This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Lily Campbell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
What Did You Think Of
Live No Lies?
Lawson & Abernathy Series
Illusive Series
Brenda And Mack’s Past
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About The Author
Prologue
Dimitri Stankovich's villa by the beach was one of the most talked about places on Palm Island. There was as much speech flying concerning its splendor and uniqueness as there was a notable fear for the place. The building was magnificent. It was a white wonder, with golden pillars, perfectly reflective of Dimitri's largesse.
Dimitri himself wasn't so much to look at. He stood at 5 foot 9, and had a prominent stomach for all the beer he'd guzzled over his forty years. Aside from his thinning blonde hair, which he always liked to slick back, his bulbous nose, papery thin lips, and almost white face, there was nothing else that tied him to his Russian heritage. His accent was purely American, a result of his father's copulation with an American stripper.
More than his eccentric tastes, Dimitri had a love for the beachside. And that's why he'd moved here from his father's mansion.
He sat on one of his porches, in a rocking armchair beside a round table with a bottle of tequila and a glass on it. He wore colorful athletic shorts and a matching vintage shirt, which he left unbuttoned so his hairy chest and protuberant stomach could bask in the sunlight. This was his favorite spot because it overlooked the sandy beach and the ocean lapping at the land.
A shadow fell over Dimitri. A bulky bald man in denim trousers and a white tank top walked in and bent to whisper in Dimitri's ear.
"My God, can't somebody just enjoy a little peace with the lovely ocean?" he groaned.
Of course, there was no response. Dimitri's speeches were mostly monologues and soliloquies. It was better to listen in silence than commit to the conversation and say something unpleasant. Much of Dimitri's staff knew this. They'd learned it the hard way.
He took the bottle of tequila and refilled his glass.
"Lead the way, Simon," he told the huge man.
Dimitri followed casually, taking sips from his glass as he walked. They got to a brown door, which Simon pushed open, and waited for Dimitri to walk in. The study room had a huge executive desk at the end, and the walls were lined with shelves filled with books. Dimitri wasn’t too much of a reader, and he’s never touched any of the books, except one. Simon walked to one of the shelves, selected a book, and pulled it halfway out. There was a click, and then the shelf slid apart revealing an entrance into another room.
Dimitri walked in. The lighting in this room was dim. There was only one bulb, hanging right at the center. Right under the light was a man on a chair. His entire body was covered in blood, and he was leaning forward with all his body's weight. Were he not tied to the chair, he would've fallen off.
"Well, well, well," Dimitri said, holding his glass out to the side.
Another man, almost as huge as Simon, materialized from the dark and took the glass away. However, Dimitri didn't withdraw his hand until the big man placed a wicked 12-inch dagger in it.
Dimitri knelt down in front of the captive, holding the dagger right between their eyes.
"Please," he pleaded. His words came out in a drag. He could barely inhale deeply enough to speak a few words. "I had a deal with your father. Don't do this."
Dimitri smiled a smile ripe with malice. He hated it when people brought his father up. He had mad love for his old man, but his regime was gone. It was Dimitri’s time now, and he ruled however he deemed fit.
Is it too damn much to ask people to see and do things my way?
"Oh, Mike," Dimitri said. "My father's dead. He's been dead for five years now."
"But I had a deal with him. He assured me the deal would stand."
Dimitri sighed, and gazed upon the tired man. He could see that the man's life was slowly seeping out of himt. He couldn't let him die that way. It would deprive him the satisfaction of doing things himself.
"My dear Mike. I gave you opportunities. So, many chances, and you didn't take them."
"Your father—"
Dimitri struck like a cobra. He drove the dagger into Mike's head, up from under his jaw. He had a scowl on his face to compliment the strength of the strike.
"Wrong word," he scoffed.
He sniffed loudly, and released the dagger, still buried in Mike.
"Clean this up," he ordered as he turned to walk out.
"But boss, where?" Simon asked.
"What kind of question is that?" Dimitri shouted, turning around.
"I’m sorry,” Simon quickly apologized. “It’s just that the usual place is full, and it’s beginning to attract attention.”
“I don’t care how you do it. Get rid of the body, and clean this place up.”
Simon nodded swiftly, and began to bark orders to the rest of the men in the room.
Dimitri walked out of the room with the hint of a smile on his face. He was living the life he deserved. The life of royalty. He owned Palm Island, and could do with it as he pleased. He pushed open the double doors of his bedroom, revealing a handful of scantily clad girls on his bed.
“Who’s ready, girls?” he announced with glee.
