Smoke Before Fire

By A.M. McKnight

Assaults, petty thefts, robberies—it's all in a day's work for Detective Tessa Leonard, a veteran with Reid County, Virginia PD. The detective is committed to her busy work life but not so much to a love life. Once disappointed after rushing into love, Tessa is in no hurry to pursue romance again.

Prosecutor Renee Hamilton is just as busy trying bad guys just as fast as Tessa and her fellow officers can arrest them. Long hours in the courthouse are more appealing to the dedicated attorney than anything offered by the County's social scene.  She, too, was once let down by love and is now reluctant to open her heart again.

But when simple vandalism escalates to arson and attempted murder involving ex-cons, drug dealers, and a bookie, things quickly heat up in Reid County. And to their surprise, the detective and the attorney find themselves in a slow-burn romance as Tessa and Renee discover there's more to life when it comes to love.

Follow Tessa and Renee as they take down tough guys while taking on each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.M. McKnight
• Release date: Mar 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393540908

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Detective Tessa Leonard stood looking out her open garage door. She could always tell when the Black Stallions, the local minor league team, had a home game. Not a soul walked the streets in her Reid County subdivision. Even the neighborhood’s nine-year-old Evel Kenevil, who often commandeered Tessa’s driveway as pit row for his smoke-blue BMX bicycle, was missing in action.

Tessa limped out of the garage door and onto the asphalt. It was a sunny spring day with a touch of humidity.

Summer’s gonna suck again, Tessa said as she walked back into the garage and sat on an oversized tool box. I hate sweating; it makes me cranky and gives me hives.

Lee Leonard, Tessa’s uncle, crossed his arms and frowned at a rusty engine mounted in an old Nissan parked inside the garage. This clunk bucket burns oil like nobody’s business. Why do you hang on to it? he asked and tapped the car’s radiator cap.

‘Cause it’s my first car, and it’s still cheap on gas, Tessa said. You know how I hate throwing away good stuff.

You hate summer, and you’re a pack rat. Just give this twenty-year-old thing to some poor, broke college student for a hundred bucks and throw in a cheap oil filter. Lee lowered and shut the Nissan’s hood. He checked the treads on the front tires and wiped off the front windshield. Hand me a flashlight, he said.

Tessa pulled out a high-powered Black and Decker from the toolbox. She limped over and handed it to him. She limped back to the toolbox, sat back down, and watched.

Lee bent down and aimed the light at the car’s front right tire. The brake pads are still good. He moved to the rear tire. The rotors, too. He pulled a rag from his overalls and wiped his hands.

Tessa was amused by her uncle. A full forty-hour week of working on vehicles was never enough for Lee Leonard. He had to have his hands on some part of a car even on weekends. Even a clunky old Nissan would do. Fifteen years of maintaining vehicles for the State Police had made him cautious and attentive. He had told Tessa that he always lived with the fear of a trooper being injured—or worse—because of something he or one of his crew members had failed to catch on a routine inspection.

Get that car shine out of my mini-van. This ugly inside needs a wipe down. Lee tossed his keys to Tessa.

Easy on my girl. She’s been good to me for a long time. Tessa flexed her left knee a few times as she stood and walked down the driveway.  She returned and handed her uncle a bottle of Armor All.

Joseph really did a job on you, Lee said. I haven’t seen you go down like that since y’all were kids playing tackle football.

Tessa rolled her eyes and sighed. He’s paying my med co-pay, or I’m suing him for physical and emotional damages.

Lee laughed. Give the poor man a break. You know he was just trying to impress a woman.

He almost broke my leg, Uncle Lee! That woman wasn’t paying attention to him or the game, anyway.

You don’t understand how hard it is for some guys to attract a woman, especially for a man like Joseph. It takes time. Uncle Lee opened the front passenger door of the Nissan and got in.

You mean for a man who thinks a bowling shirt and creased khakis make him look sexy? Tessa asked. 

They both laughed.

Exactly. I still can’t believe he tried to slide into first base, Lee said as he sprayed and polished the car’s faded dashboard and worn door panel.

That wasn’t a slide, Uncle Lee. He tripped while looking up in the stands. I saw my life flash before my eyes when he crashed into me. 

Tessa flexed her knee again and went back to looking out the garage.

