First Step Murder

By H.R. Whidden

Faxon Bennett, military special forces now private detective and part time bouncer. He doesn't anticipate getting involved in a case with a criminal mastermind involved in importing heroin, grand theft, money laundering and murder. And he certainly isn't looking for a bright, strong young woman to steal his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H.R. Whidden
• Release date: Oct 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370308682

H.R. Whidden

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FIRST STEP MURDER

H. R. Whidden

Text copyright © 2014 H. R. Whidden

All Rights Reserved

Table of Contents

PRELUDE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

PRELUDE

I want that piece of property. We both have the same interest. Buying those expensive inner city properties, and then selling, a year or so later, has been a safe way to launder a lot of our money.

Let me handle this Kasam, we’re partners, you’re in Saudi Arabia, I’m in Boston and there’s plenty of properties, we’ll go after those first. In the mean time I’ll get someone to take care of Clayton Lewis, and then we’ll get the property from his daughter. Don’t worry I have men that can handle any problem that comes along Kasam. It may take time to do it right, but it’ll be worth it. I have one of my men on the inside at Lewis Construction anyway. One way or another we’ll have that property.

* * *

The addiction Jessie Walker brought back from Afghanistan during his tours as a marine had been his ruin. He walked along a side street in Boston where drugs and sex were sold nearly out in the open. He only had enough money to get a small amount of heroine, but that would be enough for right now. His dealer Slick Jimmy handed him the small folded packet in exchange for the cash in his hand. He wiped his nose with a dirty sleeve and before he could find a place to sit out of sight and shoot up, a large sedan stopped along the curb and the back door swung open.

Get in Ensign Walker, the man said.

Jessie recognized that voice and like he’d done so many times before as a marine he jumped at his commanding officers order.

Lieutenant Commander, how’d you know where to find me sir?

Never mind that Ensign Walker let’s go see your wife. I found out she’s living in public housing struggling to feed your daughters.

They drove to the run down city housing project, and the Lieutenant Commander followed Ensign Walker through the door and into the small two bedroom apartment. Jessie told his wife and daughters to go into the bedroom and shut the door.

"I’ve heard you’re having a hard time adjusting to civilian life ensign. It’s a shame your wife and young daughters suffer because of it.

Why are you telling me this Sir? I’m a junkie, a broken man, there’s nothing I can do about it.

He sat at the small table. His hand shook as he pulled out a needle and syringe, a small spoon, a short candle, and an elastic strap to wrap around his upper arm.

That’s where I come in Ensign Walker, I can help, I can make sure your wife gets a nice house and a car, and your kids go to a good school, I’ll make sure their cared for ensign. I’ll make sure you have your medication, you might say, until your mission here is over.

Jessie poured the packet of heroin into the spoon and held it over the small flame from the candle.

So you give me your word, you’ll take care of them? What’s the mission sir?

I need someone to step up and take control of a situation. There’s a man in my way, and unfortunately there’s only one way to take care of him, and it has to look like an accident.

After a long talk the agreement was made, Jessie spoke to his wife away from the children.

Linda, take the girls and go with the Lieutenant Commander, he’s gonna take care of everything.

And what about you Jessie, his wife asked?

There hasn’t been anything between you and me in a long time Linda. For once in my life I’m trying to do something for you and the girls. I can’t live like this anymore.

* * *

The lieutenant commander took the ensign’s wife and his two daughters to Philadelphia. They moved into a nice house not far from schools and given a cash allowance. After returning to Boston the lieutenant commander paid cash for an old used car for Ensign Walker.

The next night the lieutenant commander sat in his car at the corner of Kings Street and Goldsmith road in Littleton, a small town just west of Boston. He watched as the Mercedes S class sedan turned south on Goldsmith road.

* * *

Ensign Jessie Walker had injected himself with heroin. He sat in the old Impala, and took a long drink from the bottle of vodka in his right hand. Despite the heroin and half of the bottle consumed, he was still alert, nervous about what he was about to do. His mind remembered a time being pinned down by radical Islamist in northern Afghanistan. The small town was perfect for radicals to cross over the border from Islamabad Pakistan, not too far away. They produced plenty of young men and women willing to go kill Americans.

