by C. E. Hansen
IT’S A CRIME
By
C.E. Hansen
Copyright © 2013 by C.E. Hansen
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written consent of the Author.
ISBN-13: 978-0615760629 (It's A Crime)
Cover Image File licensed by www.c-e-hansen.me
Cover Art By Fiona Jayde
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by C.E. Hansen.
Acknowledgments
I’m so grateful to Michelle Maloney for her unending support and encouragement, and most important, her love. You were instrumental in making my first book a wish come true.
My deepest gratitude to my contributing editor Kelly Lynne, her edits to this book were an invaluable lesson for me and she is deeply appreciated.
Thank you to my husband, Tom, and my daughter, Kate, for putting up with my endless interruptions.
A special thank you to Fiona Jayde, for her talent and wonderful eye in creating the stunning cover. Thanks to Gee Lewinsky for her patience.
You have all been wonderful and I totally appreciate each one of you.
And last, but never least, a great big thank you to the readers, without you it would all be for naught. This experience has been a learning lesson for me and you all have been the best teachers.
This is for my daughter Kaitlin, I love you with all I am.
You will always be the light in my life.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Prologue
Terry stepped out of the bar into the cold damp night air. Winter in New York City,’ ya gotta love it. She locked the door and bent her head down as a gust of cold air moved down the small side street. The chill the breeze carried found its way through her clothes, her skin, her bones. She shivered involuntarily as she grabbed her coat closer to her chest and lifted the collar to her neck. She didn’t own a scarf, something she would have to rectify tomorrow. She also left her gloves on the table by the front door of her apartment, something she remembered as soon as she was too far to go back and still get to work on time. She would have to walk brisker than normal to keep warm.
Tonight turned out to be one shitty night moneywise. The regular drunks did not tip much and stayed far too late.
One really nice-looking guy with blonde hair and blue eyes sat alone for two hours, nursing two beers. She caught him staring at her several times. She fully expected him to hit on her. He didn’t. She cursed under her breath. Asshole. He did leave her a ten-dollar tip, though.
She tossed the keys into her pocketbook and pulled the strap over her head, and it slid into place until it crossed her chest. After adjusting her collar again, she dug her hands into her coat pockets and put her head down, pushing forward into the onslaught of the cold wind.
She was happy she had worn her sneakers, not only for the comfort factor, but they enabled her to walk quicker than she would have had she worn her boots. Her boss wasn’t there tonight so she got away with dressing down. Her sneakers also made her footsteps on the pavement relatively noiseless.
This would not have been so much as a thought other than the fact the street was even quieter at 2:40 in the morning and she thought she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around but saw no one. She sped up and walked faster, looking over her shoulder. She still saw no one. She did notice when she stopped to turn, the sound of the footsteps following stopped too. She sensed someone was behind her, but couldn’t be sure. This is like a bad B movie. She started walking faster.
She hated this area, where these two long streets were darker before reaching 10 Avenue and the glowing neon lights. The lights on the busier avenue always made her feel safe somehow, the safety in numbers thing. She was a city girl, born and raised, and definitely monsters were out there, but fear rarely played into her thinking. If it did, she would certainly not bartend till after two in the morning and walk home alone.
Anyway, 10 Avenue was about 200 yards away and she quickened her steps. The smell of exhaust mixed with the smell of the food vendors that lined 10 Avenue wafted toward her and hit her like a locomotive. She was hungry and bone tired, dying to get home, open a beer and get back to that book on her Kindle. She thought Tina Fey’s Bossypants, was funny and helped to numb her from the hurt and anger caused by the latest jerk she dated. She had to throw him out after finding him with another dude in their bed. Really? What the fuck? Was she that undesirable?
The guy at the end of the bar who stared at her all night surely didn’t think so. She looked up, and watched the people crossing the alleyway ahead of her. Tenth Avenue was the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.
Traffic was scarce this time of night so Terry walked in the middle of the street as opposed to the sidewalk, where it was darker. She reached into her jacket pocket for her cell phone, and clumsily stumbled on a raised cobblestone. She dropped her phone, trying not to fall. It skittered across the cobblestones as though on a pond, bumped against the curb, jumped and then rested on the street. She bent to pick it up, shaking her head and laughing at her clumsiness.
She turned and glanced back at the cobblestone that caused her to lose her balance, as if it had raised itself on purpose. She didn’t see him coming from the shadows of the doorway. Didn’t see the sharp as a razor knife. Didn’t see the evil in his eyes. She raised her hand to her neck, pulsing blood pumped through her fingers. Her only thought…funny, a cobblestone.
