UNAWARE: A Suspense Novel

by Susan P. Baker

Zack cocked his head and looked her over. “Yes, Sweetheart. I said next Friday. I’ll only be gone a week. Five days if you don’t count the day I leave or the day I come back. And then we can make some plans. A weekend alone or with Bob and Ellen.”

  Sweetheart? Every day he seemed to grow warmer toward her. She slid down onto the carpet and clasped her arms around her bent knees, her focus on the TV. A trip alone or with Bob and Ellen? She didn’t know if she wanted that.

  Zack scooted over and ran his fingers through her hair, scratching her head.

  He used to do that all the time when they were first together. Now it had been quite a while since he’d been that close to her.

  “A weekend away from the kids would be good for us.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. Next, he’d want to have sex. She wasn’t sure that was such a good idea though some couples got divorced and still had sex, both before and after the divorce. “Think I’ll go to bed.”

  “You go ahead. I want to catch the news.”

  Relief swept over her. She left him and went to take a hot shower to help her sleep. Afterward, she pulled on her favorite white cotton nightgown and climbed under the covers. When Zack came in, she was still wide-awake. He turned on the light in his closet and undressed just inside it.

  “Zack,” she said, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

  “Hmmm?”

  “I still have the strangest feeling about this divorce case.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, what would you think about someone who suddenly became agreeable after acting so mean in the beginning?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like saying he’ll give his wife whatever she wants after saying before that someone broke into his house and stole her stuff?”

  “Maybe he just wanted to give her a hard time. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Otherwise, it doesn’t make sense.”

  “It’ll work out, you’ll see. Go to sleep now.”

  He walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself.

  Dena turned over and faced the window. He was probably right. She focused on her breathing and closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  MARTIN

  “Richardson, the chief wants you.” Boyd stuck his head in Martin’s office, hollered, and took off before Martin could quit writing on his clipboard and get out of his chair.

  “What does she want?” Martin called after the cap’s departing back, but Boyd didn’t respond. Just like the cap to leave him in suspense.

  Pulling his leg off his desk, Martin rose to his feet. When the chief wanted someone, she didn’t like to be kept waiting. He yanked his blazer off the back of his chair and shrugged it on as he hustled to her office. When he got there, her door was closed, and nobody sat behind the desk outside, a bad sign. He didn’t know if he should knock, sit down and wait, or what. When he heard the chief yelling at someone, he decided to sit and wait.

  He hoped she wasn’t yelling on his account. It’d been several weeks since he’d talked to Captain Boyd so the chief would have had time to get over being angry with him. At least he hoped so. He wanted to stick his head closer to the door to hear what she was yelling about, but no way was he going to be caught in that position, and that would be just his luck. So he waited. Five minutes. Ten. He could have finished making his notes for his report if he’d known it would be that long.

  The door jerked open and a red-faced juvenile cop rushed past Martin, exchanged looks, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him. Martin glanced past the man and saw the chief popping the top on a can of diet Dr Pepper. Her eyes swept over him.

  “Come in, Richardson, and close the door behind you.”

  He didn’t like her tone, but he shut the door and sat in a chair across from the chief’s. A sweet smell hung in the air. A fat candle burned by the window. Things had changed a lot since he’d come on the force.

  The chief smiled, showing her big, horse-like teeth. It was easy to tell when she was happy and when she wasn’t. Her black hair was twirled up at the back of her head. Her blue eyes, the color of the Gulf of Mexico on one of its calmer days, penetrated all the way to a person’s backbone. She was known for not mincing words. Martin waited, anticipating the unexpected.

  She took a swallow from a can of Dr Pepper. “How’s it going, Richardson?” Standing up behind her desk, she looked every bit the two hundred pounds it was rumored she weighed, but she was nearly as tall as Martin and didn’t have an ounce of fat on her.

  “Fine.” He waited for the ax to fall.

  “Let me show you something.” She walked to a chart on an easel in the back corner behind her desk. “You gave me a really good idea. Boyd tell you?”

  “No, Ma’am. He didn’t tell me anything.” The captain had said nothing to him since the day Martin had been in his office. Even if he’d said something, Martin wouldn’t have told the chief until the cap said it was okay. He knew how things worked. Following her to the chart, he waited to hear what she would say.

  “You know what this is?” She pointed to the chart with her forefinger, the soda can still in her hand.

  “Looks like a duty roster.”

  “That’s exactly what it is. Since Captain Boyd reported to me that you were unhappy being stuck in an office, I got this brilliant idea for us all to go back out on the street. Hell, Richardson, I miss the action, too.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” The tension eased out of his body.

  “So I asked some of the other officers. Most of them agreed with me. They’d all like to get out on the street once in a while. The ones who said no, well, I guess they’re probably the ones who need to be in touch with the community even more than the rest of us.”

  He hoped she hadn’t told them it was his idea. “So if everyone goes back out on the street, who’ll be riding the desks?”

  “You thought you would have to do both, right? No, I still don’t have a decent overtime budget. Here’s the deal.” She pointed at the chart again. “You’ll ride shotgun for one week a month on the evening shift for ninety days. You’ll be paired with a man in the downtown area, so if there’s any emergency, you’ll be close by. After ninety days, you’ll ride shotgun on the midnight shift, then days, and so on.”

