Biloxi Sunrise (The Biloxi Series Book 1)

by Jerri Ledford

  “I really think he might be telling the truth, Dr. McNally. He was crying. He explained he’s been under a lot of pressure at work. Things I didn’t even know about.” Cynthia Norton rushed through her words and they ran together in a breathless monolog.

  Dana stayed quiet and focused on the movement of her hand in an attempt to remain calm. She had to reason with this woman, to make her see that abusive spouses didn’t change overnight, and anger wouldn’t help her accomplish that goal at all.

  “Cynthia.” She kept her tone level and neutral as she had practiced many times in the past. “Please listen to what I’m saying, because I’m speaking from years of experience. Your husband may truly be sorry for what he has done to you, but you need to understand that this is not a behavior he can just walk away from.”

  Dana spoke carefully and slowly, taking enough time with her words that Cynthia could both absorb them and understand that Dana was the expert here. She spoke to Cynthia with the voice of experience. “Men who hit and rape their wives need help. It doesn’t matter how badly he wants to change, Cynthia. David can’t do it without specialized counseling. Is he willing to turn to a professional for help?”

  There was a long silence. “No, Dr. McNally,” Cynthia finally said, sounding defeated. “But he’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. When David makes up his mind to do something, he does it. He’s made up his mind to do this. And I honestly think he will.”

  Another pause, and then just as Dana began to speak, Cynthia interrupted. “Dr. McNally, you’ve been a good counselor and a good friend. But my mind is made up. I’m going to give my marriage another chance. Thank you for everything.”

  “What happens when things are difficult at work for him again?” Dana asked, but even before she finished the question, she was talking to a dial tone.

  “Aaaarrgghh!” Dana growled as she slammed the phone into its cradle. When that didn’t abate her anger, she picked it up and slammed it again. And then a third time. But the anger remained, bunching her shoulders into painful knots and pounding at her temples. She scratched, nails digging into her forehead.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” She grabbed her coffee cup from her desk and launched it across the room. It shattered against the oak door that opened to the waiting room. The crash and tinkle of ceramic as it fell to the floor eased some of the anger, but not enough.

  She looked around her office for another piece of glassware to shatter, or something heavy, something she could throw through the picture window that overlooked the beach.

  Her intercom buzzed.

  The electronic sound had the effect that her destructiveness had not. It pulled her back from the brink of blinding fury.

  She stood completely motionless for a full minute. Deep breath. Slow exhale. She tried to collect herself and steady her voice. A second buzz issued from the base sitting on her desk.

  She pressed the button. “Yes?”

  “Dana, are you okay? Do you need my help?” Nancy, her secretary sounded near panic.

  Deep breath. Slow exhale. “I’m fine, Nancy.” Dana forced a chuckle, but even to her it sounded unnatural. “I tripped over my own big feet, sent my coffee cup flying, and skinned my elbow, but I’m fine. I’m just trying to get the worst of the mess cleaned up.”

  “Oh my. Let me help you. Do you need a bandage?” Nancy was one of those mother-hen Southern women. Her shellacked hair was always perfectly poofed and she was always willing to help the world if given the chance.

  Before Dana could answer, Nancy ended the intercom connection. Dana rushed to where the shards of ceramic had landed and dropped to her hands and knees. She scrubbed her elbow roughly over the area of carpet where the finest shards of the coffee cup had landed. The pain of skin being rubbed away cleared the remainder of her anger.

  She started picking up the pieces of the broken coffee cup and the door swung inward knocking against her shoulder so hard that it almost toppled her sideways.

  “Hold on.” She grunted through clenched teeth. “Just let me get the rest this cup up.”

  “Oh, Lord. I’m sorry Dana. I didn’t think you’d still be in front of the door.” Nancy’s voice sounded hollow through the small opening.

