Imperfect Escape

by Gregg E. Brickman

  When Sophia and Ray move from South Florida to Tennessee, they do not expect to be entering a different world. Yet, the differences are so extreme, they feel as if they’ve taken on a whole new existence. Ray begins his new job as the lone detective of the local police, and Sophia begins her shifts in the ER of the hospital, both looking forward to the peace and quiet of country living. However, on an outing to enjoy nature, everything changes—a human hand tumbles down on Sophia. From there, they learn that the laws are the same, but the criminals can be different. As the case develops in front of him, Ray struggles to keep Sophia out of the investigation—good-luck with that. An exciting adventure awaits them and the reader as they adjust to the pace of country living—and, along the way, solve a major crime.

  Randy Rawls

  Saving Dabba, Dating Death, Best Defense, Hot Rocks featuring Beth Bowman, FL PI

  Jingle and the Magnificent Seven

  Justice Secured

  Thorns On Roses featuring Tom Jeffries

  Previous Titles by the Author:

  Sophia Burgess and Ray Stone

  Imperfect Mysteries:

  Imperfect Defense

  Imperfect Daddy

  Imperfect Contract

  Tony Conte Mysteries:

  Illegal Intent

  Illegally Dead

  Stand-alone mysteries:

  She Learned to Die

  Plan to Kill

  Imperfect Escape ©2019 by Gregg E. Brickman.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied to critical articles and reviews.

  FIRST EDITION

  First Printing 2019

  Book Format by Gregg Brickman

  Cover Design by Victoria Landis

  Published by:

  Gregg E. Brickman

  Monterey, TN 38574

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For Mark and Laurie, in memory of Jack

  Chapter 1

  Sophia

  Sophia limped off the hiking trail at Bluff Overlook Park and settled on a log. She indicated a space next to her, encouraging Ray to pause a minute. "I need to rest. My leg and hip are screaming." It was the same hip that stopped a bullet when she was on the police force.

  Middle Tennessee's Cumberland Plateau's thick green woods closed in around her and trapped the mid-July heat and humidity. She wiped her brow, brushed her short brown hair from her forehead, and pulled her sticky tee shirt away from her skin.

  "In a minute." Ray walked around the area, little more than a wide spot in the trail, then stooped to inspect the undergrowth as well as the underside of Sophia's downed tree.

  Sophia watched, curious. She knew Ray possessed the normal suspicions of any police detective, but they were in the middle of nowhere. "Looking for gold?"

  "Snakes."

  "Yikes." Sophia jumped to her feet, knocking her shoulder into a spindly oak. Something thumped her shoulder and slid down her back. She sprang forward. "A snake. Oh my God. A snake slid down my back."

  Spinning, she stared at the ground, focusing, not on a snake, but on a blood-stained, severed hand at her feet. "Ray." Her voice, just above a whisper, cracked. "It's a hand. Oh my God, it's a human hand. A hand went down my back"

  "Don't move," Ray said. "Where?"

  "There." She pointed a finger, using all her strength to hold it steady.

  "Damn." Ray bent his tall frame to inspect the hand. He scanned the area, tilting his head to look into the trees. "I don't see anyone or anything else."

  "Good." Her voice quivered.

  "The log is clean. Sit." His touch was gentle as he eased her down onto the fallen tree.

  Ray crouched close, pulling her against his chest. "It's okay. Relax. Concentrate on me. It'll help." He, in his gentle non-cop mode, kissed her forehead and continued to hold her. "Now breathe."

  Sophia's slight body shook. As an emergency department nurse, she wasn't a stranger to violence, but she'd never had body parts drop out of trees before either. Those things didn't happen in her world.

  While keeping an arm around her back, he settled onto the log next to her and offered his water bottle. "Take a drink." He held it until she accepted and drank.

