A Dozen Deadly Roses
A Dozen Deadly Roses
by
Kathy Bennett
Copyright 2011 Kathy Bennett
License Notes
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 your’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.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Acknowledgements
This book would not have been possible without the help and support of some of my friends: Barbara Ankrum, Carol Arens, Leigh Court, Alyssa Ganzer, Stacey Holderback, Barbara Joel, Linda O. Johnston, Dolores Maroney, Phyllis Middleton, Charlene Sands, Diane Sims, Beth Sjaastad, and Flo Tritel…I can’t thank you enough for your patience, feedback, and camaraderie. A special shout out to Carol for coming up with a fabulous title for my book.
To my daughter, Jaimie Mitchell, thank you for dropping everything…every time I called… to help make this book a reality.
To my husband, Rick, thank you for being self-reliant, understanding, full of patience, and always saying, “You can do it,” - even when I wasn’t sure I could.
The red and blue rotating lights on the police vehicle cast circling shadows in the inky, early-morning darkness of the Los Angeles residential street. In front of the patrol car a battered sedan pulled to the curb.
Probationary officer Jade Donovan dimmed the light bar to a stationary red. Adjusting the spotlight to reflect into the rear view mirror of the violator’s vehicle, she blinded him to the movements inside the police car.
Jade’s partner stirred in his seat, one bleary eye squinting open.
“Whatta ya doin’?”
“He’s got a headlight out.”
“You’re waking me up for a burned out headlight? Christ!”
Mac Stryker pulled himself from his slouched position, glanced at the street signs, gave the dispatcher their location and opened the car door.
Jade approached the left side of the stopped vehicle. Looking in the side mirror, she observed the driver: a young male with a shaved head and block letters tattooed on his neck.
He twisted toward her bringing his right arm to window level. A chrome semi-automatic handgun bucked in his hand as he fired several shots in Jade’s direction.
“Gun! Gun!” Jade yelled, drawing her firearm and returning two shots in quick succession.
The kid’s head snapped back and he slumped across the center console.
Jade pressed the transmit key on her radio. “Officer needs help! Shots fired, Erwin and Whitsett!”
Holding her gun on target, she slowly moved closer to the suspect’s vehicle. The shooter’s super-sized white T-shirt displayed a spreading stain of crimson. A dark divot dimpled the left side of his forehead. His heavily tattooed arms were flung above his head as though anticipating Jade’s next command.
“Let me see your hands!”
The gangster didn’t move. His face presented the slack-muscled tone of a corpse.
Remembering her partner, she glanced to the sidewalk, where academy training had taught her partner should be standing. She saw nothing but empty space. A moment of uncertainty overcame her. Where the hell was Stryker? Had he been shot?
Sirens blared in the distance. Jade held her position, the muzzle of her gun pointed at the suspect. Tires screeched and the odor of burning rubber filled the air. Help had arrived.
The first officers on the scene called to Jade to confirm she was all right. Then they yanked the shooter’s lifeless body from his car and, per Department policy, handcuffed him. Additional arriving officers called for an ambulance.
A baby-faced sergeant placed his hand on Jade’s shoulder. “Officer Donovan, you need to holster your gun.”
Mechanically, Jade obeyed. “I don’t know where my partner is,” she blurted. “I couldn’t see him after the shooting. He may be injured.”
A look of disgust crossed the supervisor’s face.
“He’s fine – for now. We found him sitting on the curb behind your black and white. He smells like a brewery.” The sergeant motioned toward another police vehicle where Jade glimpsed a slumped silhouette – presumably her partner.
“Your first shooting, right?” asked the sergeant.
Jade nodded.
“The way it works is I take you back to the station where you meet with the shooting team from Force Investigation Division. They’ll take your statement.”
“What about my partner?”
The sergeant shook his head. “Your Training Officer, Mac Stryker, is royally screwed.”
Five years later…
Dear God, not again!
Jade Donovan clenched her fists at the sight of the gold florist’s box leaning against the front door of her apartment. The delivery taunted her, flaunting the fact her skills as a police officer couldn’t help her catch whoever was leaving the boxes.
“Mama got another present. Can I open it?” Jade’s four-year-old son Donnie eagerly stomped up the stairs to the landing outside their apartment.
“No, honey, I’m sorry. This present is for Mommy only.” She hurried to get to the box before her son, struggling to keep fear and dismay from her voice.