  Dana hurried to get the final slivers of glass off the floor. One pierced her finger. “Ouch!” The finger went straight into her mouth. She climbed to her feet and opened the door for Nancy, while still sucking on the injured finger, almost enjoying the coppery sweetness of her own blood.

  “Ah, Dana, are you sure you’re okay?” Nancy was all nervous energy, a roll of paper towels in one hand, and a box of bandages and antibiotic ointment in the other.

  The laugh started as a low chuckle in her throat, but before Dana could contain herself, it turned into a full-throated, belly laugh. She sunk into one of the patient chairs in the center of the room and howled.

  Nancy stared at Dana, her face pinched in confusion. The look set off another round of giggles, which led to more raucous laughter.

  Finally, Dana got control of herself. “I’m really fine,” she said before a third round of laughter shook her. When it subsided again, she added, “My ego is pretty bruised, but I think the rest of me will live.”

  “It’s good you can laugh at yourself.” Nancy busied herself putting ointment and a bandage on Dana’s abraded elbow. “They say laughter is food for the soul.”

  Her tone sounded uncertain, as if she thought Dana might be having a mental breakdown.

  She probably thinks I’ve lost it. But she hadn’t. Dana was laughing at the absurdity of women who believe that abusive men, especially sexually abusive men, could or would change. They might promise to with the full intention of being different, but ultimately the allure of the power they could possess over women led them right back to the abusive behavior.

  Even more absurd was the fact that Cynthia had a ten-year-old daughter that she thought was immune to her husband’s abuse. She wasn’t, and Dana would have bet plenty of money that if he hadn’t already gotten to the daughter, he would soon. It fit the pattern she’d seen over and over again since violence had become part of her life.

  The anger began to burn through her veins again, so Dana focused on Nancy, who was busy cleaning off the door and doing her best to soak stale coffee out of the carpet.

  “Just leave that, Nancy. Call the carpet cleaners and have them deal with it in the morning.”

  Nancy took one more swipe at the floor and then started out of the office. At the door she turned back, her brows drawn together. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I am.” Dana nodded. She pushed out of the chair, walked behind her desk, and shut down the computer. Then she gathered her belongings. “But I think I’m going to take the rest of the afternoon off. Will you reschedule my appointments?”

  “Of course.” Nancy dragged the word “course” out to two syllables with her deep Southern drawl. The lines on her face deepened. Dana never took unnecessary time off, and she wouldn’t put off patient appointments unless there was no way around it. She should explain or Nancy’s suspicion that she was having a nervous breakdown would grow roots.

  “I’m just a little shook up, and if I don’t get this bruised ego of mine into a hot bath, it’s going to swell to the size of an elephant. I’m sure tomorrow will be a better day.”

  “It will be Dana.” The lines on Nancy’s face softened a little. “There’s no harm in you taking an afternoon off. I keep saying you’re working too hard.”

  SIXTEEN

  Kate followed Jack back to his office. Each step felt as if she were walking toward a firing squad. He still hadn’t spoken to her, and Kate knew he knew. She’d nearly gotten Jack killed, just like she got Ryan killed. She had a clean shot at the man brandishing the gun, but she couldn’t take it. She could have kept him from firing at Jack if she’d just pulled the trigger.

  Jack had to know. He was probably furious. And she was going to have to tell him what happened with Ryan. She was going
to have to admit that she’d screwed up. Again. Their partnership was over.

  In Jack’s office, he sat down hard in his chair. His jaw was tight, and his skin was the color of marble.

  “What just happened?” He didn’t look at her, just spoke in her general direction.

  “I don’t know Jack.” And she didn’t. She’d thought she was past freezing up. She practiced relentlessly, and for a time after Ryan’s death, she’d even seen a counselor. Not just the one the department had required, but a private counselor that really seemed to care what was going on in her head. She thought she was past it. She thought she could stand up under the pressure.

  “I—”

  “How desperate do you have to be to grab a police officer’s gun and start shooting inside a police precinct? He had to know that wasn’t going to end with him walking away.”