The girls crawled towards him like machines. There was suppressed fear and shame, which they kept perfectly hidden. They showed no enthusiasm, but neither did they betray any hesitation.
“Someone get me some crack,” Dimitri said. He grabbed one of the girls by the hair and mashed his lips against hers.
Ah, life is good.
Chapter One
The chief of police sat behind an executive desk, receiver to his ear, and signaled with his fingers for Mack to wait. Mack, his short-sleeved, blue-and-white-striped shirt tucked into black slacks, stood obediently by the desk.
“You know what?” the chief said. “I’ll call you in a few minutes time.”
The man placed the receiver on the cradle of the landline and flashed Mack a smile.
“Detective,” he said. “I’m so glad you were able to make it here on such short notice.”
“It’s no problem, sir.”
The chief chuckled and straightened his tie.
“Please have a seat,” he offered, gesturing toward the small chair across the desk.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Normally, I’d let things follow its due course. This is the police force. As you well know, issues of hierarchy are not taken lightly here. However, Walter spoke so highly of you, and considering your success in your last mission, I decided to give you a shot.”
“Thank you, sir,”
he nodded.
The chief looked around his halfway organized desk for a moment. His eyes lit up as he found the folder was looking for and dropped it in front of Mack.
“This is for you,” he said.
Mack opened the folder. It began with a picture of a man with thinning blonde hair, light brown eyes, and thin lips. Attached to the photo were biographical details.
“Palm Island?” Mack asked, looking up.
“Yes,” the chief replied firmly. “I’m afraid we’ve got a serious situation there.”
“With all due respect, sir, Palm Island has its own officers.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not just some figurehead. Do you think I’d be calling you in if there wasn’t something really fishy going on in Palm Island, police and all?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mack replied.
“I get it. What you’re being asked to do is a bit out of the ordinary. But there’s a reason I’m sending you. You’re like an additional support to the police team over there.”
The chief double-checked that his office door was closed.
“This is outside our jurisdiction, Mack, but I have a good friend who’s been begging me to send help. I need things to be wrapped up quickly. And quietly. I’ve passed your information down the line. You’re off the book for now. Take the rest of the day off. Now, I’ve got other things that need my urgent attention. All the details you’ll need are in that.”
Mack rose from his seat. His mind was already beginning to gear up for the work at hand.
“I heard you loud and clear, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“Son, I don’t want you to do your best. I want you to solve this case. You can go now.”
The chief stretched his hand out to Mack.
“Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mack replied, shaking his hand.
Wow, he thought, Barry was right. It does hurt to be the favorite boy in the room.
When he had told his friend that the chief of police had summoned him to a meeting to discuss a special assignment, Barry had whistled.
“You’re the force’s golden boy, now. Our own .007. But don’t think that’s doing you any favors, Mack. You’ve got a life to live, so much life. These people at the top have lived theirs, and some of them want to live some more. They’ll use you till they’ve sucked your life right out.”
“Oh, come on, Barry,” Mack had protested. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, we’ll see. But I’m telling you, it hurts to be the favorite boy in the room.”
On his way back home, Mack’s mind was already beginning to spin as it tried to process what he was about to get into. He hadn’t read full details, yet. He’d do that once he got home. But he recognized the name that’d been attached to the bio on the first page.
He was sorely tempted to take a peek at the files, but he wasn’t a fan of working in the back of taxis whose drivers are fairly large men that like to take regular sneak peeks at the rearview.
***
Setting up shop on Palm Island was as easy as spreading butter over bread. Mack had been given the name and phone number of a reliable contact in the police force. Word of Mack’s coming had been passed on to Palm Island’s sheriff, and he in turn had passed it on to the rest of the police.
Mack met up with Detective Boyce, who was in charge of the investigation that Mack was there to help with. Boyce was a small man with wrinkles on his face, which people figured were there because he wore more scowls than smiles. His colleagues joked that something fundamentally wrong had happened while his parents were making him.
Mack set to work as soon as he’d checked in with the sheriff. Over coffee, Boyce filled Mack in on the progress of the investigation. Mack took care to hide his disappointment. For such a lengthy period of time, Boyce had come up with an awful lot of nothing.
But that’s why I’m here, he thought. We’re turning this narrative around.
Just then Boyce’s phone buzzed. He listened intently for a few seconds and then started packing his things.
“I’m on my way.”
“What’s happening?” Mack asked the moment Boyce got off the phone.
Boyce sighed.
“There’s been another murder.”
