Trained To Kill: A Detective Oliver Rousseau Novel

By Cynthia Townley

In this debut novel, seasoned Detectives Oliver Rousseau and Jack Deveraux of the New Orleans PD are stumped when a sophisticated killer evades suspicion and the police quickly run out of leads on the murder of a prominent doctor's wife.

To catch the killer, Detective Oliver Rousseau resorts to unorthodox methods and enlists the aid of his beautiful wife Marin, and her twin sister Megan, who hold the clues and a carefully guarded secret of the affluent Carrington women – their psychic ability that allows them to identify the killer.

But when the suspect terrorizes Oliver’s family and one of them is shot, the case explodes and Oliver and Jack go on the hunt for a sniper - Trained To Kill.

A fast-paced police procedural that will have you turning the pages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Townley
• Release date: May 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458037527

Cynthia Townley

Cynthia Townley is the author of the popular crime-fiction series – the Detective Oliver Rousseau novels.Cynthia has shown us that the best books might just land outside the present boundaries.She lives in a suburb of Houston, Texas with her husband. For more information you can visit her on Facebook at Mystery Crime Novelist – Cynthia Townley or visit her website, www.cynthiatownley.com.

Book preview

The SUV turned the corner driving slowly past the red brick house. In the illumination of the porch light, the driver verified the house number. Satisfied he had the right address, he drove on, turning left at the corner and circling around to the neighboring street. He counted the houses from the corner then pulled over to the curb and stopped. It was a quiet neighborhood. He had been here before. Needing to remain inconspicuous, he turned off the headlights and wipers. He sat for a minute, checking the side and rearview mirrors. No one in sight. Rain pounded the roof, deafening his thoughts. Thunder rumbled overhead. With the wipers off, rain drenched the windshield making it impossible to see the street ahead clearly. Yellow vapors from the streetlights took on an eerie glow; the street a foggy blur. The darkness, rain, and fog provided the perfect cover. It was time.

Stepping out of the vehicle, he reached across the seat and took hold of the loaded weapon. Again, he scanned the street for any signs of life. The weather was miserable. No one would be out on a night like this unless they were coming home late from work. Most people were already in by this hour. The wind had picked up. It didn’t concern him. His excitement was reinforced by his confidence. His skill had been tested and measured. There was no match for him.

Crossing the street, he held the rifle tightly against his right leg and moved as one with the weapon. He counted the houses as he quickly walked by each one, careful to avoid being seen under the intermittent street lights. Most houses had lights on inside, a few remained dark. In several homes he could see brightly colored lights through a crack in the drapes; a television. People were going about their business.

He walked past four houses then stepped off the sidewalk and crossed a soggy front yard. The rain dripping down his face didn’t deter him. The wind whipped the black vinyl rain slicker around his knees. He reached the large tree he had spotted a week ago between two houses that provided just the shelter he needed. The canopy of the ancient oak would keep most of the rain from reaching him. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face dry. Under the slicker, perspiration ran down his sides but he barely noticed.

Peering into the darkness, he focused his attention on one house. The back of the two-story on the next street over was shrouded in darkness, but he could see lights coming from somewhere on the first floor. On the second floor, a lamp was on in front of a window. He suspected it was a bedroom. He leaned against the tree and looked around but saw no movement, other than bushes blowing in the wind next to the neighboring house. It too was dark; the occupants not home. There was no car in the driveway. Through the sound of the rain and wind whistling through the branches he heard a small dog barking.

He knew he had to be ready without notice so he raised the rifle and took aim. Peering down the barrel, he adjusted the night-vision scope, accounting for the distance, wind, rain, the target’s height and the impact. He had done this countless times before. He had one chance to hit the target. There would be no second shot even though the bolt action rifle was loaded with five rounds.