She never felt the rough surface as her body slid unceremoniously to the ground. Her blood slowly filled the hollows framing the cobblestones encircling her head, appearing black in the dim light of the moon.
Chapter 1
“Are you going to be ready any time soon? Can’t believe I’m waiting for you.” I shook my head, laughing. “Isn’t it supposed to be the girl who’s always late?”
“Almost finished, just fixing my tie. Anyway, I wouldn’t be late if it weren’t for my very horny fiancé
e.”
I giggled, blushing. His accusation was true.
“I heard that. Love it when you’re all giggly. How’s your dress look?”
“You’ll see when you finally get your butt in here.”
“I’m coming…”
When Craig Whittier walked into the room, the look on his face showed he approved of my dress choice. His mouth hung open. I was happy I listened to my mother and went to her designer. Commuting and having to deal with my mother was well worth the aggravation.
“Grace Preston, you look spectacular. I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
“I’m not the only one who looks great. Look at you. I’m so glad I made you buy that suit. You look hot.” I licked my lips exaggeratedly. “And I’m the lucky one.”
He walked to where I stood and lifted my head to meet his eyes. That look always gave me butterflies, and now was no exception. I pulled his head down to mine and greedily kissed him.
“How about we don’t show?” Frisky…I loved him like that.
“I wish.”
“Well, aren’t we supposed to be fashionably late anyway?”
“No, that is the bride on her wedding day, not the couple going to their own engagement party.”
“Mmm. I don’t think I can wait until we get home tonight.” His hands kneaded my hips.
“Well, Mr. Whittier, you’ll just have to.” I kissed him softly.
“Just one more month and you are all mine…Mrs. Grace Whittier, I’m digging the sound of that,” he whispered in my ear, his breath causing a shiver to run through me. Goose bumps rose on my skin. He always did that to me. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.
“You’re making me crazy. Stop or we won’t get out of here at all.”
He smiled and my heart skipped a beat. “Mmm, you won’t get an argument from me.”
“Craig…” I pouted exaggeratedly.
“Okay, okay. We’re going, but your mother owes me big time.” He crossed to the closet then pulled out his jacket. Shrugging it on, he said, “I’ll go get the car. It’s raining. Your hair will be a mess.” He looked up and down my body. “God, Grace, you look hot. Later...”
He patted my ass as he passed me to grab his keys from the breakfast bar behind me. I went back into the bedroom to get my clutch. I threw my blush and lipstick inside then snapped it closed. I grabbed my coat from my closet.
The loud screeching of tires outside the apartment rocked me to the core and a cold chill shot up my spine. I ran to the front door and looked across the boulevard. People in cars were stopping; a crowd started forming. I was in a daze, everything in slow motion. I was breathing rapidly. I pulled my coat on and ran outside, no longer caring if the rain got my hair wet.
I looked in the direction of the gathering group. A man was screaming into his cell phone; the woman standing next to their car vomited. I looked down the street trying to see what they were looking at. It looked like someone had run over a dog. I turned my head, nauseous myself. The man’s terrified voice got my attention and I turned in his direction.
“He’s still breathing! Grab something to cover him, he’s going into shock!”
That was a strange thing to say about an animal, but I still couldn’t look. I searched the street for Craig, knowing if an animal were hurt, he was definitely right there helping. We were going to be late anyway. Damn.
I called his name, but there was so much auxiliary noise I could hardly hear myself; I was positive Craig couldn’t hear me. An ambulance siren in the distance was getting closer. Again, odd.
“I’m losing him! Where the hell is that ambulance?” The man started panicking.
I forced myself to walk closer, pushing through the crowd. I avoided looking in the area the dog was; it would make me sick and ruin my night if I saw it dying, my heart already breaking.
Our neighbor Joey walked over to me, grabbing me to him in a hug. He was holding me so tightly he was hurting me. I pushed against his chest and looked up into his face. He was clearly in shock, tears running down his face.
“What’s the matter, Joey, what’s going on over there?”
“Jesus Christ…Grace, it’s Craig. Someone hit him, and kept driving. It looks bad, really bad.”
My legs gave out under me and I slid along Joey’s body to the ground. My head swimming in fear and shock, I blacked out. When I opened my eyes, Joey was kneeling next to me holding my hand. An ambulance attendant was talking to me. I couldn’t follow what he was saying. I just sat and shook my head. A woman was screaming, so anguished, so sorrowful I was deeply saddened for her.
That woman was me.
