Avenging Widow

By David and Linda Broughton

Jessica Tate's husband dies in a mysterious car crash, supposedly an accident, but something's not right with that... Jess can't let it go, until she finds out the truth, and destroys those who took his life. Along the way, she finds a new man that can and will fight beside her, but the ghost of her marriage lingers, she can't make him hers until...

• Language: English
• Publisher: David and Linda Broughton
• Release date: Oct 20, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458154163

David and Linda Broughton

The love of my life, Linda, is deceased. There will be a few more books by us, since more are written, they are not edited yet. In her honor I will try to get them edited and out to the public, but it's not easy for me. I have a new writing partner now, as well as a partner in life. No it will never be the same, nor should it. To those that review my books. I would greatly appreciate it if you actually READ the entire book before you write the review. Skimming it and posting a review just minutes after you buy it doesn't give a full understanding of the work. One person did this with "Grumpy Old Spy" and totally missed the entire story, and got what they did catch all wrong. I don't appreciate that. If you're not going to do an honest assessment after reading the entire book, don't bother to review it at all. In fact, if that person would contact me, I'll give them their money back for the book, providing they pull the cheap shot review.

Book preview

Chapter 1

As Donavan drives his six-year old, daily driver, Mercedes out of the parking garage at the hospital, he's a tired, yet happy man. It's been a long day of surgery today. He worked on two well-known movie stars, then one poor little girl born with a cleft palate.

Doctor Don loves that kind of work, helping those that really need it, though it's tiring because it takes a long time to do. The end result, a normal life for the little girl, is worth it. Such cases he does for free, as many as he can, but does the work on the movie stars and other vanity-driven rich people to make it possible.

He's known as a plastic surgeon to the stars, but in fact does nearly as many pro bono cases. If he could, that would be all he did, but that wouldn't pay the bills and support him and his wife Jessica.

Jessica's recently become a stay at home wife, to which she's having a little trouble adjusting, after being a covert agent for a Federal agency that to his knowledge, doesn't have a name.

It's later than he usually leaves the hospital in Denver for his home near the mountain community of Evergreen, Colorado. The little girl's surgery took much longer than expected. The only good thing about it being later is now he's not in the worst of the so-called rush hour that would more appropriately be called the slow hour.

Jamey, as his wife calls him, puts an old Chuck Mangione CD in the player, then hums along with the music as he drives. He's oblivious to the two large four-wheel drive pickups following along behind, vehicles like that are everywhere in this part of the country.

Don gets off the highway at his usual exit, then keeps driving into the mountains on a two-lane road. As Don approaches a particularly nasty stretch of road a few miles from home, one of the trucks behind him speeds up then goes into the other lane as if he's going to try to pass. Don notices it now, more because of it being in a no passing zone than anything else. As Don brakes to allow the truck to go get back in the proper lane, suddenly his car is struck from behind by another big pickup truck. The first one cuts over sharply, which causes it to slam into the front end of the Mercedes, forcing the car to the side of the road.

Doc brakes to a stop, thinking it's just an accident, as he undoes his seatbelt to check the car and other drivers, the one from the rear plows into his car again. Jamey tries to open the door, but can't, it's jammed shut. Don puts his car in reverse, but his car is no match for this truck with the heavy bumper on the front. The truck in front of him backs up, whipping the rear of the truck with it's huge bumper right into the Mercedes. This gets it pointed over the edge of the ravine. Don smashes the gas in reverse, but the big truck behind him is able to push him harder, since the rear tires are spinning, giving him no traction at all. The rear truck pushes his car further, sending Doctor Don and his car plummeting toward the bottom at incredible speed.

The second to last thing that goes through Don's mind is that Jessica will be left alone, he calls out, Oh Jessica, what in the world will you do!

The last thing that goes through Don's mind is the windshield, as the car hits bottom. Now unbelted, he flies right through the windshield, busting his head and other body parts on the rocks.

