Desperate Consequences: A Sequel to Desperate Strangers

By Bruce M. Phillips

This book brings back together Michael Ryan, the 38-year-old attorney in Phoenix, and 23-year-old Jennifer Spencer, the raven haired, blue eyed beauty he met through her boss, Addam Stein, form whom Jennifer worked as a paralegal. Jennifer married Tony Enriquez, a suave handsome Hispanic man who she fell for on first sight. She marries him not knowing that behind that veneer was a man who was sadistic nature of a drug dealing head of his own syndicate. Addam was being pressured by Tony, his criminal defense client to come up with $5 million dollars to purchase drugs. Addam sends Jennifer to seduce Mike into killing her husband. Using her beauty, she does just that. Mike falls in love with her and realizes it is foolish. After Tony is killed, she leaves Mike only to meet him again for one last weekend in Las Vegas. The story begins with her sister calling Mike to inform him that Jennifer has attempted suicide. What does he do? He rushes to help her again only to become involved with her desperate life. Felipe Lopez, Tonys second in command, takes over the drug business on Tonys death. He is running out of money to buy large shipments of cocaine and marijuana. He needs to find Tonys stash of money and Jennifer remains his last key. He intends on kidnapping Jennifer and access Tonys riches. Now, Mike needs to protect her and himself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463429188

Bruce M. Phillips

After 40 years of practicing law, Bruce retired and uses some of his real life experience by weaving them into his stories. His first novel, DESPERATE STRANGERS was published in 2010. He moved to Arizona in 1951 where he grew up, attending Arizona State University, then University of Arizona for law school. He returned to Phoenix and started his own practice in 1967, retiring from the firm of Carson, Messinger in 2007. He writes from first hand experiences of cases he tried in state courts, and from his appearances in the Arizona State Supreme Court. From his characters in his first book come the characters in this second exciting novel. He gives thanks to Robert MacLean of Zombie Frog Production, in Hawaii for the format and his daughter Kim whose beautiful eyes adorn the cover.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

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He stood in the back of his borrowed 250 Ford truck, the M24 sniper rifle straddling the roof, peering into the half underground parking garage some 250 yards away. The eerie green-white light from the night vision 10-power scope mounted on the M-24 rifle, gave a clear line of sight of the now empty garage. He waited for his target to arrive; a man he had never met, but hated with a passion.

Mike Ryan, the Desert Storm Vet, the staid attorney, the twice-divorced man, sat on the rail of the bed liner and waited. His mind raced with the stupidity of falling in love with Jennifer Spencer, a beautiful young woman, a woman he barely knew, and who admitted to seducing him into murdering her abusive husband. Here he was, sitting out in the hot Phoenix night barely into early morning hours of September 11, 2001 waiting for this man who tormented and tortured the raven haired, blue-eyed woman he had fallen for like a schoolboy for his first love. He rubbed his eyes thinking of the day, the child molest trial he had just defended with a not guilty verdict and why he was willing to sacrifice himself for love. He glanced at his watch: 1:17 am. He was early for the known time of the rendezvous of her husband, Tony Enriquez and his lawyer, Addam Stein and the payoff of five million dollars for a drug deal.

Was he crazy? Crazy, or desperate enough for love to be charged with murder; risk going to prison for the rest of his life or worse? There was time enough to leave, get away, run and forget her and this plot to kill. His mind fought the compelling reasons to escape before it was too late. He had parked about 250 yards away from the garage anticipating the arrival of Enriquez. Sweat poured from his face and he wiped it away with the short sleeve of his shirt. Lights from a car pulled into the garage and he stood, adjusting the night vision scope to view anyone who entered. The black Corvette he expected pulled into the garage, with a passenger he did not expect. Christ! He was supposed to be alone. He panned over to the passenger and saw a young girl talking to the driver. When the engine stopped and the headlights went dark, he saw a shiny mirror pass between them as they snorted what he thought was cocaine. He watched as the driver handed her money, and then grabbed her head forcing her face out of view behind the steering wheel.

