Shadows of Doubt: Jenna James Legal Thrillers

By Linda S. Prather

District Attorney Jenna James is torn between her loyalty for the people she loves and her oath of office. The bomber has returned with a vengeance and her world is clouded with shadows of doubt. To save the man she loves she’ll have to trust and join forces with the one man she detests above all others—Criminal Defense Attorney, Marcus Dade.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Prather
• Release date: Aug 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536502510

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Kerri studied the notes she’d added to the diary, comparing them to the ones written before. The writing was a close match, but a handwriting expert would see the subtle differences. She would eventually have to recopy the entire book just in case it was ever found. His legacy had to live on without blemish.

But what about your legacy?

She ignored the voice in her head, much as she’d ignored Keira most of their life. Kerri would have her legacy in time, but not until Simone’s work was finished, and not until the world was ready to recognize Kerri’s talent as an artist.

She closed the book, picked up her glass of wine, rose, and went to study the painting of Jake Savior she’d hung on the den wall. Simone would have been proud of her. The painting was some of Kerri’s best work. She’d captured not only his handsome face but also the quintessence of his soul. She’d painted him while he watched his wife feeding ducks in the park. The eyes always revealed so much to her. She’d captured his compassion and profound love for his wife, as well as the shadows of torment and loss not quite forgotten. She knew where those shadows came from. It must have been horrible for an eight-year-old child to watch his mother beaten day after day until finally, in a moment of sheer desperation, she’d attacked her attacker, giving her son a chance to escape and run for help. Help that came, but much too late.

A deep, rattling cough came from behind the bedroom door. Kerri’s shoulders slumped, and the glass she held shook as anguish ripped through her like a thousand tiny paper cuts that throbbed and ached. It was their fault Simone had been hurt. He’d been upset because the job wasn’t finished. Like an artist when the painting was incomplete or an author when the book was only half written. No true artist could live with that. It ate away at the soul until the artist slowly starved to death.

She opened the door, watching the sheet covering the withered, scarred body for any signs of movement that would signal he was still breathing. The sheet rose slightly as another rattling cough shook the bed. Kerri blew him a kiss, closed the door and leaned against it for a moment to steady herself. He no longer bore any resemblance to the man she’d fallen in love with, but his essence was still in there somewhere, struggling to survive. His zest for life was one of the things she loved about him.

Kerri poured another glass of wine and returned to the painting of Savior. That was the beginning of her legacy. Any normal child would have been driven insane by what Jake Savior had endured with both his mother’s death and then his father’s subsequent suicide. Instead he’d followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the police force as a champion for justice. People like him could never see the true artistic beauty of Simone’s bombings. Like her, Simone was a true artist. He observed his subjects. And even though their death was imminent, Simone made sure they went out in an explosion of beauty.

Her gaze fell on the remaining four paintings sitting near the baseboard—Harry Redmond, Clifford Beaumont, Jenna James, and Marcus Dade. They were all guilty of murdering the heart and soul of the only human being she had ever loved. She would be their judge and jury, and she would mete out justice fitting their crimes.

She picked up her paintbrush and stared into the blue eyes of Jake Savior as she sipped her wine. It wasn’t enough just to kill him. She painted a scar running from his right eye to just below his chin. She wanted him to suffer, as she had suffered. To die a little each day as he realized there was nothing left to live for. Before she was finished, they would all go insane.

A loud moan came from behind the closed door, followed by another rattle. She glanced at the syringe and bottle sitting on the coffee table. The doctor had told her the time would come when Simone’s suffering would become unbearable. She tossed the paintbrush into the fireplace and picked up the syringe and bottle before walking slowly to the bedroom door. It was time for his suffering to end and theirs to begin.

CHAPTER ONE

Wake up, Savior. Time to say goodbye.

Ice-cold water sloshed over Jake Savior’s head and ran down the groove of his spine. He opened his eyes in tiny slits and watched the rivulets turn red as they dripped from his chin. He tried to raise his head and open his swollen eyes more than a mere crack. It hurt. His entire body was one big throbbing pain. Memory came flooding back—the knock on the door, the beating, Cara’s screams. The memories overshadowed the pain, and his head jerked up, and his eyes opened fully. Cara.

