Killer Reads: A Collection of the Best in Inspirational Suspense

by Luana Ehrlich

  Matt merged with the traffic on I-75, the expressway that separated the haves from the have-nots in his town. The courthouse and police station sat in the older, less-affluent side of the city.

  Traffic around the square brought him to a standstill. The somber scene at Bay Harbor claimed his thoughts, triggering a memory. When his life spiraled out of control two years ago, he’d spent many nights at the station unable to be alone at home with the memories. He’d brought Rowdy’s bed to the office to keep him company. The job kept him focused—gave him a reason to keep going. Despair had led him to the cold case files.

  Not many murders in his town. Domestic violence accounted for the four or five annual homicides. The old files had turned up two unsolved cases.

  The most recent, Joshua Bradford. Killed four years ago in a hit-and-run accident. That happened on his watch. His only contribution to the cold case files. The second, a six-year-old girl who’d disappeared twenty-five years ago, long before he’d become chief.

  He’d spent a lot of time playing “what if” with those cases, especially the Bradford accident. It wouldn’t be ignored, like a fever blister he kept running his tongue over.

  Matt hated loose ends. Even more, he hated that a killer still walked the streets.

  He parked behind the station at his private entrance. Still early, the station looked almost empty. Administrative help had arrived but the day watch officers had already hit the streets.

  In route to his office he stopped for a cup of coffee, and got lucky. Someone had brought in a box of donuts. He tossed a five dollar bill in the kitty and took two, one cake, one glazed.

  Seated at his desk, he ran a finger under his shirt collar, wiggled his tie loose, and sipped coffee while he waited for the computer to accept his password. After a moment, the unsolved case files flashed on the screen. He found the Pryor file in the database then strode down the corridor to pick up the casebook.

  It took twenty minutes to find the notebook on a dusty, bottom shelf. He wiped the cover with his handkerchief and returned to his office. He put the book down on his desk, then checked his voicemail for messages. He was clear.

  Matt flipped through the familiar pages. The book held all the notes from the original investigation, complete with the child’s grade-school photo and a list of the witnesses interviewed the night she’d vanished. The timeframe was right. And the age and sex were consistent with the evidence from the gravesite. Including descriptions of the clothing she wore. Looked like their victim was Penny Pryor, but the dental records could confirm or dismiss it.

  Thumbing through the witness list, two names caught his attention. Brandt Michael Ferrell, Texas’ newly elected governor, and Sara Taylor, widow of Joshua Bradford. Taylor was Sara’s maiden name.

  Sara Taylor was six at the time the girl vanished, and now the primary suspect in the hit-and-run death of her husband. Matt just hadn’t been able to prove it.

  Book in hand, he carried it upstairs to the Detective Bureau on the second floor. The room was large, furnished with desks for the four investigators, three males and one female.

  Even though most crimes happened at night, detectives worked days, and rotated for night call-outs. They worked days as support branches, such as the coroner, technicians, and labs were on eight to five schedules.

  He found Miles Davis and Chris Hunter at their desks, and handed the book to Davis. Matt tapped the cover. “Looks like this is our victim.”

  Davis’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “How’d you find it so fast?”

  “The crime scene rang a bell and I know the cold case files like the back of my hand. When do you want to speak to the parents?”

  “Hunter and I can handle it, Chief, unless you just want to be there.”

  “I need to be involved in this one, Miles. Penny was the niece of Brandt Ferrell, our esteemed governor.”

  Home of Sam and Lily Pryor

  Matt dreaded next-of-kin notifications. It was the most difficult part of being a cop. No matter how many times he’d tackled them, they never got easier. And those involving children were the worst of the worst.

  He and Davis parked on the street in front of the Pryor’s two-story brick home in an older, but still exclusive, part of town. Tall pointed cedars formed privacy walls on both sides of the property. Thick Bermuda grass lay across the lawn like a soft green carpet.

