by David DeLee
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
A Grace deHaviland Story
DAVID DELEE
COPYRIGHT
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Published by Dark Road Publishing
www.darkroadpub.com
First Impressions, Copyright ? 2010 by David DeLee
Excerpt from Fatal Destiny by David DeLee Copyright ? 2011 by David DeLee
Cover art copyright ? 2017 by Juri Bizgajmer | Dreamstime.com
Book and cover design copyright ? 2017 by Dark Road Publishing
First Impressions is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities or resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is wholly coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner or form whatsoever without written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violations of the author's rights. For information, contact us at www.darkroadpub.com.
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ALSO BY DAVID DELEE
Novels & Novellas
Blue Charlie Foxtrot
Stare at the Moon
Moral Misconduct
Takedown
Out of the Game
With Intent to Deceive
Pin Money
Crystal White
Fatal Destiny
Short Story Collections
Mystery, Mayhem & Murder
Tainted Badge
Runners
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
A Grace deHaviland Story
"WE DON'T GET a lot of folks like you up here."
Patrol Sergeant Sean Ritter sat behind a scarred desk stuffed into a cramped office in what served as a police station in the foothills of the White Mountains of New Hampshire. He leaned back in a creaky wooden chair that had seen better days and put his legs up over the corner of the desk, crossed them at the ankles. He wore salt-stained brown hiking boots with his forest-green uniform and dug dirt from under his fingernails with the blade of a small pocket knife.
"Latinas?" I asked with one raised eyebrow. While I'm only half-Latina-the other half is Irish-I do have dusky skin, raven black hair and eyes as green as emerald pools, or so I've been told.
"Bounty hunters, Ms. deHaviland. We don't get many bounty hunters up here."
Oh. I'm quick to jump to conclusions too.
"So tell me. It's Grace, right? What brings a big city bounty hunter like yourself all the way out here to our little neck of the woods?"
I don't think of my home turf of Columbus, Ohio as the big city but when you police a community of six thousand people like Ritter does, I'd looked it up, I could see why he might think so. I put my PI license, my Bail Enforcement Agent ID, and a file folder on his desk. The file contained the bail papers for Colin James Maynard, my legal authorization to pick him up.
"Colin Maynard's on trial for aggravated assault, battery, drug possession with intent to distribute, and child endangerment. Two days ago the defense rested, the jury went to deliberate and Colin jumped bail. New Hampshire law requires I check in with local law enforcement before I extricate. Consider me checked in."
Figuring my work here was done, I pocketed my credentials and reached for the file but Ritter grabbed them from my grasp. Damn it. I guessed I wasn't going to get away that easily. Ritter opened the file and flipped through the papers, slowly examining each document, one at a time. He grunted when he came to Maynard's mug shot.
When he reached the last page, he tossed the file back on the desk and returned to cleaning his fingernails. "And you think he's here?"
"I know he is."
I took back the file before he could grab it again. My wool-lined leather coat stiff from the cold, crinkled with the movement. Late March, it's below freezing out here in the boonies, and there's still three feet of snow on the ground. At least in Columbus there were some signs of spring by now; temperatures north of freezing, a few buds on the trees, no snow.
"I found his car, an old '72 Charger," I added. "Still has the Ohio plates. It's parked outside an old rundown Cape on the outskirts of town." I gave Ritter the address.
His attention remained on his fingers; the nails were cut short, clean and neat. I put Ritter in his mid-to-late thirties. No wedding band. When he finished scrapping his fingers, he folded the little knife with a snap and put it in the pocket of his pants. He glanced up at me with pale blue eyes, the kind Huskies' have. On the thin side he appeared to be in good shape, someone who stayed fit through an active lifestyle, not a health club membership. A looker too, I thought.
"How'd you happen to find his car at that particular house?"
"You are familiar with the concept of police work, aren't you?" Ok, that came out a little bitchy, I supposed.
Ritter must have thought so too because he snapped up out of his chair so fast I took a step back. Not in fear but in defiance, setting my stance, fisting my hands.
His hands were clenched tight too. He leaned over the desk. "Now you listen to me. I won't take being insulted by some smart aleck bounty hunter. You wanna do that? You can just take your pretty little ass right on out of here and go back to Columbus, O-HI-O."
Did he just call me pretty?
I don't know if it was because I was tired since I'd driven for fourteen hours that day, straight in from Ohio, or if my Latin-Irish temper was just spoiling for a fight. Either way I should have apologized-but I didn't.