There were two bombed out buildings just on the edge of town and his platoon had been surrounded by overwhelming odds. Bullets chipped the stone around him and occasionally he’d shoot back hoping they wouldn’t be overrun. When they came he remembered firing at robed men, everyone was shooting. Three marines were shot, one dead, and two seriously wounded. Jessie heard a woman’s voice pleading for help just as the firefight had suddenly stopped. She walked toward them with her hands above her head. She was wearing a burka, crying she got closer, and then she ran forward through the half destroyed stone doorway. With marines standing there not knowing what to do. The woman shouted Allah Akbar and she exploded. As if in slow motion Ensign Walker watched the woman’s head, arms and legs shoot off in different directions as her torso turned into a huge spray of red. Out of the twenty six marines that fought that day there were only twelve that lived, Ensign Jessie Walker was one of them. Situations and memories like that turned him to drugs and soon to his end. He took another long drink from the bottle of vodka and his prepaid cell phone rang.

* * *

The expensive black sedan had just turned south on Goldsmith Rd. Clayton Lewis looked at the man sitting in a car parked along the side of the road at the intersection. He thought it was strange this late at night and considered turning around and offering help. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the headlights come on and the car pull onto the road. Clayton was relieved, he didn’t want to turn around and play Good Samaritan he was anxious to be home.

I wish I’d gone with Harper to the horse show today instead of a banquet listening to a bunch of hospital assholes, Clayton Lewis said to his wife.

It’s what we do Clayton, it’s the biggest job for the company, except the Lewis Towers project. I’m glad you turned down that offer to purchase the last piece of downtown property from my grandparents.

I don’t care what they offer, nothing’s going to stop me from building the Lewis Towers that’ll be our families heritage, something to leave our daughter and her children.

* * *

Go now Ensign, said the lieutenant commander, don’t disappoint your men or your commanding officer.

Jessie threw the phone on the floor, took another drink and dropped the bottle pushing the accelerator to the floor. His hands gripped the wheel at ten and two, his knuckles white. Fifty miles per hour, sixty, seventy, eighty miles per hour, he had a little over a mile to reach top speed yet. There was no one else on the road this late at night. He could see the headlights now, one hundred miles per hour, one ten, one twenty. The car shook, the ensign looked at the black car coming at him. Now, he swerved into the other lane.

When the two cars impacted they both burst into flames, a door from Jesse Walkers car flew through the air, smaller parts of both cars rained down on the road and shoulder. Secondary explosions went off from the cars gas tanks, fully engulfing both.

* * *

The first officer on the scene stopped near the two cars on the shoulder of the road. With his patrol car lights flashing he got out, opened his trunk, and took out a fire extinguisher, then ran to what was left of the black sedan. The flames were dying down but he emptied it inside the front of the car anyway. What was left of the two bodies was nothing but twisted, grotesque, blackened figures. The other car was worse and the officer could see what was left of a body. There were pieces of both vehicles everywhere. An ambulance and two more officers pulled up, it was the coroner later that took a wallet from the driver’s back pocket barely able to see the name and address on the driver’s license.

CHAPTER ONE

The cell phone that sat on the small bedside table rang for the third time. Rolling over and picking it up he answered, Faxon Bennett Investigations.

I was told you could help me Mr. Bennett, you came highly recommended by a satisfied customer I met at the club, my names Shira Brennon.

Her accent was thick, Russian or Slavic he thought.

Before I agree Mrs. Brennon, I’m going to need to know what kind of help you need.

I’d rather discuss it in person. It’s an issue involving my husband.

Do you know Ned Devine’s Irish Pub?

I’m sorry, I don’t, but I can have my driver find it.

It’s in the Quincy Market Building at Faneuil Hall Marketplace, there’s a bar on the second floor I’ll meet you there at 9:00.

I’ll be there Mr. Bennett.

Faxon had been Army Special Forces in Afghanistan. During his forth tour of duty a roadside IED, (improvised explosive device) exploded and killed two, it tore an arm and a leg off the solder next to him in their Humvee. With his tour at its end he left the service and moved back to Boston. He got his private investigators license and a permit to carry a gun and without much investment started his own business, Faxon Bennett Investigations.