The room was semidark, a curtain-covered wall directly in front of him. He knew the water had come from behind him, but he couldn’t twist his head enough to see who was there. Where am I, and where’s Cara?

Somewhere in the distance, someone chuckled softly. Hell.

He strained against the ropes binding him to the chair and rocked back and forth. Nothing moved. He glanced at the floor. Concrete, and his chair was secured to the floor. He took a second look at the walls, noting they were all glass covered, surrounding him on at least two sides in a glass box. The wall behind the curtains was probably glass, too.

His movements had started a pounding inside his head, and he took long, deep breaths to keep from passing out. Always figured I would burn in hell. Join me, and we’ll make it a double party.

The chuckle came again. You’re not gonna burn, Savior. But you’re going to wish you had.

A whirring sound started, and the curtains parted, revealing Cara on the other side of the glass. Their eyes met and locked through the glass panel separating them, and a different pain, one more devastating, seared his soul. The huge red clock strapped around her chest was counting down. Fifty-nine seconds.

No. Don’t do this.

Fifty-eight seconds.

He sought her eyes again as a single tear coursed down her cheek, and she smiled at him, mouthing the words I love you.

Fifty seconds.

It’s me you want, dammit. Let her go.

Forty-five seconds.

His face burned as salt from his tears coursed through open cuts. Let her go!

Thirty seconds.

Cara shook her head and mouthed, It’s okay. She wasn’t begging, crying, or screaming for her life. Instead her face held a calm sereneness.

I’m sorry, Cara. God, I’m so damn sorry.

Twenty seconds.

She smiled at him again.

Ten seconds.

He couldn’t take his eyes from hers, and he tried to smile but knew it was more of a grimace. I love you.

He consoled himself with the fact the glass would shatter, tearing him to shreds. At least they would die together.

Five seconds.

She blinked, the first reflection of fear widening her eyes.

One second.

The explosion rocked his room, blood splattering the glass in front of him and obscuring his view as a scream erupted from somewhere deep inside. No!

Time passed, and he watched the blood slowly trickle down the glass panel. His body went cold and numb, followed immediately by a burning rage.

You better kill me, too, you son of a bitch. You hear me? You’d better kill me, too.

Silence met his cries, and a thousand memories flashed through his mind. The first time he’d seen her. Their first kiss. The way she pressed her cold feet against him as they snuggled at night. The softness of her skin beneath his fingers. The way she smiled. The gleam in her sapphire eyes when she was excited. The little things he’d taken for granted.

His gaze strayed to the glass partition, and one rational thought surfaced. Why hadn’t it shattered? The only glass that could withstand that kind of pressure was used for high-security areas, like the president’s car or the Popemobile.

Nausea welled up inside as he watched the blood turn purple, clotting in globs like some artistic painting gone wrong.

He closed his eyes, seeking memories, faces, and names that might have been mentioned. Anything he could hold on to. He would find them. All of them. The bastards had made a mistake. They’d left him alive.

Damn you! he screamed, the movement opening cuts that started the flow of blood again. He didn’t care. All that mattered was finding them. He imagined ways of torturing them. Acid. Acid was good. He would dip them in it, one inch at a time. Before he was finished, they would beg to die.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside him, and he opened his eyes and stared at the glass as convulsive sobs ripped through him.

CHAPTER TWO

Jenna James woke and glanced at the bedside clock as Harry slid into bed beside her. Five thirty a.m. You’re late. Bad night?

Harry pulled her to him, fitting the gentle curves of her body close to his. No worse than normal. One shooting, one stabbing, two domestic quarrels, and a drug deal gone wrong. He nibbled at her ear, and she snuggled up to enjoy the warmth of his body against hers. You could call in sick and stay home today, Harry whispered. After all, it’s our anniversary.

Jenna pushed him away. Anniversary?

Harry rolled onto his back and placed his hands beneath his head. One year ago today, we answered a call for a possible burglary on Monsanto. He grinned at her. There you stood, barefoot and mad as hell, trying to break into your own house.

