On Paid Leave: A Shawn Angel Mystery, #1

By Beth Mikell

Suffering from PTSD with a snarky view of life, Detective Shawn Angel is forced to face her internal demons before she loses her job. When she heads out of town, she plans to conquer fears with a little rest and relaxation, but she's a trouble magnet. She swears it's not her fault. It's almost as if someone is purposefully tormenting her. Confronted by her past love, Shawn must surrender her pride and work with Leo Grayson. He yanks Shawn out of her safe bubble, complicating matters in his sexy way, yet finding a killer proves to be easier than rekindling their romance. As the intrigue climbs dangerous levels, Shawn tugs on her badass, fully prepared to handle things her way. She's supposedly on vacation, but now, she's out to catch a killer…

Review: "This story was impossible to put down; it evoked real emotions as you walk through Shawn's issues with her. Absolute 5-star must-read." -- Nerd Girl Official

Review: "The plot is original, with twists, turns and surprises. Told in alternating voices, I got to know what each person was thinking and feeling. That made the story much more enjoyable. I really liked Shawn, she is down to earth and all around likable, flaws and all. She tries to relax and take a vacation, yet she still decides to help solve a crime (even if her life is in danger). I highly recommend On Paid Leave to those who love a great mystery." --Goodreads Reviewer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Mikell
• Release date: Feb 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393464068

Beth Mikell

Beth Mikell (born 1973 in Ocala, Florida) is an American author in the genres of contemporary, medieval, mystery, and paranormal. She has traveled to countries such as Brazil, Turkey, and Iran. She loves reading and cuddling with her cat, Chimmy. When it comes to writing, Beth likes to weave tales about love, loss, and rebuilding hope. She finds the most challenging part of writing to be the end—saying goodbye is never easy.

Book preview

On Paid Leave

A Shawn Angel Mystery

Expanded Edition

By

Beth Mikell

Copyright © 2017

Copyright © 2017 by Beth Mikell

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9798215341568

Cover Design © 2022 Kardo Designs

Cover Illustration Copyright(s):

© 2022 Can Stock Photo Inc.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote brief excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing: 2016

Expanded Edition: 2017

Revised Edition: 2022

Contents

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

About The Author

Other Books By Beth Mikell

Thank you!

CHAPTER ONE

Shawn

SIR, PLEASE! I WHINED, hoping I sounded firm and officer-like, but I knew I didn’t. The tremor vibrating my voice said I was two tears away from a meltdown.

Crap! Hold it together, Detective Angel. You’re a strong woman. You got this.

It was a lie. My breath punched in my chest, and a furious rush of tears burned my eyes. I’d never been this desperate in my life. Well, that was another lie. There was the time I ate sushi and puked on my new suede shoes. What a time to compare the two. I was losing my mind. Tragically.

I was an order away from having my ass handed to me.

Captain James Kirkland, a man I usually called Captain Kirk, shook his head and narrowed his cool blue eyes. He didn’t look a thing like my Star Trek fantasy. He was middle-aged with a balding head and painfully thin. He didn’t fit the standard ‘cop’ profile. He was a health nut, jogging two miles a day, rain or shine. He was shrewd and calculating, and one of the few men I respected more than the big Guy upstairs. If I was the praying type, I might have whispered a few words to plead my case. But the only words flashing through my mind sounded like some letter-number configuration similar to a bingo game. I was not going to score any points if I didn’t pull myself together and stay focused.

Maybe I had lost my mind.

I had a strange ability to separate myself from situations. I could undergo a crisis, yet somehow make a grocery list at the same time. Like, now. My head was fielding two issues—my sinking career and what it must be like to go snowboarding naked. On one hand, I was ready to cry a bucket of tears because I had screwed up today, yet I was worried about the sudden stop at the end of a mountain. Clothes would cushion my fall. So, I crossed out naked snowboarding.

We’ve tried it your way, Angel, he said flatly. I’m not impressed with your first day back on the job. I’ve already fielded four complaints and a request for your badge—

I was screwed.

Sir. With all due respect, I heaved, cutting him off ungraciously. I didn’t compromise the evidence. The victim’s husband shouldered his way into the house and endangered the scene carelessly. If he had waited, then the forensic team would have been able to collect what they needed.

Captain Kirk leaned forward, emitting a sigh. Take a seat.

Sir—

Goddamn it, Angel, take a fucking seat!

A vein strained on his forehead. I slid into the chair across from his desk, hoping this wouldn’t last long. I knew of a few thrift stores that sold snowboards and parkas. I might get a good deal. Then again, one look at his face and I doubted I would survive this session with any hide left on my scrawny ass. I wilted more inside, reassessing my desire to come back to work after my last encounter with a perp. This one had left me on a six-month medical leave, while spooked by every shadow and bump in the night. I shuddered to think about it.

Shawn, he began with a sigh, shuffling some papers on his desk.

I knew this was serious. He rarely used my first name.

