Premeditated

By Ryan Hunter

Plotting murder began as a game until the first killing took place, bringing seventeen- year old Jenna Adamson to the realization that playing God isn’t a game at all.

Convicted of murder, Jenna escapes to stop the other murders, murders she claims were planned in a game of revenge. Unable to stop the killings alone, Jenna enlists the help of her ex-boyfriend, entrenching him in a conspiracy that could cost him his future.

As the two evade police and stumble into crime scenes, Jenna fears the day the identity of the real killer is unveiled. She knows the truth could steal away more than her freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Hunter
• Release date: Jul 18, 2011

Ryan Hunter

Ryan Hunter is a published author, journalist and freelance writer. She enjoys the outdoors, hiking, running and chocolate. Her passion in writing is suspense. Her passion in life is her family - oh and adrenaline. Her new novel, PREMEDIATED, is now available!

Book preview

CHAPTER 1: The Guard was Gary Lent

Our own feelings hit us with physical force, sometimes worse than others, and often by no fault of our own.

Tambri Carlson spent her childhood in the murder capital of America – until her thirteenth birthday, when her father spattered his brains all over her Strawberry Shortcake nightgown. The day after her thirteenth birthday she left the ghetto for the first time, seeing daylight in the form of sprawling green lawns and columned mansions. That’s the day she decided to become one of the good guys, like the woman who wrapped her in a blanket when they pulled her from her prison.

Now she sat behind a detective’s badge, a pile of reports teetering on one corner of her desk. Atop it all glared Jenna’s letter, the letter she should have received yesterday, the one her secretary had lost for a vital twenty-four hours. Tambri ran her fingers through her kinky black hair and sighed. Jenna was playing again; playing judge, jury and most frighteningly – executioner.

Tambri lifted her desk phone. Her red manicured nails tapped out the number to juvie and within seconds she had them on the phone. A siren blared in the background, and voices screamed over the intercom making it nearly impossible to hear the man who answered.

It’s Detective Carlson, she shouted, knowing the threats Jenna had made had already been carried through.

We were just about to call, the man admitted, the noises muffling as if he’d stepped into another room. We think we’ve lost one of your girls.

Lost? Tambri glared at the letter on her desk.

We’re not exactly sure yet.

Tambri’s fingers lost feeling on the handset and she flexed them. Jenna Adamson escaped. She did not get lost.

For a moment she thought she heard him breathing as he tried to come up with some kind of rational response. Instead he simply asked, How did you know?

She told me.

So you’ve talked to her?

No.

A radio too close to the phone filled it with fuzz and she missed all but the question, Then how?

Never mind.

Ma’am? There’s something else.

She glanced at the clock, not seeing the numbers. What?

We found a guard in her cell, in her bed.

Her temples pulsed. Dead?

Unconscious.

Tambri hung up the phone, and pulled her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck as she escaped the stuffy building. By the time she reached her unmarked Charger, the police radio blared to life, calling in officers to work the scene and set up road blocks. She flipped on the siren and swerved onto a nearly deserted street, the discreetly hidden lights flashing just below her visor and at the top right of her back window.

At times like this she wondered if her father could see his worthless black baby; if he cringed knowing she threw trash like him in jail now. Just thinking of him made her curse.

Her lights bounced off the Victorian ironwork on either side of the road, looking brighter than usual in the predawn morning. Thankfully, the juvenile detention center was only a mile from the historic district, but that didn’t stop a dozen officers from beating her to it.

She pulled into the parking lot to find them driving around the facility with spotlights scanning the surrounding woods. Bright circles illuminated the cypress and moss common throughout southern Louisiana. She imagined if they shone the lights long enough they may even catch the bright yellow eyes of a gator that lived in the adjacent swamp.

As much as she wanted her freedom, Jenna wouldn’t risk the alligators.

Of course, Tambri had to admit the chance that Jenna had holed up somewhere close, waiting for the commotion to die down before she made a run for it. More likely, an accomplice had picked her up and driven her somewhere safe.

Tambri pulled her car to a stop in front of the building and stepped into the muggy August dawn. The sun painted the sky a brilliant shade of red and tree frogs chirped in the moss-covered trees. Tambri locked her patrol car and flashed her badge on her way into the secure facility.

I need to speak to the guard found in Jenna’s cell, she said.

The guard nervously swiped his thin hair over a his bald spot and motioned to an outdated office across from the metal detectors. He’s being interviewed right now. The buzzer on the detectors rang as an elderly officer jogged through, his duty belt barely clinging to his thin hips.