  Matt glanced at his watch. Past six in the evening. They had waited to give Sam Pryor time to get home so his wife wouldn’t be alone to get the bad news.

  They got out of the car, Davis carrying his briefcase with the items for identification. When they reached the door, Matt rang the bell. The photo image of Penny’s pert face flashed before him. A pretty little girl with red hair and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose—an innocent upward tilt of her lips revealed a gap-toothed smile. The face of a future unfulfilled.

  What had it been like for Sam and Lily Pryor to lose this child, have her disappear for a quarter century? To always wonder what happened, hoping she was alive somewhere? To wonder what kind of woman she might have become? He couldn’t imagine the pain that must have caused.

  He started to ring the bell again when the door opened. The woman in the entryway was too thin, but attractive in a fragile kind of way, with curly red hair and blue eyes. Eyes the same color as Penny’s.

  “Mrs. Pryor?”

  “Yes. May I help you?”

  “Mrs. Pryor, I’m Chief of Police Matthew Foley, and this is Detective Miles Davis. We’d like to speak to you and your husband for a moment. May we come in?”

  He held out his badge wallet.

  She stood in the doorway, not moving, eyes wide and unfocused. She stepped back and gripped the door handle, her voice almost a whisper. “You’ve found Penny.”

  The view through the door revealed an open floor plan of the kitchen, dining room, and living room. A slender man with glasses and receding dark hair stepped away from the kitchen sink and came towards them. “Lily, what’s wrong?”

  “Sam—”

  Sam Pryor quick-stepped to the door, and Matt reintroduced himself and Davis. “May we come in, sir? It would be better if we discuss the purpose of our visit inside.”

  She moved farther back into the entrance and cast an imploring glance at her husband. “Sam...it’s about Penny.”

  Sam Pryor moved closer to his wife and put his arm around her. “Please, come in. My wife seems to be in shock. Is it true? Have you found Penny?”

  He led his wife to the sofa and offered them a seat with a wave of his hand. “Is she... alive?”

  Lily’s eyes welled with tears, her face flush with emotion. Her shaken husband embraced her and tried to maintain a brave face for his wife. “We haven’t heard from the police in years…it might not be Penny.”

  “I’m sorry. We think the remains found this morning may be your daughter.” Davis opened the attaché lid and brought out the three color photograph of the victims clothing and ring. “I know this is difficult, but can you identify these items? Did they belong to your daughter?”

  Sam took the photo of the ring. He stood and walked to the window. He cleared his throat, his voice husky, but didn’t turn around when he spoke. “This is her ring. We bought it for her sixth birthday.”

  Lily had taken the other shots. She clutched them to her chest and rocked back and forth, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  As gently as possible, Matt asked, “Are those Penny’s?”

  She nodded.

  Sam seemed to realize he’d left Lily alone. He came back to her side and lifted his gaze. “Where—”

  “The Bay Harbor construction site,” Davis said. “You know where that is?”

  “Yes. It used to be a church retreat.” Sam pulled his wife close. “I’d heard they sold the property.”

  Davis collected the photographs and placed them back in the briefcase. “We’ll return the ring to you as soon as we can, but for the present, it’s evidence. This is the home
you lived in when your daughter disappeared?”

  Lily wrapped thin fingers around her husband’s arm and spoke in a near whisper. “We decided not to sell. Afraid Penny would return someday...and be unable to find us.”

  “We have just a few more things to cover before we’re finished,” Matt said. “Can you get us the name of Penny’s dentist, and the names of any neighbors who lived here when your daughter disappeared? You can email it to Detective Davis when you have the information.”

  Davis handed Sam his business card.

  He took the card, glanced at Davis, then back at Matt. “When can we claim the...her?”

  “As soon as the coroner is finished.” Matt shook his hand. “I’ll give you a call.”

  He and Davis stood. Matt reached in his jacket pocket and handed Sam his business card. “I’m sorry for your loss. This is my personal cell phone number. Please call me if there’s anything we can do to help.”

