Murder in the City: Blue Lights

by Tatum, Clare

  Murder in the City

  Blue Lights

  Clare Tatum

  Atlanta is in the grips of a crime wave.

  Seemingly random people are targeted but are they part of an orchestrated pattern?

  As an assistant district attorney in Atlanta, Lainey Thomas has made her share of enemies.

  Is she a target? When her sister goes missing, is she just another victim, or was she taken because of her connection to Lainey?

  Evil stalks the streets of Atlanta.

  Will Lainey Thomas and Homicide Detective Mark Brice find out who is behind the murders, and kidnapping of young girls before Lainey or her sister are the next victims?

  Chapter One

  Homicide detective Mark Brice eyed her from the back of the courtroom. His river green eyes held disappointment and maybe a hint of recrimination.

  But it was his young partner who stepped up to make the accusation. “Good going, lady. You let a killer go free.”

  The words stabbed at Lainey Thomas the same way her thoughts would for many nights to come. Her actions let a killer go free. No one but herself was to blame.

  “I did what I was duty bound to do.” She looked directly into the young cop’s eyes and met his hard glare.

  Detective Brice stepped in between them. “She did her job, Jones.” He turned sideways and Lainey could see as his eyes bored straight into the younger cop. “Now, let’s go do ours, find more evidence to put this guy back in jail. Go get the car. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  The young homicide detective glared at Lainey before he swiveled sharply and marched toward the door.

  Detective Brice didn’t look directly at Lainey. “I know you were only doing your job.”

  “High praise coming from you, detective.”

  He half laughed, with a sound as if it grated across his vocal chords painfully, forced out like heated air from a fiery explosion. “It’s not always pleasant what we have to do in our line of work, is it counselor?”

  He was too professional to let his feelings show but his refusal to meet her eyes was more of an accusation than his partner’s actual words. And it hurt a whole lot worse.

  She respected him, admired his drive to put away people who hurt other people. No one wanted to protect the weak and innocent more than him. If you didn’t count her.

  “No. It wasn’t pleasant.”

  “Kinda makes you want to forget to mention to the judge you’ve learned our star witness to the crime had actually been in jail at the time of the murder.”

  She gave a harsh laugh that hurt her throat coming out. Their case had hinged on that witness’ testimony.

  “Any decent attorney would have found that out. The fact that he’s got an attorney who’s getting paid diddly for this, who isn’t even doing his job, doesn’t change the fact that Sean Moseman has a right to every protection under the law.”

  She shrugged. “I, also, had a legal duty to come forward with that information.”

  But, an overwhelming desire to punish Moseman swept through her—for the murder that she knew in her gut he’d committed, and every other crime he’d ever perpetrated against the weak.

  “Moseman is so guilty!” She pounded on the half wall that divided the now empty audience area from the tables where the lawyers sat. “So guilty.” It wrenched her gut what she’d had to do.

  The detective placed his hand over hers. Her eyes jerked to where their hands lay connected. She’d wondered all through the time they’d worked together what it would feel like to have those hands on her.

  But not like this. Not comforting her for her inability to put away a killer. For being duty bound to provide the information forcing the judge to set him loose on society again.

  She jerked her hand free.

  His eyes assessed her face. Then, he tilted his head. “We’ll recharge him later, when we have more evidence. This witness might not have seen the murder. But, there might be someone out there who did. Or someone who can point us toward more evidence.”

  Bile rose in her throat. “But maybe not before he commits some other horrendous crime.”

  She opened a folder and spilled out on the table the crime photos of the beautiful young woman, dead, but only after being horribly disfigured by the rage of Sean Moseman. She’d lived through so much pain and terror before her death.

  Detective Brice looked down at the photos, photos he’d seen so many times before, as she had. They’d studied them, looking for any clues that might help put away the man who’d virtually tortured her to death with a brutal beating.

  “Her only crime was she wanted to break up with him.” She laughed harshly. “Imagine what he’d do to someone who purposefully ticked him off, who cut him off in traffic, or was needlessly rude.”

  Brice grabbed her upper arm and pulled her an inch closer, bringing her mind to a dead halt. Her thought processes wound down until all she was conscious of was him.

  Him.

  This tall, sardonic homicide cop, with his ready quips, sharp eye for detail and the sweetest mouth she’d ever seen.

  His body attracted her, with his fitness and hard muscles. His intelligent green eyes added to the enticing mixture.

  But it was his mind that held her attention, along with his driving desire for justice that equaled her own search for justice. He seemed to lived in order to get the bad guy.

  “We’ll catch him, Lainey.” His eyes met hers, sending vibrations throughout her body, that became a humming need to get closer to him. “I promise you, my highest priority is to put this scum-sucking sack of shit away.” He leaned closer until their faces were inches apart. “I promise you.”

  She felt his breath warm on her face, his hand on her arm, with a grip that said he could easily swing her up into his arms and carry her into the back, private consultation area with its couch. She wanted to lean in, to accept comfort from him. She wanted to somehow forget that she’d let down a beautiful, young dead woman.