  Martin thought the idea stunk, but he only nodded at the chief. The least he could do as hear her out. “So every month I get to be out on the street for a week?”

  “Yeah. See, the captain will be on the week after you and then me. Each shift will rotate their officers for a week.” She turned and grinned at him, obviously very pleased with herself. “This chart shows how it will work for a full year and who you’ll be paired with.”

  Martin was afraid to look and see whom she would stick him with. “What about months that have five weeks?”

  She glanced at the chart. “Oh, well, we’ll just work our usual office duty. So what do you think?”

  Martin adjusted his shoulder holster and his jacket and shifted his eyes to the chart in an effort to avoid answering. Finding his name in the first group, he could see she’d paired him with a rookie who had barely made it past the entrance requirements. She probably thought Martin could help the guy. It wasn’t what he’d had in mind at all.

  “If it’s all the same with you, I’d just like to go back to being sergeant and get my old partner back.”

  “Well, it’s not all the same to me, damn it.” Her eyes flared. “You know how many hours I’ve spent trying to work all this out? You know how much a lot of those men out there look up to you, getting all shot up, having that bum leg, and refusing disability? What are they going to think if you take a demotion? Hell, they’ll probably think it’s my fault. Morale will go down.” She pitched her soda can in the trash and stalked back to her desk. Shaking her finger at him, she continued her tirade for a few more minutes before she finally dropped into her chair. “What�
��s the matter with you anyway, Richardson? Most men would give their left cojone to be lieutenant.”

  Sweat had beaded on his forehead. He sat back down. “I just want to be back on the street for a while.”

  “Does this have something to do with your sister?”

  Flexing his jaw muscle to keep himself calm, he waited a moment before responding. “Not you, too.”

  “What? Am I deaf, dumb, and blind? You think I don’t know what goes on in this town that affects my men? You think because I’m a woman, I’m not as good a chief, that I don’t have my finger on the pulse of the department?”

  Martin fought to keep the edge out of his voice. “It has nothing to do with you being a female, Chief. Have I ever treated you like that? I think you’re doing a good job, I swear. I just don’t like my business being flaunted in front of everyone, that’s all.”

  “Then you ought to tell your sister not to come up here with her problems. Okay, okay. So level with me, Richardson. What’s going on?”

  He studied her face a moment. What did he have to lose? She wasn’t going to give him what he wanted unless he was square with her. “All right. It isn’t just about my sister, but she’s getting ready to get this divorce. The guy is off his rocker. I think he’s going to go for her, and I’m stuck in here all day every day.”

  “So you want on the street so you can look after her.”

  “Yeah, that’s a big part of it.”

  “Missing Morales, your old partner…”

  Martin nodded. “I worked hard to get where I am, but I don’t like it. It’s lonely.”

  “How do you think I feel?”

  “Probably the same, but I’m asking you. Let me partner with Joe.”

  “You’ve been divorced a couple of years, am I right?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She nodded. “Seeing anyone else?”

  Martin shrugged. “Nope.”

  “So you’re lonely. Morales is fixing to go on the evening shift.”

  “I don’t care. I could run this guy down and see what he’s up to during the day when my sister is working days, and then look out for her after she gets off, and vice versa.”

  “You mean drive by.”

  “Yeah, whatever it takes. Look, I don’t mean to make you angry, but not everybody has the balls you have.”

  She laughed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t mind chewing on a guy’s ass even if he used to be your old partner. Me, I don’t like it. I don’t like the politics. I don’t like the city council members even knowing my name.” He hiked his right ankle over his other knee and leaned back in his chair. “Hell, if you want to know the truth, Chief, I just want to do my job and find me a lady and have some kids. That’s all I want.”

  The chief propped her chin on her fist. “I can understand that, Richardson. Tell you what I’m thinking. Maybe you made lieutenant too young, maybe not. The point is, if you’re not happy, you’re not going to be a very good lieutenant or anything else.”

  “Hey, I’m doing my job.”

  “I’m not saying you aren’t. You’ve got some personal business to take care of. Fine. I’m going to stick you out there for ninety days.” She stood up. “On evenings with Morales. No demotion right now. Then I’m going to yank your sorry ass back in here, and we’ll see what’s up.”

  Martin stood and stuck out his hand. He wanted to hug her, but he knew that wasn’t permissible.

  “On two conditions.”

  Martin dropped his hand. Here it comes.

  “You let it be known it was your idea, not mine. I’m not going to have a bunch of gossip and union meetings over this.” She rounded her desk and walked toward the door. “And you got to realize that if I need you back in the office for a few days over some emergency or something, I’ll jerk you back in here in a New York minute.”

  “Thank you.”

  She held the door open for him. Before he could get past her, she said, “You didn’t really think my idea was all that bad, did you?”