Doctor Don isn't alive to see a man from the pickup above toss a burning road flare down, igniting the diesel spilling from the crumpled fuel tank. The diesel burns with a lot of smoke. Setting it on fire does what the man intended, erases any traceable evidence of it being murder, not an accident. A cell call from a disposable cell phone reporting the accident as they're driving away on this side road puts an end to that job. The snow starting to fall should take care of any telltale tracks.

Neither man driving away wonders why they were hired to kill this guy, but make it look accidental. They've been well paid, that's all they really care.

Chapter 2

Near Evergreen, Colorado, seven months after the accident.

The predawn light begins to filter through the trees. It makes a noticeable difference in the office. When it was built, the office was positioned to take advantage of the early light. It was originally supposed to be an art studio. Jessica Tate had the room added on to her home just over a year ago. That was before she went into her new business that now occupies her time. She had grander ideas back then.

Jess quit her job with a Federal agency unknown to the public, including those supposedly in the know in DC. Her husband’s income was more than enough to take care of them in fine fashion, but she was good at her job, it was hard to give it up. His private practice as a plastic surgeon provided for them quite nicely. Jess eventually decided she just wanted to paint, sculpt, or indulge her artist's spirit in a number of ways. That was all before the freak car accident took him away from her.

The insurance, plus what they had set aside in trusts, certificates of deposit, stocks and bonds is sufficient to keep her in good stead, she doesn't need to work to support herself. She simply couldn't follow through with her art. Her heart wasn’t in it any more. Her heart was broken, her soul ripped out of her body, her artistic spirit shattered beyond repair.

Jessica had to do something to occupy herself, so she uses her covert ops training to help people. Not only does the money she makes now prove useful at times, it helps her mind and soul to know that she's helping people.

Usually, Jess doesn't charge the people she helps, often she gets them money to set things right, as much as money ever can, most of the time, she takes at least a piece of it for herself, from the funds of the evil bastards perpetrating various crimes against honest people. When people are taken advantage of, those doing it almost always have financial reasons for doing so, or they wouldn't bother. She often liberates the funds of these insufferable bastards, though sometimes she can't otherwise take them down. If there's plenty, she makes sure those that got ripped off are given a fair shake, then she keeps the rest. If there isn't a lot, she often adds to the amount given to the client from the previously gathered funds. It all evens out, somewhere along the line, she believes.

Liberating their funds to put them to good use is something she could never do as a Federal agent. When the Feds did seize funds, the mucky mucks lined their own pockets with them.

Jessica's new job is just helping people. She’s not licensed as an investigator. She carries no real badge, though she has many semi-fake ones that will pass close inspection. Her methods of helping people are sometimes downright illegal if she had a real badge, maybe more so if she did. She does things her way. She only answers to her own sense of justice, no one and nothing else.

This morning Jessica's still up, after working all night at the computer on her latest project. She's fairly adept with computers, but now realizes she'll need specialized help to get anywhere with this case. Fortunately, she knows right where to find such help.

At this hour, she's not likely to get a warm reception. Her computer wiz, Jolene Jo-Jo Jenkins will most likely have just crawled into bed. After a night looking at the computer monitor, Jessica thinks that sounds like a good idea. I can go on to bed, it's not like I have to answer to anyone. How will I ever get a line on this scumbag? He pretends to be a man of God, but cons good people out of their life savings, including their homes and other property, if they'll fall for it. So far as I could find out with my limited knowledge and computing power, there's nothing on him I can use to bring him down. He's squeaky clean on the surface. I wonder, maybe he really is squeaky clean, but somebody else, somebody in the shadows, is pulling the strings? That's often the case. I won't get anywhere with a tired mind and body, so I guess I better have at least a nap.

Jessica goes into the spare bedroom she now uses as her own. She still can't bear to sleep in the master bedroom she shared with her husband, Donovan James Tate.

