Lethal Deception

By Jacqueline M Franklin

After Maggie becomes a victim of a mugging, Sergeant Tom Gentry investigates. She swiftly becomes the love of his life. However, she is also the widow of a man who might have been involved in the intrigue, greed for power, wealth, and lust in Mel Santana's decadent and corrupt empire.

 

What does Tom do if he discovers Maggie is entangled or an innocent victim? Was her husband's death accidental? Or was it murder? Who could suffer the ultimate before justice is served? Anything is possible when lethal deception is around every corner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacqueline M Franklin
• Release date: Jul 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393327561

Jacqueline M Franklin

I am an Indie author who loves to tell a story. I've published many books on Amazon, from poetry to contemporary. However, Historical is my favorite genre. I hope my writing makes you laugh, cry, or touches your emotions in some way throughout your journey. If so, then I have proven with love and the instinct to survive against the odds that anything is possible.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I'LL SAY UPFRONT, YOU had us all scared, said Nina Rickard, a beautiful bob-haired brunette who was Maggie Carlson's boss. How do you feel?

Crap pretty much sums it up, I'd say. With a painful expression, she rubbed both of her temples. I don't know what that guy used on my noggin, but it did the job. I feel as if my head was split wide open.

Do you need another pillow?

Thanks, but my head will hurt no matter how many pillows I use.

A man entered Maggie's generic but sterile hospital room and ended their conversation. Even with her blinding headache, she saw his sky-blue eyes the closer he came. And Robert Redford's hair in his prime—along with those unforgettable dimples.

Hello, Mrs. Carlson. I'm Sergeant Tom Gentry. He offered a handshake. I'm with the Phoenix Police Department and here to investigate the attack on you earlier today at... he leafed through a notepad, the First Valley Bank of Arizona. What can you tell me?

I'm afraid there's not much to tell, Maggie replied while pushing the button on the control to raise the head of her bed, but doing so caused her long, wavy brown hair to fall over her shoulders. Even her chocolate brown eyes and enviable long lashes still held their appeal through her discomfort. Everything happened so fast, Sergeant, I do apologize, but my thoughts are disjointed at best. Let's see. I remember leaving the bank by the side door before my boss did. I wanted to get the a/c turned on in the car, so it could start cooling down since it was my day to drive us to lunch.

Tom looked at Nina. Would you happen to be Mrs. Carlson's boss? Did you witness the attack and call 911?

Yes, Sergeant Gentry... I'm Ms. Nina Rickard.

He smiled. Thank you. If you bear with me, I'll get to your statement in a moment. Then he turned back to Maggie. Please, go on, Mrs. Carlson.

She scratched her forehead in contemplation. The man came out of nowhere, grabbed my arm, then pulled me against his chest from behind. I assumed it was so I couldn't see him. Then, he said something about the Paulson Place. And because I handled the contract on the property, he wanted all the data on it. He gave me in two days, and then he'll contact me on where to leave the file.

She licked her dry lips. The man told me he would have fun jogging my memory if I didn't cooperate. Then, he hit me with whatever, and everything went black. My next memory is when I woke up in the ambulance to see the EMT monitoring me en route to the hospital. Since then, I've been fuzzy-headed, and unfortunately, this relentless headache keeps on giving.

I imagine your head does feel pretty rough after being knocked out like you were today. I hope, for your sake, the discomfort is short-lived. The detective continued to jot down some notes. Afterward, he looked at Maggie with a smile. Mrs. Carlson, can you add any more information about this Paulson Place the attacker mentioned? Was it a home, a rental property, or a business?

I'm sorry, but I don't recall. Since I manage the loan department, I work with many people and their properties. So, as you can imagine, it's hard to remember facts about a specific file with so little information unless something unexpected occurred. Once I get back to my computer and can research the file, I'm sure some aspects of the deal will come back to me.

Well, given the circumstances, I understand. Did you get a glimpse of your attacker? Perhaps some physical traits or his clothing?

Sorry, she said, shaking her head, but I'm drawing a blank.

Hmmm, I see. Tom turned to Nina. Ms. Rickard, did you happen to see anything? Perhaps you can add more to what Mrs. Carlson has said—like his face, clothing, or other distinguishable traits you may recall?