Jenna tossed her arm across his chest and laid her head on his shoulder. And you call that an anniversary? Judge Elkins had just broken my finger, torn apart my house, and threatened to kill me. On top of that, I found out my boyfriend was a woman beater, rapist, and murderer. Not what I want to remember as an anniversary.

Harry placed his right arm around her. Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to open old wounds.

It wasn’t all bad. When I asked Drago for the names of police officers I could trust, he named you and Jake, and just when I needed you, there you were.

The alarm went off, and Jenna slipped out of his embrace and out of bed in one swift motion. She leaned in and kissed him. The arraignment for that drug dealer you arrested yesterday is this morning. If I’m not there, he might go free, and then you would just have to catch him again.

Harry yawned loudly. For every one we catch, another shows up tomorrow.

Job security, Jenna called over her shoulder, grabbing her clothes from the closet and heading for the shower. If it weren’t for criminals, we would both be out of a job.

She heard the sound of his even breathing as she closed the bathroom door. Unfortunately Harry was right. Over the last few months, drug dealing had been the major crime activity on the streets. Drugs were flooding in from somewhere like a well that just wouldn’t dry up. No matter how many dealers they put away, law enforcement never reached the top. An image of Marcus Dade flashed through her mind as the warm water flowed over her face and trickled down her back. She wasn’t sure if he was part of the drug trade or made his money presenting an airtight defense to the upper-echelon dealers they occasionally caught. She wouldn’t be surprised, though, if that bastard was involved. Since Judge Elkins was no longer dismissing his cases for him, and David Garcia wasn’t around to help him make deals with the DA’s office, Dade needed another cash cow to maintain his flagrant lifestyle.

Jenna’s thoughts turned to the last year. She wasn’t always sure about Jake, but Harry had been a godsend. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man—strong and yet gentle when he needed to be. He was also honest, loyal, and he loved her. She smiled as she lathered her body. Her new home was ready to move into, and both Harry and Jake had that gleam in their eye. She was pretty sure Harry was going to pop the question soon.

The idea of marrying Harry brought both joy and sorrow, and she frowned as she poured shampoo on her hair and scrubbed vigorously. Harry wanted children, but she’d seen so much, been through so much that the thought of bringing an innocent child into the world terrified her. Animals like Michael Elkins were still out there.

She turned off the water, reached for a towel, and rubbed herself down. She wasn’t going to ruin her day with thoughts of the past. The last year had been quiet. No one trying to kill them. Even Agent Starks had been suspiciously silent. The calm before the storm.

The thought intruded as she grabbed the hair dryer and brushed the mess of curls her hair always turned into overnight. A quick glance at her watch showed she had just enough time to straighten her hair. Several times, she’d had a nightmare about standing before the judge while looking like Shirley Temple. She looked in the mirror and grinned. The fact that her hair was a mixture of red, brown, and burgundy was surprise enough for most people. David had called it her one rebellion against the staid legal system.

Thoughts of David brought an extreme sadness she had yet to deal with. He’d served as DA for the state of Texas for over eight years. Jenna had trained under him, listened and learned from him. One of the proudest moments of her life was when he’d had her appointed ADA. Even knowing what he’d done with Marcus Dade—the cases he’d deliberately lost, the oaths of office he’d broken—she didn’t miss him any less.

After pulling on the dark-blue pants she’d chosen, she slipped on the cream-colored silk blouse and fastened the buttons. She still hadn’t replaced her Manolo Blahnik heels she’d broken to help convince authorities she’d been kidnapped by Jordan Elkins. Thoughts of Jordan and Kamela made her smile. She and Harry were godparents to their baby. With all the bad things that had happened—her home destroyed, Michael Elkins raping her and killing her friend Ben Andrews—the fact she’d been able to get Jordan Elkins released from prison at least made it all bearable. The truth was she occasionally missed the excitement of running for her life, and the late-night meetings with Harry and Jake to plan their next move, but not enough to go through it again.

