When Luke had gone back to school the next year, he’d tried. Hard. But it was too late for him to catch up enough academically to get admitted into college. He also had some kind of strange sensation where all the letters of the alphabet jumbled themselves around in his head. He’d learned he had dyslexia when he’d been in prison, which had been what had muddied the academic waters in which he’d tried to swim. But still he dreamed of being an upstanding member of society and giving his mom a better life.
He’d walked several blocks from the bus stop and he was getting tired, so he flopped down on the sidewalk next to a wall near the run-down convenience store and laundromat that catered to his childhood community and tried to calm himself. He’d become scared of himself, of what the rage boiling inside might do if it was ever unleashed.
All during his time in prison, he’d nurtured vengeful thoughts. They’d run from little things, like finding a way to embarrass her on television, all the way to creeping into her house and putting a bullet in her brain. His thoughts ran the full spectrum, and it was a frightening spectrum of possibilities, and he didn’t know what to do with them. In prison, he’d thought his life was over, so he might as well go down and take her with him, because that evil woman deserved to be murdered. She’d taken away his future. Now he’d take away hers. He remembered something about an eye for an eye.
But now, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of hope for him, and if there was, he wanted to grab it with both hands. The uncertainty of this, the question of hope, paralyzed him, and had him constantly teetering between grief and anger. He was so confused he was a tangled mess inside.
His throat was dry, and he looked back at the convenience store wistfully, fantasizing about an ice-cold Coke. He flipped open his wallet even though he knew he’d spent the last money he had on the bus fare. That Coke could only become a reality with a five-finger discount, also known as shoplifting. No, the reason he’d opened his wallet was to stare into the photograph of her face, into the cold, calculating eyes of Ashlee Nelson.
When Luke thought back about how excited he’d been on the interview day, the special day that was his passport to a real future, he felt as if his chest might burst. The thought of his interview flashed before his eyes. He’d heard there was an opening at one of the fraternity houses at the university. They needed a handyman. It was the perfect job for him. He was always puttering with various things around the neighborhood, and this was something he knew he could do. Plus, it wouldn’t involve too much reading or writing. At the interview they told him on the spot that he’d gotten the job. Luke was overjoyed with happiness, and his future looked brighter than it had his entire life.
But now, as he lingered on the sidewalk, his thirst combined with his anger made him so frustrated he had to get away from the convenience store. It was too much of a temptation for him. He was afraid he’d not only pick up a Coke for free, but he’d smash all the bottles they had in an attempt to vent his anger. How could he continue to be the good upstanding man he’d been in prison with all this pressure on him? He had no idea, but he wanted to try. He headed toward his childhood home.
As he slowly walked the familiar route to his mother’s home, Luke continued to think back to how excited he’d been when he got his new job, but his feeling of joy in the new position had been short-lived. Someone started a rumor that he was selling drugs to students, and not just a little pot, either. Hard stuff. Dangerous party drugs that could get kids killed.
Ashlee Nelson had taken up the sale of the drugs to university students as her ‘cause célèbre’, her little corner of ‘the war on drugs’. She vowed she’d do anything she could to keep drugs off the campus of her alma mater. She’d roped the chief of police into her crusade, demanding that he do something immediately, or face re-election as an incompetent chief of police who didn’t care about kids and their wellbeing. “What next?” she’d asked. “Are you going to allow filthy drug dealer scum to sell drugs to young children at elementary schools?”
Ashlee Nelson certainly knew how to put the pressure on people, and the chief of police was no exception. Soon he had undercover officers prowling through the university, and very soon he was slapping handcuffs on Luke. Nobody seemed to believe that he was innocent. Or perhaps they believed him, and simply didn’t care. Luke made an excellent scapegoat.
It all happened in a blur. Luke’s meager savings jar (the very beginnings of his mother’s new condo fund) would barely buy a nice meal, let alone legal representation, and he was saddled with a new, incompetent attorney who had just started working at the Public Defender’s Office.
Even though there was inconclusive evidence against him, he was found guilty. In truth, he was tried mainly by Ashlee’s news show. He spent five years in prison. Now he was a penniless felon, with nothing to his name except a criminal record and a horrible reputation. In prison, he’d found religion. He’d become a counselor to the other prisoners and vowed to turn his own life around when he finished his sentence. It was easy to plan a grand vision while he was in prison, but when he was outside in the wide-open world, everything looked far more intimidating than it had seemed from the safety of an institution.
As he approached his childhood home, it didn’t seem possible, but it looked even more rundown than when he’d last seen it. Weeds, over two feet high, were growing up the side of it, and a windowpane in the front of the house was smashed. When he saw it, once again the question that he’d been asking himself sprang up in his mind. Is there really anything to hope for?
The answer to that question determined his revenge plan and would also determine Ashlee Nelson’s future. He could go down the road he’d planned in jail, going to a seminary school and becoming a better man. Or had that just been a prison fantasy? He wasn’t sure. The alternative, if he was caught, would see him back on the path to prison that Ashlee Nelson had set him on five years earlier. If he took that option, Ashlee had only herself to blame.