His scope found the driver’s face looking up at the roof of his convertible with a twisted smile of sexual pleasure. She struggled several times only to be thrust downward in his lap, his hand forcing her up and down until he finished. She sat up crying and screaming, and then ran from the car. He heard her run up the ramp to Virginia Street and picked her up visually running towards a parking lot of a topless bar to the east of the building that she came from. She was near the entrance to the bar and stopped to talk with a man driving a truck. Too many witnesses to shoot now. He swung the scope over and saw the driver of the truck was the very client he got free hours before. She was the girl introduced to him at the bar where they celebrated Wayne’s child molest trial victory.

He watched as Wayne Fulton drove off and she entered the bar. His scope swept the emptying parking lot for any other potential witnesses and found none. He shifted his sniper rifle back to the garage and focused on the driver. He knew that the windshield was bullet proof, but no match for the armor piercing rounds of his rifle. Patience, Mike patience, he thought. His arms were tense as he lined up the easy shot, his mind racing with his training. He had killed before, men he never knew, forced into combat by Saddam Hussein as they were thrown against the military might of the US army. There, his shots were from point blank up to a 1000 yards away, all taken with supreme confidence and striking his targets with no sense of guilt. The two hundred fifty yard distance was easy.

One last wipe of sweat from his face, clear his eyes, aim and squeeze. As his trigger finger tightened, the lights of another car entering the garage temporarily filling his scope with blinding light. To the naked eye, he saw the second car come to a halt directly behind the Corvette. His vision cleared as he peered through the scope at the unexpected intruder. She came into his vision and he recognized her at once. It was Jennifer, the woman he had fallen in love with, walking out of the lights of her car and towards the Corvette! She walked directly to the driver’s side of the Corvette, a pistol in hand. He saw Tony strain to look up over his left shoulder out the window as her hand brought the pistol up over the roof and fired straight down, striking him in the top of his head, spraying blood and brains all over the windshield. He watched in disbelief as she quickly retreated to her car, spun around and headed out to the street.

He watched as a black SUV pulled from the shadows of the tree-lined street in front of the office building, enter the garage where the driver checked the Corvette, and then followed the path Jennifer had taken. Mike quickly surveyed the street and surrounding buildings for witnesses or movement. Seeing none, he snatched the rifle off the roof of the truck, folded the tripod mount and then started up, heading for the garage.

He carefully surveyed the area before entering, and then proceeded to the Corvette himself. There was Tony, still sitting up with most of the top of his head blown away. He brought his 9mm up and fired another shot in approximately the same hole in the convertible top, directing the pistol to approximate the entry wound inflicted by Jennifer, and then exited quickly out the garage heading in the opposite direction of Jennifer.

He drove away, drenched in sweat from the hot summer’s night and the tension of the morning. He cranked up the air-conditioning as high as it would go, welcoming the cool air wafting from the truck’s dash over his body. It was done, but not by him. He tried to digest what he had witnessed while focusing on the sparse traffic of the early morning hour. His last desire was to have some bored cop pull him over for a traffic violation with a sniper rifle and pistol in the cab of the truck. Once far away from the scene, he made several dumpster stops disposing of parts of the untraceable pistol in each, saving only the barrel which he discarded in the crush bin the next day at the wrecking yard where he had borrowed the truck. September 11, 2001 would be remembered for the attack on the World Trade Center and all those who died there. However, for Mike, he would always see the morning that he watched Jennifer kill her husband.

He would not see or hear from Jennifer until Christmas when he received an invitation from the Mirage Hotel in Las Vegas signed only with the initial J. His weekend with her was as romantic as they could muster. She left him alone, again, but with a gift: $175,000 in poker chips from 10 different casinos. No explanation, no note, just chips under a ruffled white shirt. She was gone again and he was alone again. As she departed from the Mirage, he packed his small suitcase and headed to his Comanche airplane at McCarran airport. With tears in his eyes, the tower cleared him for takeoff and his Comanche roared to life, lifted off, and headed back to Phoenix. Fate is a cruel master, they say, and his was no different.

