by Dawn Edwards
Copyright © 2019
SLOW BURN
No part of this book either in part or whole may be reproduced or transmitted by any means or in any form by either hard copy, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by an information storage retrieval system or distributed without the expressed written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference or resemblance to characters, names, organizations, events, incidents or people (living or deceased) and real places are purely coincidental and products of the author's imagination.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and owners of products referred to in this piece of fiction have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First off, thank you reader for taking a chance on me and this book. This one was harder for me to transcribe from my mind than I thought it would be and took longer too.
I need to thank the man who holds me up when adulting starts to suck and who knows exactly when I need another coffee.
To our little girl who I will never be too busy for, and who will forever be my excuse for not meeting deadlines. And to the rest of my family and friends, who have seen and heard less and less from me as I wrote this book
My amazing beta girls Jessica W. and Janice B. who encourage me to keep going and helped me work through plots. Special thanks to Jessica F., you rock and I appreciate you more than you know.
To the Darlings and my amazing review group who supported my first book and kept me writing even on the days I wanted to kill all my characters off in frustrated re-writes (just kidding I won’t do that to you). Every review and message gives me a push to write and do better everyday.
My mentor Karen, you continue to be a star, your selflessness is a treasure as are your words (both on and off the page).
Thank you Lindsay, your edits truly make me a better writer.
And can we get an amen for this cover, Sarah Paige never ceases to amaze me in what she can do.
Last but certainly not least to the bloggers and authors who have shared and embraced me as a new author. As an independent author your support truly means the world to me.
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
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the missing and murdered woman and girls around the world. May you find peace, your memory drive change and bring justice.
PROLOGUE
ABBY
Present Day
‘Good morning Miss Dawson,’ District Attorney David Fitzpatrick said to me as I walked into his office first thing on Monday morning. I was exhausted from the flight the night before, having spent the weekend in Las Vegas. I was only home long enough this morning to shower, change and drink a pot of coffee. ‘I hope this is as important as your endless text messages this morning indicated, I only have five minutes.’
I didn’t have an appointment—after everything with Matt’s trial last year, I didn’t need one—but I got to his office early anyways in hopes of catching him before he started what I knew was going to turn into a very busy day. I owed him the courtesy to give him as much notice as possible, as his success benefited me and my family. As a new DA, having only been in the position for a few months, he was already trying to make a name for himself.
I smiled as I walked towards his desk, knowing he was going to owe me one after this.
‘Trust me, it is,’ I told him, taking a seat and making myself comfortable in the chair in front of his desk. I dug a thick binder with all the information Breton had prepared and meticulously organized. I placed it on his desk; he looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.
‘You are going to have to give me the executive summary,’ he shook his head as he rolled his eyes at me. ‘I don’t have time to read that.’
‘You are going to have to give my client and anyone else involved immunity.’
He sat back in his chair, looking at me with interested eyes. ‘People don’t usually ask such bold requests.’
‘When have you ever known me to be an ordinary person?’ I quipped back. We met when he was an Assistant District Attorney two years ago, at the time Matt had first been arrested. Naturally, my aunt and uncle hired me on as their lawyer, and as a personal appeal from both the mayor and the DA at the time, my family requested that I work with ADA David Fitzpatrick. During the months that led up to Matt’s trial, we had worked closely together on building a case to put Matt behind bars. It was a quick trial, and in the end, the jury found him guilty of the premeditated murder of my beloved cousin.
It was a hard and dark time for the family, having just lost Josh a few years prior. This one affected us harder, as there was no closure, not without a body—Matt had taken that away from us.
‘Does this happen to have something to do with your cousin?’
I leaned forward, opening the binder to the last page, where a yellow Post-It note with six words was stuck.
His eyes went wide and his mouth hung open, and David Fitzpatrick wasn’t the kind of man to be taken by surprise. ‘Now do you understand my urgent need to see you and my immunity request?’
He nodded, looking up to me and then down to the binder, flipping through it as I continued to speak. ‘There’s evidence in there that proves my cousin Josh was murdered, he didn’t commit suicide or accidentally OD, just like the family had been insisting from day one. That binder is a road map for you to prove that Matthew, whose true identity is Justin Taggart, and his siblings are the ones who planned and carried out his death. As we speak, his brother, Jordan Taggart is sitting in a Moroccan jail. As the binder indicates, best to extradite him back to America. These siblings have also been involved in elaborate international fraud schemes, laundering money, running drugs, shell companies, identity theft, and running escort rings.’
‘And you know this how?’ he asked me, scanning a page in the document.
‘I need immunity.’ I looked at him straight in the eye, not budging on my request.
‘You do?’ he questioned, worry crossing over his face.