  Martin grabbed her hand and shook it hard. It was the most he could get away with, her being chief. “It certainly has some merit, Ma’am. I think it could use some close examination by all the other officers.” He smiled when he wanted to cheer. All he could think about was getting out there and kicking Sellers’ ass if he went anywhere near Ginny.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ALAN SELLERS

  Late Thursday morning, Sellers received the call from Ginny. He was dozing in bed, having decided he wouldn’t leave his apartment until he heard from her. He dragged himself to his cell phone, half asleep, fumbling around in a daze until he found where he’d left it.

  “Hello, Alan? My lawyer told me to call you and set up a time to get my things.”

  “Hey, Doll, I’ve been waiting to hear from you. How’re you doing?” He grabbed a Coke from the fridge and sprawled out on the bed.

  “Fine. I’ve got a new job.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, glad to hear that, Babe.”

  “Look, I’m on evening shift this week again. I can’t come until Saturday, but I’ve definitely lined up a truck for the morning.”

  “Hey, I’m easy. I’ll go along with whatever you say.” The carbonation from the Coke woke him up and made his nostrils flare. He belched and his stomach growled. It was getting near lunchtime. He couldn’t remember breakfast. All the days seemed the same lately.

  “You’re not playing games? You’ll be there?”

  “Definitely. No problem. You tell me the time…no, it don’t matter. I’ll just stay home all day. Come any time.”

  “Are you sure? Are you telling the truth? Because if you’re playing games, I don’t want to bother coming.”

  “Hey. Like I told Mrs. Armstrong, I’m through with games. I mean it. Really. You come down on Saturday, and I’ll give you your stuff. Then we can sign the papers next week, okay?”

  “I don’t know whether I can trust you or not, but I’ll be there around ten if everything works out.”

  “You can trust me. Really. I’ll see you then, okay?”

  “Your new girlfriend will be there, too?”

  “What? Oh, I don’t think so. It’ll just be you and me and the truck you get, okay?”

  “Okay. See you on Saturday.”

  Sellers started his mental countdown. Saturday, Ginny would get her stuff. He’d follow her home and find out where she had moved. Sunday, he’d begin watching her to see what she did all day, figure out her schedule. Monday, he’d call the lawyer again and arrange a day to sign the papers. During the week, Ginny would sign the papers and get the divorce. The following weekend, it would be all over for Ginny. He hadn’t quite worked that out yet, but he would.

  After Ginny, it would be the lawyer’s turn. The next Monday, her husband would be out of town. That morning, he’d break into her house, get the key to the jewelry box, and hide in the garage. Monday night, it would be all over for the lawyer. He knew her husband said Wednesday, but he didn’t give a shit. Monday worked best.

  He needed an alibi. Or did he? What if instead of cutting Ginny he just ran her down on the street like a dog? But he couldn’t do it in his old man’s car. And he didn’t want to do it in the Firebird. Maybe he could steal a car. Maybe he could catch her out on the street over the weekend and run her down and dump the car and high tail it to Houston, go out to the bars, and make sure he was seen. He could still have his fun with the lady lawyer.

  His plan for the lawyer was a good one. A burglary. That covered his butt pretty good. He could show up at Marlo’s Club afterwards. Everybody he knew would probably be so drunk they wouldn’t know what time he got there. He’d have to remember to take a change of clothes in case he got blood on the other ones. What could he do with the first set? Dump them. Dump them far away from the lawyer’s house, and far away from Marlo’s, and far away from where he threw the stuff into the bayo
u. He could swing through the downtown area and throw them into an alley dumpster. Yeah, like on Postoffice Street or The Strand. He could go to the Salvation Army and buy some old clothes. He could change into his regular ones and throw the old ones out. Yeah. It was all coming together.

  The only thing that bothered him was the possibility that the lawyer might find out about Ginny before Monday night. Would she suspect something? She probably wouldn’t if it were a hit-and-run. But she would if he cut Ginny. He’d have to think about that. Maybe he should wait a while on Ginny.

  What if the lawyer got killed in a routine burglary? Would Ginny find out? And if she found out, would she suspect him? She probably wouldn’t if it was known to be a burglary. Then later, if he kept tabs on Ginny, he could grab her off the street one day. Or he could run her down. Or he could get into her apartment.

  But he had already made his plans and didn’t want to change them. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to kill Ginny and wished he could do it now. Man, he hated her. Bad enough he’d have to wait until the divorce was over. He knew he had to wait that long. If he did it any sooner, Martin would be on his ass.

  He had to go through the divorce peaceably. He’d just have to try to hide Ginny’s body so they wouldn’t find it until after Monday. By then it would be too late. He’d have to find a way to do it on Sunday. He wandered into the kitchen where he dug around in the cabinets until he found some chocolate chip cookies. He stuffed them in his mouth on his way back to the bedroom, the sweet, strong flavor of chocolate filling his mouth and nose. He lay on the bed and devoured the cookies, not caring where the crumbs fell. Afterward, feeling content and happy, he fell back asleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ALAN SELLERS

  Saturday morning, a sharp horn blast woke Sellers up. He rolled out of bed and looked through the living room window. When he opened the blinds, his pupils shrank from the sun’s glare. He could almost feel the heat rising from the pavement. Ginny sat in a truck’s passenger side in front of his apartment. Sellers’ excitement at the prospect of his plan falling into place caused him to smile.