by Liz Bradford
ON YOUR KNEES
The Detectives of Hazel Hill
Book Three
Liz Bradford
Seventeen years have passed...
Adam wants a second chance,
but so does a killer...
Detective Adam Jamison had been given more than he can handle. After a friend dies in his arms, he turns to the bottle to alleviate the pain. But when the rape case he and his partner, Amelia Johnson, are working turns into murder, Adam questions his ability to keep anyone safe. Captain Baker links the current case to a seventeen year old cold case, and Adam is left with a choice, he can wallow in self-pity and regret or he can humble himself and seek forgiveness from his childhood friend.
Ella Perkins lives a quiet life as a third grade teacher, and she would prefer to keep it that way. But when the past slams open the door, she's left scrambling to keep herself steady. But it isn't safe anywhere. The man that harmed her seventeen years ago is back and out to kill her. And even though Adam is determined to keep her physically safe, can she trust him and forgive him?
Copyright © 2019 Liz Bradford
All rights reserved.
Stand on the Rock Publishing
[email protected]
Lizbradfordwrites.com
Print ISBN: 9781687760777
Cover Design by Alyssa at Alyssa Carlin Designs
www.alyssacarlindesign.com
Editing by Teresa Crupmton at AuthorSpark, Inc.
authorspark.org
Formatting by Kari Holloway at KH Formatting.
Facebook.com/khformat
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
Scripture quotations are also taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
All songs quoted are in the Public Domain.
This novel 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.
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Also By Liz Bradford
Author's Note
Acknowledgements
To everyone who is a survivor of rape.
May God bring healing beyond
your understanding.
Chapter 1
Adam Jamison adjusted his sweaty grip on the casket. Don’t drop it. He needed to wipe his hands and his forehead. The July sun was relentless. Sweat dripped down his neck, soaking the collar of his dress uniform. Adam, along with Jared, Doug, Captain Baker, and two other men, carried the casket from the hearse to the graveside. The sound of the bagpipes playing Amazing Grace echoed through the air leaving an eerie presence in its wake. This shouldn’t be happening. I should be the one lying in that casket, not Rick. Rick Miller had a family. They needed him. No one needed Adam. When he got home after a long day of work the only one who greeted him was his dog. Rick had a wife and two grade-schoolers.
I should have gone through that door first.
Adam tried to put his self-destructive thoughts out of his head throughout the graveside service. He just needed to make it through this. He and Miller had been partners for years; they had always had each other’s backs. Adam thought he’d had Rick’s back that day less than a week ago, but apparently not well enough, because Rick was gone.
As the pastor spoke, Adam couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the day he failed his old partner.
A Monday, like any other… There was no reason to believe that anything would go awry. He and Amelia had been partners for a year and a half since the Special Victims Unit had been sanctioned. They had just wrapped up a case that morning, and Adam was wandering around the station looking for something to do other than his paperwork. Doug was out sick, so Rick asked if Adam would tag along to question a person of interest in a case he was working. Adam readily agreed. He was feeling on top of the world and maybe even invincible after a successful weekend of, as his mother would put it, worldly indulgences.
He rode along beside Miller that day, just as he had so many times before. Rick drove, and Adam read through the case file. Once they arrived at their destination, they got out of the unmarked police sedan and walked up to the rundown house. A gentle rain fell bringing the heat of the day down, but raising the humidity to uncomfortable levels, even for Adam, a native of Hazel Hill, North Carolina. They climbed the three wooden stairs to the rickety old porch. Rick raised his hand to knock, but yelling and a crash inside the house froze Rick’s hand mid-air.
Both men drew their pistols and flanked the door. Adam banged on the door and announced their presence. More scuffling came from inside, and a male voice said, “I gotta get away. Do whatever you have to.”
They had no choice but to breech the door.
As was customary for Rick and Adam, they both put their fists out for “rock, paper, scissors” for who would go in first. In all their years of working together, Rick had only twice thrown anything but scissors. Adam took advantage of this knowledge and threw out rock. Thus, Rick went in first. He pushed himself off the wall to the left of the door and kicked in the door with his Glock pointed straight in front of him.
Before Adam could even lift himself completely off the wall two shots cracked in his ears. Adam’s heart froze. One from Rick’s Glock and the other from someone inside, but Rick’s shot had not been fast enough. NO!
Rick hit the ground; blood poured from his chest.
Adam’s emotions shut off. He turned into the doorway and unloaded half his magazine in the young man who had just shot his former partner. He cleared the little house. No one else was there. The screeching of tires drew his vision out the back window. A car sped down the alley.
Adam turned back to Rick and pulled out his cell. Adam called it in and collapsed to his knees beside Rick. “Officer down.” He relayed the address, but the phone slipped from his hands.