Lightening lit up the night sky not far from where he stood, under the tree. He counted; one, two, three… a crack of thunder followed. Perfect. He counted on the storm masking the sound of the rifle’s discharge. The thunder continued to rumble until it tapered off. Anxiously waiting for his opportunity, he only took his eye off his target to wipe his brow on his vinyl sleeve. His hands were steady, his left eye closed; right eye peering through the scope and centering the crosshairs on the small window at the back of the house. He stood so still the barrel of the rifle sticking out from the tree appeared to be nothing more than a branch. He waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Some minutes later, a light came on in what he could now see was the kitchen. He’d guessed right. It was the only window in the back of the house with the curtain open. The woman wearing something pink walked past his line of sight. Damn! Steady. Wait. Wait. Account for height. He adjusted the mildots; moving the crosshairs only slightly. Check. Hold steady. Steady. Another rumbling of thunder. A deep breath. Target in the crosshairs. With the slightest squeeze, he pulled the trigger. Target down.

One, two, three, four, five, six…he counted, but the target did not get up. He looked to his left, at the house where he’d heard the dog barking. No other lights came on. With a feral glint in his eyes, he lowered the rifle next to his side, turned and headed back to his car; excitement rushing through him.

Once inside, he laid the gun down; barrel toward the floor, resting the stock on the passenger seat. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and started the engine. His adrenaline was pumping, his heart pounding. He checked the rearview and side mirrors before pulling away from the curb.

CHAPTER 1

Carson Jensen, the District Attorney of Orleans Parish is self-righteous, arrogant; an intimidating man with few friends. His co-workers know him to be articulate, demanding; a commanding courtroom presence with a successful prosecutorial career. His murder convictions are unparalleled and he has the ego to match.

Jennifer Dolan knew the reason he didn’t lose in the courtroom was because he hand-picked the choice murder cases; the high-profile, spotlight-in-the-media cases. With solid evidence, DNA, and reliable witnesses, a murder conviction was imminent. If there was even the slightest doubt Carson would have a hung jury he resulted to sensationalism.

He was known for taking jurors to the scene of the crime, or if that wasn’t possible, recreating the crime scene in the courtroom. What juror wouldn’t vote guilty when standing in the face of a make-shift murder scene? It was powerful stuff, even if the murders didn’t happen exactly the way he painted the picture for the jury. He created the scenes not just for the jurors, but for the media attention.

As a defense lawyer, if you were unfortunate to go up against Carson Jensen as the appointed prosecuting attorney in a murder trial, you can bet your client is going to jail.

In the case of the State of Louisiana versus Jeremy Hawkins, Case Number L66399480 has the parties reached an agreement? Judge Tina Barstow asked looking at the Prosecutor’s table.

Your Honor, we have reached a plea agreement, Carson answered, standing up a little bit straighter. After consulting with the family, if the Defendant will plead guilty to the murder of Brooke Andrews, and show the police where he left her body, I am willing to take the Death Penalty off the table in exchange for life in prison without the possibility of parole.

The disappearance of Brooke Andrews, a fourteen year old girl who had disappeared walking to school four long years ago, had made national headlines. Due to a recent tip, the police finally had the evidence needed to take the case to trial. However, the family wanted their daughter returned to them for a proper burial and without Hawkins’ cooperation that wouldn’t happen. It was like holding the family hostage. He was the only one who knew what had happened to Brooke, and where he'd left her body. Carson had thrown him a bone. True to form, the Defendant had made everyone wait until the last possible minute before accepting the plea.

Very well, Judge Barstow said, turning her attention to the Defendant. Mr. Hawkins, do you understand your right to a trial and that you do not have to accept the plea agreement?

The young man standing next to his attorney answered, Yes, Ma’am.

Thank you. In the matter of the State of Louisiana versus Jeremy Hawkins for the First Degree Murder of Brooke Andrews how do you plead?

Guilty, your Honor.

You have until midnight tonight to show the police where the body of this precious child was left, after which you will be taken to the Louisiana State Penitentiary where you will spend the remainder of your life without the possibility of parole. Judge Barstow banged her gavel ending the courts session.

Flash bulbs popped around the courtroom as Jeremy Hawkins was taken away. The family cried, hugging and thanking Carson. Jennifer discreetly gave him the thumbs-up sign and slipped quietly out of the courtroom.

CHAPTER 2

Jennifer got to her desk early knowing the Chief would be out the entire week. Her recent promotion to Criminal Investigations was a great career move but the caseload was heavier than she’d expected. She had a hundred things to do and never seemed to get caught up.