Chapter Two
The number of disappearances and murders that happened in Palm Island seemed to pour in one after the other. Mack could only be amazed at the number he was experiencing versus the volume that had been going on before his arrival. What really shocked him about it all was the attitude of the police towards these cases. They were all like this since the first case he experienced his first day there.
Mack and Boyce drove to the beach to find the washed-up body of a man on the shore. Apart from the man’s bloated body, Mack noticed a number of cuts on his arms and chest. The oddest thing Mack experienced was Boyce marking the cause of death as an accident, right there on the spot. Without inspection, autopsy, or other evidence that could aid a forensic investigation, the case was closed.
“It isn’t an accident?” the short detective replied when Mack asked about it. “Hell, I thought it was. You know people often drown in the ocean when they disregard the safety regulations.”
“Still, Boyce,” Mack said, “it’s not right to put these bodies away without proper evidence.”
He couldn’t believe he had to talk to a detective like that, especially when they were digging into a case.
But the same thing happened, over and over again. The disappearance of a little girl. A bloody body in a bookstore. A dead priest. And on and on. The cases were handled so poorly that Mack had to report to the sheriff. The sheriff had met his claims with a humoring smile, lots of nods, and promises to look into them.
But that was it.
The families of the victims Mack tried to visit didn’t offer much more than the police. The aura of hopelessness and fear that persisted in the houses he visited was crushing. And each time before he left the house, he noticed the glimmer of something else in their eyes. The look was always the same wherever he went. A sorrowful clouding right there in the eyes, but he got the strange feeling that those looks of pity were directed at him.
He finally got an inkling of what was going on one day when he brought in a suspect to the precinct. Multiple families had reported seeing this same guy around before their children went missing. He was easy to pick out thanks to the lotus flower tattoo on the side of his face. Mack had built a case and brought him in for questioning. As he brought the guy in in cuffs, everybody fixated their eyes on him like he was walking around in a Halloween costume.
After briefly meeting their awkward stares, Mack decided to look straight ahead, until he placed the guy in jail. Mack found it a little unnerving that the guy had had looked at the spectators with a toothy grin on his face the whole time. If there was some other way he could flaunt his confidence, Mack was sure the guy would’ve taken it. Mack shut his eyes temporarily to get over the jolt of shock that’d travelled through him. He shut the guy in his cell and turned to find Boyce right at his face.
“Jesus, Mack, what do you think this is?” he asked.
Boyce had his characteristic scowl plastered on his face. Mack had long since come to learn that the scowl didn’t always mean Boyce was upset. It didn’t take him time to go along with the jokes Boyce’s colleagues made about him, even though Mack didn’t participate in any of them. He didn’t participate in any of the social life of the precinct. There was an aloofness to the way they treated him. Personally, Mack liked it. It afforded him the time to chase down the truth, but it also proved an obstacle when he wanted cooperation from some of the cops.
“What does it look like I just did?” Mack snapped “Or am I not allowed now to make arrests concerning the case?”
Mack was getting pissed off by the list of don’ts Boyce was throwing at him through the course of the investigation. Sometimes, he felt that the local detective needed to go for a psychological briefing.
/>
“You know what I’m talking about.” Boyce replied.
“No, I don’t. What exactly are you talking about?”
“You can’t go around making arrests, Mack. That’s not how things work around here.”
Mack’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Please, I’d very much like to know how things work around here. Because I’m familiar with the codes surrounding the police force, and they allow for arrests to be made if the arrested is suspected to be involved in a crime.”
“Suspect? So, you just come up with that in your head?”
“No, Boyce. There’s evidence that points him as a suspect.”
Boyce chuckled.
“Oh, please.”
“You know, it’s this kind of attitude that lets the murders and disappearances in this Island continue. I wonder where it comes from?”
Mack and Boyce stared at each other, Mack questioning and Boyce livid.
“Why don’t you get room?” the man in the cell teased. “You’d make such a perfect couple.”
Mack faced him and smiled, suppressing his anger. “I’m getting a room, alright. It’s just going to be with you.”
The man laughed.
“And you’re certain you can handle me?”
“There’s nothing I’m more certain about.” Mack claimed confidently.
Mack had retreating footsteps beside him, and turned to see Boyce stalking out of the jail area.
“You don’t have any idea of how things run around here, do you?” the man asked. “You could wind up on the bottom of the ocean as easily as anybody.”
“Need I remind you that you’re under arrest, and that anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law.”
The man chuckled.
“Court of law,” he repeated. “How dumb are you, really?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. You know what? Since we’re in such a conversational mood, there’s no need postponing the inevitable.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
Live No Lies Page 1