“Jamison,” Miller coughed out, “tell my wife and kids I love them.”
Adam put his hands over the wound and applied pressure. “No, man, you have to tell them yourself. You’re going to be fine.”
“You know that’s not true. Don’t lie.”
“Hey, you need to stay with me.”
“Adam, turn to Jesus; it’s the only way.”
“Rick, come on. If Jesus cares, he’ll get you through this. Come on, stay with me…”
Doug elbowed Adam bringing him back to the present. It was time to fold the flag that lay across Miller’s casket. Adam and Doug folded the flag with care, and Adam presented it to Captain Baker. He was grateful that he didn’t have to present it to Rick’s wife like the Captain did. H
e wouldn’t have been able to contain his grief and guilt; he was barely holding it in as it was. He clenched his jaw. His throat burned from choking back his emotion, and he endured the remainder of the service.
As the crowd dispersed, Jared turned to Adam. “Jamison, we’re having people over to our house for dinner. We’d love to have you join us. I know Caleb and Amelia are coming. So are Doug and Paige, and I think the Captain said he would come, too.”
Adam looked at his feet and across the way towards the people Jared had mentioned. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
Instead of walking with Jared towards where his friends were gathering, Adam turned to leave. He really had no interest in being around a bunch of Christians tonight. All he wanted to do was go to the bar and maybe get wasted. And there would be no alcohol, especially at Jared and Becca’s. He might find a beer in Caleb’s fridge, but he really wanted something stronger tonight.
He had only made it a few yards when he heard Amelia’s voice calling. He stopped and turned to see his partner jogging toward him, her dress jacket flapping in the wind as she could no longer button it over her slight, yet growing belly. “Jamison, wait.”
“Yes, Scully?” he teased her just as he had since she labeled a stack of cold missing persons cases as abductions her first month at HHPD.
Holding her belly, she caught up with him along the edge of cemetery by a large oak tree. “Adam, please come to Jared and Becca’s tonight.” Her southern accent was deeper than normal.
“Why should I?” He was more comfortable being honest with her than Jared.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
He raised his eyebrows to hide the fact that he knew she was right. “Who said I was going to be alone?”
“You’re going to go to the bar, drink yourself stupid, and pick up some easy tramp?”
He reached out and picked at the bark on the tree to avoid making eye contact with Amelia. “Sounds like a plan.”
“A lousy plan.” She gently gripped his arm.
“You are not my mother.” He tried to pull his arm away.
Her grip grew tighter. “I am your partner.”
He tried harder to pull his arm away, but she wouldn’t let go. “Might not be the safest job to have right now.”
“I didn’t sign up for safe. I’m just trying to look out for you. It’s my job, so deal with it.”
He sighed. He really did appreciate her honesty with him. She never let him get away with anything, which was good and bad.
Her grip on his arm loosened, but she pulled on him slightly. “At least come for a little while. And if we really are that horrible to hang out with, I’m sure Caleb would take you to the bar.”
He was having a difficult time coming up with a reason to say no to her. These were his friends, and even if they were Christians, they never tried to force their religion down his throat. They weren’t like other Christians, either. They really put in an effort to live what they believed rather than being two faced in what they said versus what they did. He could share a beer with Caleb, but never once in all the years he had known Caleb had the man gotten drunk. These guys were different. Adam wasn’t sure why, but they were. Maybe they wouldn’t spend the evening preaching at him like others might.
“Fine, I’ll come for a little bit. But I’m going to the bar.”
“Good. See you over there in a bit.”
“All right.”
She turned and practically skipped away in her victory. He shook his head. She knew that he wouldn’t go back on his word. That was something Adam had learned to never do. Because not following through on what you say can lead to broken relationships, and he’d had enough of those in his life.
Some might call him a killer or a rapist, but he preferred to think of himself as a performer. Not a circus performer, but an actor. He could play the part of a policeman or a security officer with no one else the wiser. But his greatest performance was with the women he took. And today he would continue the performance in Hazel Hill, North Carolina. The first act had played out seventeen years ago. This was the place that had initially inspired him in his craft, and tonight the second act curtain would fall for the first of the women he had performed with so many years ago.
He had moved all about the country over the years. He knew better than to stay in one place for too long, but for the last five years he had been longing to return to the place where it all began. He had to finish a job. At the time he didn’t realize he hadn’t completed the play; he had been satisfied with the performance, but as he expanded his practice, he realized even greater satisfaction came when they breathed their last.
He parked his car along the side of the road. His plan for tonight would be flawless. He would recreate that first night; it had been such a rush to find her walking through the park. It was the first time he had shown a complete stranger that he was a man that wouldn’t take no for an answer. He had asked her to help him find his dog. But there was no dog. He smiled as he saw her the next day at the police station. She didn’t recognize him! He had kept his ball cap low enough over his eyes, and it had been so dark. He had learned not to risk it with the next though, and a ski mask became part of his attire.