We found clothes in the woods. Looks like she’s heading south, he informed a female guard at the desk. She nodded as if his announcement bored her.

The officer took off after the older man, no doubt excited to help with the search, leaving Jenna alone with the female at the desk. The woman pulled out a cosmetic mirror to check her heavy makeup, and Tambri used the distraction to slip into the interrogation office, a rectangular, almond-white dungeon.

Brown tweed chairs surrounded a folding banquet table, illuminated by a flickering florescent fixture slightly off center with the room. One small, barred window winked from the top of the wall, too high to see out of and too small to do justice to the sunlight. She smoothed her skirt and planted her hands on her hips.

The interrogating officer stood nearest the door, while a guard sat at a small table, his hands in his lap and his ankles crossed. Tambri nodded to the investigator before introducing herself. I’m Detective Carlson, she said. I’m working Jenna’s case.

He cleared his throat and mumbled something unintelligible. Tambri stepped closer to the man and lifted her chin. What do we know so far?

He moved back half a step. Officer Lent was doing cell checks last night when Jenna attacked him and escaped with his clothing and keys.

Lent shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and Jenna asked, How tall are you?

Five-six.

How tall is Jenna?

Probably five-three, he mumbled.

She’s a seventeen-year-old girl, Tambri reasoned aloud for both their sakes, "with no tactical training, little upper body strength, and she’s the one behind bars."

His eyes flicked toward the door.

You entered Jenna’s cell last night, Tambri continued. Why?

Room checks. His eyes flashed toward the floor.

What time? Tambri asked, ignoring his lie. She had her own suspicions but she’d get to them in a minute.

Three a.m.

This morning?

Yes. This time he made eye contact.

Tambri considered the timing of the letter and the actual escape. If she’d gotten the letter when her secretary had first checked the mail, she could have caught Jenna before her escape. She’d either mailed the letter too soon or hadn’t been able to escape as early as she thought she could; which meant something hadn’t gone according to plan the previous night.

Do you do room checks every night?

Mostly.

Why not the night before?

His eyes widened slightly in surprise before he continued. I got delayed; never got to Jenna’s pod.

His eyes darted between Tambri and the lead investigator.

Why did you enter her cell? the investigator asked. Don’t you usually just look through the window?

He shrugged. I couldn’t see Jenna from the window and she didn’t respond when I tapped on the door. I thought maybe she’d hurt herself.

Has she ever given any indication she might do such a thing? he asked.

Lent scrubbed his hands together, eyebrows one over dilated pupils. She threatened suicide last week. We’ve been watching her extra close ever since.

Tambri suspected the threat was real, but the intentions behind it contrived. Wouldn’t you have seen any attempts on the surveillance cameras?

Not last night. There was a glitch. Most of the night is gone.

The investigator nodded in confirmation, and Tambri focused on Lent again, bothered by the convenient malfunction. With buzzed black hair, Lent looked like every other guard in the facility, except for his size. Given other clothes and some glasses, he could easily pass as a computer nerd, which made Tambri wonder why he’d gotten into corrections.

What’s your name? Tambri asked.

Gary Lent.

Gary, how long have you worked here? Tambri asked.

Three months. I transferred from North East where I worked for two years.

North East paid better and was a minimum security facility, which most guards preferred because the prisoners were in for misdemeanors, not felonies. The transfer made no sense—unless it had been forced. Why did you transfer?

He stared at the ground again, his fingertips white from clutching them together so hard. There were conflicts. His head shot up and he continued, This isn’t about me. Shouldn’t we be out there looking for this girl? She’s a confessed killer.

You’re right, Tambri placated. Do you have any records of Jenna threatening suicide?

They keep all those things on record. Gary sat up straight, eager to answer now that the subject had turned.

Has she made any attempts?

No.

Then she just wanted attention?

"She wanted lots of attention," he said, and Tambri’s stomach shriveled.

She stepped up to the table, leaned forward and placed both palms flat against the faded laminate. "So Jenna was under her covers, unmoving. You entered her cell and did what?"

I spoke her name, to see if she’d respond.

The investigator folded his arms over his chest and stepped up beside Tambri. Did she? he asked.

Lent shook his head.

Then? Tambri asked.

I moved her blanket to see her face, to see if she was breathing.

Tambri’s foot began tapping. What did you find?

She didn’t move.

At all? Tambri prodded.

He looked at the floor again, his fingertips white. For a few seconds, then she opened her eyes and the next thing I knew I was waking up in her cell, in her bed.

Without your clothes? Tambri asked.