She shoved her feet into blue heels, finished straightening her hair, and applied a light coating of foundation and just a touch of mascara. FBI Agent Carl Starks had called Elkins a small fish in a big pond. She’d thought at the time he was investigating Marcus Dade, but a year had passed, and Dade was still manipulating the system. Maybe if she were lucky they would never hear from Agent Starks.

Her cell rang, and she glanced at the number. Private. Her stomach clutched in a muscle spasm, and she had the distinct feeling her luck had just run out.

Hello.

Jenna, wake up Harry and get the hell out of there.

She recognized Starks’s rich, sultry voice just as pounding sounded from the front door. What’s wrong?

The line went dead, and the pounding increased.

Police. Open up.

Jenna headed for the door just as the wood splintered and a mass of armed officers flooded the living room.

CHAPTER THREE

Loki Redmond bolted up in bed, her eyes wide and heart pounding. Acclimating herself to time and place, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head upon them, taking deep gulping breaths to quiet the rhythm of her heart until, slowly, the image of dripping blood disappeared. Dreams and visions were a part of her culture, but she had lost the gift ten years ago at age fifteen. She’d missed it for a while and believed the spirits were angry with her for having left the reservation and moved to Corpus Christi. In time, she’d simply accepted the fact that the world was different, the spirits no longer walked close to their loved ones, and dreams and visions were no longer necessary.

She rocked back and forth humming the song her mother would sing to her when she woke from a bad dream. Just as she did back then, she knew it wasn’t just a dream. Someone she cared deeply for was hurting, perhaps dying. Loki tossed off the covers, padded barefoot to the kitchen, and filled a pot with water and sassafras root. It was only five a.m., and the first light of dawn was still hidden in the shadows of night. The deed was done. That much was clear from the dream. The one thing she’d always hated most of all was the helplessness of seeing events that had already happened.

Loki stared absently into the pot, waiting for the water to boil and turn red, signaling that it was ready to steep. Sassafras would not have been her choice that morning, except that it was the drink her mother had always given her after a dream or vision. She’d told her it would replenish her and wash away the feelings of guilt and pain.

She removed the pot from the burner and covered it, setting the timer for five minutes. She had time to dress, but she had no clue what she was dressing for. After returning to the bedroom, she pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Boots or moccasins? She opted for the moccasins just as the timer beeped from the kitchen. There was nothing to do but drink her tea and wait. Eventually Harry would call her.

~ ~ ~

While she waited for Harry to shower and dress, Jenna swept up the wood chips that had splintered from the door. She wavered between anger, disbelief, and grief. The police department’s handling of the situation had been deplorable. If the killer had been holding Harry and Jenna hostage, both of them would be dead. Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up the dustpan, and her gaze strayed to the closed bathroom door. And then they’d simply blurted out the information about Jake and Cara as if they were some unknown victims that no one cared about. How could they do that to Harry? Jake wasn’t just another police officer; he was Harry’s partner and his best friend. Her cell rang, interrupting her thoughts.

Hello.

Jenna, Clifford Beaumont. I just heard the news. How can I help?

Jenna sank down on the edge of the couch. She wasn’t surprised that Clifford had heard the news before it was released to the public. The self-made millionaire was one of the most politically powerful figures in Texas, so little happened in Corpus Christi that he wasn’t aware of. Tell me what you think.

I think the bomber’s back to finish the job he started a year ago.

Jenna heard the water turn off in the shower. Clifford’s thoughts mirrored her own. William Elkins had hired a bomber to kill Jenna, Harry, and Jake, as well as anyone else involved in his prosecution. Without Clifford’s help, they would all be dead. She also knew that Clifford had been quietly trying to locate the guy for the last year. So, what do we do?

I’m sending Geno and Marko to keep an eye on you until we know for sure. You need anything else, you let me know, Clifford said.

We’re heading to St. Mary’s Hospital.

They’ll meet you there.

The hospital room was cold, and Jenna gripped Harry’s hand as the two of them stared at the swollen, battered face of Jake Savior. She steered her thoughts away from what she’d heard about Cara and homed in on what the doctor was saying.

