Paradise Lost (A Joe Collins Mystery)

By Bill Craig

Former cop Joe Collins goes after those serial killers who are a threat to society. Along with former partner Doris Linacre, he sets out to stop another bad guy, this time someone behind a series of missing women and kids -- gone, no trace left behind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AbsolutelyAmazingEbooks.com
• Release date: Apr 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310370465

Bill Craig

Bill Craig taught himself to read at age four and began writing his own stories at age six. He published his first novel at age 40 and says it only took him 34 years to become an overnight success! He has been publishing steadily ever since that first book Valley of Death and now has 27 books in print or ebook. Bill is the proud father of four children ranging in age from 38 to almost 8. He has 7 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild. Mr. Craig has worked a wide variety of jobs over the years from private security and corrections work to being a grill cook and dishwasher. He has been a news reporter, done factory work and even a stint as a railroad clerk. He currently does customer service work to support his writing addiction. His ultimate goal in life is to break the record held by pulp author and creator of The Shadow, Walter B. Gibson, for writing the most works in a single year!

Book preview

PARADISE

LOST

BILL CRAIG

A JOE COLLINS MYSTERY

ABSOLUTELY AMAZING eBOOKS

Published by Whiz Bang LLC, 926 Truman Avenue, Key West, Florida 33040, USA.

Copyright © 2012 by Bill Craig.

Electronic compilation copyright © 2013 by Whiz Bang LLC.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized ebook editions.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. While the author has made every effort to provide accurate information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.

Cover Photo by Autumn Picket.

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To Attorney Paul Baylor, Guardian of Truth, Justice, and the American Way and his paralegal Hughes. Go with God my friends. And as always, for my young son William Jacob Craig, may you grow up to make me proud. Wendy Doty for being who you are, one of the best friends I have ever had.

The only paradise is paradise lost.

- Marcel Proust (1871 - 1922)

Chapter One

The sun was setting over the Gulf of Mexico. A slow breeze was blowing in off the Gulf, ruffling his dark hair. Joe Collins lifted the bottle of Killian’s Red beer and took a long pull from it. He enjoyed this time of day the most, sitting on his wooden front porch, rocking in the antique rocking chair. Watching the sinking sun play on the water, glittering like jewels in the gentle waves. In the distance he could see a couple of sailboats racing north towards Bayport or Tampa. His dark mustache was starting to show some gray in it. Collins was wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves cut out and a pair of cut off jeans. Rubber flips flops were on the deck in front of his feet. There was a weather-beaten wooden end table next to the chair. A pack of GPC Ultra light 100’s and a lighter lay on the table next to a glass ashtray. The ashtray was half-full of cigarette butts.

Collins sat the bottle of beer down and drew a cigarette from the box, then picked up the lighter and flipped the top back. His thumb worked the striker wheel igniting a tongue of flame. He touched the end of the cigarette to the flame and he inhaled, and then snapped the lighter closed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. The crunch of gravel under tires alerted him to the arrival of company. Collins reached down and pulled a Sig-Sauer 9mm pistol from the table, holding it loosely in his right hand, concealing it on his lap.

He had made a lot of enemies when he was a cop. The company might not be friendly. He couldn’t honestly remember any company since he had walked off the force after catching the Butterfly Killer. In fact, most of his old friends seemed to be avoiding him, not wanting to be stained by the stigma of what he had done to catch the Butterfly Killer. Collins waited patiently, puffing on his cigarette as he heard the car door open and close. Then measured footsteps on the gravel. The tread was light, like a woman’s. He wondered about that. He wasn’t expecting company, especially of the fairer sex.

Joe, a familiar voice came from the side of the house. Collins turned his head. Doris Linacre stood there. Her dark hair was longer now, and she had added highlights. Collins decided he liked it.

Hey Partner. How have you been? Collins smiled. It wasn’t something he did often. Doris was the only person he had ever been close to since Bethany, his wife, had been murdered.

Long time no see, Joe. You never call, you never write, Doris smiled back at him, but the smile was strained. She knew why he had left the police department.

Just can’t seem to get motivated. You look good, Collins said and meant it. He could still see the thin slightly purplish scar across her neck where the Butterfly Killer had nearly killed her when they were responding to one of his body dumps. It was something that he had never forgiven himself for.

Wish I could say the same for you, Joe. You’ve let yourself go some, Doris looked at him.

It happens, Collins shrugged. He had never been real chatty.

You up to doing some work? Doris walked up on the wooden porch, her heels clomping on the weathered wood boards.

I’m retired. You were there, Collins reminded her.

Joe, I need your help, Doris looked at him, her eyes pleading.

For what? Collins looked at her.

People are going missing, Doris sighed.

People are always going missing. What has that got to do with me? he met her gaze.

Seven people, Joe. Women and kids. They are just gone. No trace left behind, Doris shook her head.

There is always something left behind, Collins stubbed out his cigarette and reached for another. He offered her one. Doris took one out and waited as Collins lit his and extended the lighter to her. She took a long pull on the cigarette and Collins snapped the lighter closed. Doris exhaled a cloud of smoke from her nostrils, looking like a dragon.