Instead, I got into his face. "Fine with me. The only reason I'm here talking to you is because I have to. I found his car at that house because that's what I do. It's my job and I'm damn good at it."
He stared at me long and hard, and I stared back until the room felt as if the air had been sucked out of it. The overhead fluorescents buzzed like angry bees, while the clock on the wall ticked off the minutes. Slowly and loudly.
If Ritter expected me to back down from his outburst, I didn't. If he thought I'd be intimidated by his authority, I wasn't. I'd been a cop, and I've dealt with cops my whole adult life. If Sean Ritter thought he could scare me, he was mistaken.
"Fair enough," he said, relaxing, settling back into his chair. Was he smiling? "Tell me about this Colin Maynard."
I didn't need or want anything from Ritter other than to inform him of my intentions to take Maynard, but I didn't want to make an enemy of him, either. I forced myself to relax as well.
"Maynard's a low-life junkie with a rap sheet a mile long. He's here because his girlfriend is here."
"This girlfriend got a name?"
"Allison Raynor. She's here with their son, Jimmy."
"I know most of the families around in these parts-don't recognize the name." Ritter frowned. "That house you're talking about I do know. It's abandoned. Been that way for years."
"I know," I said. "The owner of record is Gail Ackerman. I did a real property search."
Ritter nodded, a bit surprised and maybe even a little impressed by my diligence. "Gail lived out there all her life. Died a few years back, just shy of her one hundredth birthday."
"And without a will. The house is in probate." See police work. I tried not to look smug.
"So this Maynard and his girlfriend, they're squatters." The gears were starting to click.
"Not exactly," I said. "Gail Ackerman had a sister-"
"Alyssa."
"How'd you?Oh, right. Small town."
He smiled.
I had to admit, it was growing on me.
"Alyssa was Allison's grandmother."
"That can't be right," Ritter countered. "Alyssa never married. She and Gail, they were a couple of old spinsters, lived out at that old hous
e all alone, their whole lives."
"Maybe." I said. "But Alyssa did get herself pregnant. In college, one year at OSU. She left the baby to be raised by the father, a jock from a local, well-to-do but strict Catholic family. And the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Twenty-two years ago Alyssa's illegitimate daughter gave birth to Allison, out of wedlock-there's no father named on the birth certificate."
"So you think this Allison Raynor's come here to lay claim to Gail's house?"
"I don't know. Don't care really. I'm here to bring Colin Maynard back to Ohio is all. The rest doesn't matter to me."
That put him off. "Well, aren't you the hardass."
I get that a lot. "I know my job, Sergeant. I don't try and do anybody else's."
He took a minute then said, "So what's the deal with these two? They some kind of modern-day Bonnie and Clyde?"
"No. Just a couple of two-bit junkies. A few months back the cops responded to a domestic disturbance call in Columbus. They arrived to find these two at each other's throats. The cops broke it up, finding Allison beat to hell and the apartment full of drugs-cocaine, pills, crystal meth. The cops arrested them both and turned the whole thing over to the D.A. Allison cut a deal and agreed to testify against Maynard for the assault and drug possession, in exchange she got a pass. Meanwhile the judge in his infinite wisdom let Colin Maynard out on bail. Ain't the legal system grand?"
"You sound bitter," he observed.
"Not at all," I said, not sounding very convincing. "I respect the legal system, just not the people who work in it. But hey, if they didn't keep letting these idiots out I wouldn't have a job to do."
"So Maynard's not here to hook up, he's looking for payback."
"With these two, who knows? Maybe it's true love." I stopped before adding, I don't care. "My concern is getting Maynard and-"
He raised a hand. "You said. But this girl, her safety is my concern." Ritter came out from behind the desk. He stood at a lean six-foot-two, his uniform expertly tailored with crisp, razor-sharp creases. He was squared away, except for those ugly, brown hiking boots. I pegged him as ex-military. "If she's in danger?"
"She won't be once I collar Maynard." I needed to get out of there before Ritter got any big ideas. "So since I've complied with my legal obligation, Sergeant, consider yourself notified. I'll be on my way."
"Not so fast," Ritter said. "I'm coming with you."
Damn it. That was exactly what I didn't want to happen. "You don't have to. Really. I've got this one." The last thing I need was a tag-along.
"This is my town. You want to take this guy?" At the door already, he held it open for me. "I come along."
Shit.