What time’s court tomorrow? Lee asked.

Tessa bit her lip and ran her fingers through her thick, curly fade. She threw her head back and looked up at the ceiling. 

In the afternoon, before lunch, she said. That means I’ve got all freakin’ morning to stress about it.

Why do you get so worked up about testifying? You’ve done it a hundred times by now, right?

‘Cause it’s a pain, Tessa said as she picked a clean rag from a pile folded and stacked on top of a second toolbox and gestured for her uncle to hand her the Armor All. "And I hate being cross-examined by that jackass Clarence H. Montgomery, ‘The Third,’ Esq."

He’s still practicing? Uncle Lee asked. He was representing jailbirds and chasing ambulances when I was in junior high.

Old age hasn’t changed him, Tessa said and sprayed the rubber trim around the back passenger door. He ticks off everybody, and I think he likes it.

At least you get to see that prosecutor, again. Joseph says you’ve got a crush on her.

Joseph’s the one who gets crushes on every single woman who says hello to him. I’m not that desperate.

So you’re not interested? Lee asked.

Uncle Lee, I don’t know a thing about the prosecutor other than she expects me to be prepared. And I don’t think she’d appreciate me making goo-goo-eyes at her in the middle of a trial.

Good point. Your aunt must be rubbing off on me. She’s always playing matchmaker for lonely souls at church bingo and taco nights.

Tessa laughed. I’ll keep that in mind when I start feeling like an old spinster.  Tessa checked her watch and tossed the rag back on the toolbox. My spare ribs should be done, she said.

Didn’t you get leftovers from your mama’s big birthday party?

I’ve had enough of mama’s ‘forever thirty’ birthday dinner. She still cooks pot roast and lasagna like she’s got a house full of children. There’s nobody there but her and Daddy.

That’s your mama—forever young and always cooking.

That sounds like one of those old songs you like to listen to, Tessa said.

Hey, don’t knock my Sinatra music. The man was silky smooth. Uncle Lee got out of the car, wiped his hands on one of the clean rags and loaded his tools back into his toolboxes.

You’re good to go, he said. I’m no miracle worker, but I’d say your girl’s got a couple thousand miles left in her.

Thanks, Uncle Lee. You’re the best mechanic I know, Tessa said.

I’m also the cheapest you know. Lee picked up his toolboxes and walked out the garage door with Tessa following behind him. Ice down that knee and stop worrying about court. You’ll do fine, he said.  

From your lips to the judge’s ears. Tessa stood in the driveway and watched her uncle admire the Dodge Ram pickup truck parked on the street, before getting into his mini-van. The Dodge was her pride and joy—second only to the Nissan.

As she turned to go back into the garage, it hit her. "Lord, I’ll be fifty in five years. Maybe I do need a girlfriend. She laughed as she went inside. Nah, I hate sharing a bathroom."

She entered the house through a side door to a living room saturated with a smell of smoked honey barbecue. In the kitchen, she removed the baking dish from the oven and set it on the stove top. She looked at the jumbo-size ribs and shook her head. I’m becoming my mother—cooking like I’m expecting guests.

As she took a bowl of coleslaw from the fridge, she thought about tomorrow and made a mental note: Take a handkerchief in the morning for my hands. Being on the witness stand meant sweaty palms—a problem she had never had when she was a corporate lawyer; it was usually somebody else’s job to go to court.

Just concentrate on the prosecutor and her questions, Tessa told herself. That took on a double meaning as Tessa thought about it. Just concentrate on the prosecutor. Boy, I gotta stop reading trashy novels before bed.

Tessa hadn’t been honest with her uncle when it came to the prosecutor. She had in fact started noticing the woman several months ago—just about every time Tessa visited the courthouse library, which she did twice a week. She still read law books and journals—always hardcopies—to impress her dad, a seasoned local attorney, who liked to call his daughter out of the blue with civil procedure pop quizzes. Tessa would catch sight of the prosecutor entering and leaving court or sitting in the corridor. To Tessa, the woman was hard to ignore.

The thought faded and Tessa settled in at the kitchen table with a full plate of ribs and slaw. But her knee reminded her that it needed just as much attention as her stomach.