Let me give it to you straight—you’re not ready. My lips parted, but he held up a hand. Wait a damn minute, please. I need to say this without interruption.

I tried to relax against my chair, but I couldn’t. Long gone were the days when I relaxed. Felt comfortable. I held every muscle in my body under tight control as I waited to hear the fate of my doomed career.

I know how hard you’ve worked on the Golden case.

My blood cooled. I hated the mention of my biggest failure. The one case that eluded me. A two-year fiasco in the making. The case was mine, but a glorified train wreck from the beginning. A serial killer with a fetish for gold paint mixed with acid and Polaroid pictures. He raped and murder his victims. Then he’d paint them in his gold paint-acid mixture so the body and evidence would decompose faster, making it extremely hard to find any trace evidence. The perfect murderer. The perfect psychopath. The man I deemed the Golden Boy.

I seethed with hatred for him.

Though I tried to remain detached from my cases, there was that one now and then that I couldn’t shake. Especially not after the Golden Boy had attacked me six months ago.

Unconsciously, I reached up to caress the scar over my collarbone—one of seven covering my chest. My partner, Finn, and I had been the first on the scene, but I hadn’t played by the rules or stayed with him.

Error number one.

My nemesis caught me from behind.

Error number two.

The Golden Boy had slashed up my chest and whispered in my ear. Love the chase, my lovely? I don’t want to kill you...yet. I want to impress you.

The only thing that impressed me was how he had escaped and left me for dead.

Error number three.

My skin still crawled thinking about him. How his bulky body had been pressed up against me. I remembered the strength of his iron grip around my throat and his grave tone against my ear. I shuddered at the memory, hating how I had felt his lips graze my ear.

Repulsion filled my belly, twisting me with nausea. He was the only disgust that separated my usual multi-tasking ability. When I thought of him, nothing else penetrated my thoughts. My mind was clear, and I focused on his climbing death toll.

The captain’s voice seeped into my waking nightmare. Are you even listening to me, Angel? By his expression, I hadn’t heard a thing for a while.

He leaned back in his seat, tenting his fingers. Shawn, I get it. We all have demons to exorcise. He waved a hand over a stack of files. Some more than others. There’s no doubt you’re a fine cop. Good police. Sometimes you have to take care of yourself before you’re overtaken by hell.

I swallowed hard, hoping my last attempt to keep my job worked. Sir, I think jumping back into the fray will help. I need a routine. I need to know that I’m striding for some justice—for myself and the countless victims who need vindication. Before the captain said anything, I drew a quick breath. Today had a few hiccups, but I honestly didn’t see Detective Peters walk by when I stuck my legs out. I couldn’t predict how he would trip and smack his head on a desk. I’m sure a couple of stitches will make him look distinguished. I winced at my own words, knowing not much would improve Peters’ sunny disposition. The seasoned detective probably needed to retire, but he stayed to torment the younger cops—and our fearless leader thought the world of him.

Ten stitches, but that’s not the point. Captain Kirk shook a finger at me with a half-smile. See, this is why I know you’re not ready. You weren’t aware of your surroundings, and if you can’t see a co-worker out of your peripheral vision, how will you see a perp?

He had a point, as sucky as that was.

Desperation fed me. Then put me on desk duty. I’ll answer the phone or file papers.

Captain Kirk gave me a sardonic glare. And how long do you think that will last? I know you, he said. You’ll be back in my office before the end of the day, begging for something more exciting. He shook his head. Sorry, Angel. I have to consider more than your fight for justice. I can’t stick you back on active duty. To be honest, you’re a loose cannon.

All the air whooshed out of my lungs. It was over—again.

Besides, the Golden Boy hasn’t killed in months, he said. And you know how these things go; he may not kill for days, months, or years.

Or until I return to active duty, I murmured under my breath, but he heard me.

Exactly, he affirmed. I want you to take another month off. If the Golden case is connected to you, then you’d be doing humanity a solid by resting up another month before we send you back out. I need you in top condition. We have to catch this guy.

Thoughts of naked snowboarding didn’t sound so bad after all.

CHAPTER TWO

Shawn

AS I CLOSED THE CAPTAIN’S office door, I found my partner, Finn, leaning up against the wall. His hands were jammed inside his pockets, and his dirty blond hair hung low on his brow. We often used his boyish, good looks when interrogating, using his model-type hotness to our advantage. By his expression, he wasn’t pleased.

You heard? I asked, feeling naked without my badge and gun.

This was the second time this year I had to give them back to the captain, and it sucked. At least I had my personal weapon. I didn’t go anywhere without Joan. Yes, I named her. I figured I needed to be on a first name basis with the object that might save my life.

He jerked his head, flexing his jaw. Not all of it, he muttered. So, how long this time?

A month, if I agree to see a shrink about my...issues. The last word I choked out with a sneer. Just the thought of someone cross-examining me left me unnerved. I’d rather paint myself in a sugary glaze and let ants have their way with me. It would be easier.