To his patients he was Doctor Don, Donnie or DJ to his friends, and Jamey to Jessica. Jamey was a gregarious, happy go lucky guy, when away from the surgery table. In the operating room, Doctor Don was all business, one of the best plastic surgeons in the country. He did a lot to help victims of crimes that were left mutilated, or children that were born with problems he could fix.

Jamey was the one that insisted Jessica have the studio built, telling her that bringing art to the world was a noble calling, much better than slaving away, slogging through red tape for any government agency, no matter how lofty that agency's goals might be. Her role in tracking down and capturing terrorists, whether homegrown or of the Middle Eastern variety wasn't as high a calling in his mind. Of course, he had an ulterior motive, if Jessica was doing art at home, she would be here most of the time, and not at risk of catching a bullet.

As Jessica gets ready for bed, she still thinks about him and what he wanted. He wanted me to be home, for him, and to start a family. I thought that was a good idea, then. Now I've got no family at all. The fates sure can be cruel.

Jessica goes to bed, thoughts of Jamey always enter her mind at times like this. More often than not, these days, they're good memories, though they still tend to make her sad, knowing there won't be any more such memories made.

Chapter 3

Jessica wakes to the sun pouring through the window. She immediately knows it's afternoon, since the bedroom window faces west. A check of the clock on the nightstand says it's one ten. What strange hours I keep these days. I thought that was over when I left the Feds. Oh well, by the time I get dressed, have some coffee, then get in to Denver to see Jo-Jo, it'll be about the right time for her. I'm hungry … oh, I'll pick up a pizza or two on the way in, then share them with Jo-Jo. Eating alone again doesn't hold any appeal at all.

Jessica has a quick shower, then wonders what to wear today. Here in the mountains, it's always cooler than in Denver. Jessica looks out the window. It's nice out, it's the last part of July, warm in the daytime, cooler at night here. Lets see, I think Colorado casual will do.

Jessica puts on her expensive jeans, the ones that make her butt look nicer, a thin, high-tech bulletproof vest not much thicker than a T-shirt, and a western style short sleeved shirt to complete the look.

Her light jean jacket will be worn over that to conceal her government issue Sig-Sauer in forty-five ACP worn in a pancake holster in the small of her back. She has a real carry permit, but generally just flashes one of her semi-fake badges if anyone gets interested in why she's packing. She puts a holster with a Glock in forty Smith caliber on one ankle, and a holder for mags for both weapons on the other ankle, to even out the weight. Rather than the cowboy boots that she often wears and are common in the area, she wears her Velcro closing tactical boots with the crepe soles. They let her be sneaky when she wants to be.

Jess doesn't wait for the whole pot to be done before she pours a cup of coffee. This maker lets her pour a cup anytime, as long as she's quick about it. If she leaves the pot off the burner for too long, it makes a hell of a mess as the basket overflows. She found this out early on, just after buying the smaller maker now that there's only one to drink the coffee it makes. That's just one of many adjustments she's had to make, she still hasn't made some she needs to, like getting rid of Don's things. She just can't bear to part with them yet, but couldn't have them scattered about, either, so they're all in the master bedroom she no longer uses.

Jessica sips her coffee, mulling over an idea she's had for a while. There's no real reason I still need to live here. It's so lonely, nobody around for miles, no neighbors, not even a cleaning lady anymore. I let Janet go when Don died, maybe that was a mistake, it would be worth her pay just for her company, though there wouldn't be much for her to do now.

Oh, I don't know, I like it here, I just hate being alone. Someday, maybe I can stand to date. Maybe I'll find somebody new. Right now, I think that day is a long ways off. Yeah, if I did meet somebody new, it would be better for both of us in a place that didn't hold so many fond memories for me. Those fond memories are the biggest reason I still live here … and yet are one of the reasons I don't like it. What a catch twenty-two that is. I guess I'll have to get over it sometime. If it wasn't so difficult for a single person to adopt a child, I think I would. Why they make it so difficult I don't know. I would think that any loving home that had the financial wherewithal to take care of a child would be welcomed … one less child they had to worry about … maybe that's the real truth of it, if all the children got placed, those that make their living off the red tape wouldn't have jobs any more. Oh, hell, I'm so damn cynical these days. I still don't believe Jamey's death was any accident, though I don't have a shred of evidence to the contrary. It just doesn't make any sense for him to crash there, he never was one to speed, and always wore his seatbelt. Shit, I better get off that, and on with matters at hand or I'll mope around for days.