Yeah, she must have taken them while I was unconscious.

Tambri imagined Jenna undressing the man before her and shook her head, her lips turning up on one corner. Do you know how hard it would be for someone Jenna’s size to knock out a grown man, take his clothes, put him in her bed and escape; all before he woke?

She’s strong. Lent said.

Tambri chuckled and pushed away from the table. Not that strong.

I’m not that big, Lent argued.

Tambri walked around the table slowly, pausing behind him to make him sweat. No, you’re not. In fact, you’re the smallest guy who works here, isn’t that right?

Lent squirmed. Why all these questions? You’d think I was the one who escaped from jail.

Because you’re lying. Tambri paced to one side of the room and back. I know for a fact that Jenna planned this escape long in advance and being the closest to her size, it makes sense for her to want your clothes to escape in. That also gave her access to the keys she’d need, the easy way out and a free pass through any security checks. So she either tricked you or you were in on the whole scheme, a partner.

I wasn’t a partner in this and it won’t help you find her, whatever it is you want me to say.

The investigator stepped forward and planted his hands on the table, his face inches from Lent’s.

What was your relationship with Jenna?

Lent folded his arms tightly across his chest and glowered. I was the guard. She was the inmate.

Have you had sexual relations with Jenna? the investigator asked.

Lent shook his head. No.

Tambri saw the flash of color in his cheeks, the downward turn of his lips. But you wanted to, which is why you took off your clothes and got into bed with her. You were planning on raping her.

He stood, face reddening. I was not! She’s a kid!

An ex-cheerleader, seventeen year old girl with a body men your age would do almost anything to—

Lent kicked his chair and sent it flying into the wall. I wouldn’t rape anyone! She came onto me, okay? She seduced me! His legs trembled and he turned away, hands clasped over the back of his head as he realized what he’d just said.

Tambri grimaced, sickened but grateful they’d gotten him to talk.

How long has it been going on? she asked.

It hasn’t, Gary whispered. Last night, it would have been the first. I swear.

But you were supposed to meet her the night before, isn’t that right?

He nodded.

Why didn’t you go to her then?

He sniffed loudly but refused to meet her gaze.

Why?

I had trouble disabling the security camera that covers that area.

But you were able to make it malfunction tonight, Tambri stated.

He turned to face her, his hands dropping to his sides. But she wasn’t supposed to escape. You’ve got to believe that. We were just going to hook up, you know? There wasn’t supposed to be an escape.

Tambri brushed imaginary lint from her suit sleeve. Jenna didn’t want you. She was setting you up.

He licked his lips and raised his face. I know that now.

She brushed lint from the other sleeve, her voice detached. You’ll lose your job, and you didn’t even get the girl.

Radios barked in the hallway beyond the thin door. Jenna had confessed to murder and had eluded to the fact that she just may do it again—Tambri hoped they could find her before she made her next move.

Lent shuffled his feet. Will you arrest me now?

The investigator pulled handcuffs from the pouch at his waist. We’re placing you in custody for further questioning. Turn around and place your hands on the back of your head.

Lent complied, interlocking his fingers on the back of his head as instructed, shoulders slumped in submission. You know what they do to guards in jail?

Lent nodded.

Tambri moved toward the door, but stopped when she remembered who Lent really was. She turned back to face the man. I know about the conflict at North East, Gary. There were investigations into your solicitations but nothing has been proven, yet.

His blush deepened, and he refused to look at her.

Tambri stepped closer. Is that why you work in female detention?

Gary shook his head as the officer grasped his arms and the cuffs clicked into place.

Tell them the rest of the story and it’ll be easier for you, Tambri urged.

Gary winced but he followed dutifully as the officer led him from the room to transport him to the adult facility across town.

Tambri lifted her radio, waited for a moment of silence and called dispatch. I’ll be en route to the Reed residence to question Jenna’s parents.

Living on the other side of the parish, it would take a few minutes to get there, but the family could use a few more minutes of rest anyway. Tambri knew that was one luxury they’d be denied until she had their daughter back in custody.

CHAPTER 2: But we’re no Longer Dating

The inability to read expressions and emotions can help us live normal, well adjusted lives or it can turn us into prey.

Skyler Reed never thought he’d see Jenna again, especially not after she admitted to killing a man. Now she stood outside his window, her fist raised to knock again, her blue eyes dark and wild. She would have been sexy if she hadn’t been a killer. That’s what got him, the fact that she said she’d killed a man and had given the cops all the details. How could it not be true? But standing outside his window, her blond hair windblown and her lips pale, she looked harmless.

