The Steele Collection Books 1-3: Sarah Steele Legal Thrillers

by Aaron Patterson

  “Mmmhmm.” I zoned out again, running through the information we had on Lofton, rehearsing the little speech I’d prepared. It would get me in a lot of trouble with him, and possibly get him fired. But I needed to see this out, for all the women who had been killed. They needed justice.

  “When does church get out? I think you, Solomon, Rick, and I need to go on a double date when we get back. Rick still hasn’t signed off on Solomon yet, and you know they’ve gotta click if your relationship is going to go to the next level. Oh, and how’s Joshua? I miss that guy. Hello?” Mandy asked. “Hey!” She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “You’re off in la la land again.”

  “What? Sorry.” I blinked and then focused on her.

  She jerked her head toward the church. “When is the last amen?”

  I took off my heels and stretched my toes. “I think around noon. You got somewhere to be?”

  “Yeah.” She pursed her lips, but didn’t meet my eyes. I knew she was about to say something I wouldn’t like. “I’ve got to get all cute for our news interview.”

  “You didn’t…” I cursed and shot her a death glare. “I told you just to call Pam.” She was a long-time journalist friend who I wanted to give this story too. “This was the only way, Mandy. We have nothing. The only proof is so shaky that a drunk hillbilly lawyer could get it thrown out of court.”

  “I know. The law is useless here. We have to ruin his reputation. We have proof that he works with Williams, Inc. Once that gets out, there’s no way he’ll be reelected. And that’ll keep the bastard from getting what he had his wife murdered for in the first place. Irony’s a bitch.”

  “Is that what we want?” I bit my lip. There was more, so much more that I wanted to do to this man who had ordered his wife killed. A dark alley, a Bowie knife, and a Dumpster came to mind. Closing my eyes tightly, I took a deep breath. I couldn't let myself think like that.

  “Easy, Sarah. This is going to be a huge win for us. For you. He’s a big shot and you’re taking him down. The press is going to find out one way or the other, so you might as well take advantage of it.”

  I was so angry, I gripped the armrests until my fingers hurt. A few more words that were definitely not church-approved slipped off my lips. “I’m not getting in front of the camera—I’m only talking to Pam. If you want to be famous, go right on ahead. Without me.”

  “Oh, chill out.” She took a sip of her drink and sighed as if I were the one being pigheaded.

  “Mandy, it’s not just that,” I said. She looked at me with eyebrows raised. “I have to know that you’re on my side.”

  “What? Of course I am.”

  “No,” I said sternly. “I have to know you’re on my side.”

  “I heard you.” She leaned forward. “I’m on your side.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes!”

  “Than you’ve got to stop doing things like that. You can’t keep going behind my back. You’ve got to trust me.” I took a shaky breath. Having Mandy with me meant everything, but I had to know that she wanted to be there. “With everything.”

  She touched my arm.

  I looked at her intently. “I’ve got to know I can trust you.”

  “You can. I swear.” She shifted to face me. “I’m sorry. I . . . I shouldn’t have called the press. But Sarah, I am in your corner. I’m your best friend.”

  I sighed and gave her a small smile, then looked out at the front of the church. My heart sped up when the double doors opened and people filed out. It was now or never, and I let myself get angry all over again. Eddie Lofton let his power go to his head. He walked over everyone in his life, including me. And press or no, he was going to pay.

  EDDIE LOFTON STOOD TALKING to the pastor at the doorway of the church. And he laughed. How could he stand there laughing at jokes and go on living his life just a few weeks after having his wife murdered? What would everyone say if they knew? Sometimes I wished there was a mark on the faces of murderers, like the one God gave Cain. I’d have one. But still, it’d save a lot of people a ton of grief. And the prisons would probably be a lot fuller—or at least the graveyards.

  I marched up the stone steps and Mandy followed. Eddie spotted me and his smile broadened. He was a handsome man, broad shouldered and muscular. It’d helped him win the women’s vote. It worked on me in Rio, but it wouldn’t work on me this time. “Sarah Steele? Is that really you?” He seemed happy to see me. That wouldn’t last.