But tonight, he would let her see his face. It was likely that she wouldn’t recognize him immediately, but he would be sure she would remember before the night was over. He looked over to the seat next to him. Everything he needed was right there. He unzipped the bag and removed his folding knife. He flipped open the blade. Warmth filled his being as he anticipated the pleasure he’d experience when it cut her flesh. He closed the blade and slid the knife into his pocket. Next, he shoved the roll of duct tape into the pocket his leather jacket. The August evening was a little warm for wearing a jacket, but it was necessary.
She was home alone. He had been sure of that. He pulled the hood release and the trunk release before he exited the car. He propped open the hood, that was essential for this to play out correctly. He walked up to the front door and adjusted his jacket and depressed the tiny white button that sounded the doorbell. Sorry Kimberly, but this isn’t FedEx. He pressed his lips together to suppress his laughter.
A moment later a woman in her mid-thirties opened the door. She was dressed in a baggy, gray t-shirt and a pair of pink flannel pajama pants. Fuzzy slippers adorned her feet. “May I help you?”
“Yes, it seems that my car broke down, and my cell phone is dead. Could I bother you to use your phone to call a tow?”
“Wait, you’re Officer… oh, I’m sorry I don’t remember your name, but I believe you helped look for the person that attacked me years ago.”
Perfect, her defenses were down. He intentionally lifted his eyebrows. “Oh my. Are you Kimberly Arden?”
“Yes, it’s Vogel now, but yes. Please come in. How have you been?”
“Life has been good.” He shut the front door behind himself. Excitement fluttered through his insides. They were alone.
“That’s wonderful. Well, let me go grab my phone for you.”
She turned, and the time had come. He pulled his knife from his pocket and flipped open the blade. He took a step forward and wrapped his arm around her neck. As the blade gingerly touched her neck, he whispered in her ear, “On your knees, Kimberly.”
“It was you?!” Her voice cracked.
The desperation and shock in her voice awoke every cell in his body. “Yes, yes, it was.” Time for the second act.
Chapter 2
Wednesday morning Ella Perkins shifted in the hard, plastic chair during the teacher’s in-service at Lincoln Elementary School having a hard time believing it was already the end of August. Where did the summer go? She had spent her summer relaxing as much as possible, but also getting ready for her seventh year teaching third grade. She loved teaching third. After four years of teaching other grades, it only took one week of teaching third grade to know she’d found her niche.
Ella inwardly laughed at herself. Teache
rs really are the worst students. For the last twenty minutes she had spent more time talking to Andrea, one of the second grade teachers than listening. They had chatted about their class lists. She tried so hard to not make judgments about her students before the year began, but the other teachers loved to talk about them. Ella had Molly Banik and Callie Palmer-Johnson, better known as the "cop cousins" in her class this year. She knew the girls from church and was looking forward to getting to know them better, even if Andrea had been sure to point out how talkative the pair was. Ella giggled. Molly was just as extroverted as her mother. Ella and Amelia had been in the same Bible study over the summer and had become close.
Ella whispered to Andrea, "No worries, their desks are on opposite sides of the room."
Ella's mind wandered to her classroom and all the work she had to do before the first day on Tuesday, but Principal Withers' voice interrupted.
“This afternoon we will be meeting over at the high school for some district-wide meetings.”
Her stomach lurched.
“Ella, are you okay?” Andrea asked. “You look like you’ve seen the ghost of school years past.”
“I’m fine.” Honestly, though, she wasn’t fine. She might have well eaten a rotten egg salad sandwich because she was queasy enough. She hadn’t stepped back in that building since two weeks before the end of her junior year of high school. She had managed to avoid going in there for over sixteen years because she dreaded the flashbacks that would inevitably come as a result of walking in those hallways again.
When the principal dismissed them for lunch a couple of the other teachers invited Ella to go out to lunch with them on the way over to the high school, but she politely declined. She retreated to her classroom where she ate the ham sandwich she had brought and spent some time with her Heavenly Father.
Oh Abba, I don’t know that I can do this. I have avoided that building for good reason. I just don’t know if I can face those halls. Help me please.
An hour later, Ella stepped out of her Honda Civic and walked toward the all too familiar high school. Please give me strength, God. She took in a deep breath, opened the door of the main entrance, and made her way inside. The halls hadn’t changed one bit. The fresh coat of paint even made it look exactly the way it did sixteen years ago. She paused and debated which way to go to the gym where they were meeting. One way, the most direct and shortest route, would take her by her old locker and the exact memory she wanted to avoid the most, but the other direction would be out of the way. With another deep breath she turned toward the quickest way.