CHAPTER ONE

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Mike Ryan was sitting at his desk reviewing several divorce cases pending this month. It was January 17, 2002 and the sky was Arizona blue, free of clouds, just light jacket weather, a typical day in the Valley of the Sun. The hyperventilating over the World Trade Center attack was still reverberating through the news with threats of retaliation being poured in against the perpetrators; Al Qaida, Taliban, whoever. For a few months, the sports world had seemed disappointed that the Diamondbacks won the seventh game of the 2001 World Series, as if the New York Yankees win would soften the tragedy of the horrific plane crashes in their city. Of course, the Arizona fans were ecstatic. With the tragedy of the New York World Trade Center’s destruction, the main news media was concentrated on retribution. Life was going on, however, and for most, those events seemed far away.

Since his meeting with the love of his life, Jennifer Spencer, in Las Vegas, and their tearful separation, Mike had returned to work in earnest on his existing cases. Her voice still echoed in his head when they parted. It seems that phrase I have to go was the hallmark of their relationship. After they parted, he had flown his Comanche 250 back to Phoenix alone again.

At the office, his four partners noticed how quiet he had become after the holidays. They had no idea why his attitude seemed different, but it was palpable. His secretary, Cheryl also was aware of the change. He spoke only of cases and business without much interplay as was his custom before the Christmas lull in legal matters. Noticeably absent was the humorous banter she had become accustomed to every day. He had hired Cheryl after her stint in the County Attorney’s office almost eight years ago. She was tall, and had long dark brown hair. Her short dancing career in Las Vegas, her divorce and a somewhat private life aside, she gave him the dedication that he counted on in his office. Although the thought of her had stirred some sexual desire (he was still a leg man) when she first worked for him, his prior secretary with whom he had a fling, left after they broke off their late night tryst and moved out of state. He promised himself that it would not happen again.

Cheryl came in one day and asked him to represent a friend who turned out to be the man she had been seeing. He was a pleasant man in his forties who wanted a divorce. His case turned out to be a royal battle with a wife and two daughters to support as well as a custody battle.

A call came in later that morning from Ken Hawkins, his best friend. Cheryl put him right through without any announcement. He answered, This is Mike Ryan, can I help you? Hey, old buddy, this is Ken. I haven’t heard from you in over a month. What’s the matter, you don’t love me anymore? Ken said with a laugh.

Ken, I am sorry for being AWOL, but I have been trying to concentrate on business. It’s sad when you are getting close to forty to loose track of time. What is going on in your world? Mike was glad to hear his voice. He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had not realized how much he missed hearing from his friend. They had been friends since high school and had served together in the Army, 101st Division, in Iraq in ’91.

After high school, Mike went to Arizona State University, then on to Tucson at the University of Arizona for law school. Mike had finished law school, married, and then he joined the 101st, serving with Ken in the shortest war since the Israeli seven-day conflict, opting out for the Guard to finish his military commitment.

Ken went to Phoenix College for two years after high school. When he had graduated, Ken planned to join Mike at ASU. However, Ken wanted his independence, and joined the Army. His tour of duty included Desert Storm in ’91 where he and Mike reunited in the 101st and served together in the same unit. It was there that they became the best of friends.

When their unit fought its way towards the main highway between Bagdad and Kuwait, later known as the Highway of Death, Mike had saved Ken’s life. Once their time was over Mike applied for early release and joined the Arizona Army National Guard as a Captain. Ken remained in the service for his remaining two years, then returned to Phoenix and married Alice, his high school sweetheart. When his dad suffered a heart attack and passed away, Ken inherited his dad’s machine shop and took over. He still supported his mom, his wife, Alice, and their two girls. He had done well.

Mike, I need to go check out the cabin and make sure it is winterized. I wanted company since Alice and the girls went back to Ohio to see her mom. She isn’t getting any younger, and the kids are on a break. How about driving up there with me tomorrow? If you can get loose around 2, we can beat the traffic. Hold on Ken. Covering the phone, he called out to Cheryl to see if he could leave early and then said, Sounds good. I can meet you at the shop. Is there anything I need to bring?

