Authors: Laurel Dewey
Tags: #Police Procedural, #Denver (Colo.), #Mystery & Detective, #Psychic ability, #Women detectives, #Crime, #Suspense, #Women Sleuths, #Children of murder victims, #Fiction, #Occult & Supernatural, #Espionage
Protector
Table of Contents
Raves for
Protector
Protector
“As a reviewer who is accustomed to reading the big, bold, and commercialized offerings, it always comes as an amazing and sweet delight to run across a new author who can knock these bad boys/girls off the shelves. Dewey does this and more . . . (She) offers up a tale of a connection between woman and child that will break your heart, a mystery that will challenge your intellect, and the promise of redemption that will remind you to hope. A beautiful and deeply satisfying novel . . .”
—New Mystery Reader Magazine
“Hang on for a fast-paced thriller that will grip you first page to last! Protector is an extremely fast-paced, page-turning, jaw-clenching story. The reader is pulled into living the story with the characters. If you like suspenseful thrillers, you will love this one.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Laurel Dewey makes an impressive debut with Protector, a gripping thriller that goes far beyond the requirements of the suspense/crime genre to provide penetrating psychological insight into the human condition. She combines her riveting tale with emotionally probing psychological analysis that resonates in the reader long after the case is solved. Dewey’s heroine, Detective Jane Perry, is as real as a fictional character can get. Action filled, spellbinding and even spine-tingling, the plot will seize and hold the attention of any thrill seeker.”
—Janet Hamilton,
Myshelf.com
Myshelf.com
“The remarkable thing about Protector is the underlying message that even those with the most deep-seated issues, those who seem terminally flawed, can rise above their problems to accomplish things no one thought possible, least of all themselves. Protector is a fast-paced thriller that is an absolute must read for anyone who loves suspense. (It) will keep you on the edge of your seat until the last moment.”
—Web Weekly
“Laurel Dewey has crafted a memorable tale full of mystery and emotion in this debut novel. Protector will tug at your heartstrings as Dewey reminds us of the importance of family and relationships. This is an outstanding beginning to what is sure to be a successful writing career for Laurel Dewey.”
—Jake Chism, Armchair Interviews
“I had to keep reading. There are so many mysteries that seemed to be tangled into one. Anyone who likes a page-turning mystery will love Protector.”
“Dewey is a talented writer who shows a flair for creating edgy crime fiction with a strong psychological component and an interesting mystical dimension.”
—TCM Reviews
“Protector is a roller coaster ride of emotion, flowing from the extremes of hard-edged police work to abuse to motherhood and loss? This is definitely one of those novels that is made for the big screen.”
—Front Street Reviews
“Dewey writes with a raw intensity that literally jumps off the pages and draws the reader in from start to finish. Protector is a roller coaster ride of startling twists and shocking turns that you just won’t see coming. Unique, mystic, and almost exhausting, Protector will have you glued to its pages from beginning to end.”
—Vicki Landes, author of Europe for the Senses—A Photographic Journal
“The plot is quick and brutal, the characters deep and well-developed. Protector is a must read book for suspense lovers everywhere. Laurel Dewey has crafted a story both touching and riveting.”
—
Simegen.com
(five stars)
Simegen.com
(five stars)
To my parents, who encouraged me to pursue a writing career . . .
To Granny, who continues to provide me with support, guidance & love . . .
And to David—my best friend, lover & husband . . . With you, I am calm. With you, I am home. With you, I am finally free.
Acknowledgments
My gratitude goes out to the many patrol officers, Sergeants and Sheriff’s Homicide Detectives throughout Colorado who helped with the research and development of the story. A special thanks to Lieutenant Wayne Weyler of the Mesa County Sheriff ’s Department in Grand Junction, Colorado.
Kudos to Carol Craven for the photo.
Thanks to Peter Miller for believing in this book,
Many thanks to Lou Aronica for his insight and unwavering support throughout this project.
We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.
Chapter 1
The stars were not particularly bright on that May evening. Emily Lawrence craned her neck as she looked outside her open upstairs bedroom window, hoping she could see a pinpoint glimmer of Pluto in the stark night sky. Unfortunately, the large sycamore tree just outside the window prevented a clear view. Discouraged, she pulled herself back into the house and slid down onto the ever-so-pink carpeting that almost matched her nightgown.
Emily took another look at the star chart that plotted the constellations and diagramed the location of her favorite stellar objects. Satisfied, she flicked off the bedroom light and clicked on the overhead Starlight Starbright projector she received on her ninth birthday, six months before. It was the only gift she wanted and once it was hers, it became her constant companion. She would lie on her bed at night after the house was quiet, her shoulder-length brown hair curled around her pillow, and stare in wonder at the myriad twinkling stars and constellations that projected across her bedroom ceiling and walls. By turning one knob, the constellations slowly moved clockwise around the room, melting into the carpeting and resurfacing on the opposite wall. With the turn of another knob, the room filled with the hushed sounds of soft wind and the distant euphony of Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma.” She stared transfixed by this celestial ballet, engulfed in its embrace, and felt safe.
Outside, a sothing whisper of wind rustled the sycamore leaves. Emily felt herself drifting off to sleep when she was jolted awake by the sound of her mother’s angry voice downstairs. Her body tightened as she tried to ignore the escalating volume. Her parents’ arguments had grown in intensity over the past few weeks. What began as a disagreement in the kitchen would spread into the living room and then the hallway where the nearby staircase led a straight path to Emily’s bedroom door. The only respite Emily had from her parents’ constant discord was a peaceful nine-day camping trip in Moab, Utah with her mother. They’d returned the night before, but it didn’t take long for her parents to resume their loud disputes. However, on this night, the combative sounds from downstairs were the worst ever. The anger in her mother’s voice was now etched with fear. Emily resisted, then gave in and walked toward her bedroom door. She turned the knob, inching the door open.
The upstairs hallway was dark, as was the downstairs entry hall near the front door. Emily and her mother’s sleeping bags from their camping trip were still stacked at the bottom of the stairs. The child peeked through the opening of her bedroom door and watched as her mother, Patricia, paced back and forth. Out of Emily’s view, her father, David, sat on the living room couch, his hand cupped tightly against his forehead. His terrified eyes focused intently on the circular patterns of the living room carpeting. Patricia clutched a sheet of notepaper. She looked at it, silently read it and then flared into another tirade.
“Exactly when were you going to tell me about this, David?” Patricia Lawrence screamed at her husband, jerking the paper toward him.
“I . . . I didn’t know how to tell you,” David responded, his voice shaking.
“Look at me!” She moved her slender body close to David.
David buried his face in both hands. “I’m sorry,” he uttered.
“The hell you’re sorry!” Patricia yelled. “How could you keep this letter from me? Goddamnit, didn’t you think I would eventually find out? All those nights . . . all those goddamn nights of you calling me and telling me you had to work late . . .”
“I was working,” David weakly interjected.
“I don’t think they call it ‘work’ after the second or third cocktail!”
David pulled his hands from his flushed face. “Patty, please! We’ve got to talk about this rationally.”
“Rationally? Oh, that’s rich! Suddenly you want to be rational? Why wasn’t that thought going through your head when the relationship became clear? Why didn’t you just walk away?”
“I don’t know—”
“You don’t know?” Patricia’s voice was quickly becoming hysterical. “You know what your problem is? You’re weak! Ever since you were young, you always wanted to play with the big boys, but you never fit in.”
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