Late in the day, she finally had a chance to look at yesterday’s mail. She went through each piece separating them into piles of importance. One large envelope caught her attention. According to the return address, it was from the State. Opening it, she pulled out a manila folder and found two depositions and some other papers. She glanced at the letterhead; Louisiana Ethics Commission. This can’t be good she thought.

Jennifer, have you been downstairs? Laura asked, poking her head around the doorway of Jennifer’s office. Laura was one of four clerks who worked in CI.

Distracted, Jennifer glanced up from the pages. No, why?

The TV stations are setting up for a press conference in the lobby. I just wondered if you knew what was going on.

Jennifer glanced at her watch. She did know. Carson was making his announcement today at four o’clock. He wanted to make sure it was the top story on the ten o’clock news.

No, I don’t, she lied. If you open your teleconference you can watch the telecast live.

Thanks, I’ll do that.

Jennifer took a minute to open her own teleconference so she, too, could watch. It was a momentous step for Carson and she didn’t want to miss it. She checked the time. She still had a few minutes.

She picked up the pages from the Ethics Commission.

On or about July 29, 2010 at approximately 6:30 P.M., Complainant Jessica Langley, a paralegal in the District Attorney’s office of the Criminal Courthouse in New Orleans, LA alleges District Attorney Carson Jensen requested her to work late on an upcoming trial and then coerced her into having sexual relations with him. Ms. Langley alleges that had she refused, she would have been fired. Ms. Langley also alleges that prior acts consisted of Mr. Jensen touching her inappropriately – dates unknown. When the Complainant asked Mr. Jensen to stop touching her, the harassment only continued leading up to the occurrence on July 29, 2010. Complainant states she was not forced, but rather felt in order to keep her job she had to comply. Afterward, Complainant states she was so upset could not return to work in the District Attorney’s Office and quit her job. No police report was filed.

The Ethics Commission requests your immediate attention into this matter and to report your preliminary findings within thirty days.

The notarized document was signed by Jessica Langley and dated August 10, 2010.

Jennifer was horrified! She read it again to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. With a sickening feeling in her stomach, she opened her calendar and clicked back to the month of July. She had not documented 'yoga' on that date, which was a code she used for the times she and Carson met.

Distraught, she read the second deposition from Kelly DuPont, another paralegal who was claiming sexual harassment on August 10th. She wasn’t familiar with either of the women but both allegations had a ring of truth, and she knew on both dates she had not been with Carson.

A female voice from her computer said, We are here this afternoon in the lobby of the Criminal Courthouse just minutes away from District Attorney Carson Jensen taking the podium. As we told you earlier in the year, we anticipate he is going to announce his candidacy today to run for Attorney General in the upcoming November election.

Jennifer stared at the female reporter on her monitor without really seeing her. With tears threatening to spill, she raced to the bathroom knowing she was going to be sick.

When she had composed herself and returned to her desk, Carson was speaking from the lobby. Jennifer recognized the mayor standing next to him.

Fifteen years ago I started on a journey as an Assistant District Attorney in Orleans County, and for the past five years I’ve had the privilege of being your District Attorney. As you know New Orleans has one of the largest criminal caseloads, not only in Louisiana, but in the entire country.

As Jennifer listened, tears welled in her eyes once again. She didn’t see the man speaking as the District Attorney, but of her lover for the past two years; the man she planned to marry, the man she was in love with and who professed to love her. A myriad of emotions hit her at once; anger, distrust, humiliation, leaving her feeling overwhelmed and confused.

I like to think of myself as a leader and innovator, and I believe my record speaks for itself with a one-hundred percent murder conviction rate. He put up his hands as the audience of reporters applauded. It is with great honor and humility that I stand before you today and announce my candidacy for Attorney General in November. There’s more I want to do for the great state of Louisiana, his voice boomed and I’m going to need your vote. He pointed straight at the camera.

With shaking hands, Jennifer clicked off the telecast. Reporters would be lining up to do one–on-one interviews and Jennifer knew it would be a couple of hours before he finished.