Killer, he had to remember that, even as he stared into her eyes. That’s why he’d written a letter breaking up with her—a letter because he didn’t know if he could handle seeing her face-to-face again.

Skyler glanced at the clock, hoping when he turned back to the window she’d be gone. Her hand pressed to the glass, her bottom lip caught between straight, white teeth. Skyler scrubbed the hair at the nape of his neck and stumbled backward, sure he was awake now and staring into the eyes of his ex-girlfriend turned ax murderer.

So, maybe she hadn’t actually used an ax, but he felt the principle was the same. Besides, murder betrayed all the bounds of trust and he couldn’t get involved with a girl like that again. What if he pissed her off? Would he be next and how would she do it? She was little, really; just over five feet tall and thin as any cheerleader in school. So how did a girl like that stab someone thirteen times?

Jenna knocked again and Skyler reached for the window latch before she woke his parents.

At two o’clock in the morning he wore nothing but his glow-in-the-dark boxers that said parental advisory across the cheeks. He hesitated inches from the latch. He should put on pants, but she’d already seen him in his underwear. He flipped open the window and stepped back as she climbed inside.

The moist summer air tumbled in with Jenna until she pulled the window closed behind her. She waited, back to the window, lips parted.

He said nothing.

Jenna caught her lip between her teeth again before releasing it in a long sigh that made his heart catch. Sky, I’ve missed you.

He stepped backward, his entire chest clenching. It was almost like when they were in kindergarten, and he worried she’d give him cooties, except murder wasn’t a contact disease. He swiped his hand through his hair.

What are you doing here? he asked, bracing himself behind a chair as far across the room as he could get.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked back toward the window. I need help.

She stood in a guard’s uniform that bunched around her ankles, her hair slipping from a sloppy bun to frame her face like angel wings. Her flushed cheeks actually made her appear scared and it triggered protective instincts he’d rather ignore. Skyler stepped from behind the chair. When did you get out?

About twenty-four hours ago.

How? he asked, not sure he wanted the answer. He shifted his weight and planted his hands on his hips for lack of a better place to set them. He figured asking her to sit would be too intimate and getting her a drink … well, it just seemed some manners were best kept from killers when they snuck through your bedroom window.

Jenna tucked her hair behind her ear and shuffled her feet. I’m not actually supposed to be here.

Skyler stepped forward, wanting to touch her and yet terrified to get too close. No, you’re not. My mother would kill us both if—

Jenna’s face fell. She turned to the window and half climbed out before Skyler stopped her.

Jenna?

She seemed not to have heard him so he moved closer and touched her lightly on the arm, sending a shock through his body. He stepped back as Jenna stumbled inside. Silence followed and even as he strained to hear any movement from his parents, he was comforted to hear nothing.

Where will you go?

Jenna pushed the stray hair from her eyes. I don’t know.

She looked so small and defenseless, so harmless. He couldn’t let her out on her own. What if something happened to her, but if he let her stay, what if something happened to him?

My parents, he mumbled, kicking himself before the words even left his mouth, they don’t get up until six.

Jenna hesitated, her eyes darting to the bed and back to the window.

They’re sound sleepers, if you need a few hours to decide where to go next.

Jenna’s nodded and slumped to the ground beside his bed. She wrapped her arms around her knees, braced her chin on them and stared up at him with eyes that made him melt inside.

Why did you come here? he whispered.

Jenna licked her lips. I didn’t know where else to go.

Skyler stepped away before he sat too, his legs crossed, back propped against the opposite wall.

Jenna tugged on the grey sleeved uniform, her slender fingers too small to be dangerous. I stole these clothes.

His stomach felt tight and woozy. I figured.

And the guard’s keys. She took them from her pocket and dropped them onto the thick carpet.

He watched them fall, disappearing behind a pile of dirty clothes. He wished his room was cleaner, but Jenna had seen it worse. Did it really matter anyway, if a killer saw your room messy or clean?

He shook the thought away. What did you do to the guard?

She raised one eyebrow. You think I killed him?

Skyler didn’t move.

Do I look like I could kill anyone? she asked.

He shook his head.

Jenna stretched her feet in front of her and rested her head against the mattress behind her. Remember that.

Skyler pulled his knees into his chest. The name tag on her shirt read G. Lent. She had taken out a guard and stolen his clothes. That had to take some thought—some strength.

Jenna lifted her head, her eyes half-closed as if fighting sleep. You’re still wondering about the guard.

Yes.