Jessica collects what she has on this preacher, Nelson Randall. Jessica mutters out loud to herself, "This guy must be a creep, he either has two last names or two first names, I don't know which. I think it's as fake as they come, but that's for Jo-Jo to find out." Shit, there I go again, talking out loud to myself. I've really got to get a dog or something, so I can at least pretend to be talking to the dog.

Jessica collects the papers into a file folder, then sticks the file folder in her well-worn attaché case. The case holds another Sig-Sauer forty-five, and some spare mags. She never goes anywhere without arms and ammo. Her four vehicles have arms stashed in them. That doesn't include the motorcycles, it's a little hard to stash weapons on them.

Jessica goes to the garage via the kitchen door. It's nice out, so she wonders about what vehicle to use. One of the motorcycles might be fun today, but a bit impractical, as always. Hmm, if I do move, I need to go somewhere warm and dry, where I can ride nearly year-round. Maybe someplace where I don't have to deal with a lot of traffic, at least not on a nearly daily basis. I really should move, I guess. Pricey homes like this one aren't selling now, so that's not too good of an idea if I plan on selling. I don't think I could stand to rent it out … if I go, it's got to be a clean break … no, I'll want to be here for the good memories once they're not so painful … maybe. Does that ever happen? Does time ever heal a broken heart enough that the good memories don't hurt … other than his untimely death … all the memories are good. We didn't get the time together we planned on, the big reason for me leaving my work … one of them, oh hell my mind is muddled, I best not ride a motorcycle today. The Willy's coupe hotrod, yeah, that's the ticket. Jamey loved that car, I love it too. Rodding around in that thing is one of the good memories … time to make a few of my own, I guess.

Jessica snags the keys from the key locker, remotes the garage door open, then gets in the driver's seat. She even feels pangs of sadness doing that, the seat is still adjusted for Jamey, not her. It takes her a moment to consider readjusting it, but she does. Jamey would want it driven, he wasn't one for showpieces that went everywhere on trailers. This rod is tuned to run on pump gas, even with the big blower making it as potent as it can be. It needs premium, but still does okay on regular if premium can't be had.

Jessica turns the key, the car roars to life. As she starts to back out, she notices the wire in the front of the car being pulled taut. She pulls forward again, shuts the rod back off, then disconnects the automatic battery charger. Jamey always kept all the vehicles on the system, he hated nothing worse than a dead battery when he wanted to go somewhere. When she's doing this, it reminds her there's not four vehicles any more, just three. There wasn't enough left of Jamey's old Benz to bother with. What was left of it got put in a storage unit, she didn't want to deal with it at the time.

Jessica fires the rod up, backs out, then remotes the door closed. She uses the same remote to set the alarms and lock the doors on the garage and house. It's probably unnecessary way out here, but Jamey had been insistent about it for the year or so since he had the system installed. At the gate to her property, Jess stops by a certain fence post, flips the fake top open, then flips a switch. That turns off the remote system, so somebody with one of those devices that finds the remote's frequencies can't use it to get in, something else Jamey put in that still pains her to use, but she'll honor his memory by using them, just like he insisted. In my strange life these days, it might just come in handy sometime.

Now that she's down the drive and stopped, Jess does something else Jamey always insisted on. She puts on the seat belts. In this replica of a forty-one Willy's coupe, it's a five-point harness. Doing up the belts brings the pain of loss to the forefront one more time, but also the fact that his seat belt wasn't on when he supposedly crashed. That's just so unlike him, it still bugs me. It's just not right.