Not this time, Joe. I can’t even find a fucking pattern, Doris shook her head.

What do the victims have in common? Collins asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

Absolutely nothing, other than the fact that they are women and children, Doris looked down at him.

Doris, you’re a good detective. I taught you everything. What do you need me for? Collins looked up at her.

I need a fresh pair of eyes, Joe. I need you and I need your instincts, Doris sighed.

You got this okayed? He raised an eyebrow.

By the Mayor himself, Doris smiled slightly.

Were you holding a gun to his head? Collins smiled at her. There was no love lost between himself and the Mayor of Bayport.

Nope. Just pointed out how much the tourist trade would suffer if word got out that people were just vanishing, never to be seen again, Doris shook her head.

You realize they are more likely than not dead? Joe sighed.

No bodies have turned up, Doris met his gaze.

That doesn’t mean they are alive. It just means that your perp or perps are really careful, Collins took a long draw on his cigarette. He left his pistol in his lap as he exhaled and picked up his beer and took a long pull on it.

It could mean that they are still alive, Doris shrugged.

It could, Collins agreed. But then the question is why?

White slavery? Doris raised an eyebrow in question.

"Always a possibility. But then again, why? What made these vics special?" Collins looked at her. He finished the beer and sat the empty bottle on the table.

That is what I need you to figure out, Doris sighed.

What terms? Collins looked at her, waiting.

Consultant. No reinstatement to the force, entirely unofficial, Doris replied.

That means I don’t have the same rules you do, Joe looked at her, studying her eyes.

Right. But it gives the city deniability, Doris nodded.

Meaning the Mayor takes no responsibility unless it goes well, Collins shook his head.

Pretty much, Doris nodded.

What the hell, it ain’t like I got any better offers. Seven people you say? Collins tapped the ashes off his cigarette.

You’ll do it? Doris looked uncertain.

Haven’t got anything better to do, Collins shrugged.

Thank you, Joe, Doris leaned over and hugged him.

You want a beer? Collins smiled.

Sure thing, Doris replied.

Good, I hate drinking alone, Collins grinned.

I had a feeling you were going to say that, Doris smiled.

When do I start? Collins looked at her.

Is tomorrow too soon? Doris asked.

Nope, Collins stood and walked inside to get her a beer.

≈≈≈

The moon was glowing brightly in the sky as Collins walked Doris Linacre to her car. They stopped next to her car, behind his little red Ford Focus. Collins took her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes. I’ve missed you, Kid, Collins whispered.

I’ve missed you too, Joe, she met his gaze, her dark brown eyes wide and moist.

But… he left it unfinished.

You’ll never let her go, Joe. Even though you got her killer. I can’t compete with a ghost. And even though he deserved every bit of it, I’ll never get out of my mind what I saw you do, Doris shook her head.

I didn’t have a choice. You were in danger, Joe looked away.

There is always a choice, Joe. The brutality; that was a side of you I never knew, Doris looked back up at him.

It was a side I hoped that no one would ever see.

Joe, Doris squeezed his hands.

Why did you really get me to help with this? Collins looked into her eyes again.

Because to save those women and kids, we need somebody like you. A maverick who doesn’t go by the rules and will do what it takes, Doris let go of his hands.

That’s it? Collins watched as she climbed into her car.

See you at the station tomorrow, Joe, Doris closed the door and started her car. Collins stood watching as she backed out of his driveway. Her headlights washed over him as she backed out and then drove away down the road. Collins stood there watching her taillights until they vanished in the distance.

After standing in the darkness for a few minutes, Collins turned and walked back around to his front door. It would be interesting to see what the next day would bring. He walked inside and went straight to the freezer and removed a bottle of vodka he kept there. He poured it into an 8oz tumbler and recapped the bottle and put it back in the freezer. Then he carried the tumbler back onto the deck and returned to the rocker. One thing he was sure of. Sleep would not come easy tonight.

Chapter Two

Doris Linacre wiped tears from her eyes as she drove away from Joe Collins’ home. She hadn’t realized how hard it would be to see him again, following how the chase for the Butterfly Killer had ended. She had looked at him with almost as much horror as she had the man that had tried to kill her. Joe had turned and walked out, leaving his badge behind.

What made it worse was that she still loved Joe. However, Doris knew that was something that could not happen. It hadn’t been her idea to approach Joe to work this case. But she had agreed readily enough. The investigation was at a standstill. If anybody could shake anything loose, it was Joe. When he was on a case he was like a force of nature. If he broke the case, he might even find a form of redemption for himself.

She wondered what was up when Captain Michael DeRosa had summoned her to his office. He had not been especially happy when she had transferred from homicide to missing persons after the Butterfly case. She had wondered if she were about to be pulled off the current case. DeRosa had looked up when she entered and motioned for her to shut the door to his office.

Any luck on the missing women and kids? DeRosa’s steely gaze seemed almost to pin her in place.

All our leads have dried up, Doris admitted, pushing a stray lock of hair out