The Last Execution
Read Jerrie Alexander’s debut novel,
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
The Last Execution
by
Jerrie Alexander
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Last Execution
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Jerrie Alexander
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Kim Mendoza
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Crimson Rose Edition, 2013
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-754-0
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-755-7
Published in the United States of America
Read Jerrie Alexander’s debut novel,
THE GREEN-EYED DOLL,
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.,
Amazon, and Barnes & Noble.
Dedication
I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge
the following people. Their support, advice, and enthusiasm were invaluable.
To my fabulous editor, Johanna Melaragno.
Thanks for believing in this book.
My gratitude to Barb Han. Your critiques and patience with my rewrites and meltdowns
mean more than I can say.
To Marsha R. West and Jeannie Guzman,
my thanks for your critiques and support.
To my incredible beta reader Betty Peters,
who read this book in its many stages. Thanks for
your keen eye and complete honesty.
My appreciation and respect to my resource for the weaponry used in this book.
A real life hero, he prefers to remain anonymous.
Any mistakes are strictly my own.
To Jackie Pressely.
Thank you for reading and critiquing every step of the process. Your faith and belief in this book kept me going. You’ll always be my biggest accomplishment.
Last but not least, Jim. Thank you for your support, encouragement, and most of all, your forever love.
Chapter One
Tuesday, April 20, 9:15 a.m.
Pulling the trigger was like making love. Take your time, use a gentle hand, and then enjoy a sweet reward.
Doyle Preston cradled the Remington 700 VTR in his hands as if the rifle were a beautiful woman, tenderly and with reverence. Appreciative of the starless, windless night, he lined up the scope’s crosshairs with the target. From his spot on top of the high-rise, the shot would be easy. He closed his mind to outside influences, silencing the traffic noise rising from one of Atlanta’s busiest streets, and ignoring the steady drum of his heart. Every hair on his arms rose in anticipation. Here and now, destiny for another person’s life rested in his power.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Squeeze.
The bullet passed through Officer Brian Slocum’s head, exploded his skull like a dropped watermelon and then embedded itself into the brick wall, exactly as planned. The lifeless body crumpled to the pavement, leaving shards of bone and brain matter splattered on his stunned partner.
Bastard never knew what hit him.
Preston’s heart hammered against his ribs as adrenaline surged through his body, but now wasn’t the time for euphoria. Methodically, he stowed his rifle, retrieved the shell casing, and inspected the area to ensure he’d left no trace evidence behind. Wearing electrician’s overalls and carrying an oversized toolbox, he boarded the service elevator and made his way to the car. After he’d pulled onto the freeway, he allowed himself a moment to be proud of a job well done.
The rifle was his weapon of choice, how he delivered justice. How he helped the abused. How he ended the condemned man’s brutality.
****
Wednesday, April 21, 11:00 a.m.
Special Agent J.T. Noble glanced over his shoulder, and damned if heaven on two feet wasn’t walking straight toward him. He feasted from her feet all the way up to luscious lips and—ouch—an icy glare.
“Noble.” Special Agent in Charge Casey Granger’s all-business tone broke into J.T.’s thoughts. “Stop scowling. You’ll scare the new liaison.” He waved his hand in the direction of their visitor. “Bring her here. We need to get started.”
“I don’t scowl,” J.T. grumbled as he moved across the office to intercept her.
With her long stride, she’d already crossed the bulk of the FBI’s office space. Head held high, her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight knot. Fuzzy curls, which had escaped the bondage, hung at random around her neck and face. The low-heeled shoes and weapon on her hip projected the image of a serious, no-bullshit kind of woman, quite a contrast with her face, which conjured up images of his grandmother’s porcelain dolls.
Her sea-blue gaze scanned from his feet to the top of his head. She got points for not flinching when she reached his face. One of her eyebrows went up at the same time her shoulder shrugged her dismissal. He liked her right-back-at-you attitude. She’d inspected, rejected, and put him in his place all in one easy motion.
“J.T. Noble.” He extended his hand. “You the liaison?”
“Detective Leigh McBride.” She met his palm with a strong grasp and pumped once.
“Special Agent in Charge Casey Granger is expecting you.” He pointed toward Casey’s office and fell in step behind her.
He checked his libido at the door when at work, and his reaction to her surprised him. Pissed at himself, he pushed aside his attraction to her.
She introduced herself to Casey before J.T. had a chance to speak.
“Chief Hampton instructed me to provide you and your team the information we’ve collected on the sniper. As liaison, I’m to assist in any capacity you deem appropriate.”
Her words, formal and disciplined, dropped cold and hard, like ice cubes falling into an empty glass.
