spillman. Thinking of him as my husband was still novel, and enchanting.

Harry reached out and shook Hunter’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Hunter nodded. “It’s been a long evening.”

“Would you like a beer? Or something else?” Harry asked.

Hunter nodded as we moved into the living room. “A beer would be great. And a couple of Advil if you have them.”

I glanced at Harry, and he smiled.

“Be back in a jiff,” he said.

Harry disappeared into the kitchen, and Hunter sat down on the couch in the living room. A 70s channel—Harry’s favorite—softly played the Doobie Brothers. I sank into a chair and picked up my glass of Scotch that was sitting on the coffee table. I’d been nursing it since Hunter had called, Harry and I talking and wondering what was up. Hunter ran his hands down his khaki shorts, then adjusted his shirt collar. He cleared his throat and glanced everywhere except at me. Harry returned with a pale ale from a Colorado craft beer company and a couple of Advil. He handed them to Hunter.

“Thanks.” Hunter popped the pills into his mouth and gulped them down with some beer.

Harry looked at me. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

I smiled and mouthed a thank you to him, and Harry went into the family room. The evening news soon came on. I doubted Harry was really paying attention to the news; he was trying to give Hunter and me privacy.

“What happened?” I asked. I was careful because Hunter had been defensive about his relationship with his girlfriend.

“Well …” Hunter said.

“An accident?”

“Sort of.”

I couldn’t be cautious any longer. “Does that,” I pointed to his forehead, “have something to do with Cassandra?”

“It’s not what you think.”

I drew in a slow, thoughtful breath. Harry and I had been concerned about Hunter and his relationship with Cassandra. We’d found out about her after our recent honeymoon, when my older sister, Diane, had told me about her over lunch. Diane and I both had felt something wasn’t right with Hunter and Cassandra’s relationship, and we thought it was odd that he hadn’t brought her to the wedding. And when we’d finally met Cassandra, Harry and I had not been impressed. Not only did she not like the things that Hunter did, like camping and scuba diving, she also seemed over-the-top controlling. I grew even more troubled when I’d noticed a deep scratch on his back. Hunter had tried to dismiss it as the result of a fall down the stairs, but I hadn’t been convinced. I even talked to Hunter about Cassandra the previous week, and although he’d listened to my concerns, he’d told me to back off. As far as he was concerned, Cassandra had a slight temper, but he liked her. I stared at him now and bit my tongue. He took another drink, then set the beer down.

“How’s your work?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” I replied. “I’m on call this weekend, but so far, it’s been quiet.” I sipped Scotch. “And you?”

“Work’s okay.” He looked away. “China Grove” continued to play in the background. He finally said, “Cassandra and I had a fight.” He gingerly touched his forehead. “She threw a frying pan at me.”

I was stunned. “I thought that only happened in movies or books,” was the first thing out of my mouth.

He smiled, momentarily relieved from the tension. He gnawed his lip. “Obviously you’re going to think the worst of Cassandra.”

“Obviously,” I muttered.

He shook his head at that. “Sarah, I know you don’t like her, but it’s not as bad as you think.”

I chose my words carefully. “Not as bad? If that’s the case, then there is some bad.”

“I told you Cassandra has a bit of a temper.”

That phrase again. I didn’t say anything to that, and waited for him to elaborate.

“She surprised me tonight,” he said.

“What happened?”

He snatched the beer again, took a big drink, and fiddled with the bottle. “It was the strangest thing. We got into a fight this morning because I suggested we go hiking, and she said she didn’t want to do that. Instead, we went to the art museum.” He waved a hand around. “I guess that was okay, but on such a beautiful day, it would’ve been great to be outside.” I heard resentment in his tone. He twisted the bottle and ripped at the label. “We went out for dinner, and she had a couple of glasses of wine. When we came home, she had a couple more. She’s not a big drinker, so that surprised me. We sat on the deck, and she was kind of testy, snippy with me. I finally told her what I told you, that on such a beautiful day we should’ve been outside. That set her off, and she started yelling at me, telling me that it shouldn’t all be about me, that we should do things that she wants to. She stormed into the kitchen and continued shouting at me.” He blushed. “I hope my neighbors didn’t hear.”

I held up a hand. “Wait a minute. From what I’ve gathered, you generally do what she wants. You’ve set aside the things you want to do.”

“That’s not completely true.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Sounds like you’re making excuses.”

“I’m not,” he snapped, then grimaced. “I’m sorry. None of this is your fault.” He blew out a long breath to calm himself. “Anyway, the argument escalated. Then she grabbed the pan from the sink and threw it at me. It happened so fast, I didn’t even have a chance to duck. It hit me right here,” he pointed at the stitches, “and blood started gushing out. I grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding, then got my keys and left for the ER.”

“Did she offer to go with you?”

He shook his head. “No. As a matter fact, she told me to get the hell out.” He snorted. “Get out of my own house.”

I was in detective mode, all kinds of questions rattling around in my brain. “Has she tried to call you?”

Another shake of his head. “No, and I didn’t try her. I called you because I was hoping I could stay here tonight while she cools off.”

I nodded. “You’re welcome here as long as you want.”

He tipped his head at me. “I’m not saying I need a long time. Cassandra and I’ll need to talk, work some things out.”

I gazed at him with big-sister concern. “You should file a police report.”

His chin jerked up, and then he winced. “Why would I do that?”

“Because she assaulted you. This should be reported.”

“No way. I don’t want to get her in trouble.”

I didn’t say anything, but this was a clear case of domestic violence. Unfortunately, it’s harder for men to admit when they’re a victim. That didn’t change this situation, though. Cassandra should face the consequences of what she did, and she needed help. I told him that.