Finn cursed under his breath. I knew I shouldn’t have given you that last cup of coffee. It makes you too hyperactive. You need to lay off the caffeine.

I snorted. The idea of blaming my precious coffee was a poor joke. After all, I was in the business of protect and serve, so my daily Joe qualified. I mean, Joe protected me. ‘Nuff said.

That’s hardly the problem. I sighed, knowing I should have gone to see someone before now, but I was scared.

I was afraid a head doc would see right through my fear and discover what a mess I am. As much as I hate to admit it, the captain is right. I’m not ready. The last thing I want to do is endanger you, myself, or someone else. And apparently, my coffee intake affects others too. Peters and his stitches would agree, I said wryly, but Finn didn’t laugh at my ill-timed attempt at sarcasm. That told me right there he was worried. I felt bad that I had added to his concern. He was a good cop, and he deserved a partner he could rely on, and that wasn’t me right now.

He looked away, nodding. The tension between us grew uncomfortable. After a moment, he said, What will you do?

Since I was flying by the seat of my pants, I figured I might as well let my mouth make a few decisions. I could end up on a sandy beach, sipping margaritas with a hot cabana boy as eye candy.

I was thinking of calling my sister Violet. She and her husband live in Livingston. I thought I’d go hang out there. I shrugged, cringing a little. Where did that come from? A change of scenery might do me good.

I hadn’t thought this through. I wasn’t sure a noisy house, and a dog named Charlie would help, but I was willing to consider it because barricading myself in my apartment hadn’t worked so well these last six months.

Although, I couldn’t complain about the hours of The Big Bang Theory I had enjoyed. Laughter trumped crying and locking myself in the bathroom while sleeping in the tub with Joan. To an outsider, that would sound like a lesbian orgy, but it wasn’t that exciting. Granted, I was a cop, which entitled me to some serious badassery, yet I’d lost my confidence. Lost my edge. Plus, my bathtub wasn’t that comfortable. The permanent kink in my neck was proof.

Livingston? That’s three hours away! Finn fumed.

I could tell from his outburst he wasn’t pleased, but I didn’t have a choice. If I was on forced leave, I needed to get away. I wasn’t sure if three hours was far enough. I would have to rethink that island jaunt. Look—

Finn straightened from the wall, shooting me a somber expression. No, you look, he said with an air of firmness. I want you back, and if this is what it takes, go. And lose the attitude, hot shot. Go spill your guts to a shrink and make yourself better. You got this.

Did I?

Maybe I needed acupuncture or electric shock therapy. I wasn’t as optimistic as Finn. The demons chasing me were choking the life out of me. The only difference? I was tired of running, although my ass looked great in these jeans. Depression was a toss-up. My lack of eating had contributed to my weight loss. I found out what a lazy eater I was. It was either me and Joan in the tub or me and Joan rooting around in the kitchen. Laziness won. The pounds melted.

After saying goodbye to Finn with a promise to keep in touch, I headed out of the station. Bummed. Disappointed. Basically, feeling worthless. I knew I needed to make a change, but I didn’t know how to approach this dark abyss called my life. Maybe I could work my life like a crime scene grid. Ditch the negative thoughts and focus on the clues. Yeah, I was going to a shrink. I’d already had six months to do things my way.

I saw a familiar face as I trekked to my car. His grin was stark white against his dark skin. He held up a hand for a high-five, something I would never do for anyone else, but Coco ranked higher on my scale as a decent human being. He was a tall African-American, working as a private investigator. The department used his services from time to time, especially for surveillance. And he was an admirable guy with the patience God gave Job.

How are you, 5-0?

Yep, Coco still had a bit of gang lingo in his everyday language. I was just happy he didn’t call me ‘pig.’ It was the little things. After our hand-smack greeting, I couldn’t help but notice he was dressed like a SWAT guy, complete with a bulletproof vest and combat boots.

My eyebrow rose. What’s with this? I asked, pointing to his outfit, which differed greatly from his usual low-riding jeans and football jerseys.

Coco chuckled. He shook his head, currently free of his usual do-rag, or what he referred to as his ‘skullcap.’ He had hair and a diamond stud winked in his left ear.

I’m skip chasing now, he said. Some of the assholes I pick up are armed and dangerous. He shrugged. I figured I needed a bit of protection.

Frowning, I leaned up against a random car, hoping I wouldn’t set off a car alarm. Not that I cared. Since when? I thought you didn’t want the headache of skip chasing.

His chest vibrated with laughter. A lot has changed, 5-0, he said, rubbing his head. My wife and I divorced two months ago, and child support was more than I expected, but I would not be one of those deadbeat dads. My father sat in jail while my momma raised eight children on welfare. I wasn’t about to do that to Sheniqua. Skip chasing pays the bills. After a brief pause, he asked, Are you back?

I shook my head. Nope. Still on paid leave. I didn’t feel close enough to confide in Coco. Besides, he had enough going on. Instead, the Itsy-Bitsy Spider song flitted through my head. I