  "I don't understand. How can a hand just fall from a tree? Bird crap, yes. Human hand, no." She regained her strength and composure, wiggled out of his embrace, and stared at the hideous appendage. It was a man's left hand, complete with shining wedding band. A waxy whiteness showed through dirt and grime. "No wrinkles. He is, maybe was, young. White. It looks like there's no blood left in the hand. Maybe a newlywed."

  "Based on what?"

  "The wedding band."

  "Ah." He studied the hand, but didn't touch it. Instead, he snapped an image with his phone. "This may be one of several pieces of some guy." Standing straight and taking his time, he turned a slow circle, fixing his gaze on the trees and surrounding area. "We're in the center of a crime scene, but I don't see any other parts."

  "Look again at the hand. It looks like it was in a fire." Sophia leaned to get a better view. She felt more settled, almost clinical, her nursing experience kicking in.

  Again, he bent close to the hand. He frowned in apparent concentration, his cheeks tugging at the edges of his dark-brown goatee. "You're right. Looks like the ends of the fingers got the worst of it."

  "What do you think happened?"

  "The obvious thing that is someone wanted to get rid of the hand—and maybe more. I need to call it in." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, then stared at it. "No signal. Check yours."

  "None," Sophia said.

  "You'll have to go to the parking lot. It's about fifty yards from here and is a gentle incline. I'll stay and monitor the scene."

  "I made it down. Guess I'll make it back up." Sophia bounced to her feet, ignoring the cramping in her hip and leg. "If I can't get a connection, I'll go to the house east of the park. I saw some activity on their deck when we went through the clearing a ways down." She pointed down the trail.

  "Good plan."

  ***

  Within a few steps, Sophia learned Ray's definition of gentle incline was contrary to hers. Though in his mid-forties and six years her senior, he'd grown up in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, she in North Dakota—where both hills and trees were the exception. He navigated the trails with practiced ease.

  She dug her trekking poles into the path and used them to help haul herself upward toward the northern rim of the bluff. She wished she could measure the distance. Ray's fifty-yard estimate seemed to be straight up.

  Feeling a sense of urgency and trying to hurry, she slipped and stumbled toward the downward slope and the left edge. She grabbed at a sapling to stop her fall, losing one of her brand-new trekking poles in the process.

  "Damn it. Son of a bitch." The pole slid down the hill, out of reach, and a tear, born in frustration, rolled down her cheek. She righted herself, paused a moment, and decided a later arrival in the parking lot was preferable to no arrival at all.

  With one pole, progress was slower. Within a few yards, the pain in her right hip returned, searing into the bone. She stopped and rubbed the spot, stretching to ease the hurt. Following the climb, rest, rub pattern, she huffed into the lot twenty minutes later, but without another near fall.

  Sophia pulled her cell phone from her pocket and noted one dot. Ray had to
ld her to go the 9-1-1 route, since he didn't have the local department's information programmed into his phone yet.

  "You've reached 9-1-1. What is your emergency?" a woman's voice said.

  "We were hiking out of the bluff on the south edge of Plateauville and a human hand fell from a tree and hit me in the back." Her voice cracked as she shuddered at the memory.

  "Ah, ma'am, are you sure it's a human hand, not an animal part?"

  "Yes, I'm sure."

  "You got a good look at it?"

  "I did. And it was wearing a wedding ring."

  After several seconds, the operator said, "Noted. Where exactly are you now?"

  "I'm in the parking area north of the trailhead. We couldn't get a cell signal down the trail. Um, it's Bluff Overlook Park in the subdivision called the Cove. I think there is only one parking lot."

  "What's your name?"

  "Sophia Burgess. My number is . . ." She gave her number.

  "Thank you. You said we. Who are you with?"

  "Ray Stone. He'll be the new detective at Plateauville Police Department starting Monday, ah . . . tomorrow."

  "Put him on the line please."

  "I can't. He's more than fifty yards down the hill securing the crime scene. He sent me to make the call."

  "What else can you tell me?"

  "Can't you just send someone?" Sophia's voice shook. She tried to steady herself, but couldn't. The panic she'd tried to bury poked to the surface.