“Mom, it’s me!” he yelled above the sound of the blaring television. There was no point knocking, because Jane never answered the door, and for all he knew, she still might not answer it. But since he hadn’t seen or spoken to her for the five years he’d been in prison, or the two weeks he’d been out, he hoped the novelty of hearing his voice might pique her interest.
“You’re interrupting my show, Luke!” she yelled back. “Just keep quiet and keep your mouth shut.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sometimes Kat liked to grab breakfast on the go. Other times, she liked to set it all out nice and proper, with the delicate little English tea set she’d inherited from her mother. It felt like such a treat, clinking her gold-edged teacup against the saucer, and using the china teapot to pour. True, there was coffee in the pot, not tea, but it still worked for her.
Today was one of her tea set days. Blaine, sitting across the table from her, seemed to be enjoying his croissant, but he looked a little preoccupied.
“What have you got planned for today, Blaine?” she asked.
“I have a meeting with Ryan, my assistant district attorney. We’re going to go over the cases we have for the next few weeks. We’ll have to decide which ones to prosecute and which ones not to. The chief of police will be there, too.”
“I hope it goes well,” Kat said, pouring some coffee into his cup. “Have a little more coffee. You’ll probably need it.”
“Thanks,” he said with a smile, then took a sip. “What about you, love? What’s your day looking like?”
“Well, I’ve just finished writing The Bawdy Halls of Ivy, so I’m thinking about doing a cozy mystery series next. I love writing my hot and steamy romance novels, but a change is good from time to time. I just love the coziness of it all, and how different it is from the romance novel genre. No cursing. No sex. Just good, old-fashioned fun.”
Blaine chuckled. “With a couple of dead bodies thrown in.”
“Well and that,” Kat said, laughing with him. “There ha
s to be some kind of drama. Anyway, I’m debating what to call the new series. I’ve been thinking about ‘Around the World’ or ‘Around the Globe.’ I’m planning on it taking place in different countries. We could visit Deborah in Italy, and I could have one of the murder mysteries set there. You know, us visiting and getting the feel of the place would make the book more authentic.”
Blaine laughed heartily. “Brilliant! Well, after that, can we take Global Gore to the most luxurious all-inclusive Caribbean resort? You know, for research purposes.” He winked at her. She leaned over and slapped him on the arm playfully. “Global Gore? Blaine, that’s a dreadful name.”
“That’s why I’m not a writer,” he said, then popped the last of his croissant into his mouth, wiping the crumbs away with his hand. “See you later, darling.” He got up, kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door for work.
Kat decided to leave the breakfast things out for a while. The lovely tea set didn’t seem to want to go back in its special cupboard just yet, so she headed to her desk to get started with the day’s writing.
It wasn’t often that she got writer’s block, but today she simply sat at her desk, staring at the blank screen on her computer, willing something to pop into her mind. Sexy romance was easy for her to write. Her fingers went into a blur as the story flowed out of her head and onto the screen. But writing cozy mysteries was a whole new ballgame, new and unfamiliar, and although the prospect was exciting, it was also daunting.
After managing to squeeze out three sentences, Kat let out a long sigh. Her mind was wandering to her grocery shopping, to how her friend Deborah was doing in Italy, to Lacie’s graduation… Kat had a rule that once she sat down at her computer to write she’d finish what she was working on. But today, before she knew it, she had the phone in her hand. She had to make sure she looked the part of the proud mother at Lacie’s graduation.
“Susie’s Salon. May I help you?” the voice on the other end asked.
“Hey, there,” Kat said. “I need to book in a color this week with Susie. I’m a regular customer…”
“Hi, Kat,” the receptionist said. “Your phone number pops up on the screen right here with your name. Sure, we can fit you in. What day’s best for you? Is it your signature color, or are you going for something new this time, so I can let Susie know in advance?”
Kat let out a laugh. “Well, I’ve always envied women with deep purple hair, but I think I’ll stick to my signature color this time.”
The receptionist laughed with her. “Are you sure? We do have purple dye, you know.”
They booked the appointment and Kat was still smiling when she ended the call. She loved the atmosphere at Susie’s.
Then she returned to her work, struggling with the task of trying to create wonderful characters, exciting plots, and gorgeous craftsmanship out of thin air. She could feel the pressure start to build in her head, and she was glad when the phone rang.
“Hi, Mitzi,” she said. It was great to hear from her, since they hadn’t spoken for a while. That said, they were both busy women. Mitzi was an acupuncture doctor at a local clinic.
“Hello to you too, Kat. How are you doing?”
“Oh, everything’s great here, thanks. Right now I’m looking forward to Lacie’s graduation. What about you?”
“Funny you should say that,” Mitzi said. “Rex and I were wondering if you all could come over to our house after graduation for a late brunch? You and Blaine and Lacie, of course. We can put out a real spread for you.”