Well, I walked out the bank's back door just as he hit Maggie. I'm sure I must have startled him because he took off in a flash. When I noticed Maggie staggering and holding her head, I dug into my purse, grabbed my cell phone, and called 911.

Did you hear the man speak to Mrs. Carlson?

I'm sorry, Sergeant. I didn't hear a word. However, I recall that he wore a faded blue hoodie drawn up around his head, which struck me as rather odd for the Arizona desert heat. The hoodie added, with his not being very close, I'm afraid I didn't see his face either.

I appreciate whatever you can remember, Ms. Rickard. Any small thing could help.

I'd have to say the man was medium build, about six-two, and wore black sneakers, but... oh, wait, Sergeant. Even the hoodie couldn't hide his spare tire. I'm afraid I don't recall anything else.

Tom scribbled more notes. Thanks for your help, ladies. I believe I have enough for now, but I'm sure I'll be in touch again—albeit, he looked at Maggie, I hope it's after you're out of this place. Here's my card with the precinct phone number. He flipped it over and began writing on the back. This is my cell and home phone number, so if you remember anything or need me, please don't hesitate to call.

Maggie took the card from him. Thank you, Sergeant. I will do so.

Also, if you don't mind, Mrs. Carlson, I'd appreciate it if you'd give me your phone number. As I mentioned, I'm sure we'll be in touch again until we can solve this mystery.

Of course. As Maggie rattled off her number, Sky-Blue Eyes wrote it down. It's my cell. You can reach me at home or work. Talking later is much more appealing since I'm still fuzzy-headed. Truth to tell, I feel downright awful.

It's understandable. And don't forget to be cautious at home. Please be sure to keep all your doors and windows locked.

She nodded. You can be sure I will, Sergeant.

He offered her a parting handshake with a smile. I hope you get home soon, Maggie. You take care.

Indeed, I will. Goodbye, Sergeant. While shaking his hand, the warmth of an unexpected feel-good ran throughout her body. And the sound of her name rolling off his tongue made her feel even better. She had to admit that the sudden rush of electricity was something she could not deny. She liked beyond what was proper.

Tom nodded at Nina. I appreciate your help, too, Ms. Rickard. I won't bother you ladies any longer. With a parting smile aimed at Maggie, he walked through the doorway.

Nina chuckled. Wow. Mr. Sexy Hot and Gorgeous left the building.

Maggie grinned. I do agree. However, in her present state of mind and mood, she opted not to comment further. While Nina was a great boss and they had fun, she never felt of them as bosom buddies for an undefined reason.

Since the doctor wants to observe you for a few hours, I'll go back to the bank and clear my desk of some contracts due for closing. Meanwhile, you take it easy and don't worry about a thing. I'll keep my cell handy, and when you're released, give me a call. I will come back and take you home.

She walked over to Maggie with a chuckle. Since you gave me your car keys earlier, I'll have Robbie take your car home. I'm sure your secretary won't mind helping since they keep flirting with each other. Nina opened the door below the drawer of the bedside table. I'll stick your purse inside here, so you won't have to get out of bed.

Thank you for everything, Nina.

She patted Maggie's arm. I'm just happy to help in any way I can. I think you're all set, so get some rest.

<><><>

Hey, Charlie, Tom Gentry said after pushing the intercom button on his desk phone, I'd like you to show the last eyewitness on the Carlson case into my office. Hopefully, she'll have something for us to on.

You got it, Sarg.

Tom reviewed his notes about the case until the witness came into the room and greeted her with a smile. Mrs. Saunders, am I correct?

Yes, Sergeant, I'm Millie Saunders.

I want to thank you for coming by the precinct. Please, Tom said, pointing to a chair in front of his desk, have a seat.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Now, what can you tell me about the incident this morning? Anything at all—the smallest detail could help with the case.

Millie, a short, roly-poly woman of about sixty with curly gray-brown hair, reiterated almost word for word Nina's description. By the time he reached me, the sweatshirt thingy he wore was loose around his head. I noticed his left eyebrow was missing, too, which looked like a scar from a burn. I'd say he looked to be fifty-ish. Oh. He had salt and pepper hair, but with more graying around the temples.

