CHASE (Alyssa Donovan Series #1)

By Tracie Gerardi

Life as a Homicide detective in New York City is tough. Factor in a horrifying childhood, complicated romance, and uncertain future, and you have the life of Alyssa Donovan.

Join Detective Donovan as she hunts down the city's most elusive criminals along with her partner, Jack, and tries to keep her personal life from getting in the way. It's a difficult task, though, as Alyssa Donovan has never, ever, done anything the easy way.

Murder. Betrayal. Romance. Suspense. The chase is on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracie Gerardi
• Release date: May 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476194875

Book preview

CHASE

An Alyssa Donovan Mystery

By Tracie M. Gerardi

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CHASE

An Alyssa Donovan Mystery

By Tracie M. Gerardi

Copyright 2011 BKMysteries and Tracie M. Gerardi

Smashwords Edition

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Smashwords Edition, 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 you’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.

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To my mother:

The inspiration for every word.

Almost.

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Table of Contents

PROLOGUE That’s The Way It Is

CHAPTER ONE Short Pants and Long Nights

CHAPTER TWO Answer the Question, Alyssa

CHAPTER THREE Watch Your Language, Detective

CHAPTER FOUR I Liked That Jacket

CHAPTER FIVE Give Me Liberty

CHAPTER SIX Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

CHAPTER SEVEN My Children Need Their Father

CHAPTER EIGHT I Didn't See Anything

CHAPTER NINE Awkward

CHAPTER TEN I Didn't Like Her Anyways

CHAPTER ELEVEN We Didn't Start the Fire

CHAPTER TWELVE In the Name of the Father

CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Ultimate Betrayal

CHAPTER FOURTEEN It Wasn't A Question

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Meet Vinny

CHAPTER SIXTEEN No One To Trust

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Over It

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Operation Take This Bastard Down

CHAPTER NINETEEN Shoot

CHAPTER TWENTY Darkness

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE I Know

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Normalcy

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PROLOGUE

That’s The Way It Is

Wednesday, June 20, 11:00 PM

The room was starting to close in on her.

It was empty, devoid of human life, except for the two of them, which made the space eerily silent, apart from the clicking of computer keys, a leaky faucet, and the low drone of the air conditioner that was somehow always set to the perfect degree of coolness.

Her hand was cramping and her eyes hurt. She hated this part of the night. There was paperwork. A lot of it. There was cold coffee, the ache in her feet caused by her heels, and the echo of a headache slowly thumping at the base of her skull.

Needing to give her eyes a break from the intensely bright monitor, she glanced up for a second, and that’s when she saw it. The look in his eyes she only glimpsed when he was thinking about going home to that woman, a look that was slowly driving her crazy.

The happiness coupled with a twinge of guilt seeped into every pore of his sculpted face. The expression was fleeting, though. A second later she watched as he grimaced over his mug of sludge, shut down his computer, and looked over at her, seemly unconcerned that she was staring.

She raised an eyebrow as he heaved a depressing sigh, and she leaned a bit closer as she peered into the cloudy, blue eyes of her partner. She tilted her head in wonder. How long had he been staring at her like that?

He looked away, quickly, when the staring grew uncomfortable. Calling it a night, he said nonchalantly, hoping she was still listening.

Hmm...okay, she replied.

He chuckled, shaking his head. Okay, he repeated. You good with that?

Yeah, she nodded, grumbling something else under her breath as she dropped her head back toward her computer. She pounded the keys a little harder as she realized she'd be left alone with her thoughts for the rest of the evening.

She hated the images that swirled around in her head when he left each night. In her mind, he would go home and take a shower, change into sweatpants and no shirt, leaving that ripped, upper body exposed to the hot summer air. He would crawl into the bed, under the smooth silk sheets, and he’d curl up beside that cold, heartless woman whom she hated with every fiber of her being.

Her tight facial expression must have betrayed her thoughts, because he asked her if she was all right.

Yeah. Fine. Peachy, she said through gritted teeth.