  “Yes, it’s me, Mr. Lofton.” People stood around, but all I could see was his face. Smug, confident—not at all like the last time I saw him when he was begging me to find the Blondes.

  “Mr. Lofton? We’re on a first-name basis after all we’ve been through, don’t you think?” He moved forward and gave me a hug. I let him, though I was as stiff as an icicle.

  “Eddie, how are you?” I said with as much fake concern as I could muster.

  “I’m good. I mean, as good as I can be.” Right on cue, his face fell as he took on the role of grieving husband. He took my arm and started walking me down the steps toward the road. I had planned on talking to him alone, but after I saw his face and remembered his wife’s body in a Dumpster, I decided differently.

  “Cut the crap, Eddie.” My voice was hard. He stopped and looked at me, confusion splattered all over his face. I said it just loud enough for everyone within ten feet to hear. “I know you had your wife kidnapped by the Blondes, had her murdered, and sent me on a wild goose chase . . . all the while acting like you were a broken-hearted husband. Tell me, is everything about you a lie, or just the fact that you’re in Williams, Inc. back pocket?”

  His smile vanished, and fury flashed across his face. Everyone’s eyes were on us, and the pastor had out his phone as if he were about to call the police. “Now hold on . . . ” Eddie said, holding up a hand.

  “No, you hold on. Go ahead—deny it, Eddie. Tell me you had no idea—tell me you didn’t pay fifty grand to have her killed. Tell me you had no idea that Williams, Inc. needed her pesky environmental lawsuits out of the way. Go ahead. Tell me more lies, Eddie.” My breath was coming in short waves, and Mandy took my arm. It grounded me, and I secretly loved her for it. She knew when to break in, but she also knew when I was on a roll and to keep quiet.

  Eddie looked around at all the staring faces and grinned wildly. “Sarah Steele, you’re a hoot. I know you like practical jokes, but this is too much.” It was a lame attempt at saving face, but it bought him a minute or two.

  Lowering his voice, he growled. “You keep this up, and I’ll tell Hannah Williams about you and how you got in the way and almost blew the whole thing.”

  Anger gripped me and I clenched my fists. “Please, tell Hannah Williams. And give her a message for me.” I hit him with a right hook, sending his head twisting to the side. He tripped over his own feet and sprawled face-first on the concrete.

  Mandy giggled, clapping and jumping up and down as if we had won a bunny at the fair. I was just pissed. The pastor rushed to Eddie. “I’m calling the police,” the pastor stated, then glared up at me. “Leave here at once. This is crazy!”

  Eddie stared up at me, his eyes filled with loathing. Blood poured from his nose and the crowd of onlookers stood there with shocked expressions, whispering and pulling out their cell phones. It was strange how in moments of trauma or excitement, it never was like the movies. People didn’t scream or run or jump to action. Most of the time they just stood, staring, not able to process what they were seeing.

  My knuckle throbbed. It hurt like hell, but the pain felt good. It made me feel alive. At least it wasn’t broken, as far as I could tell. “He had it coming.”

  Eddie cursed, and I heard sirens in the distance. So much for canned speeches and keeping myself in check—now I’d have a lot more to explain to my boss, Dan Butler, when I got back home. If he let me in the door, that is.

  Mandy tugged my arm and pointed. A white news van turned the corner and was heading our way at
an alarming speed. “News van’s here. Showtime, babe. Let’s make some media people happy.”

  As I told the reporters what happened in Rio, I felt a balm over my heart. Although I wished I could do more, it was something. His reputation would be shadowy, at best, from now on.

  Eddie ran away, shielding his face from the cameras, and jumped in a waiting car. I hoped I’d never see him again.

  HOME.

  I was finally back in Boise where the air was clean, the drivers were either geriatrics or Speed Racer, the crime rate was lower than the average American city, and the mountains constantly called at me to be climbed. I loved to travel and needed to get out of town every once in a while, but I also loved being back home in Boise. All I wanted was a shower, to crawl into my bed, and to sleep for a year.