I sat up in my bed; sweat covered my body, soaking my sheets and pajamas. I was crying uncontrollably. My heart hurt so much I felt like I was having a heart attack. My mother ran into my room and held me, rocking me. I shut my eyes tightly, hoping to push the vision away.
I opened my eyes. My bedroom looked exactly the same as when I left for college. It didn’t bring me comfort, didn’t stop the pain.
When I woke the next morning, the emptiness pushed through every cell of my body. I had to find a place of my own to live. Make new memories.
I picked the phone on my bed table and called Michelle Maloney.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Grace?”
The tears blurred my vision. I swiped at them.
“I hurt so bad, Shelle. It hurts to just breathe.”
“I’m coming.”
I thanked whatever God there was for Michelle. She was my rock, my touchstone. She knew me so well I didn’t have to talk, or explain; she would lift me up, get me moving again.
Michelle and Craig were very close, and his death devastated her. She put her own pain aside to be strong for me and I loved her for that, I needed her for that.
“Please.” Agony must have been apparent in my voice.
Michelle, like me, knew a shrink and some soup wasn’t going to make me “all better.” I needed to let go of the depression that controlled my life. It was time I started to live. I had to let Craig go…he would want me to be happy.
That was five years ago, and I’m far from over Craig’s death, but I have learned to live again. I will never love that way again.
I moved out of my mother’s home and purchased my own apartment on the upper West Side, overlooking Central Park, and Michelle moved into the space created when I split the large penthouse loft in half to make two apartments. I run my own very successful business, an upscale boutique, that I bought with the inheritance left to me by my father. It feels good being on my own, not depending on my mother for anything. Except to drive me crazy, that I can depend on.
My mother, Katherine Worthington Preston Chancellor, is a spoiled, stubborn woman. Trying to get along with her is an exercise in futility. We disagree on everything, except fashion and the love we share for my father. I look like my father, and in her mind if I am with her then he is too. She is overbearing, constantly worrying about me. If it were legal to lock me in a tower, she would.
“So much like your father.”
If I had a dime for every time my mother said that, I wouldn’t need my father’s money. Okay, that was an exaggeration. She is right, but I am my own woman. I’m smart. I’m successful. I am my father’s daughter.
They had a marriage most people would envy. My father loved her and she him unconditionally. I was twelve when my father died. My heart is still broken.
Less than six months after my father died, she married Franklin Chancellor. I’ll never forgive her for it.
“Karen, I’m going to need you to stay a little later tonight,” I said, more of a demand than a request.
“Sure, no prob.”
“Getting a big delivery today. I need you to take inventory and price the items,” I directed. “Also, if you could make the PO, that would be great. I’ve got to leave.” I turned to go back into my office when I remembered more. “Oh, and there will be a separate order for me,
at least it better be separate, just put that aside. I’ll go through it tomorrow when I get in.”
“Everything okay?” She had a strange look on her face. “I don’t want to pry, but...I mean you seem a bit off today.”
“I’m meeting Jonathan. He doesn’t have a clue,” I went on, “but I’m breaking it off with him. I’m just a little antsy, I guess.”
“I hear that.” Her look was quizzical. “Like I said, no prob. I’ll take care of everything here. Don’t give it a second thought.”
Karen looked at me like I’ve lost my mind. Because he is very good looking, people seem to believe I should kiss the ground Jonathan walks on. They don’t know what an ass he can be, how sneaky he is. How aggravating he is. Keeping that male model as an attractive escort to functions is just not worth the bother anymore. Weeks I have invested in this man who still won’t touch me. And he’s not gay, either—that’s been proven. If she wants a go at him herself…she is more than welcome to him.
“Thanks.”
“Should I take lunch now then?”
“Sure.”
As she went to get her jacket and pocketbook from the hooks behind the office door, I fumbled around in mine looking for my cell phone. I walked into the office, passing Karen on my way in.
“Be back in a bit. Do you want anything from Jeremy’s?” she called over her shoulder.
“Nah. I’m not hungry. Too much coffee.” Probably why I’m so antsy.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a half hour.” The chime on the door echoed her exit.
I walked behind my desk and sat down. Lying right there on the desk in full view was my cell phone.
I am a jackass. I truly am.
I pushed the invoices to the side and opened my laptop. Opening my email, I scanned the inbox for anything new. There was one from my mother, one from Michelle, and six from Jonathan. I check marked all six and put them directly in the trash. Next I opened the email from my mother. Let’s get the aggravation over first; I haven’t called her in a while, she was probably worried.