  Sam nodded and placed the cards on the coffee table.

  “We’ll let ourselves out.”

  Penny’s parents sat huddled together on the sofa, as Matt closed the door softly behind him. Lily’s soft sobs followed them out.

  He and Davis drove back to the station in silence.

  CHAPTER 3

  Global Optics

  Cloaked by the downpour, the man sat in the car and sipped his black Starbuck’s Pike Place. While he watched Sara Bradford enter the building, people went in and out of the Global lobby.

  Discovery of the child’s body yesterday had forced him into a decision he’d hoped never to make. Sara held his future in her hands though she wasn’t aware of the knowledge tucked inside her head. Too bad. Really. He’d grown fond of her. She had matured into an intelligent, beautiful woman.

  Safe for so long, he’d been lulled into believing no one would ever know—the secret would go to the grave with him. But the gods of fate decided otherwise.

  He rotated his neck to ease the tight muscles, stiff from his painstaking work last night, and the job he’d assigned himself today. Taking a human life was never easy, but it wouldn’t be his first time. He’d do what must be done to protect the life he’d built.

  Lightning flashed across the dark sky, illuminating the interior of the car. In the brief glare, he caught sight of his reflection in the rearview mirror and realized he no longer knew the stone, gray face that stared back at him.

  CHAPTER 4

  Global, Optics

  Sara Bradford shook her head. Some days you get roses, some days you get thorns. No roses today.

  Traffic routed around the wreck on the rain-slicked freeway made her twenty minutes late to work. She hated being tardy. Punctuality was encoded into her genes at birth. A gift from her father.

  She hurried through the lobby and into the skywalk separating the distribution center from the home office complex. Rain misted the walkway’s windows but didn’t conceal the threatening sky that hovered outside.

  Inside the warehouse, the corridor split. One way led to the production area, the other to management offices. A waist-high counter ran across a reception area for greeting salesmen and visitors. Her secretary, Jane Haskell, whose desk was just outside Sara’s office, glanced at her watch when Sara entered. “Better grab a fast cup of coffee. Things are happening. There’s a veep meeting in the boardroom in ten minutes. I thought you weren’t going to make it. Want me to get your coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll get a cup upstairs.” Sara unlocked the door, placed her handbag and briefcase inside, and grabbed a leather legal pad holder from the desk drawer.

  On her way out, she stopped at Jane’s desk. “Any idea what the meeting’s about?”

  Jane’s ebony eyes crinkled with mirth and the corners of her mouth tilted upward. “Who, me? No, no. I just work here.”

  Arms crossed, Sara grinned. Her secretary had the inside track on the company grapevine. “Don’t kid a kidder. You know more about what goes on here than the CEO. So give it up.”

  White teeth flashed in Jane’s pretty, dark face. “Well, if I were to guess, I’d say it’s about the buyout rumor that’s circulated all week.”

  Jane had nailed it. Sara expected an official announcement from the front office before the end of the day. “I guess we’ll know after the meeting.”

  She hurried back through the skywalk. Time was short, so she took the elevator to the fourth floor rather than her usual route via the stairs. Corporate life offered few chances for physical activity, and she took advantage of the stairway whenever possible. At thirty-two, she attributed her healthy glow to a commitment to avoid the easy path.

  The elevator’s one glass wall offered a rain-splattered view of tall oaks and a rippling pond in the park next to Global’s property. A ding announced the top floor, and the silver doors slid open.

  The welcome aroma of roasting coffee beans exuded from a high-tech coffee maker in the butler’s pantry adjacent to the executive boardroom. Sara ducked inside, filled a foam cup and stepped next door.

  Orange oil mixed with the scent of leather, greeted her as she entered. An impressive mahogany conference table flanked by fourteen plush leather chairs held center stage. Original oil paintings, highlighted by hidden ceiling lights, adorned the fabric-covered walls.