  But first I had to get off this tin can of an airplane. We had landed about fifteen minutes ago and were waiting for the doors to open. People shifted in their seats, the air grew stale, and a baby started to cry. Perfect—next thing you know, it would poop in its diaper and smell up the plane before we all got off.

  The overhead speaker crackled and a woman’s voice sounded. “You may now use all electronic devices, and we will be opening the doors in a moment. Thank you for flying with United Airlines.”

  “About time,” Mandy muttered. “That baby makes me want children in a bad way.”

  I rolled my eyes and was thankful, not for the first time, that Mandy and her husband, Rick, had decided not to have children.

  She took out her cell phone and began talking to herself and texting. She was probably letting Rick know we were here. I checked mine and saw a text from Solomon. Let me know when you get home. I will be back in a few days. We are wrapping up a case and I miss you like crazy!

  My body heat kicked up a little. I ran a hand through my hair. Mandy nudged me, one of her signature dumb grins plastered all over her face.

  “What?” I said, annoyed already.

  “You like him, I can tell. Whenever you get all hot for him, you play with your hair. It’s cute.”

  “He’s okay,” I lied.

  “Nice try, lover girl. You’re so gone for him, and you should be. He’s a stud and knows how to keep up with you. God knows I’ve tried.”

  I put my phone back in my purse and tried to hide the panic I felt at having a boyfriend. I was a little stressed after all the TV interviews, the mounds of paperwork I had to do for the local authorities, and my voicemail had at least eight messages from Dan Butler. To top it off, I found myself involved in a serious relationship with Solomon, who worked for the FBI and had more secrets than he let on. I knew all about secrets—I had my share, and they made me more aware of other people who were like me.

  All I wanted was a vacation, and somehow I even screwed that up and almost got myself killed in the process. I sighed. If I stepped back and examined it, I’d have to say that I wouldn’t give up a thing. All the tension kept the darker side of my soul at bay. It kept back the horrible dreams and violent fantasies that had followed me since I was a child. I wished I were normal, whatever that was.

  “Come on.” Mandy grabbed my arm. “Rick’s waiting.”

  The airport was small and clean, full of familiar faces and small-town friendliness. As soon as we rounded the corner to baggage claim, Mandy squealed.

  “Rick.” She dropped her purse and ran, flinging herself into his arms. I picked up her purse, shaking my head.

  “Babycakes, I missed you so much.” They kissed as if the world was about to end, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The sounds they were making were a mix between an exhausted runner and a dog licking from a water bowl. Ick. I became a little uncomfortable at their public display, but I should’ve been used to it by now. They’d never been shy about PDA.

  “What? No hello for me?” I asked. They ignored me.

  “Oh, Rick, you’re so going to get it tonight.” People gawked as they passed and were secretly jealous, I’m sure. It made me long for Solomon, and the feel of his lips on mine.

  I decided to go get the bags and let them finish their exuberant welcome-home ritual.

  I couldn’t help but be happy for them. It was hard to find true love, and they were one of the only couples I knew who really poured a lot of work into their relationship. I wondered if Solomon and I would ever get there. Did I even want to get there?

  Before I knew it, I was home. I made the rounds, checking every room and drawer like a mother hen checks her eggs, making sure nothing was disturbed while I was gone. It was as it should be. I liked to keep my house simple and clean. My décor was so simple that Joshua called me a monk, and Mandy begged me to let her redesign it. But I needed simple—everything else in my life was complicated.

  Putting off checking my e-mail just a while longer, I stripped down and slipped into the shower. After a few handfuls of soap, the travel grime was off my skin, but I stayed and relaxed under the sharp jet until my fingers were prunes and my mind felt soggy.

  As much as I wanted to slip under the covers after my shower, I had work to do. I logged into my work e-mail and saw five hundred and fifty messages. It was going to take me hours to go through everything.

  Vacation was officially over.

  HE LIKED TO SIT in his car in the dark and watch. There was nothing all that exciting about an abandoned trailer on the outskirts of town, but it was not what he saw—it was what he remembered. He lit up a smoke and took a long drag. The burn in his lungs felt good.