  That woman lay in the ground and the man who had put her there was going out to celebrate his freedom.

  She jerked her arm free. Looking at Detective Mark Brice would only remind her of how she’d failed. Quickly, she gathered up the photos and the remaining files and stashed them into her briefcase.

  “Thank you, detective, for not saying out loud what we’re both thinking.”

  She met his eyes and saw the same sadness and anger filling them that was running through her.

  “When you do pick him up, again, or even think you might have cause to pick him up, let me be your first call,” she said.

  His eyes turned deadly. “I hope you’re my second call, right after the medical examiner.”

  She met his gaze. “Pray he gives you cause.”

  “Right,” he said with a dark, humorless smile.

  She turned then and threw over her shoulder, “Until next time, detective.”

  As she walked toward the door, she felt his eyes watching her, knew he too felt the pull she’d resisted all throughout the investigation.

  If things had turned out differently…

  Lainey gathered her files and headed downstairs. She walked out the front door of the courthouse, expecting to see a line of cameras and reporters. They’d followed this case closely, with all the trappings of a case made for TV coverage, a beautiful, young woman murdered brutally.

  But there was no one waiting on the sidewalk outside of the courthouse but her assistant. Anita had gone ahead of Lainey to tell the reporters she’d be down to give them a comment.

  “Where is everyone?” Lainey looked around, smiling at her assistant. “Not that I miss them or anything.”

  “Mayor’s having a news con
ference. They say she’s gonna cut back on cop hours, furloughing them one day a week due to budget cutbacks.”

  “You have got to be kidding me?” That was just what they needed in this town, less cops on the street. “As it is, we don’t have enough of them.”

  Anita nodded enthusiastically. “But according to that reporter John Canton, the mayor’s gonna do it. Says she has no choice, that the budget demands it.”

  “That’s really gonna put the cops in a great mood.”

  Anita squinted her eyes tightly. “You mean that homicide cop, Detective Brice.”

  “You’ve been reading too many romance novels, Anita.” Lainey met the young woman’s eyes. “I meant all the cops. We’re an extension of them. We prosecute what they can’t prevent and what they bring us. We’re their right hand and they’re ours.”

  “Em,” the young woman made a noncommittal sound.

  “Well, then no sound bite for them today,” Lainey said and headed home.

  * * *

  Later that night, Lainey lay dreaming about a killer going free. She ran after him, yelling for him to stop. But, a distracting sound caused her to turn, to lose sight of the fleeing suspect. It was a telephone, ringing and ringing.

  Lainey struggled up from the grips of a dead sleep, feeling as if the dream were the reality and the waking world a dream. “What the,” she muttered as she sat up and looked around for the sound of the annoying noise. She grabbed the ringing and vibrating cell phone. “Hello?”

  “Lainey, you asleep?”

  Detective Mark Brice’s gravely voice, with a husky, deep-in-his-chest quality, and a tone that always sounded as if he were thinking about sex, brought her to full alert.

  “Of course not.” She pulled at her nightgown, making sure it covered her, as if Detective Mark Brice could see her. Something about the guy always made her so aware of her body, how it looked, how he saw it.

  He laughed softly. “Two a.m. in the morning and you’re awake? I guess you have something better to do tonight than sleep.”

  A flush spread throughout her body at his suggestive tone. What would it feel like to hear that voice waking her in the middle of the night from the other side of her bed?

  “Sorry,” he said with a laugh that didn’t sound like he was sorry at all.

  “What’s up, detective?”

  He waited a beat before answering. “Got a body. Thought you’d like to come down here.”

  Swinging her feet off the bed and onto the floor, she ran a hand through her hair. “Nothing I like better than showing up in a bad neighborhood in the middle of the night.”

  The district attorney had instituted a policy she whole heartedly supported. At every homicide, someone from the DA’s office would show up. If they could see the actual crime scene, they were in a better position to try the case when and if it ever came to court. Seeing where the victim lay and the condition of the body and scene provided a lot of insight. They would know which questions to ask the officers, and witnesses. It was a huge bonus for the prosecutors and the homicide officers as they proceeded in their investigation.

  Since her most important case had just fallen off the prosecution schedule, she was listed as the first person to call for overnight homicides.

  “Where are you?” She wrote down the address. “I’ll be there in twenty.” She hung up quickly before the detective could say anything else that might get her mind drifting toward images of the two of them in bed.

  She didn’t need that distraction when she had to research the evidence, hoping to find something which would enable her to make a criminal case strong enough to prosecute a leech on society and to lock him away for a very long time.

  Still, as she threw on clothes, her mind took liberties with the image of the man she would be seeing in about twenty minutes.

  Chapter Two

  Reluctantly, she called the neighbor lady across the street. “Mrs. Maxey. Lainey. Yeah, I have to head out.”

  She hung up and walked down the hall. Opening her little sister’s bedroom door, she peeked in.

  Julie was out cold. Asleep, she looked like a little girl. Well, she wouldn’t look like that for much longer. Her little sister was about to hit puberty. God help Lainey then.