You have been most helpful, Mrs. Saunders. Does anything else come to mind—physical traits or a limp?

She considered his question. No. I believe I've told you all I can remember, Sergeant.

Tom smiled and handed her one of his cards. If something comes to mind, don't hesitate to call or stop by the precinct. Thanks for helping, ma'am.

Millie giggled. If it means looking at your sky-blue eyes again, young man, I'll be back tomorrow.

Tom blushed. Thank you, ma'am.

<><><>

Since her release from the hospital, Maggie felt relieved to be home at last. After putting an Andrea Bocelli CD into the recorder, fixing an ice pack, and then sinking into a hot bubble bath, she became drowsy. Even though it felt relaxing, she decided it best to get out of the tub and not invite trouble by dozing because she was by far not herself yet.

Once she put on her slightly worn Peyton Manning jersey and comfy cut-offs, Maggie plopped into an overstuffed chair in the reading nook off the master bedroom to lose herself within the pages of a new book.

Nonetheless, her eyes settled on a brass framed glass box with a gold heart encased within it. Gary had given it to her for their twelfth anniversary three weeks before the deadly accident that claimed his life while en route to Phoenix's Diamondbacks game.

While Maggie lingered in the ICU at John C Lincoln Hospital for nearly a month, unconscious and in serious condition, she also lost her baby. However, the police located her only aunt, who make the necessary arrangements for both burials and handled legal matters.

It was heartwarming when Aunt Melinda explained why, when Maggie lay unconscious, she named her daughter—Angel. It was because Angel would always watch over her mother.

Maggie rubbed her barren stomach, remembering her husband's caresses as if they were together yesterday. It warmed her spirit to recall how he kissed her growing belly while murmuring, Mamma's and Daddy's little treasure.

She missed Gary holding her close—how they used to take long walks in the desert around their home. It had always been a special place for them. And his ruggedly sexy smile, how it could light up her day. So many trivial things she took for granted back then. However, now there were only memories. Most days, she could keep his loss in perspective.

Maggie believed in the concept of time and its healing power because she had grown more resilient in the three years since the accident. Reality had served to help her see how she wanted those feelings again and to have more children in the last couple of months.

Okay, Maggie, ole girl, you need to move on, and soon. No amount of wishing them back will help you make a new life. And your first step must be to stop hibernating in this house. She sighed, then picked up her book.

Sometime later, a loud bang jolted her to the bone. Maggie jerked awake from having dozed off mid-chapter. What in the devil? Not only disoriented, but the throbbing in her head returned with vengeance. She quickly realized her front door slammed and reverberated so hard it sounded as if it would fall off its hinges.

Since she sat in her reading nook with dim lighting, whoever broke into the house had no idea she was home. Not thinking of the possible danger, she walked down the hall toward the foyer but got as far as her office. Huh! Maggie leaned into the doorjamb for support.

CHAPTER 2

THE CHAOS MAGGIE SAW strewn about the room resembled that of a cyclone that hit at warp speed. After pulling herself together, she stood in the doorway as the sergeant and crew searched her office.

However, puzzling is why the man she had dubbed Sky-Blue Eyes from first sight kept flashing through her mind all day. And his dimples should be against the law. She shook her head. My goodness, where are these thoughts coming from anyway? She looked up at Sky. Focus, Maggie.

It would appear like someone is adept at jimmying locks since there was hardly a scuff mark. Mrs. Carlson, did you notice anything missing or out of the ordinary throughout your home and office?

Honestly, I didn't pay much attention. It never occurred to me that something like this would happen in my home. It is odd that not only was I attacked earlier at the bank, but tonight, too. I can only assume it's the same man. I didn't feel so great when I got home from the hospital, so I flopped in my chair to rest and read after a bath.

Do you know why someone would want to break in and ransack your office?

"I don't have a clue. As I told you this morning, I'm just a mortgage manager in a bank. I hardly think anything I do would be interesting enough to warrant a mugging. And now, with the break-in at my home—I'm nothing short of flummoxed. As far as him being aware of finding my

office, you are right about him knowing Gary. He must have been here before. She shook her head. This whole thing is just so bizarre."