Just a toothbrush and duds, Mike. I will see you tomorrow. After he hung up the phone, Mike sat back in his chair and thought that it would be good to get away for a couple of days, especially with Ken. The cold nights and brisk days up in Star Valley, outside of Payson, sounded like just the break he needed. He picked up the Dictaphone and continued on a long set of interrogatories in one of the auto accident cases he was handling. Some basic questions had become standard in discovering why the other driver had run the red light and broadsided his client’s car. Fortunately, there were two witnesses as to the condition of the light just prior to the accident who were courteous enough to stop and leave their information with the police. Mike’s investigator had reported some good interviews. He checked the rest of his calendar and was satisfied that everything was on track. He confirmed his court dates and advance notices for filing deadlines for the next week. He needed to work on a couple of cases when he returned, but nothing out of the ordinary.

He drove through the late afternoon traffic to his home in Moon Valley just north of the metro Phoenix area, almost on autopilot over the same route he has driven for the past five years. Nothing has changed… but him. He pulled into the garage and closed the automatic garage door behind him, and then entered the kitchen. The quiet of the house had once been his enemy. Now, the stillness of living alone gave him a sense of peace. The kitchen chair reached out and received the coat he threw at it. The bar beckoned him and he poured a double shot of Crown Royal in a short crystal glass, then went to the refrigerator and retrieved some ice cubes.

As he reclined in the easy chair and grabbed the remote, the news at 5:30 was just coming on. He sipped and stared at the screen without seeing much of the day’s disasters. The local news followed at six and there was nothing of interest. He flipped the TV off, and then headed out to the Jacuzzi with a refill in hand. He turned off the pool lights after checking for any creatures that might have fallen into the bubbling water. He had left the heater running the last couple of days and jumped in nude into the frothing water, and leaned back into the jets forcing the water to massage his lower back. He stared up into the blackened sky and closed his eyes.

He had achieved the rank of Major in the Army Guard by the summer of 2001 and served his weekends and two-week stints each summer, training others in the use of armaments and field tactics. He had taken command of a unit of young recruits who pushed him into staying in shape for those obligatory runs and hikes he was starting to hate. His body was aging in spite of his efforts to remain trim and slim. His three-time a week workouts were starting to slip. He knew that by this summer, he would have to push himself harder than previous years. However, that was for tomorrow. He wanted to get his 20 years in and retire. It would at least provide him some benefits for his later years, which he regretted worrying about at 38.

His mind drifted back to Jennifer. Her face was etched in his memory so that he could still feel her body against his. He could relive their first encounter, the first time they had made love, the thrill of having such a beautiful woman hold him and guide him into her. She was there with him, now only in his memory, a constant companion in the dark night of his mind. It was there that he no longer was alone but buried alive in her memory. If she could only hear him. JENNIFER, JENNIFER, PLEASE COME BACK!

CHAPTER TWO

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Mike met Ken at his shop and left his Cadillac there. He jumped in Ken’s new Ford four-wheel drive with his bag and they drove off towards Payson. They talked about old times in high school and some of the rowdy days of football and girls. They had double dated on a number of occasions with varying stories, real or imagined, sharing some laughs. Mike felt relieved and enjoyed the friendly banter. It was always a good time, well, nearly. He came up from Tucson when Ken’s father got sick and was with him the night before he died. It was a time that they had not talked about since his father’s death. Both of them lost their fathers, so they avoided any serious talk on the trip up to Payson.

Ken’s cabin had been started before his father died. They had the log cabin shell built, but worked hard together on completing the interior. It was two stories tall with four bedrooms, two on the main floor and two in the loft. The green all weather roof set off nicely against the light stained logs with a giant two story front bay window overlooking Star Valley below. During the day, you could see over forty miles up to the rim country. At night, the small valley below was semi-lit with the lights of the houses and a couple of businesses below. They arrived just before dark, and the surrounding pine trees shading the cabin. Most of the summer folks had left and returned to the warm Phoenix area for the winter.

The street leading up to the cabin was still and shadowed in the retreating sunlight as they passed a number of other cabins devoid of occupants. Ken pulled his truck into the circular driveway, stopping in front of the double door entranceway. He took a flashlight, and then disappeared around the side of the cabin and within a minute, the lights came on and lit up the cabin as Ken opened the front door. Cabin may not be the correct description. It was over 2500 square feet, not counting the double garage. Mike knew the procedure; he pulled out the box of food out of the truck, his bag of clothes and his trusty bottle of Crown Royal, putting them in the kitchen in two trips. He retrieved some Cedar split logs and started the fire in the 360-degree glass fireplace in the center of the main room. When Ken walked in, after turning on the water and closing all the drain valves, his glass was full and sitting on the table in front of the sofa facing the fireplace.