“Good. Take a seat.” Casey waved to the small conference table in the corner. “Detective McBride comes to us from the police department’s criminal investigation division.”
J.T. fished around in his memory. “CID?”
She nodded, placed her briefcase on the table and waited, her eyes hooded, not showing emotion. The lady clearly wasn’t comfortable with her assignment. He got that the FBI taking over the investigation pissed her off. Would have him, if he’d been in her shoes.
Silence filled the room while Casey motioned to fellow agents, Olivia Cisneros and Tobias “Romeo” Bailey, to join the meeting. After introductions, Leigh joined the team at the table. J.T. identified with her discomfort at being an outsider. Personally, he preferred that status. Kept him from getting too close and caring when somebody was killed.
Casey shifted in his chair to address Leigh. “Bring us up to speed on the sniper.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No sirs in here. I run a close-knit, informal unit. It’s Casey.” He waved his hand toward the group, his signal she should continue.
Pretty didn’t qualify her as an asset to the team, so J.T. leaned back and observed.
Leigh passed a folder to each member of the group. Casey removed a handful of crime scene pictures, stood, and then attached them to a whiteboard. J.T. studied the close-up and wide-angle photos of three men with large parts of their heads missing.
“Hell of a shot. Why the head? A military-trained sniper would’ve aimed for the heart.”
Leigh gave him a frosty look as if he’d interrupted her rhythm, so he shut up.
“March 29, Marcos Ortega, married, father of four, attorney for a local drug czar, was shot and killed while pumping gas.” She stood to indicate the first picture. “Two weeks later, April 12, Qassim Mussa-Shir, married father of three, taxi driver, was killed coming out of a Stop-N-Shop. Last night, Officer Brian Slocum, married, father of one, Atlanta PD for thirteen years, shot while standing in the parking lot of a Waffle House.”
The detective didn’t appear nervous, wasn’t sweating while under scrutiny. Her behavior would carry a lot of weight with the team. If she’d hoped for an ally when a female agent joined them for the briefing, she’d be disappointed. Olivia wasn’t sending any camaraderie vibes. In fact, her body language was more closed off than Leigh’s. He’d had to earn Olivia’s respect by hard work. Leigh would have to do the same.
“Time of day?” J.T. asked, flipping through the papers.
“The murders occurred at ten in the morning, one thirty in the afternoon, and nine fifteen in the morning, respectively. The first two occurred on a Monday. The killer changed his pattern with Officer Slocum’s death yesterday.” Leigh returned to her chair. “So far the bullets have provided no information. Each one had to be dug out of a brick wall. That’s a quick overview. The transcripts of the interviews my team conducted and the forensic information are in the folders.” She turned to the boss.
Casey thumbed through the pages in his file. “Good update, Leigh.” His fingers drummed on the table. “Okay. Let’s get started. Olivia, continue to look for a link between the victims. Romeo, you—”
“I know. I’m going. If anyone needs me, including our newest member, I’ll be in cyber-world researching the dead men.”
“While you’re there, run a timeline on each of them. Compare it with what Atlanta PD assembled. We need to know the victims’ movements on the days they died.” Casey checked his watch. “We’ll meet back here in the morning at 0800.
“That leaves you two.” Casey stood, walked over, and studied the pictures on the board.
J.T. preferred to work alone. Well hell, at least she had experience.
“Leigh.” Casey’s attention remained on the whiteboard. “You know this case better than anyone, and J.T. is one of the best in the Bureau. You’ll work the case with him.”
“Thank you for including me.” Her face lit up, and the rigid line of her jaw softened. Her shoulders relaxed.
J.T. got it, understood she wanted to be involved. Atlanta had a nut case on the street killing people, and this was her city, her murders. They were his too.
“You two check in with the lab. See if the techs have run the latest bullet under the microscope. See if you can identify the rifle the shooter’s using. Then offer our condolences to Officer Slocum’s wife. Ask if he was worried about anything. Introduce Leigh to our Admin. Get Leigh set up with a desk.”
“Good enough.” J.T. waited while Leigh gathered her purse and briefcase.
So the hunt begins.
A new assignment always cranked up his heartbeat, sent blood racing through his veins. J.T. prided himself on being good at his job. This was his kind of case. When the bastard went to trial, there’d be enough evidence to put a needle in his arm.
He introduced Leigh to Lauren Grant, who everyone knew was the real brains in the organization. “Leigh needs a workspace. She’ll be with me for a few weeks.”
“Then I guess it’s handy the space next to you is empty.” Lauren handed J.T. keys to the desk and then turned to Leigh. “Welcome. He’ll show you the way, and I’ll get your office supplies right away.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze swept the area.