He sat on the last stool at the bar drinking his favorite beer in a frosted glass. The owner of the pub let him stay in a small upstairs attic apartment. All Faxon had to do was bounce a drunk every now and then. The Special Forces training made him quite capable, he was twenty six years old, 6’2", 224lbs, and hard as a rock. He was handsome, the kind of man women turned to look at when he walked into a room.

William, Faxon’s friend and bartender, saw her first and that made him turn to look. Tall and slender, long black hair, she was wearing an expensive designer black dress. She had high cheekbones and that eastern European look, Faxon nodded to her and she walked his way. She sat beside him and William asked what he could get for her.

A cosmopolitan please, she said in a thick accent.

If you don’t mind me asking Mrs. Brennon, are you from Russia?

The Ukraine, Mr. Bennett, I met my husband, Mr. Brennon, at an arranged gathering in my home town of Luts’k. I must say Mr. Bennett you’re much younger than I expected.

I assure you I’m capable enough to handle a cheating husband. That is what we’re talking about right?

So it’s that obvious? Yes he’s cheating on me. My lawyer says I must have definitive evidence to nail his ass to the wall. That means I need pictures of their faces, in the act, can you do that Mr. Bennett?

It shouldn’t be a problem, but are you sure he’s cheating on you?

Yes, yes, he says he has a late meeting every Wednesday, I talked to someone at the bank and there are no late meetings. A woman knows. I can smell her on him when he comes home.

Faxon took out a small half worn out pad from his back pocket and borrowed a pen from William.

Ok, give me the details Mrs. Brennon.

He’s the head of a multi-country banking syndicate. He has an office in their building at 75 Federal St. She showed him an image of her husband on her cell phone. We haven’t talked about your fee Mr. Bennett.

I’ll get you what you need Mrs. Brennon but my fee is ten thousand.

That’s a lot more than you charged my friend at the club.

Different circumstances Mrs. Brennon. Faxon couldn’t help his crocked grin, dimple, and light blue eyes along with his unruly black hair.

Shira Brennon took a long drink from her cosmopolitan starring at Faxon. She set the drink down and removed her cell phone.

I’ll give you an electronic transfer for half, after you get me what I need I’ll give you cash for the rest.

Shira handed Faxon her phone so he could enter his account information. After she finished her drink she covered his hand with hers on the bar, she leaned over and kissed his cheek and whispered.

I think you’re worth it.

Faxon watched the tall Ukrainian woman walk across the room to the stairs like a top runway model. When he turned back around William was still looking her way.

Another beer William, it seems I’m gonna to be able to pay my bar tab tonight.

After about an hour, Faxon’s enjoyment of his new, not yet earned wealth was interrupted by a man yelling at another man inside the bar.

Ya know William you’d think a classy place like this wouldn’t have so many drunks.

Faxon set his beer down on the bar and slowly got up and walked toward the yelling man. He noticed the guy was at least three hundred pounds, of fat, but drunk and angry he could be a problem. The fat guy was now accusing the smaller man, still sitting down, of trying to trip him on his way back from the bathroom. His two friends were just as drunk and laughing, and most of the room was watching.

Hey chief, why don’t you and your friends find another place to get drunk, Faxon said as he walked up.

You can’t be talking to me, the fat man said.

You and your friends leave and no one will get hurt.

The fat guy swung a clumsy big left hand at Faxon. He ducked the swing, stepped closer and kicked him in the knee, the fat guy went down. His face was red he couldn’t catch his breath from the pain. While he was lying on the floor holding his knee with both hands one of his friends stood up and Faxon hit him under the chin with a right fist. When his head snapped back Faxon grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head down on the table blooding his nose. When Faxon looked at the other guy he had his hands up.

Ok buddy just let us get our friend out of here.

Faxon helped them get their fat friend down the stairs, his knee was ruined, the other guy held one of the restaurants cloth napkins over his bloody nose. When Faxon got back upstairs he finished his beer, William had just set another one on the bar in front of Faxon when a pretty blonde woman that they both knew sat down beside him.

I’m warning you Ms. Lindsey, William said, If you make a scene I’ll call the police, you’re not even supposed to be here.

I won’t make a scene William. I just want to talk to Faxon for a minute.

That’s what you said the last time.

What do you want Amy, Faxon asked? I would have thought you could have found someone else to stalk by now.