Jess lets the rod sing its song as she heads for the highway. Once she gets to the highway, it's a straight road on a nice day, cops are rarely ever on it, so she doesn't worry about that. They certainly couldn't catch her if she decided to play with them. She's been known to do that, get them to chase her, leave them in a cloud of dust, then if they radio ahead, use her badge to get out of a ticket. Now, she'd have to use her semi-fake badge, but it'll pass if they bother to check close, so that's not a worry either.

With the windows down, the blower whining, the pipes roaring, Jess begins to feel a little better. The traffic is light until she gets closer to this collection of burgs loosely called Denver. Mostly, it's separate townships surrounding Denver proper. She's never bothered to figure out where all the dividing lines are. She doesn't much care, she only bothers to find out when she's trying to find an address she isn't sure of.

Jess pretty much idles toward her favorite pizza place, Peppino's Pizza. They're a small chain now, but still retain the Mom and Pop feel … and the great pizza, in a very large pie. She notices the looks and drools the car gets from about every man that looks her way. She knows it's the car, not her, so she's not bothered by it. It got the same looks even when Jamey was driving it … damn … will I ever quit feeling the pain whenever anything at all brings him to mind? I wouldn't mind remembering him so much if it didn't drive a stake through my heart every time.

Jess wheels the rod into the lot. Peppino's is in a strip mall. It's not a huge place, it has a few tables if somebody really wants to eat here, but mostly their business is take out, this one delivers locally. Nobody delivers where I live, another drawback. Maybe I should just keep an apartment in town. I can easily afford it. In the winter, that might be a real good idea if I'm going to stay around this area. Another thing to consider, damn, will it never end?

Jess parks the car right out front, takes the keys but doesn't bother locking it and setting the alarm. She'll be watching it the whole time. Nobody can start this rod without her hearing it. She won't have any problem putting a bullet in the head of anyone that messes with it. In her present state of mind, she might just drag them out then beat them to death, she's not feeling very forgiving today. In fact, she almost hopes somebody does try. Beating some sleazebag's ass would probably make her feel better.

Jess orders two pies, the largest they have, eighteen-inch diameter pies, the largest available anywhere that she's ever heard of. She orders a couple of two liter bottles of soda to go with it, one is orange soda for Jo-Jo, the other is Coke for her. She sits and waits, watching the guys walk by checking out the rod. As usual, it isn't long before there's a small crowd of guys gathered around checking it out. They're just looking, they know enough not to touch it, so she doesn't bother them.

It doesn't take too long before the pizza's are ready. When Jess takes the pies and soda out to the rod, the guys ogle her too, mostly from disbelief, judging from the silly looks on their faces. Nobody says a thing, one guy holds the pies for her while she opens the door. He didn't offer to open the door, no car guy would be that presumptuous as to offer anything involving touching the fine ride of someone that he doesn't know.

Jess gives him a smile, takes the pies, sets them on the passenger floorboard, so any leakage won't get on the seat. She does up her safety harness, then fires the rod. When the monster motor comes to life, there are smiles on all the guy's faces. She backs out of the parking space carefully, so she doesn't run over one of these guys. She can't resist, she lays a bit of rubber out of the lot, then backs off, she could easily lay rubber until the tires were down to the rims, but that's silly, she just wanted to show out a little, not waste the expensive, very wide tires.

The suspension has been worked and reworked, but nothing anyone could come up with could keep the monster motor from frying tires at any speed, if that's what she chooses to do.

A cop gets behind her, but since she's done nothing illegal on the public street, there's nothing he can do. After a few minutes of tailing along behind her at what for her is just an idle speed, he pulls along side, shakes his finger at her, as if to say, Behave yourself, young lady, with a look on his face that shows surprise at it being an adult woman behind the wheel. Jess just grins at him. He pulls ahead, then goes on about his business.