‘Not me, I’ve known since December but have been bound by client privilege. But I need immunity for my client.’
He nodded. ‘You have my word, I’ll grant it—so far as I can.’
I smiled. Knowing all the facts, there would be charges laid, the DA’s hands would be tied, and there would need to be some justice dealt out.
‘Good, now I need you to go arrest Jordanna Taggart, also known as Julia Featherbe, she runs a salon spa in Worcester.’ I relaxed, nodding to the binder. ‘Everything else you need is in that binder.’
I looked at my Fit-Bit for the time. ‘And if I’m not mistaken, you should have received an email with supporting video incriminating these bastards.’
‘How…’ His eyes narrowed at me.
‘My client will be arriving at the private departures’ terminal around four this afternoon. You can ask then, full cooperation is what is on the table.’
The composed DA ran a hand through his hair and let out a huge breath. ‘Abigail, are you sure? This could be huge...or bite me...us in the ass.’
I nodded, feeling vindicated. For so long our family has maintained that Josh had to have been murdered, that suicide wasn’t in his character. But with the opioid crisis that was plaguing New England, the authorities summed his death up to a spoiled rich kid who got carried away.
‘Trust me; he’s been working on this since before…’ I took a deep breath. ‘Trust me, he’s done his work, it’s all there. Don’t ask me how he got it, it’s all too technical for me.’
‘Alright, I’ll see you at the terminal,’ he told me, clearly indicating our meeting was over.
‘Oh,’ I stood from the chair, looking down at him. ‘There is one more thing.’
He flipped the binder to the back page and took out the yellow Post-It note. ‘I assume it has to do with this?’
CHAPTER 1
MATT
18 months ago
‘Are you sure we can’t go out for dinner for once?’ Cindy asked, we were both naked and she was straddling me on the sofa. We were in my real office at the back of my sister’s salon, not the fake office I kept downtown as a facade for one of the many shell companies we ran.
The front that I was a pharmaceutical rep had been a brilliant idea. It gave me a lot of freedom from Jessa and a reason to be out of town a lot. Also, it allowed my siblings and me another outlet to launder our money and that of other organized crime partners.
We had a good system, well, my siblings did. It was new to me, but I was catching on, and it was easy money. My brother worked on securing partners and taking care of contracts. I was the face that met with potential investors in North and South America, while he took care of Europe, North Africa and some parts of the Middle East. My sister did the money, managed the salon and other shell companies, in addition to being the liaison with other operations.
‘You know the situation,’ I told Cindy, squeezing her ass. She was someone I’d been seeing on the side for a while now. Cindy knew I was engaged, but she didn’t know it was to Jessa Cahill, nor did she know about the con my family was pulling over on the Cahill family, the lie of the double life I was living or the truth behind the salon.
Jessa never had much of a sexual appetite to begin with, and after I revealed the sex tape I had of her, she’d stopped responding to any of my advances. But I let our non-existent sex life slide. While what I had done was cruel, I wasn’t a rapist, and I wasn’t going to force the issue—so long as she kept up her end of the bargain and supplied me with rich, powerful and connected businessmen that ran in her social circles. Besides, I had Cindy, who was one of the beauticians at my sister’s salon. She was small, petite and a natural blonde, in the physical and stereotypical sense. She wasn’t much for keeping a conversation, but we didn't really do much talking. I’d been fucking her pretty much ever since I’d moved to Boston. I’d never have been able to ride out the dry spell that Jessa was offering.
My phone was ringing and vibrating on my desk as I fondled Cindy.
‘Someone’s popular,’ Cindy commented still straddling me, kissing my neck. It was either my brother or my sister; they weren’t leaving me alone these days. It certainly wasn't Jessa, who still wasn’t returning any of my phone calls.
It had been over three weeks since the disaster that was the Fourth of July when I stormed out of her parents’ summer house, pissed over a prenup that I knew was coming, but that offended me, nonetheless. Jessa finally did reply to one of my text messages last week to let me know she was out of the country for work—which was news to me, she never told me about the possibility of her going away. I guess that was telling about the stat of our relationship, when she shared everything with me.
JESSA: I’m out of the country on business. When I’ve cooled down and am ready to talk to you, I will let you know.
She asked me to give her more space and that she would contact me when she was ready. Needless to say, that went over like a lead balloon with my siblings. She wasn’t telling me to fuck off, so I was taking that as a good sign, but they needed more assurances than that.
‘Let it go to voicemail,’ I commented, grinding up against her, trying to get hard again for round number two. ‘I don’t want to be disturbed.’