  As his words sunk in, relief washed over her. He didn’t know.

  Then realization. She’d almost told him.

  “I don’t know, Jack.” She smoothed the front of her shirt and then brushed at her pants. “I’m going to go check on…things.” She needed to regroup. She needed to think.

  She thought best when she was driving. Kate had no intention of checking on anything. She fingered the keys in her pocket and headed straight for the parking lot. Since the day she’d gotten her driver’s license, driving had been her release. The freedom to get away, alone, and hurtle along at insane speeds was like her drug. She needed it. Especially in times of crisis.

  She barked the tires of her Mustang as she pulled onto the highway, headed toward the interstate. She slammed the gearshift into second and then third. Stomping the clutch hard each time. But the short stretch of straight road wasn’t enough to allow her to gain any real speed. Within seconds, she downshifted for traffic.

  At her first opportunity, she whipped around traffic and sped toward the onramp to I-10. To keep the car moving without plowing into some other oblivious driver, took all of her attention.

  That was another thing she loved about driving. If she wanted it to, it could be dangerous enough to require all of her focus so she didn’t have to think about anything she didn’t want to. Like what had just happened at the station. Like the fact that she had almost told Jack about Ryan. It would have ruined their partnership. Their friendship. And that scared her more than anything.

  On the interstate, Kate let the Mustang have some headroom. It only took a couple of minutes for her to settle comfortably into a 95 mile an hour pace as she weaved in and out of traffic, headed west. She mulled over everything that had happened at the precinct. She had the guy in her sights, but couldn’t pull the trigger.

  She checked her mirrors as she switched lanes and she noticed a dark car a little ways back. It wasn’t doing anything to catch her attention, but it did, and Kate focused on the car instead of her problems. It didn’t come any closer, but it also didn’t fall back any. She tried slowing down. The car slowed. She sped up. The following car did too.

  Now she was concerned.

  She couldn’t see the driver of the car. It was far enough back she couldn’t really tell anything about it. It could have been a Toyota, Volkswagen, or a BMW for all she knew. And she couldn’t be certain it was black. It could be dark blue.

  It was simply a non-descript, high-end sedan with tinted windows. And it made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

  “You’re probably just being paranoid.” Kate spoke to the interior of the car. Something about hearing a voice, even her own voice, helped to ease the fear climbing up the back of her throat.

  To test the theory, she maintained her speed in the left-hand lane until she was right beside an exit. Then she jerked the car across traffic onto the exit at the last minute. She stomped the break, slowing the car to a stop at the light at the bottom of the ramp. Behind her, the sedan appeared at the top of the exit. It moved slowly, and stayed far back from where Kate sat at the light.

  The light turned green. Kate remained stopped. The other car stopped halfway down the ramp. It edged slowly to the median on the side of the ramp and its flashers came on.

  From where she sat, Kate could barely see the driver of the sedan. He was thin and wore a baseball cap pulled low over his face, but that was all she could make out.

  For half a second, she thought of throwing the car in reverse and backing up to the sedan. She could politely offer her assistance. It was the Southern thing to do.

  It could get her killed.

  Instead, Kate waited until the light turned red and traffic cleared. Then she pressed the accelerator hard and flew into the intersection. She cranked the wheel hard to the left, her tires squealing with their effort to stay on the pavement as she made a sharp turn. The car slid, but she easily brought it back under control as she ran another light and made a second hard left turn onto the onramp to I-10 East. Where was a cop when she needed one?

  As the Mustang accelerated into traffic on the interstate, the sedan appeared behind her. Closer than she’d guessed it would be.

  “Okay. So maybe I wasn’t being paranoid.”

  With one hand on the wheel, zigzagging in and out of traffic, Kate pressed Jack’s speed dial number on her phone. He answered on the second ring.

  “Jack, I’ve got a problem.” She floored the accelerator trying to put a little distance between her and the sedan, but it stayed right with her. “Someone’s following me.”