She got up and took an ice tray from her fridge’s freezer and dropped the cubes into a plastic sandwich bag. A little rehab with dinner, she joked to herself as she sat back at the table, holding the bag on her knee with one hand and eating with the other. She made another mental note: Kick Joseph’s butt at the next softball game. And send him my outpatient bill.    

CHAPTER TWO

Deputy Commonwealth Attorney Renee Hamilton sat at her desk and peeled the wrapper from her warm breakfast. She took a hefty bite of double-decker egg and sausage sold in the courthouse café. It reminded her of home up in Baltimore. She pressed the speaker button on her desk phone and grumbled with a half mouthful.

Claire, I need a hardcopy of today’s docket, and let Sarah know I’ll be ready to meet in five minutes. She hung up and took another bite.

You keep that up every morning, you’ll need a gym membership before summer, Claire Reese, the secretary, said as she entered Renee’s office and nodded at the double-decker. She handed her boss a printout. 

I have a gym membership, thank you very much, Renee quipped. It’s vegan sausage, anyhow.

Claire laughed. Fake meat, real calories. Claire turned and straightened up a clutter of books and files on a conference table nearby. Sarah’s on a call; she’ll be here shortly, she said and went back to her desk.

Renee pulled the County Times Dispatch out of her briefcase and turned to the crime log. She was curious to see how much information the media had on suspects and recent crimes. Sometimes, she learned more from beat reporters than from arresting officers.

Assistant Commonwealth Attorney Sarah Clinton, clad in a navy blue skirt suit and with a head full of auburn curls, rushed in with her laptop in one hand and a coffee mug in the other.

Sorry, boss, I got caught up on a plea bargain call. Sarah plopped down in a seat across from Renee.  Ready.

Renee got a kick out of Sarah‘s enthusiasm. It brought back memories of her years as a young prosecutor for the Maryland State Attorney’s Office. She was then straight out of law school. The years had flown by for the now forty-year-old Virginia attorney.

All right. The docket gets heavy starting around ten. Renee flipped through pages of the printout. We get a little reprieve this afternoon—only a few motion hearings, if it stays that way.

Okay. But I thought we had everything covered before we left on Friday? Sarah asked as she made several strokes on her laptop.

Everything’s covered, but I’m still a little uneasy with some of the less experienced attorneys going up against Clarence Montgomery and his associates, even on simple stuff. He’s all about confusion and delay.

Like a hairball clogging a drain, Sarah said. So who do you want me shadowing this morning?

Renee highlighted several of the cases and handed the printout to Sarah. She could count on Sarah who had done three years of criminal defense work before joining the CA’s office.  

You still taking care of the preliminary hearing on the felony assault? Sarah asked.

I’m on it. Other than Montgomery wasting the court’s time with a bunch of nonsense, it should be okay.

Is Detective Leonard testifying? Sarah asked. You know she tends to ramble when she’s nervous.

She is, and so far she’s had meticulous notes on two prior cases. She seemed ready when I talked to her last week.

I hope she’s okay after last week’s softball game.

I didn’t hear. What happened to her? Renee brushed her shoulder-length braids away from her face.

One of the EMT guys ran her over when he tripped over first base. I think he was too busy checking out Gladys to look where he was going.

Gladys Hancock the deputy clerk? The one with the five inch stilettos?

That’s the one. The man doesn’t know he’s out of his league.  Word around the clerk’s office says Gladys already has a boyfriend and another one on the side, just in case she has to dump the first one. That’s next-level girl power. Sarah took a sip from her mug and closed her laptop.  Anything else, boss?

That’s it. Let’s get this party started.

***

Renee felt like pulling her braids out. Things were moving just as she predicted—slower than a turtle’s walk.

... Again, Your Honor, I apologize if it seems like I’m being difficult, Clarence Montgomery said in a lazy, monotone voice. But I’m short-handed today because of my associate being under the weather. 

Montgomery turned from the court bench and laggard back to the defendant’s table with the aid of a cane—a cane he was never seen using when he played eighteen holes of golf every weekend at Reid County’s public course.  He shuffled a dozen files spread out in front of him and his client.

Renee returned to the podium and scribbled exclamation points on her notepad.  She was getting used to venting in silence when dealing with Clarence H. Montgomery. She looked at the witness stand when she heard what sounded like a stomach growl. Detective Tessa Leonard looked embarrassed.