  "Ma'am, both the deputy sheriff and the Plateauville patrol are en route to the scene. I put out the call. I want you to stay where you are and await their arrival."

  "I just need to tell Ray people are coming."

  "No. Stay where you are. You'll need to direct the officers to the correct trail."

  Sophia shook her head to clear it. The dispatcher was right. "Yes. Of course. How long will it take them to arrive?"

  "The deputy's ETA is twenty minutes. The Plateauville patrol officer should arrive in three minutes. He's in the area."

  The lady on the phone said some other things, but Sophia didn't listen. She pushed END, then climbed into Ray's new Ram truck—it didn't feel like it belonged to her sports-car-loving fiancé. Even so, she sunk into the leather seat and reached for a bottle of water from the door panel. Wishing for something stronger, she took a drink while keeping her eyes on the entrance.

  A black and white patrol vehicle with lights flashing, but no siren, approached. The front of the car dipped as the officer braked for the turn. The vehicle slowed to a crawl as the driver negotiated a curvy path around multiple potholes and tree debris. Finally, he stopped beside the truck and exited his vehicle.

  The officer was built like Ray, tall and lean, and appeared to be almost old enough to shave—maybe twice a week. His blue uniform shirt and dark blue pants looked new, as did the backpack slung over his shoulder.

  Sophia slid out of the truck.

  "What's your name, ma'am?" Officer Johnson—she read his name tag—said.

  She answered the question. "Can I show you the trail you need to take?"

  "In a minute. I understand Detective Stone is here. Where is he?"

  "He's down the hill with the hand. He said he needed to stay and make sure no one disturbed the scene."

  "Lots of hikers out today, huh?" Officer Johnson's voice rang with Tennessee twang.

  "No, sir. Just us, I think. But, still, he wanted to secure the scene."

  "Is the detective armed?"

  "I didn't see a gun." Sophia shrugged.

  "You don't know?"

  "I didn't strip search him. But he's a cop and carries most of the time, but I didn't see a weapon."

  "Sorry, ma'am." Johnson looked offended. "I guess that sounded rude."

  "No, I'm sorry. I was rude. I'm stressed."

  "That's understandable, ma'am. Please, show me the trail. I'll take care not to startle him."

  Realizing the reason for the gun question, Sophia smiled, then limped across the lot to the trailhead. From the website she viewed before they moved to Tennessee from Florida, she knew the local PD handled about two suspicious deaths a year, which explained the young officer's reaction. Her suspicion was he wanted the sheriff's deputy to arrive before he went to the scene. "You coming?"

  "Right behind you. I don't want you going back down the trail, ma'am."

  "Don't worry about that. I'm not into raining body parts. I'll just show you which one we took—it's the Falls Overlook Trail. I'll wait here for the rest of the troops."

  Officer Johnson laughed. "Troops? It's me, Sheriff's Deputy Krantz—who will likely not stay around—and my chief, who's on his way into the department. He'll meet us there when we're ready."

  "Okay." She quickened her step, using her pole to help her negotiate the slight decline. After about twenty yards, she pointed. "There. Ray—and the hand—are down there."

  "Did you see any more of the body?"

  "No. But, I didn't look very hard either."

  Officer Johnson grinned. "I get that, ma'am."

  Sophia shuddered as she watched the officer approach the trailhead, hesitate for a long moment, then continue round the first curve of the trail and disappear from sight. She thought she had escaped to Tennessee to avoid finding bodies—and the repercussions that followed.

  Chapter 2

  Ray

  Ray waited until Officer Johnson was close enough to hear him. "Jim, I was hoping you'd catch the call." Ray had met Jimmy Joe Johnson when he interviewed for the detective position at Plateauville Police Department. It was evident to Ray at the time that Johnson wanted the job—the first detective slot in the city. It was also obvious he was not prepared to assume it. As the small department grew, Ray hoped Johnson would be ready to take the next opening through the testing and promotion route, which Ray was assigned to create.