I’m not drinking anymore. We had a good thing. I thought we could start over again.

You’re crazy, I slept with you once, and that was a huge mistake. There was nothing between us.

Is it because I’m older than you? It’s only a few years. I know you love me, and I wouldn’t call what we did sleeping. I saw you with that other woman, she’s older than I am, is she next?

She’s a client, and I don’t get intimate with clients, you taught me that. How long have you been watching me?

I know you haven’t been with another woman since me. Come on let’s go up to your room and release some of that pent up energy, that fight’s probably has you all worked up.

I told you a thousand times no. You’re a crazy stalking bitch and if you don’t leave I’ll have William call the police.

I’ll pay you, how much do you want? It’ll be the most enjoyable money you ever made.

You don’t have enough money, William I think you better make that call.

Don’t call the police William, I’ll go, you have my cell number Faxon, call me I’ll be waiting, and watching.

After several more beers and then a good night’s sleep Faxon got up the next morning and went to the bank on Federal Street. He drove one of the cars that belonged to the restaurant owner. He had a vintage car collection that he kept in a private garage just across the street. He let Faxon borrow a car when he needed it, today he drove the 1946, army issue, Willis Jeep. After arriving at the bank and being escorted to an associate he opened an account and moved some of the money from his other bank. The helpful young woman took all his information smiling. He asked about the bank manager. She told him Mr. Brennon had been with them for ten years and was a respected executive of the company.

After leaving Faxon sat in the jeep parked along the curb and watched the front of the building. Sometime around noon he recognized Mac Brennon come out, he wore an expensive suit. Faxon got out and followed him down the block to a small restaurant. The banker ordered a corn beef sandwich and a beer, Faxon sat at a table in the back and ordered the same. After lunch he followed him back to the bank. Tonight was Wednesday, one his meeting nights, so Faxon went and got a workout in at the gym then a shower before coming back to the bank before 5:00 to follow him.

At 5:05 Mr. Brennon walked out of the bank and got into the back of a black sedan, Faxon followed in the jeep, the tag on the sedan indicated it was a private driver service. The car stopped in front of a condo high rise, 130 Bowdoin. While Mr. Brennon tipped the car service driver Faxon quickly found a place to park along the street. He got inside just in time to watch what floor the elevator stopped on. He followed up to the twelfth floor not yet knowing what room Mac Brennon went to. There were twenty condos on the floor. Faxon took out his surface microphone as he approached room 1201. He put the earwig in, adjusted the volume, and then placed the microphone against the door. After just a few moments of no sound he moved to the next door, 1202, he hoped to get lucky before he had to check every door on the floor. Then he heard a woman talking.

I bought something I thought you might like, he heard her say. I’ll be right back, make your-self a drink.

After a few minutes she must have come back into the room.

Well what do you think, she asked?

Faxon pictured a thirty-something hooker wearing a teddy. Just then he heard the elevator door open behind him and he quickly slipped the surface microphone in his front pocket as he leaned against the door jamb and acted drunk.

Don’t understand why damn key won’t work, he slurred.

Are you sure that’s your condo sir, asked a cute petite girl with a pretty smile and blue eyes.

1201, I’ve owned this condo ever since my father died, he said, still acting drunk.

That’s right next door sweetie.

Oh, thank you, he said.

Faxon stumbled back to 1201 and heard her knock and in a moment the door opened.

Damn girl look at you, that’s sexy, have you already started without me, he heard the petite girl ask?

I had to keep him occupied until you got here, he’s anxious.

After she went in and the door closed he moved back to 1202 and placed the surface microphone against the door again. They made small talk and had a couple more drinks, the girls giggled between short periods of quiet then he heard the first girl suggest they go into the bedroom. Faxon didn’t hear much more for a few minutes, and then he heard a low moan. He hadn’t planned on this being the moment to get what he needed. Most of the time he’d follow the guy for a few days and make sure he had the right opportunity, but it wasn’t going to get any better than this. Faxon put away the surface microphone and took out his lock pic set. He slipped inside and left the door open just a little for a quick get-a-way. He took out a digital camera and walked toward the open bedroom doorway where the moaning was coming from.