Chapter 4

Jess drives to a rather quiet, mixed-use neighborhood that's primarily residential, with a few businesses of the less trafficked variety mixed in. Many of the businesses in the area are in suburban homes, just like Jo-Jo's cover business called JJ Computer Service. A smallish carved wooden sign at the driveway entrance and an even smaller one on the house, are the only things that would tell anyone there's any kind of business here. Otherwise, it's a rather run of the mill looking half brick and half vinyl sided home.

Jess rings the bell, then walks on in, as the tiny hand lettered sign on the door says to do. The entryway and what would be the living room, are filled with computers, parts, peripherals, and boxed, ordinary software.

Jess knows this is all mostly a cover, though Jo-Jo does actually sell a bit of this kind of thing to those that happen to find her. She doesn't advertise, or otherwise promote the cover business, except on rare occasions, just to keep up appearances.

Jess has seen what Jo-Jo really does, and what she uses to do it, specialized, custom built computers that would make any computer geek green with envy, even if they had access to Cray's, or the big IBM mainframes.

It usually takes Jo-Jo a few minutes to appear. When she hears the elevator noise, Jess knows Jo-Jo is on her way up from her lair underneath this plain Jane home. The elevator only makes noise coming up, going down, it sinks silently, since it's a hydraulic elevator rather than a cable operated one. This feature is just in case the guano hits the fan, the bunker underneath is secure, but she wouldn't want anyone to hear her getting to it. Jess knows there are also emergency slides to the entrance to the lair in a couple of bedrooms, just in case there's a hell of a hurry to get to the lair. Jo-Jo only takes funds from criminal types, and though she's very adept at hiding her exploits, it's always possible some bad dudes could hire somebody to track her down. They'd have to be a computer wizard of even greater capabilities, some might exist, if so, neither Jess nor Jo-Jo knows of them. Then again, the best would remain unseen.

Jo-Jo appears behind a counter in the living room as if by magic. Had Jess been watching that spot, she would have seen the shelving behind her open to reveal the elevator, but she was looking the other way. When Jo-Jo calls out, "Hey, baby cakes, long time no see, it startles Jess just a bit, even though she knew she was on her way up.

Yeah, what's it been, all of two weeks?

Ten days … but who's counting besides me?

Jess smiles, I'm glad you count the days until you see me again, but I keep telling you, I don't go that way.

Jo smiles, "I don't either, you ninny. You know that's a mental exercise I do to keep the old brain matter tuned up. Speaking of that, what can I do to you today?"

Jess pulls the file out of her purse, Find me everything you can on this guy, personally, professionally, any aliases, you know the drill.

Jo takes the file from Jess. When she opens it, she looks surprised to see who Jess wants investigated, This guy? Why him?

Jess explains what he's accused of, conning people out of their money and properties, promising healing and other things in return. Jo-Jo remarks, I'll wager there's a skunk in the woodworks somewhere. I already did some preliminary work on this guy. So far as I've found yet, he's as squeaky clean as they get, at least nowadays. He began as a rock musician, made his fortune doing that.

So why were you looking into his life?

Um … probably the same reason somebody has you looking into it. Usually, these guys have Cayman's accounts, this, that, and the other thing I can raid funds from. The neat thing about it is they can't say a thing to anyone, publicly, that is. You know I only steal from thieves, these charlatans are the worst in my book, they're not even good con men, they simply use conventional religion to do the work for them.

Well, dig as deep as you can, find me a lead to work, something to go on. If it's not him doing it outright, it's somebody using him, or using his name … that's what I really need to find out, who the guilty party really is, then I'll take care of them … one way or another.

Yeah, I know how you like to take care of things, you love that poetic justice. What would you do with a guy like this, nail him to a cross?

Jess smiles slightly, Maybe, the way these guys work, public humiliation isn't enough, they say their mea culpa's then they keep on doing it.

Yeah, they sure do. Tell you what, I'll do this one for free, but if we find any cash, we should try to get it back to whoever it rightfully belongs to.