  Much like any killer, a memory brought on by some trophy could be almost as powerful as the event itself—sometimes more powerful. The mind, the imagination, was amazing. He had the ability to recall every detail down to the droplets of blood seeping from around her eyes.

  She cried blood. She cried blood for him.

  Rolling down the window to clear out the smoke, he panted for a moment before catching his breath. Yellow crime scene tape flapped like a broken arm in the soft breeze coming up from the river.

  Was it really a few weeks ago? It felt like he was standing over her just the other day. Time was funny—it was as if he could walk through a thin spot and move in and out of time at will.

  Getting out of his dark purple Honda Civic, he shut the door quietly and made his way toward the empty trailer. Everything was dark and quiet except for a dog barking in the distance. All the trailers in this park were far apart, which worked against him. It made it harder to get around unseen, and someone like him could sneak up and surprise him. He laughed—as if anyone could sneak up on him.

  What are you doing? You’re going to get caught returning to the scene of the crime.

  Stopping to consider this, he shook his head and moved closer to the front door. He had to see it again, where he had choked her to death and the spark in her eyes went out. It moved him, and changed him. There was nothing so spiritual as experiencing a soul leaving the body. It was as close to God as a human could ever get.

  But it was a thankless business. She cried as he squeezed the life out of her and pissed all over his shoes. Why did she have to go and piss on his shoes?

  He touched the end of the yellow crime scene tape and let the memory flood through his mind.

  There she was—he saw her in his mind’s eye. He smelled her shampoo—her skin and her fear. Muttering, he let the tape fall and reached for the doorknob. As soon as he touched it, his body jerked with pleasure. Like a jolt of electricity, memories of that night ripped through his very core and he went to his knees.

  He could see her white neck, the smooth part that connected to her collarbone. This was it, the very moment he’d dreamed about—the part he needed to feel again.

  A bulging, panicked look had lit her face and he couldn’t help but smile. She knew he was here to kill her. He could see it in her eyes, knowing that this was the end and just who he was. And who had sent him.

  Still on his knees, the killer gripped the air and ground his jaw. “Now die.”

  How could somethin
g so hated be so beautiful? This was not murder—it was love. He loved her, loved each one of them—loved them to death.

  “STEELE.” DAN BUTLER YELLED at me from down the hall. Whenever he used my last name, it meant a butt was about to get chewed, and that butt was going to be mine. I nonchalantly turned the corner, pretending I didn’t hear.

  “Steele, don’t act like you can’t hear me.”

  I turned to face my boss. He was dressed impeccably in a designer suit, with a haircut that was more expensive than my shoe budget, and he would look absolutely charming if I didn’t know him for the pretentious ass that he was. He acted as if he was the chief justice of the United States, not the district attorney of Boise.

  “Hello, Dan,” I said offhandedly. He hated it when I downplayed his anger. I loved what he hated.

  “Steele, you’re on paid suspension till further notice. Pack what you need and be out by the end of the day!”

  I assessed him, reading the danger level on his face. He stared back at me intently. Dang, I wish I had answered my intern’s phone calls that morning. This was probably what he was warning me about.

  Looking down, I tried to steady my voice. “Why?”

  “Because you’re a killer,” he said flatly. I opened my mouth to say something, but he held up his hand. “You shooting Williams was a disaster, but it was a disaster we could handle because the police were there and you were attacked and it was all self-defense. Easy-peasy to feel sorry for you and the public to go on their merry way.” Then he lowered his voice, and it had a hard edge. “But killing two young, beautiful native girls while on vacation? Sarah! Even if they were murderers, it doesn’t erase the fact that you killed them. I can’t let this go unpunished, or at least without investigation.”

  I glared and opened my mouth to speak again, but he stuck a finger in my face. He wasn’t done.

  “Not only that, but you’ve ignored my calls. I have to see you all over the news and find out about this case you were supposed to be done with from TV. I should be the first person you call. How do you think that makes me look—how that makes this office look?” He ran his fingers through his dark hair in exasperation.