Kat broke into a smile. “Oh, that would be wonderful! Though… Lacie’s seeing a young man named Tyler, so I expect he’d like to come, too. That wouldn’t put you out, would it?”
“Don’t be silly, not at all,” Mitzi answered. “The more the merrier. So, what’s this new Tyler fellow like? Is he from out of town?”
“No, he’s not. He’s local.” Kat felt her spirits sink a little. They always did, when she thought of Tyler’s sister, the newscaster. “Actually, he’s Ashlee Nelson’s little brother.”
Mitzi gasped. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’m not. He’s her brother,” Kat said. She remembered back to when Mitzi had given her a heads up regarding Ashlee’s insinuations about Blaine. “Thankfully he seems to be a lot more… shall we say… chilled out… than his older sister. More caring, too.”
“Not some cutthroat business exec driving a Hummer?” Mitzi said. “That would be my mental image of Ashlee Nelson’s brother.”
“Oh, no. He’s a sweet kid. He’s studying to be a veterinarian, for horses, cows, you know, large farm animals. He lived on a local ranch when he was growing up.”
“Oh,” Mitzi said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I can’t imagine Lacie being with someone unethical.”
“Nor can I,” Kat said. “She’s way too sensible to do something like that.”
“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,” Mitzi said. “From what I know of her, she’s a great judge of character, and she’s very mature for her age. I wouldn’t worry about her for a second. Well, I take that back. I probably would, because that’s what parents do, but in this case, I don’t think you need to.” She chuckled. “So, we’ll see you here for brunch after graduation?”
“Of course, and looking forward to it,” Kat said with a smile.
*****
“Ugh, I could so devour one of Jenna’s burgers right now,” Lacie said, looking longingly out the car window as they drove past Lacie’s favorite hamburger joint.
“Sorry, sweetheart, you’re too late,” Kat said with a tinkly laugh.
“No, it’s fine,” Lacie said. “I definitely don’t want a burger belly while I’m trying on clothes.”
“With the way Mitzi cooks, you very may well have some kind of belly on the day of the brunch,” Kat joked. “Maybe that’s the best way to make sure we get the right fit on our new clothes. We should go stuff ourselves with food before we hit the mall.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Lacie said with a sigh as she looked back at Jenna’s Diner “but Tyler and I don’t go there anymore.”
“Why not, honey?” Kat asked.
“Well, there was the whole cockroach incident. I mean, I think normal restaurants get one or two from time to time, no matter how clean they are. It’s not an ideal situation, but I think it’s realistic to expect one of them to pop up once in a while. Anyway, Ashlee latched onto that unfortunate incident and tried to drive Jenna’s business into the ground.
“She went to town on the whole health and safe food angle and very nearly got Jenna shut down permanently. It’s nowhere near as full as it used to be. Ashlee gave the impression that the kitchen was swarming with cockroaches. So yeah, Jenna hates her. And Tyler, being Ashlee’s brother, well, it extends to him, too.”
Kat certainly wasn’t surprised. She didn’t think Ashlee Nelson was a lot of people’s most favorite person. A thought suddenly struck her. If Lacie married Tyler, Ashlee would become an in-law. Kat suppressed a shudder, at the same time plastering a smile on her face. “Ashlee’s not exactly Lindsay’s favorite gal.”
“You can say that again,” Lacie said darkly, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes. “Tyler has to bear the brunt of it all, and now, so do I.”
“Hmm, yes. What does he think of his sister?” Kat asked, curious. “Does he resent her for that?”
Lacie shrugged. “I think he knows she’s not all that well-liked, but she is his sister, so what can he really say or do? He was her little teddy bear, her cute little brother. From what he’s told me, she really doted on him. You can’t expect him to see her like everyone else does.”
“No,” Kat agreed. As she pulled into the parking lot of the mall, she noticed that Lacie’s mood had soured a little. “Anyway, enough of that, sweetie. Let’s go get some fabulous dresses for this graduation brunch. What do you say?”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Johnny.” Sunny Barton’s voice
was tight. She sat at the head of the large dining table that could easily seat twenty-four people in their huge colonial Layton mansion, and tapped the end of her pen over and over on the list that was obviously aggravating her.
Her husband, Johnny, was sprawled out on one of the lounge chairs. Their living room and dining room were both housed in a cavernous ballroom-style space, and he was playing a mindless car racing game on his Xbox after a hard day at work.
One would have thought he’d get sick of cars, but he never did. Despite owning multiple Bentley, Audi, BMW, and Aston Martin dealerships throughout the Midwest, and owning an antique car collection, Johnny Barton still liked to come home and unwind by watching NASCAR races on TV. If there were no races being broadcast, like tonight, he liked to endlessly play racing car games. “I’ll turn the volume down,” he grumbled as he reached for the volume control switch on the box.
Murdered by News Page 3