  For a long moment, she wished fiercely that their mother was still alive. She wished for Mom, the woman who had steered Lainey through her teen years so skillfully.

  Lainey would have to channel her mom, try to remember her wisdom. Already, Julie was testing the boundaries, stepping over them to see what Lainey would do.

  God help Lainey when hormones really took over that girl.

  A tapping on her front door alerted Lainey to Mrs. Maxey’s arrival. Lainey tiptoed down the hall, silently opened the door and gave Mrs. Maxey a hug.

  Mrs. Maxey smiled and put a finger to her lips. If Julie woke up, she’d want to tag along with Lainey. That girl had been at more murder scenes than most cops would ever see in their entire careers. Lainey slipped out the door and got in her car.

  Almost exactly twenty minutes after Detective Brice’s phone call, Lainey got out of her vehicle. Hot humid, night air enveloped her, instantly moistening her skin. Blue lights flickered off the trees, pulsing with a dizzying effect.

  She focused on the yellow tape outlining the crime scene. Walking forward, she flashed her DA’s badge and the beat officer lifted the tape so she could slip underneath.

  Brice sauntered toward her, glancing at his watch. He smiled. “My kind of girl. Up and out of the house in no time.”

  “That’s how you like your women, detective? Up and out of your house quickly.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Good one, counselor.” He grinned with a slow sexiness that sent heat skimming across her skin, spiraling through her, as if his hands had caressed her body from top to bottom. If he could do that with just a look, what would it be like in bed with him? With those knowing eyes looking down at her, as he moved in as close as two people could get.

  Something told her that one day she’d find out. Because every time he looked at her, it felt as if he knew what she looked like underneath her clothes. Or as if he wanted to find out, knew with certainty that one day he would investigate every inch of her body.

  But the strobing blue police lights reminded her that someone was dead, and that she needed to concentrate on that.

  “Where’s the body?” She scanned the scene, making mental notes of the surroundings.

  Brice’s face switched to full-on-serious, cop mode.

  “Back here.”

  Together, they walked to the rear of a vacant, wooded lot where an abandoned cinderblock building was almost hidden, overgrown vines climbing its walls and creeping into every crevice. As if even nature wanted to eradicate the site where crime dwelled.

  It was the type of shack where the poorest street prostitutes could take johns for a quick job. Twenty dollars could buy you drugs or a rented vagina.

  Brice pushed at a door that was nearly off its hinges. It creaked back revealing a dirty, trash strewn room, with needles and other drug paraphernalia mixed in with the garbage.

  “Somebody’s shooting gallery?” A foul odor swirled up and Lainey put her hand to her nose.

  “A shooting gallery of two kinds,” Brice added. “Dope and guns.”

  Yellow, numbered evidence cones marked the shell casings that covered the floor.

  “Dang, they wanted to make sure they were dead.” The only time she’d seen so many bullet casings at one scene was at a gang shootout.

  “Did these guys shoot back?”

  “I don’t think they even saw it coming.” Brice pointed to one guy’s hand that still held a needle.

  “Least they died happy,” Lainey said.

  “Right kind of you to consider the criminal’s feelings, Miss Lainey.”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t know drug use was a death penalty offence. Did the victims have guns?”

  “If they did, the shooter stole ’em.”


  Brice tilted his head and stepped closer to one of the bodies, looking at the face. “I know this guy. Goes by the street name of Skin.”

  “Skin?” She stepped closer. “I’ve handled his criminal cases before.”

  Brice half laughed, darkly. “You and probably every other assistant DA in your office. This guy was in and out of jail so often, they should have kept a punch card to check him back in.”

  Lainey studied the dead man’s face. A quick little pulse of grief pumped through her. “Too bad. ’Cause he was really kind of a nice guy, apart from the drug use and petty crime stuff.”

  Brice looked at her closely. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a bleeding heart for a drug user.”

  Lainey titled her head as she studied the corpse. “There’s criminals and then there’s criminals.” She pointed at the body. “This guy hadn’t yet graduated up to what I call truly detestable. He was just breaking into cars and stealing random items for money. He even worked occasionally to support his habit. Later on, if he’d gotten worse, robbing people at gunpoint, breaking into homes to support his habit, I’d have been right there with you, not really caring who took him off the street, who kept him from one day shooting someone, accidentally, or not during the commission of a crime.” The memory of Skin’s underlying sweetness flashed across her mind.

  She turned from the body, lying so permanently stilled, the man’s gentle face no longer able to smile at her as he listened to her recount his offenses for the judge. A hot moist heat threatened to obscure her vision. “I guess I had hope for him. That he could surmount his drug problem and make something of himself.”

  “You and his mother,” Brice grunted.

  “Only God and a mother can love someone like that?” she quoted.

  Brice laughed in concession to the old saying.

  “Anyway, I don’t think he deserved to be gunned down.” She pivoted to face Brice, finding him close. Way too close. He looked directly into her eyes until she glanced away, a spiral of heated awareness circling through her body.