  "Who else? I'm the only man on duty this morning, sir."

  "Slim scheduling."

  "Yes, sir. We schedule light in the mornings when not much is happenin', and double or triple up in the evenings and nights when there's more activity around town. Sometimes it doesn't work out. Chief Mullins is callin' in another man to cover the town so I can handle this."

  "Good thing."

  "Yes, sir, it is. Another thing. Chief Mullins told me to tell you'uns, you're sworn in today rather than tomorrow morning. You can pick up your shield when we go into town."

  Ray laughed. "Is that so?" Ray had been on the department's payroll for the last two weeks, opting to attend the criminal investigation school offered by the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, TBI, in Nashville. He'd welcomed the refresher on crime scene techniques since detectives in the area handled their own scenes.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Jim, before we get started. You've called me sir four times in under two minutes. My name is Ray. Or you can call me Stone, if you'd rather. If we're with civilians or other departments and on the job, it's Detective Stone, and you're Officer Johnson."

  "Okay, sir. I'll try."

  Ray resisted the urge to mimic Sophia's annoying eye rolling habit. He satisfied himself with a mental eye roll, something he suspected Sophia had perfected, too.

  "I bagged the hand." Ray nodded to where a blue plastic package sat on a stump. "And, I marked off what seems to be a reasonable perimeter for our crime scene." Ray pointed to strips of blue plastic tied to various trees around the area. "What do you think?"

  Johnson looked up at the edge of the bluff—a granite cliff with a pronounced overhang. "That overhang has been fenced off for years. The crack on the right side could open at any moment, which don't mean people don't climb the fence. We actually done it when we was kids. Climbed on out and dangled our feet. Tossed our beer cans into the treetops. Got caught once and had to clean up the mess." Johnson appeared thoughtful. "If I climbed out there and pitched body parts, they'd end up in this area. Threw a few rocks a time or two. The result was the same, because of that stand of trees over there." He pointed.
<
br />   "Yup." Ray nodded.

  "I think your area's good. Where'd you get the blue markers?"

  "Sophie and I hike with the dog sometimes. I have a roll of bags in my backpack."

  Johnson laughed. "City folk."

  "I suppose." Ray stepped back a couple of feet onto the trail. "We contaminated the scene going up and down. We haven't met other hikers on the trail, so maybe we're the only ones who tromped through."

  "Most folks are at the church on a Sunday morning and don't walk out their house to do other things until after."

  Ray chuckled. "Whoever did this doesn't seem very godly." He pulled his iPhone from the leg pocket on his cargo pants. "Do you have any gear with you?"

  "I do. We've all been trained to pick up fingerprints, take photos, that sort of thing. We send everything to the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation lab in Nashville. The District Attorney can call in TBI to handle the crime scene at his discretion. TBI has jurisdiction for drugs—which this could be. Oh, you know the sheriff has authority and can take over any case he wants?"

  Ray was pleased with the young cop's knowledge and his desire to share it. He'd covered the same territory with the chief during his initial visit, but Ray was glad to know he and Johnson were on the same page and Johnson was serious about progressing up the ladder.

  "I don't want to get out of line, sir."

  "You're not. Keep talking."

  "You know Tennessee is the meth capital of the world."

  "So they say."

  "If this is a murder."

  "I'd say. Natural causes don't generally lead to body parts dropping from the trees and sliding down people's backs."

  Johnson didn't smile. "Anyway, it's likely drug connected. That's when we get our really crazy shit. Pardon."

  "And?"

  "And it's meth in most cases. Those suckers go off the edge, and I don't mean off this here cliff."

  Ray held up his cell phone. "Let's hike the perimeter, take some shots, and see what we can. Then we'll walk a grid. On my first pass, I didn't see any more body parts."

  "Animal could have hauled 'em off."

  "Could be." He tapped on his phone and held up an image of the hand. "I looked at this. I don't see any evidence of it being gnawed or chewed."