Deal, though if they're deceased, we keep it, I'm not going to give it to relatives that don't deserve it, maybe widows, even some kids, but not further out than that, maybe not even the kids if they're of age now.

Yeah, I get that. I guess we'll have to deal with that on a case by case basis.

I imagine so.

Want to go down to the lair with me while I work?

No … oh damn, I left the pizza's and soda in the hotrod. I'll be right back, then we can go in the kitchen to pig out on pizza.

Jo smiles broadly, Now you're speakin' my language, girly.

Jess goes back out for the pies and drinks. She and Jo-Jo sit in the kitchen, munching pizza, chitchatting about nothing special, just two old friends hanging out.

After a couple of hours, Jess decides she best get on the road, and says as much. Jo-Jo counters, Don't go home, you can stay the night here, or maybe you'd rather get a hotel room. This Randall guy is holding a meeting down at the Denver Convention Center. You could go check him out in person.

Well … that's not my idea of a good time, but I guess I should get a look at how he works. Want to go with?

Jo shakes her head, "Not on my life, and yours. That's definitely not any way I want to spend my time. I'll be on a date, that's much more fun than that religious crap."

I wouldn't know. I haven't dated in … a hell of a long time. I guess it's still pretty much the same.

Yeah, but I find my dates online, then backtrace them to where they're sending from. If that checks out, I find out everything about them, so I know before the date who they really are.

Jeesh, doesn't that take the fun out of it?

Kind of, but it's the only safe thing to do. Otherwise, no telling what kind of creep might show up for a date.

Yeah, I suppose so. I guess I can go rent a room, buy something nice to wear, then go to this meeting. What time does it start?

Seven, according to their website.

All right, I guess I'll do a little shopping. I don't keep a ready overnight bag in the hotrod I'm driving today.

"Why that ride?"

I wanted … well … it's complicated to explain, but Jamey wouldn't want them just sitting there, so I'm kind of honoring him by driving it … well.. oh, that's good enough reason, though it's more complicated in my head.

Yeah, I'll bet it is. All right, see you later kiddo, give me a couple of days, now that I have real reason to dig into this Randall, I'll give it my full attention.

Great, later.

"Bye, baby cakes. Jo stands to give Jess a hug, then Jess walks outside with Jo trailing after her.

Jo watches as Jess turns the rod around in the yard, then idles down the driveway. Don't worry Jess, if there's anything to find, I'll find it. Time to work, I guess. Jo-Jo goes back into the house, heading for her lair.

Chapter 5

Jess went shopping first, even purchasing a small overnight bag for the essentials, and a hanging garment bag for the two new ladies business suits she needed anyway. Her room in the Hilton near the convention center, not far from Denver International Airport is nice enough, but not one of the fancy suites she could have easily afforded. I see no reason to rent a large suite when I'm just going to sleep here overnight. What would I need all the extra room for? Now if Jamey … oh hell I best keep my mind off such things. I'll try to concentrate on this Randall character. Maybe I'll luck out and find a lead of some sort tonight. He'll probably hint about something during the service that'll strike a chord with me. I best get going, I'd like to get there early so I can have a good seat, it's almost six, it should be early enough to get me my choice of seats.

When Jess drives past the convention center, she sees a line halfway down the block. They must also be holding a concert or something. Hmm, I wonder who it is, maybe I'll see if I can use one of my badges to get in, if it's somebody I might like. It's a mixed crowd, older folks and young … I wonder what kind of group draws a crowd like that? Maybe one of the older groups that's still around? I don't know, grannies and graybeards, young children, teens, twenty and thirty somethings… what an odd mix.

When Jess finally gets a parking place on the top, open floor of the parking structure next door, she looks down, the line is longer yet. What gives with this?

Jess always parks on the top, open floor of any parking structure. Usually, it's nearly vacant, it's at least open with less places for the criminal element to hide, always a plus. Tonight, even the top floor of the structure is nearly full. They must have