"Liar," he teased, laughing a bit as he grabbed his coat and walked around to her desk. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, allowing his hand to lightly brush her cheek, something he only did on nights when no one else was there. Then, he squeezed her shoulder, picked up his keys, and left, only looking over his shoulder once before disappearing through the doors.

Alyssa Donovan was one of New York’s best and brightest detectives. She was incredibly intelligent, magnificently cunning, tough as nails, strong and incredibly fast, and had an arrest/conviction record that made every other detective in her precinct green with envy. And slightly sick. Her only fault was that she was hopelessly, uncontrollably and dangerously in love with her partner. Her married, blue-eyed, gorgeous partner.

For the past five years they’d been inseparable. Becoming the best of friends early on, they'd only talk to each other about certain things. Things only they would understand. They'd grown so close so fast that two years into their partnership, they’d had to deal with accusations of an affair, fueled by his wife’s impassioned jealously. Accusations that they laughed off and even joked about.

We’ve all got secrets, she thought to herself with a smirk as she remembered the vilest of rumors. Her situation was even harder to be in now, as a case they’d been working hit too close to home.

Charles Stanford, a married father of five, was having a bawdy affair with a twenty-three year old woman, Megan Hernandez. Megan was an impressionable college student, who foolishly thought Charles was going to leave his wife for her. When he didn’t, she became obsessed. She grew weary of being the side of fries as she so eloquently put it, and began blackmailing him.

In return for her discretion and continued position as his beloved mistress, he would transfer ten thousand dollars into her campus account every two months.

When Megan decided that was no longer enough, she demanded more. He refused to give it to her, so she decided to talk to his wife. That was a mistake. Talking turned into arguing. Arguing turned into fighting. Fighting led to shooting. And now, Alyssa sat staring at the computer, typing up the final report, replaying the young woman’s interrogation tape over and over.

"I didn’t realize what I was doing until I pulled the trigger. I just…wanted him…so badly…to be mine. Just mine. I stopped thinking. I couldn’t…I mean…how far would you go for the man you love? I didn’t mean to kill her…I didn’t. I swear. I love him. I love him."

Hernandez’s voice cracked into muffled sobs. She sounded so desperate. So...pathetic.

Alyssa’s thoughts drifted to her own feelings for her partner. Could she ever...? No. She snapped out of it. She knew that she would never be capable of something like that. She would never be the other woman. At least, not in the way that Hernandez had been. She would never be that girl. She had too much self-respect for that. She made sure that her relationship with Jack Keller never crossed certain, carefully drawn lines. They had rules. They had boundaries.

She felt sorry for Megan for a brief moment. If you’re gonna be the girl on the side, you never say the ‘L-word’, honey, she muttered to no one with a warning shake of her head.

A moment later, the ringing phone, annoying as it was, was a welcome distraction from her thoughts and the Stanford case. She grabbed the cradle with one hand and rubbed her weary eyes with the other. Donovan, she barked into the receiver, her head starting to throb, as her headache came back with a vengeance. She was going to need more coffee.

The voice on the other end of the line, unaware and unconcerned about her headache, was yelling in her ear Why are you still there? Do you even go home anymore? Why weren’t you answering your cell? Donovan opened her mouth to answer the rapid-fire questions, but was cut off before she could get a word in. Sports Center at Chelsea Piers. Got a body. Keller’s on his way there.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Okay, Captain. We got an ID? There was a pause, and a sigh.

Yeah. Charles Stanford, the captain said with an irritated and defeated tone.

She muffled a harsh curse, slammed the phone down without saying goodbye, and rolled her eyes. Almost growling, she got up, grabbing her cup, car keys and jacket. She stormed over to the other side of the room, poured a cup of coffee and snapped on a take-away lid, then made her way out of the squad room.

Just what she needed. Another kink in what would have been an open and shut case. Another sleepless night spent with the man that haunted her dreams. When she had dreams, that is. Another cold body and another hot cup of bad coffee.