  She scanned the table’s occupants, recognizing the faces of her counterparts on the executive staff. With a good morning nod, she eased into the closest vacant chair.

  Senior Vice-President Charles Edwards entered and sat beside her. He checked the time on his Rolex and leaned close. “It must be something important. Roger called in the big guns.”

  Hiding a smile behind the cup in her hand, she glanced at him. In his early to mid-fifties, Charles was tall, well tanned, with short-cropped gray hair. He wore an immaculate dark-blue suit, always elegant and touchingly gallant. Jane called him GQ Man. He could be a bit arrogant, but Sara liked him. Perhaps because he reminded her of her father.

  Before she could comment, Global’s CEO Roger Reynolds strode into the room and stood behind his chair. The first thing she noticed when she’d first met Roger was his charisma, packaged in a thin frame with perfect teeth and short blond hair. The second impression had been to stay on her toes. His reputation for ruthlessness preceded him. And in short order she understood why.

  He placed a well-manicured hand on the back of his chair and scanned the faces around the room. His gaze stopped at Sara for a fraction of a second, then moved on. “People, this will be a short meeting. I’m aware rumors have been floating around about a Global buyout. The rumors are true. Yesterday, Millennium Ventures, a large investment firm, acquired Global Optics. The public announcement will hit newspapers this morning.”

  Fragmented conversations erupted, filling the room with an audible buzz.

  Roger held up his hand. “Two weeks from Monday, the new owners will arrive here at nine o’clock to meet with department heads and to tour the facility.”

  Charles Edwards sat back in his chair, a furrowed frown on his face, clicking his Mont Blanc pen. He asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Will they bring in their own management team?”

  Roger shrugged. “You know as much about that as I do, Charles. However, it’s always a possibility. I think we can expect some changes. A word of caution. Make sure your departments are spotless when the management team arrives for the tour.” He glanced around the table. “Any other questions?” Signaling that the meeting was over.

  Sara remained in her seat for a moment.

  Amazing. No rallying encouragement for the troops. Roger left them with the impression some or all of them could lose their jobs. Not a model of good leadership.

  She retrieved her folder from the table and fell in behind the solemn group exiting the conference room. As she stepped into the corridor, Roger touched her elbow and guided her away from the crowd. “Come back to my office. We need to talk.”

  A summons to Reynolds’ realm was a rare occurrence for her. Although one of Global�
��s eight vice presidents, she’d never been part of Roger’s inner circle. He liked yes-men, and she didn’t fit that mold.

  She eased into step beside him. They moved without speaking into the executive suite. As they entered, Roger’s phone rang. He waved her to a seat and stepped behind his desk to take the call.

  Sara sat on one of the earth-toned sofas grouped near the windows. Her gaze roamed to Roger’s massive desk clear of everything, except a pen set, computer, and telephone. No family pictures, nothing personal.

  She studied the bookshelves above his credenza. Books said more about a man than his clothes or bearing. For a moment, her father’s study flashed into her mind. The classics found a home there, as well as his light reading collections by Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour. The King James Bible held a prominent spot within easy reach.

  Roger’s books consisted of business management best sellers. Nothing to give insight into the man. Perhaps that in itself, said something. She mentally shook herself—being too critical. After all, this wasn’t his home library.

  The call ended, and Roger crossed the room. He sat on the sofa across from her and sucked in a deep breath. “I need you to clean out your office. Pack your files and personal items. Leave the cartons there until further notice.”

  Shock must have registered on her face. Heat warmed her cheeks, an event always followed by red splotches on her neck. A curse she’d lived with through every emotional crisis in her life. “I...don’t understand. Are you letting me go?”

  He laid one arm across the sofa back, his face void of expression. “That’s not what I said.”

  “Then what...?”

  “The new owner hasn’t given any specifics, except to say you would be leaving your current position. There were no instructions to let you go.” He winced as though trying to show compassion. “I assume these people have other plans for you. Details have been vague, to say the least.”