He has a broken rib and over a hundred stitches on his face and across his chest and back. None of the cuts should be life threatening since he was found before any severe blood loss set in. His face is the worst. Once he’s recovered enough and the swelling has gone down, we’ll have our plastic surgeon take a look at him. We’ll keep a close eye on him for the next few hours.

Jenna slumped down in the chair Harry had placed next to the bed. She knew he was biting at the bit to go to the scene and join the investigation. Not just because it was Jake, but because that’s who Harry was. A horrible crime had been committed, and he was a cop. He wanted to be on the job—especially after the fiasco at his house. The only explanation they’d been given for the rampage was that the police had received a tip the killer was inside. She had every intention of complaining to Chief Montgomery. Go ahead, Harry. I’ll stay with Jake in case he wakes up. She pointed toward the door where Beaumont’s bodyguards, Geno and Marko, had taken up residence. Nothing is going to get past them.

Harry bent and kissed her softly on the lips, and she tried to say something witty but the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t envy him the hours ahead. From what they’d been told, it would take days to scrub down and collect the blood and bone fragments of Cara Savior.

I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Jenna nodded, her voice failing. The silence folded in around her as she listened to his fading footsteps. She’d wanted to tell him she loved him, but the words seemed inappropriate in front of Jake. The police were investigating the case as a personal attack on Jake, but the call from Agent Starks had told her it was much more than that, and the call from Clifford had confirmed her suspicions.

She trembled as tears formed behind her lashes, and she struggled to hold in the sobs she knew were coming. The year of quiet had made them careless. They hadn’t forgotten about the bomber, they’d simply assumed he’d moved on to greener pastures. But why Cara? She’d had nothing to do with the Elkinses, Dade, or anything. She was innocent.

Jenna shivered again as clarity sunk in. Except for the fact Cara loved Jake. The bomber wasn’t coming after them—he was coming after the people they loved, destroying them emotionally before he destroyed them physically.

She fought the urge to run after Harry and keep him with her so she could protect him. If they had to die, she wanted them to die together.

A commotion at the doorway caught her attention, and she glanced over. Geno and Marko were blocking the path of two suited and, from first impressions, important people. She caught a glimpse of the badges they flashed, another indication that more than just an attack on Jake was involved.

Miss James, we need to speak with you.

Jenna glanced at Jake. He was still sleeping and probably would be for hours. At least, if he was lucky. The physical pain he would have to endure was nothing compared to the heart-wrenching pain of waking up and realizing it wasn’t just a bad dream.

She stood and walked to the door. It’s okay, guys. She held out her hand, which was clasped in a firm shake by the older of the two. What can I do for you?

Unlike most professionals, he didn’t introduce himself, and his bland expression didn’t change. As I said, we would like to speak with you. His eyes flicked to Geno and Marko. Alone.

Jenna was usually a good judge of character, and she didn’t like those two. The crisp black suits and shiny oxfords reminded her of Carl Starks, but their attitude screamed, Be careful. They could be FBI, or Secret Service, or some other branch of the government that stayed hidden until something happened to bring them out of their caves. Could I see those badges again, please?

They flashed them quickly before placing them on their belts.

No, I would actually like to see them, she said pleasantly, her eyes watching their faces as they passed them to her.

Secret Service and Homeland Security, not FBI. Theodore Davis and Stephen Graves.

Jenna passed the badges to them. "I think, Mr. Graves, what you said was you needed to speak with me. I’ll be more than happy to talk with you, but alone isn’t an option. She ignored him and addressed Geno and Marko. One of you can go with me. The other isn’t to leave this doorway or let anyone in."

Marko placed a hand on her shoulder. I’ll go with you.

Davis took a step toward them. Alone, Miss James.

Jenna shook her head, meeting the steely green eyes head-on. And as I just told your partner, Mr. Davis, that’s not going to happen. If you want to talk to me, he goes with us.

Davis and Graves exchanged glances, and Graves shrugged. All right.

Jenna held onto Marko’s arm as they followed the two toward the nurses’ station and down the hall to a room marked Conference Room One. She entered the open doorway and took a seat at the head of the huge table occupying most of the room. She motioned for Marko to sit beside her, but