They were quiet and allowed the quiet of the night to fill the room. The room warmed quickly replacing the accumulated cold stored there since the last visit. They both shed their jackets and sat back to listen to the crackling of the fire. Ken spoke first. When it is quiet like this, Mike, I remember my dad and me working away on framing, dry walling the rooms, putting in the kitchen cabinets, wiring and plumbing the whole place. It is funny how I can picture him here even now. I never thanked you for being there for me when he died. I guess I just expected it. Anyhow, thanks for being my friend. I don’t think that I could have got through it all without you. He paused, waiting for Mike to respond. When he did not, he continued. Mom won’t come up any more. She says it is too hard to see what he built and never got to enjoy. Finally, Mike spoke. How is she doing Ken? I haven’t seen her since the funeral. She withdrew into herself and just mopes around her house in Tempe. I have tried to get her to move in with us, but she politely declines. She brightens up when Alice and the girls visit her but then slips away to some dark recess of her mind. I think she won’t last long if she continues to live alone."

Sounds like some one else… me Mike said with a choked laugh. After my mother died, I watched my father bury himself in a bottle most nights. He was letting the business go downhill without any real concern for me. When he died and left me, I felt that both my mother and father had abandoned me. When we were over in Iraq, there were times that I was hoping that I would stay there, buried in some unmarked sand dune. Even Christie needed to get away from me. The divorce was not easy emotionally, but my parents already abandoned me, so what was one more. Patty was a mistake, but I felt like I was trying to adjust. Chose the wrong wife… again.

They both rose out of their seats almost together and headed in to the kitchen for a refill. This time, Ken reached under the counter, got out his Jack Daniels and poured himself another stiff shot of bourbon, while Mike refilled his with the Crown. It was then that Mike leaned against the kitchen counter and started weeping uncontrollably. Ken had never seen Mike cry, even at the funeral. Now, all that hurt was pouring out in sobs. All he could do was to put his hand on his shoulder and let him cry. Ken started to cry with him and they both embraced for a long time. When the tears subsided, they sat on the sofa and remained quiet again, watching the embers of the fire burn with glowing coals of reds and orange. Ken put another log in and sat down. Tell me Mike, what is going on with you? You have not really been the same since last summer. You cannot keep it all bottled up or you will end up like my mother.

CHAPTER THREE

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Mike took a long sip of the Crown and swallowed it back. Then he started with the story of Jennifer.

You remember that child molest case I defended last year, you know, the one where the daughter accused her father of touching her? Ken nodded and Mike continued. There was a witness the state had listed that I did not know anything about. I called an acquaintance of mine, a lawyer that I had associated with in a case a few years back. His name is Addam Stein. When I went by to meet him, he introduced me to his paralegal, Jennifer Spencer. I was blown away, Ken, she was beautiful. You know, the kind of woman you know is way out of your league beautiful. Anyhow, he had some information for me and she dropped it by my place one night. I was going to use the Jacuzzi and invited her to join me. At that, Ken smiled. The old Jacuzzi trick, Ken thought. I know what you are thinking Ken, and with someone else, you would be right on the money. However, she was different, at least so I thought. She was the aggressor and we made out in the bubbles of the Jacuzzi. There was something about her that didn’t add up.

This went on for a couple of weeks, always at my house and then she would leave. I didn’t know where she lived, or for that matter, anything much about her at all. I decided to check her out and found that she was married. When I questioned her, she broke down and told me everything, I think.

She told me that her husband was a drug dealer and that she had no idea about that when she married him. She broke down and wept as she described his cruelty, his sadistic treatment of her and how petrified she was of him. She also told me that she had come on to me under the direction of her boss, Stein, who was her husband’s attorney for his criminal enterprise. When Mike paused, Ken went and retrieved both bottles of booze, set them on the coffee table and refilled their glasses and sat back down.