I don't mean to pry, but it may help if I know what kind of work your late husband did. It could narrow down the reason for both aggressive attacks on you in one day. Whatever it is, they want it badly.

She frowned. Gary was a Real Estate Investor. He bought fixer-uppers and flipped them. I handled the contract for purchases through the bank. However, my boss always reviewed the contract before signing off on the final documents, so there would never be any question of dishonesty.

Hmm... okay, Tom said. How about any business partners he may have had? Maybe it was someone your husband paid under the table who might want to retaliate?

He had no partners other than an occasional project. And truth to tell, when he would flip a house, there were many contractors and sub-contractors, along with independent workers, such as plumbers, woodworkers, masonry, etc. As for specific, I have to say it isn't an easy question to answer, Sergeant.

I realize it might appear that I'm bombarding you by probing personal areas. Nonetheless, the more you can tell me, our chances of resolving the case will increase. Another bit of help would be to find out what this man wants from you, which is imperative. Were any issues with sellers your husband might have dealt with in other transactions? Or a prospective buyer on one of the flips who may have held a grudge?

Sergeant Gen—

Tom is good. Without a doubt, we'll be seeing a lot of each other.

She smiled. Deal, but only if you call me Maggie in return.

Fair enough, Maggie. He thumbed through his notebook. I'd appreciate your refreshing my memory about not hearing anything from the intruder until he left.

Well, you may remember my mentioning how I dozed off. Since I love to read, I made sure I put a semi-private reading nook in the master bedroom when I designed the house. Also, my office is at the other end of the house. So along with the prescribed medicine, I'm afraid I relaxed so much that I fell asleep. I honestly didn't hear a thing until the door slammed.

She shuddered. I assume the muted lamp I had on accounted for why the person didn't notice I was home. Although he would have had to come into my bedroom to see the light. I'm baffled that he didn't wander around the house. However, I'm glad he didn't.

Perhaps you could stay with a friend until we sort things out. I can't help but think you are a bit frazzled after the day you've had.

I'll admit, I am uneasy about this whole thing, but I cannot imagine anyone would try breaking in here again tonight. Besides, I don't have close friends since my husband's death, so I don't socialize much. She looked into his eyes. "You know what I mean, the third wheel and all when it comes to old friends who are married. It's no one's fault. We just drifted apart. So, when not at work, I stay close to home." Sky-Blue Eyes, those dimples, and that smile are a lethal combination. For the love of beans, where did such a thought come from, Maggie Carlson?

Well, don't hesitate to call again if anything else happens. He turned to his forensic colleagues. Charlie, are you about to wrap up your investigation in Mrs. Carlson's office?

Yeah—all-clear at our end.

Okay, Maggie, I'll leave you to get some rest. I suggest you don't try tackling this mess until tomorrow. When you put things right, note anything you might come across, unexplainable, or if you see something out of the norm. What may not mean anything to you could be a major clue for us.

I will. And thank you for arriving so fast, Tom.

That's what I'm here for, I—

Tom's cell phone rang. Excuse me. Yeah... sure... uh-ha... on my way, Lieutenant. He clicked off. I'm sorry, but I need to get going. He smiled from the doorway. Lock up and be safe, Maggie.

Once alone, Maggie looked around her office again with a frown as the day began to sink in. She felt the day's weight sitting squarely on her shoulders. Oh, for the love of good sense. A sob hit her while she slumped to the floor. It wasn't too late, so sleep became elusive, which was her own doing. Maggie wanted to remain alert, so she opted not to take another sedative as prescribed.

Instead, she decided to begin cleaning up the mess in her office. She had plenty of time since Nina insisted on using a few days off to recoup. At first, Maggie thought to say no but changed her mind after realizing the large quantity of sick and vacation time on the books. She hadn't taken any after Gary's death and became a workaholic to get her through each day of grief and loneliness. Now, it would benefit her to dig in and research what kept niggling at her. Before long, she found herself knee-deep in sorting through the mess.

Among the chaos, her eyes spotted the tan and red découpage box, about a six-inch square, which she and Gary purchased on their honeymoon. Her heart skipped a beat, and she was thrilled to find it was undamaged. Maggie loved it, but the secret compartment sealed the deal, so she had to have it.