Faxon peeked around the doorjamb, and Mr. Brennon was definitely cheating on his wife, with high priced hookers. He stepped into the room and clicked off a few images before the three of them turned to look at a stranger standing in the bedroom. It was several more images before Mac Brennon managed to get up cussing and threating. The fat naked banker tried to grab the camera and Faxon kneed him in the crotch and he went down groaning. The two pretty young girls smiled then laughed as he made his way out.

* * *

The next day he waited until nearly noon to call Shira Brennon.

You could have called earlier Faxon, Mr. Brennon didn’t come home last night and I got a call from his lawyer first thing this morning. He’s offering a very generous settlement. I assume everything went as planned, she said, in her Ukrainian accent.

It did, Mr. Brennon tried to take the camera from me. I had to knee him in the crotch. I don’t think he was able to pleasure anyone after that.

Shira laughed. Bravo Faxon, bring me those images, I have the rest of your fee. I live at the Devonshire, unit 2, 1 Devonshire Place.

I know the building Mrs. Brennon, I’m on my way.

Please Faxon darling you must call me Shira.

At the building there was an entry area with a desk and a doorman. The on duty receptionist asked his name and checked the list and then he was allowed to go on. After just two knocks on her condo door she answered. Shira wore a loose black robe with a tie at the waist. After kissing his cheek she invited him in. He followed her swaying stride into the kitchen.

Can I get you a cup of tea Faxon, or maybe a coffee? I always have tea, I never got used to drinking coffee like you Americans.

I’ll have coffee please.

She had one of those single cup makers and in no time served him a cup, black, strong, just the way he liked it. Shira left the room and when she came back she set her laptop down on the counter in front of Faxon, and a small bundle of one hundred dollar bills. Faxon plugged the flash drive in and moved the laptop over to her. He sipped his coffee while she viewed the images without emotion.

They were pretty girls, yes?

Ya, sure, Faxon said, they’re pretty, and expensive.

Do you think there’s something wrong with me?

No, you’re a very attractive lady. I think it’s hard to find that special person though.

I never refused him, anything, she said, I think you may be right, sometimes sex is just sex, not love.

* * *

It was Friday night at Ned Devine’s the dark polished wood paneling had come from Ireland, accented by brass fixtures. The Clancy Brothers played, all the waitresses wore dark red shirts tied in a knot above the waist with short red and black plaid skirts. Faxon sat at his usual spot at the end of the bar.

Amy Lindsey is sitting in a booth, she’s alone, William said.

I really don’t feel like an argument with her tonight.

A pretty, tall, sandy blonde sat beside Faxon, and after William asked what he could get her she said, A shot of Tequila.

Faxon thought she looked familiar. Then he checked to make sure the stalker bitch wasn’t coming over to make a scene.

You don’t remember me? My names Barbie, she said as she turned the shot glass around in a circle on the bar and smiled.

I’d remember if we ever when out.

Barbie laughed. No we never went out, although you’ve been to my place and seen me naked. You might say you broke in.

She picked up the shot glass of tequila and drank it down. Faxon wasn’t smiling anymore.

How’d you find me?

Now don’t get your-self all worked up, it’ll ruin the mood. Mrs. Brennon, Shira wanted to meet me. I guess she wanted to know what got her husband to cheat on her. She gave me your name and told me where I might be able to meet you. You’re kinda good looking, I thought since you saw me naked you could return the gesture. You did break into my condo. I could have called the police. Come on, let’s have some fun, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine, no charge.

You wouldn’t have dared call the police and bring that kind of attention to your business, and no thanks, I’m fine.

Barbie drank down her second shot of tequila.

Well I have to say I’m a little disappointed, but if you change your mind you know where to find me.

She walked away and Faxon didn’t turn to watch, but William did.

I can’t believe you turned her down, she was beautiful.

Let’s just say she’s not my kind of girl, Faxon said. When I find the right one I’ll know it, and so will everyone else.