That's life as a homicide detective, she reminded herself. That’s normal. That's the way it is.

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CHAPTER ONE

Short Pants and Long Nights

Thursday, June 21st, 12:00 AM

Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked up to the crime scene tape. She reached out to grab it, but a uniformed officer lifted it for her so she could duck under it. She looked up at him and nodded her thanks, giving the rookie officer a smile. She pulled a latex glove out of her pocket and snapped it on over her freshly manicured hand, before heading over to the huddled group of detectives surrounding the body.

Damn it, she muttered, pushing passed Keller and the others. She knelt down beside the body while the medical examiner did the preliminary exam, and she stared at the lifeless man in front of her. Our only living witness, she complained. Jesus Christ!

Gail, the M.E., informed her that the man had been shot twice in the chest, and she pointed to his open shirt that revealed two holes in his body.

Alyssa fingered the buttons on the shirt carefully and closed the material over the wounds. She was puzzled; her face screwed up in confusion and she chewed on her bottom lip as she thought. She looked the body over completely, head to toe, smirked, and gingerly let her fingers trace the hem of his suit jacket, tugging lightly on the material.

Jack was looking at her as would a confused cocker spaniel. With his head cocked to one side, eyebrow raised, and severe curiosity in his eyes, he spoke.

Lyss, he said softly as he walked over and knelt down beside her, What are you doing?

Donovan, she said snidely out of the right corner of her mouth. He'd briefly forgotten one of their rules, and it got on her nerves. Last names only during work. It made things less personal. Less dangerous.

Fine, he said coldly. "Donovan, what are you doing?" he asked with a new bitterness in his voice.

She stroked the material, letting the cotton glide between her gloved phalanges. She only stopped when she got to the man’s pants.

Did anyone notice that this suit is too small for him? she asked loudly, addressing the whole group of crime scene investigators who had obviously not done their jobs according to her standards.

What? Keller asked, trying to see what she had been seeing, trying to understand what she had so easily understood.

She stood up, casually brushing off her knees. The arms and legs are too short. Yes, that was why she was the best. No one else even bothered to look at the clothes that carefully.

She rested her hands on her hips and asked, And if he was shot in this suit, where are the bullet holes? There are no holes in that shirt.

Jack Keller, her partner, stared at her. He was always amazed when she did that whole acute and astute observation thing. She did it often, and after five years, most people expected it. They expected him to expect it, but it still amazed him every time, and made him so proud to be her partner.

God, you’re amazing! he said with a shake of his head and a gleam in his eyes. He looked down at the man’s ankles, and sure enough, the pants barely hit the top of his socks. So, what, he was killed inside? Redressed in someone else’s clothes? Keller was great at putting the pieces together once Donovan started the puzzle. That’s what made them the perfect team.

It’s possible, Donovan replied. Only one way to find out. The two looked at each other for a beat, then headed into the sports center, nodding to the other officers, who all seemed to be looking at them with a hint of jealousy in their faces.

Donovan and Keller were the best in the city, and their captain had to dodge constant requests from other precincts to borrow them. It was costing him a great deal of aggravation to keep them together, but he would do anything if it meant he didn’t have to split them up. And they knew it.

Alyssa looked around and shook her head as she pulled off the bloodied glove, tossing it into the bin near the door. This place is...this is a gym, she said. Do you really need a juice bar, game room, and a personal masseuse at a gym?

Keller shot her a look. This is my gym, he said, sounding a tiny bit insulted, and very arrogant.

Alyssa scoffed and scanned the lobby again as they walked. There were uniformed officers and center employees everywhere. Some were calm and collected, some were in hysterics, and one poor soul had passed out on the floor by the water cooler. The pair ignored them all, walking toward their destination. Reaching the reception desk, Alyssa took out her badge.

I’m Detective Donovan, Manhattan Homicide. She acknowledged Jack, pointing, and he smiled. And, this is my partner Detective Keller. We have a few questions we’d like to ask.