For old time's sake, she opened the little hiding place inside to see if Gary's handwritten note was still intact—'Love you to the moon and back, Mags.' Not only was it still in decent shape, but a data stick fell onto the floor. Hmmm, I wonder why Gary would put a data stick in here? After placing the note back from whence it came, she put the box on the shelf, then picked the stick up off the floor.

Curiosity grew, so she picked her laptop up off the floor and set it on the desk. After sitting the chair upright, she discovered the hard drive was okay, and the case only had superficial damage. She forgot the mess and stuck the data stick into her computer. A single file popped up—paulson_sticks-1, cold to hot makes bubbles for stick-2.

She thought about what the title could mean. And just as confusing was who might have created it. The people who wanted the house so severely caused the day's events, or perhaps it was Gary's. But why would he have it? Maggie shook her head. Nothing made any sense as her odd day continued into the night.

She clicked on the file, but nothing happened except to ask for a password. Oh, blasted. Of course, Gary would protect it since he went to the trouble to hide it. Her anxiety grew while going over what the passwords might be in her head.

Okay, Maggie, think, if this was Gary's, he always chose his passwords with a personal meaning. Maybe his nickname for me in combo with our wedding date? Mags1.17.0—Incorrect entry. Of course, it was far too simple. G_M_carlson1.17.03—Incorrect entry. Oh, fudge, what could it

be? Maybe our birthday and nickname combo? Well, it's worth a look-see. Gc3.23Mc5.2—Incorrect entry. After trying a few more possibilities, her growing frustration, mixed with a triple-fold headache and fatigue of the day, had taken its toll. Besides, after so many failed attempts to crack the password, she had concluded that the man wanting the stick must have protected it, which made perfect sense. Thinking it was Gary's was a long shot at best. Maggie shoved her laptop out of the way. I need to rest for just a few minutes. She laid her head on her crossed arms atop the desk and soon drifted off to sleep.

Huh! Startled awake, Maggie realized a hand was forcefully holding her head to the desktop.

His voice was harsh. Don't try anything, pretty lady. I've got a gun aimed at your head, so do as I say. He forced a black bag into her hand. Keep looking at the desk and put this over your head. Be quick about it. NOW! I didn't come back tonight for any shenanigans, pretty lady.

A nervous Maggie complied while fear mounted. I have no choice. If I'm lucky, maybe nothing will happen.

After the coppers left, I watched you from a distance away—you know, through your window. Binoculars are a great invention. And when I saw you put this lovely stick into your laptop, it was obvious you had nose trouble, huh? He snickered. Maybe you found what my boss wants. So, as you can see, I couldn't walk away and forget about what I saw.

He yanked the data stick out of her computer, jammed it into his front shirt pocket, pulled a rope out of the back of his jeans, and then plopped it atop the desk.

Please... lea... leave me now. You have what you wanted.

Not so fast. Wrap it around your neck. Be quick about it.

She hesitated.

Do it! This gun aimed at your head gives me an itchy hand!

With no alternative and shaking hands, Maggie followed orders while praying he wouldn't strangle her. She thought about what people say when facing death and how their life flashes before their eyes. Now, Maggie knew for sure how true it was. Without warning, the man jerked her hands away to tug on the rope, tightening it around her neck until she gagged.

He laughed. By the time you free yourself, I'll be long gone.

Why? Please, tell—

Shush! Hear me well. If this stick isn't what my boss wants, he'll be back with me. He reached under her shirt to grope her bare breasts. Nice titties. I bet they're damn sweet and downright tasty.

Huh... please... don't—

He snickered. And you even said 'please,' but I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, pretty lady. You are pure sweetness, he said with a lustful laugh, I'd love to fuck you—yes, I would. He rubbed his crotch on her shoulder. I'd stick you with my hard prick every way possible. Mmmm, yes, ma'am, you are pure sweetness.

Maggie choked again when the man gave the rope another tug. She tried not to vomit from his roughness and vulgarity. Please, I... I don't know about any other stick.