He set the beer down again. “I’ll talk to her about tonight, when she’s in a better mood, but not right now. I’ll text her to let her know I’m okay, and that I’ll be home tomorrow. She and I can discuss things then.”

“Would she do anything to your house?”

“Of course not.” Offended at the suggestion.

I sighed. “Hunter, I’m worried about you. Do you think …”

His bright blue eyes narrowed. “Sarah, not now. I’m tired, and I have a splitting headache. I just want to go to bed.”

I gulped down what I wanted to say and stood up. “Of course. The guest room is all yours. I put towels in there earlier, and the sheets on the bed are clean. Are you hungry? Do you want a snack or dessert?”

In our family, dessert was one way to ease any problem. I thought my offer would make Hunter smile, but it didn’t. He shook his head ruefully as he got up.

“I’m going to bed. We can talk in the morning, okay?”

I stepped over and gave him a long hug. He was tense at first, but then his shoulders sagged.

“It’ll be okay, baby brother,” I murmured.

He nodded and pulled away. “Thanks, Sarah. Hey, do me a favor? Don’t say anything to Diane just yet.”

“I won’t.”

I hadn’t contacted Diane after Hunter called, but I’d been tempted to. However, I figured if I called her, she’d zip right over, and we’d have more family drama than I wanted to deal with right then. And Harry had agreed, felt that we could say something to Diane later, if Hunter didn’t tell her anything. I patted Hunter on the shoulder, and he headed down the hall to the spare bedroom. I plodded into the family room. Harry had been channel-flipping and had landed on a Law and Order episode. He looked up when I came in.

“Well?”

“Let’s go to bed, and I’ll tell you,” I whispered.

He shut off the TV. I took Hunter’s beer bottle and my glass into the kitchen, and then followed Harry down the hall. As we passed by the spare bedroom door, I heard the shower running. We went into the master bedroom and quietly got undressed. Harry shut off the lights, and I snuggled next to him in bed.

“Cassandra clearly has anger issues,” I said. I told him what Hunter had told me. “What happened between them tonight was not normal, not anywhere close to it.”

He kissed the top of my head. “No, it’s not. But it doesn’t sound like Hunter’s ready to admit that.”

“That’s crazy, after all that’s happened.” I heard the anger in my voice, and I worked to calm myself. “I’ll see what Hunter wants to do, but that woman will likely get a piece of my mind.”

“We should handle this carefully,” Harry said, always the voice of reason. “You don’t want to end up pushing Hunter away.” But I could detect some anger in his voice, too. He liked Hunter and didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him.

“You’re right. Let’s see what happens in the morning.”

Harry held me close, and we were soon both asleep.

###

Harry and I slept until seven on Sunday morning, and when we came into the kitchen, Hunter was already up. He held up a cup.

“I made coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”

I shook my head. The aroma in the air was soothing, the house pleasantly cool. Harry went to a cupboard for cups.

“Nothing like a strong cup of coffee first thing in the morning,” he said.

I studied Hunter. He looked better, all the blood off his face and hands. But dark circles hung under his eyes, and I saw a bruise on his arm that I hadn’t noticed last night. He wore the same shirt, and he’d managed to clean off most of the blood. He ran a hand through his blond hair, avoiding my gaze.

“Would you like us to fix some breakfast, or we could go out,” I suggested.

Hunter stared at his coffee cup. “No, but thanks. I should probably get home. Cassandra is expecting me.”

Harry poured cups of coffee, and he handed me one. Then he looked at Hunter.

“Are you sure that’s the right move just now?”

Hunter glanced at Harry. “I know things are a little funky between Cassandra and me, but I need to deal with it.”

Harry took a sip of coffee. “Yeah, I can see that.”

I stared at Harry, and he raised his eyebrows. I could hear him telling me I should take it slowly, carefully, but I wasn’t in the mood for that now.

“Maybe you could have Cassandra come over here, and we could all talk?” I proposed.

Hunter didn’t get a chance to reply because my cell phone rang. I’d stuffed it into my robe pocket, and I pulled it out now. I frowned, and Harry looked at me.

“Work?”

“Yes,” I said. “Hang on a second.”

I stepped onto the back porch. We’d held our wedding in the back yard, and it still looked beautiful, the lawn green, the flowers in full bloom. I paced as I answered the phone.

“Sarah,” one of my partners, Ernie Moore, said. He spoke gruffly. “I hate to interrupt your Sunday morning, but we got a body.”

“Where?”

He laughed slowly. “I can see you’re already awake and alert. You’ll need to be. A teenage girl was found along the Platte River this morning by some homeless people.” Background noise indicated he was in his car. “Some uniforms are down there now, and Spats is on his way.” Spats Youngfield is our other partner. I’d worked with both men for several years, and we make a good team.

“The body’s down by the river, near the Promenade Lofts. I’ll text you the address. I don’t have much else, but I’ll start working it as soon as I get there.”

“I need to get dressed, and then I’m on my way,” I said.

“Sure thing. I’ve already called in more detectives to help canvass the neighborhood.”

“Good plan. See you soon.”

Ernie ended the call, and I hurried back into the kitchen. Harry and Hunter looked at me expectantly as I put the phone back in my pocket.

“I’ve got a new case,” I announced. I pecked Harry’s cheek. “Sorry, Hon. I won’t be able to spend the day with you.”

He smiled ruefully. “All part of the job.”

He was disappointed, but he’d married a homicide detective, and he knew what came with that. I moved around the island and gave Hunter a quick hug.

“We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure thing, Sis.” He put his cup down. “I’ve got to get going, anyway.”

I looked over his head at Harry. Harry shrugged, not sure what to do or say. I stepped back and headed for the hallway.

“I’ll touch base with both of you later,” I called over my shoulder.

 

Love the characters and the stories. Can't wait to get to the next one. Characters are very believable as are the relationships. ~Reader review