Donnie thrust out his lower lip. “I never get to open any presents.”
“Sweetie, don’t pout,” Jade said, grabbing the foil container. She tucked the package under her arm. The thin cardboard lid gapped, and the musty smell of dead roses invaded her nose. Reaching under her sweater, she pulled a nine-millimeter semi-auto handgun from the holster at her waist. She unlocked the door and entered with her son trailing behind. She set the menacing box on the kitchen table. “Stay in the kitchen, Donnie.”
“Why, Mama? Are bad guys here?” The slight tremble in Donnie’s voice tore at her heart.
“Just do as I say.” She glanced at her son and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Everything’s okay, but I need you to stay here,” she said softly.
Holding the gun at a low ready, she purposefully advanced through her two-bedroom apartment. She made quick work of the living room, then inched down the hall.
Whipping open the door to the hall closet, Jade jumped a little as garments moved in the resulting draft. No one hid in the depths of jackets and the vacuum. The bathroom was clear and after checking the bedrooms, including under the beds, she was satisfied no one lurked in her home. She exhaled in relief.
But that relief was short-lived. The fact that each delivery contained one less dead rose was terrorizing. What would happen when there were no flowers left? Whoever was leaving the flowers was serious about intimidating her – and it was working. She returned to the front room.
Donnie had shrugged out of his fire engine red jacket and stood at the forbidden carton. Chubby fingers pushed the cardboard sides of the box in an attempt to see inside.
Jade quickly re-holstered the gun and pulled her sweater back over the weapon.
“Donald Tyler Donovan, get away from that box!”
Donnie jumped and his brown eyes filled with tears. “I wanna see inside.”
“I’ve already told you the package is for Mommy. You wouldn’t like it if I opened your birthday or Christmas presents, would you?”
Donnie shook his head solemnly. “But...I always let you see my presents. You never show me what’s in the pretty gold boxes.”
Jade’s heart crumbled at the hurt in his voice. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I’d show you what’s inside if I could, but it’s a big girl present.”
“Well, I’m a big boy. I’m almost five.”
“I know, Donnie,” she said, bending down and wrapping her arms around him. “You’re growing up, faster than I can believe.”
Her son hugged her back. “Who’s sending you presents, Mama? Is it your birthday?”
“No, honey, it’s not my birthday. I don’t know who’s leaving the boxes at our door.”
She placed the deceiving carton, wrapped with a blood-red bow, on top of the refrigerator. Wondering if the boxes she received were related to what she’d witnessed a week ago, she shuddered. If her boss, a captain of police, were involved with sending the flowers, the implications were intimidating.
Brushing her hands together as if wiping the cardboard container’s ominous presence away, she turned to her son with a sigh and forced a smile. “Now young man, let’s see what we’ve got for dinner.”
Jade knew one thing for sure. No psycho bastard was going to ruin time with her son.
# # #
The cops in the Roll Call Room sat silently while Lieutenant Callie Lasko scanned the typed line-up of officers working the day watch. "Stryker, your partner’s gonna be late.” Shaking her head with obvious disgust, she looked at Probationary Police Officer Mac Stryker for a response.
“Yes, Ma’am!”
“Set up your car and stand by after Roll Call until she shows up.”
“Roger that, Ma’am!” Mac rolled his eyes. Perfect. Not only was his partner a woman, she apparently couldn’t get to work on time. He’d heard the Los Angeles Police Department had changed since he’d been away - obviously not for the better.
As the lieutenant read aloud off crime bulletins and extra patrol requests, Mac noted problem locations into his Field Officer’s notebook. He heard the scrape of a chair indicating a latecomer had arrived. He hoped it was his partner.
The lieutenant glanced toward the back of the room. “Nice of you to join us today, Donovan.”
“Sorry, Ma’am,” responded a female voice.
Donovan. He couldn’t be that unlucky. Mac hoped like hell his partner wasn’t Jade Donovan. He didn’t dare turn around and look. If partnered with Jade Donovan, he’d have to get out of it somehow.
After Roll Call Training on “search and seizure,” the lieutenant sent the watch on their way with a quick, “Be safe out there.”
Mac stood and tried to sneak a look at the back of the room, but other officers blocked his view. He followed his fellow probationary officers down the stairs and stood in line at the kit room. There they would pick up their patrol car keys, shotguns, Tasers, and radios.