The redhead behind the desk reached for the phone. Okay, I will call my...

Donovan interrupted her, putting her hand over the secretary’s, stopping her from picking up the phone. "No, ma’am, we’d like to ask them to you, she said. She smirked as the redhead put the phone down and trembled. Was that a nervous twitch? Ma’am, did you see anyone come in here after Mister Stanford?" she asked, tilting her head, watching the redhead’s eyes.

The redhead shook her head and looked down, shuffling papers on her desk. Yes. She was definitely nervous.

Jack piped up, Ma’am, it’s okay if you can’t tell us. The security tapes will. We can just watch...

Yes, the redhead cried, cutting him off. Okay? Yes, there was a man who came in about twenty minutes later. Said he’d kill me if I tried to warn Charles or call for help. I heard the shots but...I couldn’t do anything.

Alyssa shook her head in disbelief. If she had a dollar for every witness who stood by and did nothing, she’d be a very wealthy woman. "Okay, calm down. What’s your name, ma’am?

Annie, the redhead said, looking very seriously at her stapler.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. Of course, the redheaded girl would be named Annie. Okay, Annie. Take a deep breath and answer our questions. Did you get a good look at him? she asked, disgusted, hoping the secretary could still be of some help.

No, Annie said, shaking her head and tearing a sticky note into pieces. He was wearing a baseball cap. Sunglasses, too. And a high-collar jacket. His voice was low, gravelly, like he’d been smoking for years.

Anything else? Jack asked, rolling his eyes.

Annie looked at him, a bit offended. She cleared her throat and said, Yeah, he had a scar...or a tattoo...near his left eye. I could see it clearly under the shades. And he had a wicked unibrow going on.

Jack suppressed a laugh. It was not the time to find any of this funny, but really, how often does one hear a witness use the term wicked unibrow?

Alyssa elbowed Jack in the side and spoke again. Okay, thanks, Annie. That’s very helpful. Did you see him leave? Did you see him drag Mister Stanford outside?

The girl sniffled and the tears started to flow. Alyssa reached over the counter, plucked a tissue from the box, and handed it to her. No. I’m so sorry, the redhead sobbed. I ran into the back when I heard the shots. You can watch the tapes, you’ll see! I was so scared, I just ran. I didn’t do anything! I’m sorry!

Okay, Annie, thank you, Alyssa said, sighing softly. I’ll have an officer escort you down to the station and we’ll need you to work with a sketch artist. We need to see what you saw, no matter how little it was. She turned to her left, snapped, and wiggled a finger at a rookie in uniform.

He walked over to her and she whispered in his ear. He blushed a little, smiled at her, and nodded before taking Annie, the redheaded receptionist, to the waiting squad car.

What did you say to him? Jack asked as his eyes narrowed, following the rookie with a glare.

Alyssa didn’t notice the look in Jack’s eyes as she turned back toward the desk. I told him to take the girl to the station and have her talk to the sketch guy, why?

You made him blush! Jack grinned accusatorily at her.

I can’t help how people react to me, Keller. He’s a rookie. He’s a guy, a very young guy. I didn’t say anything blush-worthy, she countered.

Jack smirked at her. He’s got himself a crush on you, I think.

Alyssa cringed. Keller, do not even go there. I met him twelve seconds ago!

Jack looked her dead in the eyes, all traces of the grin gone from his face. He lowered his voice and said, Twelve seconds with you is all it takes, Lyss.

She felt a familiar heat rising to her cheeks and turned and walked away before he could see that now she was blushing. Damn him and his effect on her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, shaking it off, and speeding up, heading into the back toward the locker room, then snapping on another latex glove. Keller wasn’t far behind her. She could hear his footsteps.

The Crime Scene Unit was busy dusting lockers for prints and taking photos as they walked into the lavish changing room. Alyssa scanned the area, taking slow, careful steps and looking around with eagle eyes. Shower curtain is torn clear off the rings here, she said, pointing up at