  “What? Where are you? I thought you were in the building?” Jack was clearly confused.

  “I’m in the car. I needed some space.”

  “You should have told me you were leaving.” Confusion turned to harshness. Was he worried or angry?

  “Yell at me later.” The sedan inched closer even as Kate’s speedometer registered 105 miles an hour. She could clearly see the BMW emblem on the hood, and the driver with his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

  She couldn’t outrun the sedan. Her Mustang was fast. The BMW was faster.

  “Where are you?” Jack spoke to her between barked orders to someone on his end of the line.

  She gave him the mile marker she’d just passed. “He’s gaining on me, Jack. I can’t shake him.”

  “Don’t panic.” Too late. “I’ve got guys…”

  Kate didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. The BMW tapped her rear end and she dropped the phone to clutch the steering wheel with both hands. The Mustang jerked forward and started to fishtail. She fought for control of her car.

  The BMW hit her again. Harder this time. Kate fought as the steering wheel jerked in her hands. The BMW slid up beside her. When the sedan’s front wheels were even with Kate’s front door, it jerked sharply, colliding with the Mustang just hard enough to make Kate lose the tenuous control she had.

  The BMW slipped past as the rear end of the Mustang slid left, then right. It shot across the median into the opposite lanes, out of control.

  Kate screamed. Every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation of the crash. She crossed one lane of oncoming traffic and nearly cleared the second before a pickup truck smashed into the rear quarter panel and sent the car spinning onto the opposite median.

  Glass shattered. Metal screeched. And time folded in on itself before the passenger side smashed into a tree, bringing the car to an abrupt stop. Kate’s head slammed into the side window frame.

  Blackness enveloped her as the world quieted.

  *~*~*

  “Jack, it’s just a concussion.” Kate flipped her hands at him, trying to smack him away. “Would you quit, already? I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will, but have you looked in the mirror, Kate? You’re not fine right now.” Jack couldn’t get the sound of the crash out of his mind. He’d heard Kate’s scream and everything that followed. And he nearly went crazy before he heard that she’d been found and she was alive.

  Twice in one day. This morning, she’d been in the middle of a room where some crazy idiot was trying to shoot his way out of the building.
And now this. Jack looked at her, lying in the hospital bed, her face black and blue, and his gut sank. He hadn’t protected her.

  “I’m fine.” Kate’s voice did sound stronger. But Jack had his doubts. She was lucky that her injuries weren’t worse. Bruises. A concussion. But no broken bones and no internal injuries. She wouldn’t return to work for a few days, but there was no lasting physical damage. He didn’t know yet how she’d handle it mentally.

  Jack offered her a pillow. She refused. He straightened her covers. He offered to go get her real coffee instead of the colored water the hospital tried to pass off as coffee. She refused. He offered to go get her things from home, magazines, candy bars, and fast food. Everything he could think of. She stubbornly held him at bay until a nurse finally ushered him out.

  In the hallway, he leaned against the wall and exhaled deeply. Kate was okay. He had to keep telling himself that, because this afternoon when he’d heard the crash and the silence that followed, Jack thought he’d lost her. And that realization had nearly brought him to his knees. He had silently begged God to keep her alive, because he wasn’t sure how he’d handle it if she died.

  In that moment, he realized she was more than just his partner. She was his friend. And she was important to him.

  Now, he had to figure out what to do with that.

  SEVENTEEN

  Early morning sunlight streamed through the high windows in the pit. Jack was looking forward to spending a day at his desk, catching up on paperwork, out of the heat and away from any excitement. For just one day.

  He didn’t even make it to his desk.

  “Roe! My office.” The chief stood in the doorway to his office, a bland look on his face.

  Jack turned and headed toward the chief’s office. Not again. No more bodies, please, he asked silently as he closed the distance to the chief’s office. Without Kate, he didn’t want to be at a scene.