Well, we'll soon see how much truth you're telling me, sweetness, Without warning, he plunged his hand inside her panties and wasted no time getting familiar.

Huh! Stop... please, don't... Her voice failed as tears rolled down her cheeks. She clenched her legs together, hoping to stop the man's vile probing.

Oooh, sweetness. You are one hot sexy lady. I bet you're appetizing from top to twat. Too bad I don't have more time on my hands. We could have an enjoyable time. But time is money, so no pea-hole punching tonight. Besides, if I need to come back again with my boss, he's not one for sloppy seconds, And I can promise you, he isn't as thoughtful as I am. No doubt about it, he'll stick your twat hard and fast—just for starters.

After a more intimate probing, the man pulled his hand out of her pants with a sadistic laugh. Yes, indeed, I bet fucking you would be heaven itself. Then he gave her a tap on the head with the butt of his gun. Sleep well, sweetness.

Maggie woke up sometime later but with no sense of time. It took her a moment to gain her wits about why she was having trouble breathing. However, the thin fabric had made her hot and sweaty, so it kept sticking to her face. She now had a second knot on her head, magnifying earlier headaches and bringing the day's nightmare back, which caused further upset.

She clawed at the rope with nervous hands. Still, the harder she tried; claustrophobia claimed her. Nervous perspiration caused the bag to become a damper. No matter how hard Maggie tried loosening the rope, it would not give a smidgeon. Oooh! Dammit! Dammit! Why is this happening?

With tear-filled eyes and anger mounting in place of fear, she did her best not to think about the man's vulgarity toward her. How his filthy hands groped her breasts and even touched and prodded in her most intimate parts. It made her skin crawl. Block it all out, Maggie, and think.

An idea formed. And even though Maggie's office floor remained cluttered from the earlier break-in, she dropped to her hands and knees, then crawled toward the door and down the hall to the family room. Once there, she felt her way by gripping the furniture until reaching the end table where she left her purse. After digging for her cell phone, she counted her blessings for thinking to put Sky-Blue Eye's number on speed dial after the last incident—just in case.

Good to his word, Tom picked up right away, but as soon as she heard his voice, her adrenaline of determination failed. She began to sob. Plea... please, Tom... help.

I'm on my way, Maggie!

CHAPTER 3

WHILE AWAITING TOM'S return for the second time that night, Maggie crawled toward the front door. While praying like hell that the vile man would not return for the third time, she leaned against the door. No way would she open it until Tom arrived. However, if the man came back again, there was no doubt he wouldn't stop until he got inside. She began to tremble.

Maggie! Maggie! Open up for me. Tom's pounding on the door got louder and faster.

Holding one hand on her forehead, she used the other to feel for the doorknob. However, upon opening the door, she lost her balance.

He reached out and grabbed her. Holy hell, Maggie! I've got you. Here, let me get this damn thing off you.

Moments later, with the bag removed, she collapsed in his arms as tears began to fall. Oh, Tom, I... I was scared, thinking I would never see the light of day again. Whomever, the man, is, he is downright vile.

Shhh... shhh... it's okay—I've got you.

After a moment, she snuffled while gaining control. I'm sorry, I've made a mess of your shirt.

Grinning, he held her a little tighter. I'm not complaining.

No sooner had she pulled herself together than Tom's crew arrived. Suddenly, everything became chaotic for the next couple of hours, which heaped more anxiety within her.

After answering many questions, she slipped away while the crew finished their investigation. She sought refuge in the Southwestern-style kitchen she designed. After pulling a wrought-iron barstool with padded seats from beneath the island, she sat.

<>

Tom found Maggie with her elbows propped on the counter and her head buried between her arms. He took a deep breath and hoped his worrisome inner turmoil didn't show. In all his years on the force with similar cases, there had never been a woman to make him have a second thought of interest during an ongoing investigation. Nevertheless, he bolstered his anxiety while walking over to the woman who had been in his mind since the moment they met. Hey, there you are. I can't blame you for finding some peace inside the house. Here, let me have a look-see-at that bump on your head.

She had tears in her eyes. "It was horrible, Tom. I keep reliving this day and tonight over in my head—from the filthy man, his vulgarity, and how he touched me. And the