Deadly Target, Sarah Spillman Police Procedurals: Book 6

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

He crouched in the back seat, peered through the tinted glass, and watched the people across Severn Place. A man in shorts and a gray hoodie walked north with a long stride, sunglasses on even though it was already dusk. Farther down the street, a woman in jeans and a red coat held a phone to her ear as she talked. He studied her through the scope. The coat seemed a bit much, even though it was mid-March and cool. He carefully shifted. The car was hot and stuffy, with that new-car smell. He wiped sweat from his brow. Another woman in a dark jacket strolled south down the sidewalk, a contented look on her face.

He glanced to the windshield and assured himself no one else was around, no one watching the rented car. He was down low, and he was certain no one could see him, and certainly not his rifle. He turned to the street again. A few blocks down, the traffic light turned green. Several cars passed by as he watched.

The woman in the dark jacket approached the man in the hoodie. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, but they didn’t acknowledge one another. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but the woman looked calm, just as calm as he was in the back seat of the car. He glanced over the scope to the other woman. She’d quit talking on her phone, and had put it back in her pocket. But no sooner had she done that than she pulled it out again, swiped the screen, and began talking again. The man was now at the corner, and he paused as a car turned in front of him and disappeared. The man with the rifle waited, too. Severn Place was clear, no cars. The two women passed by each other without a word. The woman in the dark jacket slowed down.

It was time. He had more to do. His heart kept a slow, steady beat as he reached out and hit a button on the car door. His window slid silently down. He looked out through all the other tinted windows and the windshield, verified again that no one else was around. He could hear sounds of traffic, but no cars were in his line of sight. He squinted into the scope and found his target, his finger on the trigger. He drew in a breath, held it, and gently pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER TWO

I could finally breathe.

As I walked down Grape Street, near my house, I thought about the last week or so. I’d been busy with the DA, working to build a case against a man who’d assassinated three judges, and I’d also just wrapped up a difficult investigation where a cheating philanderer, Pete Olinger, had murdered a woman he’d been seeing behind his wife’s back. It had been a convoluted case that had taken a month before we’d figured out Olinger was the killer. However, in a bit of a twist, his wife had been angry that we’d caught him, seemingly not at all upset that he’d cheated on her, nor that he’d killed the other woman. The wife had viewed her as an inconvenience, and when she was out of the way, the wife had been pleased. She had her husband back, and that’s all she wanted. Olinger was now in jail, awaiting trial.

I shook my head as I turned onto Severn Place. At the end of the block, I saw a man in a hoodie approaching with his head down. Behind him was a woman in a red coat. I barely paid them any attention. My mind was still on Olinger. He had been so arrogant, so sure of himself. From the moment I’d first talked to him, he’d bothered me, his answers not quite right. But at the time I still hadn’t seen him as a killer. He was just an acquaintance of the victim. The case had gone cold. Then my partners, Ernie Moore and Roland “Spats” Youngfield, and I had caught a break, and we’d circled back to Pete. Then his lies had unraveled, and he’d finally confessed to killing the woman. I smiled subtly at that. Even the perfect criminals sometimes tripped themselves up.

I took in a cool breath of air. I’d had a few days off rotation, time to catch up on some sleep. I felt the phone in my pocket. I was on call now, and it was just a matter of time before the phone would ring and a new investigation would begin. Until then, I was enjoying the dusk, the beautiful spring evening.

Several cars roared by on Severn. I passed by the man with the hoodie and shorts. He looked away, and I kept walking as I bundled my jacket around me. A little too cool for shorts, I thought. I scrunched my neck down into my coat and walked on. My mind went to Harry, my fiancé. That brought a small smile, and warmed my heart. A contented feeling flowed through me. Harry and I had been together for over ten years, and I’d finally gotten over my marriage phobia. Last December, after I’d wrapped up the investigation of the three murdered judges, Harry and I had almost simultaneously proposed to each other. It had been an amusing evening, because a few weeks earlier, I had inadvertently blown his attempt at a proposal, and I had been making up for that faux paus with a proposal of my own. That was me, a take-charge kind of woman. I felt the ring on my finger. It was weird to think of him as my fiancé after so many years of us just being a couple. But I absolutely loved it. We were both more than ready.

The woman in the heavy coat approached and I stepped to the side. She was talking loudly on her phone. But my mind was on Harry, and I barely noticed her side of the conversation. He and I were planning a June wedding, a small affair with just his family and mine, with a small reception in our back yard. We have some work to do, I thought. Our yard, although beautiful with flowers and tall trees that would provide shade, would need some work. We would probably have to hire a gardener, as my work as a homicide detective, and his as the president of a tech company, kept us both very busy.

It suddenly seemed quiet, no traffic. I no longer heard the woman talking on her phone. I picked up my pace. Harry would be home soon, and I’d promised I’d have dinner ready. Then my phone rang. Would it be him, telling me he’d gotten home, or would it be that call from the station, dreaded but expected, with another murder to investigate? I did not want to get called away from dinner. I slowed and put my hand in my pocket, where my phone vibrated against my thigh. I was about to pull it from my pocket when something struck me with such force, it took my breath away. I gasped for air and sank to the ground. I had a fleeting thought about Harry, and then everything went dark.

I'm a crime junkie and Sarah Spillman books are the perfect fix. I love that Pawlish's books aren't predictable. I'm retired law enforcement so a lot of crime books villains are too predictable to me but not Sarah Spillman, they keep me guessing. I also like the interaction between the characters; it's very natural. Great read, definitely recommended. ~Reader review