Looking at the manila folder lying on her desk with trepidation, tears rolled down her cheeks. She thought about picking up the phone and calling Human Resources but realized they were probably shutting down for the day. What could they tell her anyway? That both women had quit?

You okay? Laura asked, walking into her office.

Jennifer quickly wiped the tears from her face and smiled. Just too many hours staring at the computer and my contacts are giving me fits.

Well, I’m outta here then. See you tomorrow.

Me, too. I’m right behind you. Jennifer put a smile on her face and tried to sound cheerful as she waved her away.

When her phone rang, she glanced at the clock and realized an hour and a half had passed.

CHAPTER 3

It had been a mistake to answer the phone, Jennifer thought.

Meet me downstairs in the usual place, Carson said. Before she had a chance to respond, he hung up.

She quickly stuffed the Ethics file into her briefcase and shut down her computer.

When Jennifer entered Courtroom Twelve, Carson was already waiting for her. We’re celebrating, he whispered reaching for her. Did you see the telecast?

Wait. She pushed him away with both hands, but not with any physical force. She was too tired. I think we need to talk.

Not now, baby. I need you. After...we’ll talk after. He was already pulling her blouse out of her skirt and reaching for her breasts. Jennifer felt drained from her earlier meltdown and allowed herself to get swept up in his passion.

His lovemaking was always passionate. But, today it was… triumphant, almost certainly fueled by his announcement. He was running on high and his energy was electric. As he neared the end of his climax, he whispered huskily, Jennifer. Jennifer, sending her over the edge with him. Afterward, he told her how much he loved her and needed her by his side. Any other day those words would have been music to her ears, but today she only wanted to get away from him. She was disgusted by her actions and admonished herself for not being stronger where he was concerned.

Can we talk now? Jennifer asked, when her breathing returned to normal.

Carson reached over and pulled her toward him. Sure.

He breathed in her scent.

Jennifer untangled his arms from around her body and sat up, grabbing her blouse and putting it on.

Is there something you want to tell me? She forced her voice to maintain a neutral tone.

Carson stared at her a minute before answering. She could see he was weighing his options. Should he tell her?

I’m going to guess that you either got a call or a letter from the Louisiana Ethics Commission today.

Right the first time. She gave him a hard look. I have to read the file tonight and put a plan of action together. They want an investigation started immediately.

He sat up across from her and reached for his shirt. I haven’t done anything wrong. I never touched those women.

So, you expect me to believe they are somehow… framing you? Lying? Why Carson? Why would they do that? she asked sarcastically.

I don’t know but I need your help Jen. Whatever these women are saying isn’t true and their timing sucks. I got a letter today, too, advising me there was going to be an investigation, but I promise you nothing happened.

She hesitated. I want to believe you but I read their depositions.

She stood up and grabbed her skirt, stepping into it. Then she reached for her panties and put them on, daring him to stop her as he had so many times before.

What’s that supposed to mean? You believe them? he asked incredulously. He stood up and got dressed, too. I’ve got a solution to this you know.

Yeah, what’s that? She folded her arms in front of her and tilted her head defiantly, fighting to keep her emotions intact.

All you need to do is write a letter to the Ethics Commission stating that after interviewing me, and the two women, Jessica and Kelly have decided to drop their charges, he said casually as he slipped into his shoes. He used their names with such familiarity that Jennifer wanted to slap him.

What? Are you out of your mind? Jennifer asked indignantly, shocked by his request. Just like that, poof, and his problems go away she thought angrily.

Jen, I just announced my candidacy for Attorney General. You think I’m going to let two young paralegals lie about my character? Ruin my career? It’s obvious they’re going to pursue this nonsense, but where does that leave me? In the hot seat, that’s where. I can’t have this hanging over my head now! His voice was loud, echoing in the empty courtroom. I need you to do this for me and I don’t think it’s too much to ask.

Has it occurred to you, Mr. District Attorney that what you’re asking me to do is unethical, not to mention illegal? Or, does that not bother you? Her tone was harsh. Not waiting for his answer she went on, Besides, what makes you think these two women wouldn’t contact the Ethics Commission when nothing’s being done on their cases?