Miss Hamilton, please continue? Judge Rose Stanley, the presiding judge, said.

Thank you, Your Honor. Detective Leonard, please state your name again for the court record.

Teresa Leonard. I’m with the Reid County Police Department, Crimes Against Persons and Property Division.

Detective, did you question the victim, Mr. Ahmed Patel, at his place of business the day after the assault? Renee asked.

Yes, I did.

Can you tell the Court what Mr. Patel told you that day?

Mr. Patel stated that the defendant, John Allen, came into his store the prior afternoon and claimed that he had won five dollars on a lottery scratch ticket. Mr. Patel stated that he asked Mr. Allen to show him the ticket so he could verify that it was a winner. But Mr. Allen refused to hand over the ticket until Mr. Patel gave him the five dollars first. Mr. Patel stated that he refused to give Mr. Allen the money and asked him to leave his store. That’s when Mr. Allen started yelling and—

Objection, Your Honor, Clarence Montgomery said as he slowly rose from his chair.  I don’t think it’s fair for the detective to use the term ‘yelling’ to describe my client’s manner of speaking. The term is a mischaracterization and highly prejudicial. Montgomery straightened his silk tie that matched his tailor-made tan, three-piece suit. He brushed the sideburns of his short, gray Afro.

Renee gripped and clawed into the sides of the podium. She saw Tessa wipe her palms on a handkerchief that she had pulled from one of her blazer pockets.

Your Honor, the detective is only restating what the victim told her in his official statement. Renee could feel her jaw line tightening.  She is not trying to embellish or add anything to the record. She turned and stared at defense counsel.

Overruled, Judge Stanley said. Please continue, Detective Leonard.  The judge leaned back in her chair.

Montgomery sat back down and visibly nudged his client to wake him up.

As I was saying, Mr. Patel stated that the defendant started yelling at him and wouldn’t leave. Mr. Patel said he then called for his wife who was in the back of the store. He told her to call the police. While Mrs. Patel was on the phone behind the counter, Mr. Patel said he went to the store’s entrance, held the door open for the defendant, and again told him to leave. That’s when the defendant picked up and threw a wine bottle that struck Mr. Patel in the right shoulder and cracked the glass in the door. He then charged at Mr. Patel, shoved him down on the floor, kicked him, and ran out the store.

How were you able to identify the defendant as your suspect, Detective?

From physical descriptions by Mr. and Mrs. Patel and from a copy of the store’s security tape that clearly showed what happened. Two customers also gave statements that they saw the defendant go into the store just before they heard the commo—

Objection, Your Honor, defense counsel injected again. I have to insist that the word ‘commotion’ does not appear in either witness’ statement—at least not in my copies. Again, I don’t think it’s fair to allow Detective Leonard to create an image that is injurious to my client and misleading to the Court. Montgomery sheepishly cleared his throat.

Renee imagined herself leaping over at Montgomery and putting him in a headlock until he cried uncle. Instead, she said, Counsel is correct, Your Honor. The exact phase used by each witness was ‘what sounded like somebody getting their ass kicked.’ I’m sure Detective Leonard was just trying to show some respect for the Court in her choice of words.

The judge tried to stifle a grin with a hand over her mouth.  Again she said, Overruled. Please continue. 

Both customers were outside getting gas at the store’s pumps, Detective Leonard said.  Both also stated that they saw the defendant come running out of the store a few minutes later. They went inside and saw Mr. Patel on the floor, holding his shoulder.

Besides the physical descriptions and the security video, how were you able to tie the defendant to the assault?

Forensics lifted prints from the wine bottle and ran them through the system. They got a hit that matched to the defendant. So I put together a photo lineup and showed it to the Patels. Both identified the defendant as the attacker. I then showed the same lineup to the two customers. They also identified the defendant as the man running from the store.

Thank you, Detective Leonard. No further questions, Your Honor.

Mr. Montgomery, your witness, Judge Stanley said.

Counsel was leaning over and whispering in his client’s ear.

Mr. Montgomery, your witness, Stanley repeated.

Counsel stood and casually buttoned his blazer. 

"Your Honor, if it pleases the Court, I

Reviews for Smoke Before Fire

[Frances Bell · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great book Couldn't put it down I recommend this book