CHAPTER TWO

Harper Lewis, the only child of Clayton and Lindsey Lewis, twenty four years old, six foot tall with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s what most people would call a tomboy. Easily pretty enough to be a super model getting her looks from her mother, but everything else from her father. She had spent the day at the MHC (Massachusetts Horseman’s Council) Finals in Northampton MA one of the biggest jumper events of the year. Even without her parents cheering she had done well with her fearless horse Neck Rider. She pulled the three quarter ton king cab pickup and trailer beside the stables. The three axel horse trailer could hold four horses, and in front was a comfortable mobile home complete with refrigerator and kitchen, a table with booth seating, and a large bed above the fifth wheel, it was air conditioned and had satellite television. It was top of the line.

Jose, her stable manager had been her only support today, her mother and father had gone to a banquet at Massachusetts General Hospital. It was to honor Lewis Construction for their charitable contribution to the new children’s care unit. Clayton’s construction company had been awarded a contract for a new wing that would be built over the next couple of years.

I’ll take care of the horses Ms. Harper, I know you’re tired, Jose’ said.

Thanks for helping me out today Jose’, I’ll see you tomorrow.

Harper entered the house through the kitchen side door, it was the one they used on a daily basis, the large front double doors were for company. She went to her upstairs room, stripped off her clothes and took a long hot shower, reliving the excitement of the day’s course. After she went downstairs and made a ham sandwich with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese on whole wheat bread with mayo and ate chips from a large bag as she watched the news. Then she went upstairs and fell asleep exhausted.

* * *

In the early morning hours she rolled over onto her back, something had woken her. She looked at the clock and it was 4:00 am. The chimes of the doorbell sounded apparently again and then there was loud knocking. She slipped on a pair of grey sweat pants and a blue hoodie then down the hall barefoot. She wondered why her father hadn’t woke first as she went down the stairs to the front door. Harper looked out one of the small narrow windows that were on either side and saw two Littleton Police cars in the driveway, two uniform officers and one person wearing a suit.

Harper opened the door. How can I help you officers?

Ms. Lewis, I’m Jerry Matson, I’m the personal relations officer with the Littleton Police Department, I’m afraid we have some bad news. I don’t know how else to say it, your parents were in a head on car crash early this morning around 1:00 am up on Goldsmith road not too far south of Kings Street. They were both killed.

Harper was stunned. She just starred at the man. She could see his mouth still moving but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

"It was a high speed crash. The nearest we can tell your parents were on their way home when a car coming the other direction at extremely high speed crossed the center line and hit them head on, both vehicles were destroyed.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her knees buckled and if not for the two officers she would have fallen down on the floor just inside the door.

Come on guys let’s get the young lady to a chair.

They helped her to one of the large leather chairs in the living room, more carrying than Harper walking. Jerry went to the kitchen and got a small bottle of water out of the fridge and went back to where she was sitting. He handed her the water and sat on a stool in front of her.

It was several moments before Jerry Matson spoke to her.

Is there anyone I can call for you Ms. Lewis?

The only family I have now is my father’s younger sister, she lives in Atlanta. I haven’t spoken to her since I graduated high school. We weren’t that close.

I’ll be glad to call her for you, I’m sure she’d like to know about her brother.

In the office, top right drawer there’s an address book, her name is, Rachel Evans. I’ll need to call my father’s minority partner in business Richard Mathis, and the company’s general manager, Sam Shepard.

I’ll stay here for a while and be glad to answer any questions as you think of them, and I’m still getting updates on the investigation. I know it’s a shock Ms. Lewis I can make those calls and explain until someone comes, you’re understandably still shaken. If you need to go to the hospital I’d be glad to take you.

No thank you. My father would be very disappointed he would have wanted me to have more self-control. He was a tough guy. I’m sorry but could you tell me what happened again, I think I must have missed most of it.

Jerry repeated the story again slowly, Harper cried but wasn’t hysterical.

I want to go down there.

It’s probably all cleaned up by now Harper, besides you don’t want to see it, believe me. Just remember them the way they were.

* * *

Good morning. Can I speak to Richard Mathis? He called the Lewis Construction office. You can tell him I’m Jerry Matson, personal relations officer with the Littleton Police Department.

There was quiet on the line, and then a man answered, Richard Mathis here.

Good morning Mr. Mathis. I’m calling in behalf of Harper Lewis. Her parents were both killed in a car accident early this morning.

Oh my God, tell Harper I’m on my way.

* * *

"Good morning Mr. Shepard, the office said I could reach you on your cell phone. I’m Jerry Matson with the Littleton Police