Mike took a small sip and continued. She told me that her boss was being squeezed for five million by her husband for some drug deal he had put together, but her boss didn’t want to or couldn’t come up with the money. He hatched a plan to entice me to kill the son of a bitch. Ken, I saw the bruises he left on her. I really cared about her and felt she was truthful. Besides who could make up such a story if it wasn’t the truth? Anyhow, that molest trial was going on when I found out about the meeting with her boss and her husband. That is why I borrowed your sniper rifle and got the truck. I was going to do it.

Mike saw Ken leaned back in his seat with a look of fear. No Ken, I didn’t do it. I did not use your rifle at all, except for the scope. I positioned myself so that I could see the meeting place and was going to blow his head off, but someone beat me to it. Ken let out an audible whistle and said Jesus, Mike, no wonder you have been so distant these last six months. Why didn’t you talk to me earlier? Who did you see?

Nobody, Ken, the lights of the car that came in blinded me for a moment, and then I heard a shot. By the time I could refocus, the other vehicle left. It was so quick, Ken, someone else beat me to the punch, Mike lied. Mike leaned back, took a slow sip and put his glass down with a thud.

They sat in silence and stared into the fire again. The booze kicked in and Mike felt the buzz hitting his head. It brought a dull ache to his forehead, which he rubbed, in slow motion. Mike started again. The police found my Smith near the scene and checked me out. The creep was shot with a 9mm but it was not mine. Someone had stolen it out of my car and the police checked out the ballistics clearing me. There was a red Dodge truck that I had seen several times near the house, maybe he took it. Nevertheless, it was not the murder weapon. They interrogated me but I never lied to them. They never asked any question that I had to lie about. The last I heard is that they closed the investigation.

Ken was now rubbing his forehead, then stretched back and asked, What happened to her? We met in Vegas over the Christmas holiday, Mike went on. I received a card and an invitation to meet at the Mirage. We spent two days together. She had been accepted at Stanford and the last I heard, that is where she went. I read about some guy getting shot right about the time of the 9/11 attack, but it seemed to have faded away after that. I also recall something about this Stein guy; something about IRS, Ken added.

That is him, Ken. He was busted for tax evasion or something like that. With all the commotion over national security, the story also disappeared from the papers. He has plenty of political connections and will probably get out of serving any time in prison. He is smart and cagey enough to pull in some political cards to worm out of any serious offense. Maybe, he can pay off what he owes and come out smelling like the shit he is.

Have you heard from her since Vegas? Ken asked. Nope, not a word" Mike did not tell him that Jennifer had given him $175,000 in casino chips. That was not something he needed to know. Mike said that he still loved Jennifer. Ken only shook his head. Mike was never lucky with women.

The next morning, they both slept in after getting to bed after 1 am. It was brunch and Mike got up to the smell of bacon and eggs frying downstairs in the kitchen. Ken was just finishing the toast when Mike walked down, rubbing his forehead, with a light headache from the talk and booze. Smells good he uttered in the direction of Ken. Mike walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee, looking at Ken as if asking if he wanted a refill. Ken nodded and he refilled his cup as well.

After they ate quietly, Mike said, Sorry about last night, but I feel better today. When you met Alice, how did you know she was the one for you? Ken sipped on his coffee mug, put it down and sat back. When we got back from Kuwait, she was still waiting for me. She was my high school sweetheart, as you know. The first time I saw her, I knew she was the one. As we dated, she was willing to accept me for who I was and had no plans to change me into someone I could not become. I liked the way she talked, the way she thought and how she could laugh at the silly things I did. She was more than comfortable; she made me feel whole. She still does. That is why when we go to Vegas I do not screw around. We have always given each other freedom based upon that mutual trust. There is no question about who we are or what we can be. We talk about all sorts of things with an openness that comes from trusting one another. She has been careful about the way she looks and still excites me in bed. We have been together for over 10 years and I cannot imagine life without her. Sounds awful romantic for a tough old bird like me, but I want to be honest with you. He stopped and took another sip from his Phoenix Suns coffee mug, then went on. When dad died, I felt responsible for not only Alice and the kids, but mother as well. I miss my dad, but that is life.

Mike asked Any problems with PTSD after you got home? Ken