The office door opened. ‘Well, that’s just too bad,’ my sister announced walking in, holding her phone to her ear, looking straight at us, not fazed that we were naked and getting it on. ‘Cindy, get off my brother's dick and go home. Don’t make me have to tell you again.’
Embarrassed, trying to cover herself, she reached for her skirt and pulled it on while gathering the rest of her things.
‘Toss me my shorts,’ I asked Cindy, smiling and winking at her. I knew she was scared of my sister, Julia, and I didn’t blame her. She was my sister, but even I couldn’t over the look the fact she was a bitch, and when pushed, could be vicious. Hell, I was sometimes afraid of her. Jules, as she dubbed herself, had already told Cindy once to keep her distance from me, paranoid it would blow the cover, but I, of course, didn’t heed her warning and I was careful. Unlike the sloppy mistakes Jules had made in the past that nearly ruined everything.
Cindy bent down and picked up my shorts for me, looked to Jules who was now sitting in one of the office chairs, and tossed them next to me. I’d been covering my dick with my hands. ‘You mind turning around?’ I asked Jules as I stood up.
She obliged, standing up to walk Cindy out into the salon without saying a word. I quickly dressed, and when Jules returned, she shook her head. ‘You are going to get that girl fired.'
‘You’re just jealous because you’re not getting any,’ I told her pulling my shirt on.
‘And you know why,’ she scolded. I knew she hadn’t been involved with anyone since Josh. ‘Unintentional causalities are such a shame.’
‘It wasn’t my idea to off him,’ I reminded her. But I knew what she was getting after. We had been sloppy and didn’t have a strong backstory. We were caught in our lie by Josh, and she panicked, resulting in his death.
It really shook Jules to her core. I saw through her tough-girl exterior. I knew that on some level she really loved him. People do grow on you, and he was a good guy who really did love her in return. She wasn’t as much of a bitch then, and never showed that side of herself to him.
I assumed she had come to love him as I had come to care for Jessa at the start. I figured she was waiting to finish this con before getting involved again. Lying took its toll on relationships and one's mental state.
After Josh’s death, Jules went away for a few months, needing to deal with her emotions on her own. It was when she returned that she told me to distance myself emotionally from Jessa. So, I did, but remained close to her, as making her fall more in love with me was all a part of the con. It was really fucking with my head.
‘What the fuck are you still doing here?’ she bitched at me. ‘Didn’t I tell you to go get Jessa back?’
‘That’s hard to do when she’s still not ready to talk to me.’
‘So, make her,’ she demanded, pulling up Google on her phone to find the contact information at Cahill Global.
I saw her press the green call button. ‘Hello, I’m looking to speak with…’ she paused for dramatic effect, ‘Jessa Cahill regarding an invoice.’
‘One moment, I’ll transfer you,’ I heard the familiar voice of Trish, the receptionist at Cahill Global headquarters, as Jules put it on speakerphone.
My sister held out the phone to me, and I had no choice but to accept her.
‘Good
morning, Cahill Global, this is Jessa,’ she answered with her light and airy professional voice.
‘Hi,’ I said in a low voice. ‘You’re back then?’ I let out a nervous breath.
‘You can’t call me at work,’ she hissed at me over the phone. Yup, she was still pissed at me. I looked up to Jules, who rolled her hands, as to say, get on with it.
‘You’re not answering my text messages.’
‘I told you when I was ready I would,’ she sounded annoyed with me, and I rolled my eyes up to Jules. Fuck, this wasn’t going well at all. She let out a defeated breath when I didn’t say anything. ‘What is it? I’m in the middle of something.’ She was short, but at least she hadn’t hung up on me; I was going to take it as a small win.
‘Oh, what are you up to?’ I bit my lip from laughing. As soon as I said it, I knew how stupid it sounded.
‘You called me at work, what the hell do you think I’m doing, getting a pedicure?’ she snapped at me, which really surprised me. She must be much angrier than I had initially thought, as this side of her hadn’t appeared in months, not since she tried to break up with me and I showed her the videos, essentially blackmailing her into staying with me.
I didn’t speak for a few moments, hoping it would calm her down for my next request. ‘Can we meet?’ I finally asked her, and my sister mouthed to me, Finally.
‘I’m busy.’
I wasn’t going to take that as cop-out excuse. ‘When will you not be?’ I asked her, pushing her further, showing her that I wasn’t about to back down, confident I’d lock down some one-on-one time with her before I hung up this phone. If I needed to, I could always pull the video card, but I hated to do that.
‘Friday,’ she didn’t hesitate to tell me. I saw through it, she knew I hated to meet during the week, and I also knew she would be back on the Cape then. So be it, it wasn’t as if I actually had an office job where I needed to be between the hours of nine to five.
‘Great, I’ll be there. What time?’ Bingo.