She stared at him for several minutes. He couldn’t move his eyes away. He had to stare into hers, to keep her riveted to the floor. Finally she spoke and he let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He came into my cell—offered certain privileges.

Skyler closed his eyes and swallowed. Did you … he couldn’t finish.

No. I used my cheerleading skills—kicked him in the head.

Then stole his clothes.

While he was unconscious.

You knocked him out.

Jenna nodded. He was more of a nerd than prison guard. It was easy.

And you just left him there.

Jenna licked her lips and glanced longingly at the door, no doubt hoping he’d offer her a drink or something to eat. I just left him there in his briefs, under that scratchy jail blanket. I didn’t kill him or anything.

Not even one stab wound? Skyler asked, half joking—half serious.

Not one.

Skyler swallowed hard.

Jenna licked her lips again.

You want iced tea or water? he asked.

Water.

Skyler stood and opened his door. He paused in the doorway long enough to watch Jenna unbutton three of the five buttons on the uniform before he walked to the kitchen for a glass.

He shouldn’t let her stay one minute longer. His parents would kill him. For all he knew, Jenna might kill him first. He shook his head and pulled a glass from the cupboard. Jenna wouldn’t kill him. She hadn’t even killed that pervert guard at the detention center. But she had killed that man in Hammond she’d never met before in her life. Why would she do such a thing? He’d have to ask her, but not tonight. That could wait until morning.

He filled the glass from the water dispenser in the fridge, bypassing the ice so it wouldn’t rattle in the cup. Not that his parents were light sleepers, but if they woke to find Jenna in the house—

Water trickled over his fingers and pooled on the ground in front of the refrigerator. He pulled the cup away and began cleanup. Skyler threw the wet dishtowel in the hamper and dug through the cupboards and fridge for snacks. He emerged with a granola bar and an apple. It would have to hold her until his parents left for work the next morning.

By the time he returned to his bedroom, Jenna lay asleep in his bed, his t-shirt and a pair of sweats on in place of the stolen uniform. The clothing made her look even smaller, more frail, and he doubted she’d lifted a hand to hurt anyone. But wasn’t that the guise every killer used? Look at Ted Bundy—

Skyler set the water and snacks on the nightstand and wrapped in a blanket from his closet. He curled up on the floor opposite Jenna and watched her sleep.

CHAPTER 3: Clueless and yet, Not Entirely

The relationship between victim and perpetrator can often be determined by the brutality of the crime.

The photo in Tambri’s hand held all the evidence she needed to convince her she’d been right to lock up Jenna. Blood pooled beneath the man’s body from thirteen stab wounds, each so deep it wound have taken all the strength Jenna possessed to make them.

But stabbing represented a close relationship with the victim, and Tambri had only been able to make one connection between Jenna and the victim. He was a substitute for the anger Jenna felt for the man who’d killed her brother. The man who’d been convicted thirteen times before being released long enough to get drunk and plow into Jacob, killing them both.

Jenna missed her brother so deeply that she volunteered to speak at drunk driving assemblies and made a statement at one that got her reprimanded—a wish that all drunk drivers would kill themselves before they had a chance to hurt the innocent.

Jenna had motive. Jenna had confessed, and she had admitted that there were others who would die if she couldn’t get her act together. Tambri had to stop her before that happened.

She scrutinized the picture again. The stabbing victim lay on his back in the living room, the television still blaring in the background. His belly bulged beyond the open flannel shirt, his hairy chest and flabby arms in stark contrast to the sleek leather furniture around him. The butcher knife lay at his side—no prints. Splatter covered the coffee table, couch and cream carpeting. Two cans of beer sat empty on the coffee table just beyond his head, blood camouflaging the brand. Several other cans in the kitchen proved it to be a light beer that had done him no good.

They’d found no footprints; no fingerprints, hair or clothing fibers. Divorced, he had his kids for the weekend, but they’d been at the mall, hanging with friends and shopping. His oldest son had found him.

Tambri slid the photo back into the folder and pulled out her report. Clint Sawyer’s wife had left him after his third conviction. She took the children and her husband became despondent, drinking, driving, unable to hold a job. He never hurt anyone else though, never killed anyone until he plowed into Tanner Michaels, paralyzing him from the waist down. Of course, that didn’t count for murder, so he served a few years, was released and murdered.

Were there similarities between this man and the man who’d killed Jenna’s brother? Yes, but she couldn’t understand how Jenna had selected him to take the blame. She felt that if she could understand that, she could figure out where Jenna would go next, unless she just selected drunk drivers at random.

Tambri closed the report and shoved her fingers through her hair. She normally woke at six a.m., but her bed