He considered that. Then wait a few days, and then send a letter stating after investigating you couldn’t find substantial evidence to back up their claim, and as a result, the case is being closed. Can you do that for me baby?

Jennifer was dumbfounded. No, she couldn’t…baby! She stared at him in defiance, her hands shaking as she buttoned her blouse and slipped on her shoes. He reached for her but she backed away. It dawned on her that instead of alleviating her fears he was confirming them, by asking her to cover up his… crime.

She was seething. I don’t think so, Carson. I think we’re done here. She grabbed her belongings off the bench seat, willing herself not to cry in front of him. When she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm, detaining her.

He sighed. You mean we’re done here tonight because you’re pissed. It wasn’t a question.

Jennifer looked down at his fingers holding her arm captive and angrily jerked away.

No… I mean we’re done! Goodbye Carson. Jennifer backed away, turned, and headed toward the exit. Until the words had left her mouth she hadn’t actually intended to leave him, and suddenly developing a backbone didn’t make her feel any better.

Don’t walk away from me, Jennifer! No one walks away from me. I call the shots!

CHAPTER 4

Hurrying through the lobby, Jennifer stepped over the tangle of extension cords. Media personnel from the local television stations and national networks were still busy clearing away their gear from the Press Conference.

She barely made it to the restroom before she broke down. After several minutes of crying, she washed her face and then ventured out into the lobby, praying she wouldn’t see anyone she knew. Through the front windows, the rain was coming down hard. That’s just great! Laying her purse and briefcase on the long granite counter near the door, she twisted and tucked her long brown hair into the collar of her raincoat. Gathering her belongings, she flicked open her umbrella and pushed open the heavy glass doors.

Driving home required all her concentration as she maneuvered her car around high water threatening to turn the streets into streams. Traffic was a nightmare. She tried to push the fight with Carson out of her mind, but try as she might, she couldn’t. Memories flooded her mind just as surely as the rain flooded the streets. Damn Carson! Had he ever loved me or had he just been using me? I guess the jury’s still out on that one. She kept replaying their conversation in the courtroom over and over in her mind. I can’t believe I broke it off with him. Her emotions were flip-flopping. One minute she was justifiably angry and indignant, the next she was sobbing and feeling sorry for herself.

She felt a little better after she arrived home, showered, and eaten dinner. She looked at the briefcase sitting on the kitchen table with loathing, as if it was somehow responsible for the torment she felt.

She went into the bedroom and removed a diamond ring from her drawer. Slipping it on her finger brought fresh tears. No wedding and no future. She put it back in the drawer, flopped down on the bed and cried for what seemed like hours.

She must have fallen asleep because at nine o’clock she awoke to the sound of sirens that sounded like they were right outside her house. She got up and went to look out the window. Several police cars were outside, but they weren’t in front of her house, they were several houses down. Through the vapors of street light, she could see the heaviest of the rain had passed through and all that remained of the storm was a light drizzle. Neighbors were gathering on the sidewalk with their umbrellas.

Her sprinklers went off, swishing around the yard. Consumed with her problems, she hadn’t even thought to turn it off since it had started raining. She quickly pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and went downstairs, grabbing an umbrella as she went out the back door to the garage. She didn’t want to be that neighbor who was watering her lawn when it was raining. God, she was a mess!

Curious to see what was happening down the street, she walked to the end of her driveway. Gathering with the neighbors, she said hi but she couldn’t remember their names.

What’s happening? Jennifer asked, looking toward the flashing lights.

I’ve got a police scanner in the house and I heard the call go out that there was a possible homicide on our street. Then all these police cars started showing up, a man said waving his hand in the direction of the pandemonium.

With the low ceiling of cloud cover, the patrol car’s lights reflected off the clouds, creating a light show of red, white and blue.

His wife shook her head. I can’t believe someone’s been murdered in this neighborhood.

Me neither, Jennifer said. I’m sorry but I don’t remember your names. I’m Jennifer Dolan. She reached out to shake their hands. Jennifer had met them once when she and Derrick had moved in, but they hadn’t gotten acquainted.

I’m Carolyn Weisman and this is my husband, Jonathan.

Jennifer had lived next door to the Weisman’s for years and had never had a