Mac checked out equipment for himself and his partner. Slinging his war bag over his shoulder, he maneuvered his way to the parking lot.
The black and white patrol cars all looked alike. He checked the metal tag on the key ring for the car number and went directly to his assigned vehicle to load the equipment. Conducting the safety check on the shotgun, he grunted in satisfaction at the solid blend of wood and steel. The smell of gun oil and the spotless barrel indicated the gun had been recently cleaned. After loading the weapon, he placed it in the shotgun rack. A quick check of the light bar and siren assured everything was operational.
With his partner still unknown, he got out a Daily Field Activity Report and filled out as much of it as he could. Sighing, he tossed his clipboard onto the passenger seat and locked the vehicle doors, then headed toward the station in search of his training officer.
# # #
“Come in,” Watch Commander, Lieutenant Callie Lasko said. The scent of the lieutenant’s perfume hung heavy in the air, irritating Jade’s nose almost to the point of sneezing.
“You were late to roll call. How do you think that looks to your probationary officer?”
“Lieutenant, I’m sorry for being late, but with all due respect, I can’t work with Mac Stryker. I
won’t
work with him. Five years ago, he almost got us both killed.” Standing before her supervisor, Jade bit at the inside of her lip, uncomfortable with her rebellion.
Remembering the grilling she’d gotten from the Force Investigation Detectives back then, she was determined not to work again with the drunk who’d made her look like an idiot. They’d sneered at her apparent inability to discern the fact her partner had been drunk the night she’d shot and killed Vinnie Souza. Jade had wanted to shout at them that he was drunk every night, and everybody knew it – that’s why only proficient rookie officers were assigned to him. But, in order to provide for Donnie, her need to complete her probation was greater than her desire to expose her training officer as an alcoholic.
She’d feared the day Stryker might barge back into her life and today he’d done it.
Although the door to the Watch Commander’s office was closed, the walls were mostly glass. The static sound of employees being paged over the P.A. system seeped beneath the door. She wanted to keep this short. She didn’t want anyone to see her speaking in private to the Watch Commander.
Cops were the worst gossips in the world, and Jade didn’t want her co-workers to see her griping about working with Stryker. She didn’t want to be this week’s hot topic, although she was sure tongues were already wagging about her and Stryker being paired. The circumstances of Stryker’s separation from the department would still be fresh in many officers’ minds…even five years later.
Lasko sat behind a wide desk covered with various stacks of papers and folders.
“Donovan, I know it might be awkward, but work with me here. I’m in a bind. You and Luke Cates were the only training officers on day watch without a probationary officer assigned to them. Last night Cates broke his leg in a motorcycle accident, so it’s all on you.”
“Well, stick Stryker with someone else,” Jade snapped, crossing her arms.
Lasko shook her head. “I can’t take a probationer on his first day and put him with a less experienced cop.” The lieutenant swiveled in her chair and interlaced her fingers behind her head. “Besides, people seem to think you’re one of the best training officers in the division. Does a little hard work scare you?”
“Lieutenant, Mac Stryker worked the field for fifteen years. He doesn’t need a training officer. For crying out loud, he used to
be
a training officer. Put him on the desk or in the kit room.”
A frown appeared between the brows of Callie Lasko’s overly made-up face. “Donovan, don't make things difficult. Work with him today and I’ll see what I can do for the rest of the deployment period.”
“Thank you, and I’m not trying to be difficult,” said Jade. “Actually, I’ve got a bigger problem than Stryker.”
“And what problem would that be?” the lieutenant asked. She unclasped her hands and grabbed a crime report from a tray on her desk and began to read.
Jade wasn’t surprised by Callie’s disrespect and, in fact, welcomed her lack of interest. Jade’s personal life was none of the department’s business, but she was following procedure by notifying a supervisor.
“For about the past week, every day, someone has been sending me a florist box of dead roses.” Jade’s cheeks warmed, and she hated the flush she knew was spreading over her face. For Jade, disclosure of her private life at work was humiliating - especially to Lasko.
The lieutenant frowned and looked up from the report. “Who would do such a thing, and why?”
Jade shrugged. “I have no idea. But it’s hard enough for me to concentrate on my job without being partnered with a drunk.”
A muscle jumped in the Watch Commander’s jaw. “Mac Stryker has gone through physical and psychological evaluation. He’s been deemed fit for duty. I hope you’re not cooking up some story about dead roses to try to get out of working with him.”
