Guardian: Listen to the Voice!

By Ken Blaisdell

When Avery Burke tries to befriend a seemingly-lost eight-year-old girl on a rainy Phoenix night, she can have no idea that she has just encountered her own guardian angel, and that she has set into motion a series of events that will put her face to face with a serial killer who is stalking his twenty-fourth victim ... Avery's best friend, Cheryl.

Guardian is a fast-paced mystery/suspense thriller that will take the reader along the crisscrossing life and death paths of its characters, as they are guided by their own individual inner voices, their gut feelings, and by a mysterious eight-year-old little girl.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken Blaisdell
• Release date: Apr 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215999165

Book preview

Chapter One

2018 (Thirty-three years later.)

Phoenix, AZ

Wednesday; October 3

Craig and Marcie and I have gone through the numbers pretty thoroughly, Jim, Avery Burke told her boss, the company founder and president. We’ve gone through Hanover's spec, line by line, and we have everything covered. We have our standard margins on time and material, and we put in some slush to cover unknowns. I feel very comfortable with these numbers. We’ll have a really nice fourth quarter with this on the books.

I’m not doubting your thoroughness, Jim replied. It’s why I wanted you to be the account manager on this. But we know that we’re quoting against Davidson, and you know how highly they think of themselves. My concern isn’t that your numbers aren’t good or even that we can’t land this; it’s that we’re leaving money on the table. I think we can bump your figures by fifteen-percent and still win this.

Avery had to make a conscious effort not to groan. She hated Jim’s money-on-the-table rationale for adjusting the price on a proposal. She and her team had put in a lot of hours making sure this bid was accurate; to have to inflate it just because was not only infuriating, she saw it as dangerous, too.

Fifteen percent? she said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. What if Davidson has sharpened their pencils on this one? We know they’re wrapping up the Canadian project; what if they’re feeling hungry?

Good point. Good point. Okay, let’s go ten percent, he said with a finality that told her that the discussion was over.

He got up from his desk and handed his copy of the proposal back to her.

I’m going to pick Bill and his folks up at the airport, and take them to lunch. You make the changes, and I’ll see you in the conference room at one-thirty. And good work, Avery. This is going to be a nice project for us.

Avery sat at her computer, and typed the adjusted—inflated—price into the last page of the proposal. With the cursor on top of the Save icon, her finger hesitated over the mouse button. Then, she moved the arrow down to the Save-As icon, added Rev-B to the file name, and saved it as a copy. Maybe she could get one more chance to plead her case before the presentation began.

That was not to be, however, unless she had been willing to follow her boss into the men's room when he got back from lunch.

In the conference room, with the proposal up on the wide-screen TV, Avery felt confident and in control. In her own humble opinion, she felt that the presentation could not have been going much better. Although she was interrupted numerous times to clarify some point in the description of the project—most often because she and her team had thought of something that the customer hadn’t—she always had a clear and concise answer, and then picked right back up where she had left off.

When Avery clicked to the last slide, which contained the pricing and terms, she watched Jim out of the corner of her eye. She saw him scowl at the screen, and then turn his head, and glare at her.

The price on the screen was exactly the same number that she had first shown him before lunch

After Hanover and his two assistants had gone, Jim called Avery into his office. She knew he was going to chew into her for not increasing the final price, and it had her stomach in a leaden knot.

To her surprise, he was smiling when he motioned for her to sit down.

You did a good job in there, he said to her as she took the seat. From what Bill said when he was leaving, I think we can expect a PO by the end of next week.

That's fantastic! she said, the knot loosening a bit. But I sure didn't do this alone. Craig and Marcie deserve a pat on the back, too.

Which they'll get, Jim said. "But you're here for a kick in the butt."

The knot retightened.

Did you think I wasn't going to notice that you hadn't adjusted the price? he said, quite seriously. I backed down to ten percent on your recommendation, but I thought I was pretty clear on wanting it bumped. Did I not communicate that well enough?

She'd have preferred a literal kick in the butt to how it made her feel to have him think she had betrayed him.

I actually did change it, she said. But …

But you forgot to hit Save? he said sarcastically.

I saved it as Rev-B, she answered.

Did you bring up Rev-A by accident?

Would it protect my butt if I said yes?

Not much, he answered. I'm no more enamored of incompetence than insubordination.

She let out a long breath, and said humbly, I'm sorry, Jim. I screwed up, and I let you down. I know it doesn't help now, but I promise it won't happen again.

"You didn't let me down, he replied. You let you and your team down. I was going to split the ten percent between you, Craig, and Marcie, as a bonus."

Now, she really wanted that kick in the butt! Marcie was trying to scratch together the money for a down payment on a house.

Great, Avery said with a sigh and a shake of her head. That's going to win me points.

So, why did you present the low figure? Jim asked.

She hesitated a moment, and then answered, Honest to God, I didn't know I was going to do it until I moved the cursor over the two revs of the proposal when I started the presentation. I had it on top of Rev-B, but then, something just told me to move it to Rev-A.

He nodded, and then said, Well, the next time your mouse starts acting like the puck on a Ouija board, let me know, and I'll put my fingers on it, too, and we'll steer it together.

She laughed, and said, I promise!

He extended his hand, and said, Matter closed.

She shook with him, and asked, Is it okay if I tell Craig and Marcie what Mr. Hanover said to you?

Let's keep that under wraps until—if and when—the PO arrives, he said. I don't want to jinx it.

Chapter Two

Wednesday; October 3

During Avery's presentation, Steven Lane, one of Bill Hanover's two assistants, appeared to be paying intimate attention to everything that she was saying as she went over the bullet-items, one by one.

In fact, he was bored silly, and was playing his undressing-game in his head.

A twist on the advice that nervous speakers are given to picture their audience naked, Steven mentally stripped boring speakers as they droned on. It was often amusing, but today, it was alluring.

To his mind, Avery defined the image of business chic, and it was a look that he found very attractive. He was going to enjoy seeing her frequently when her company landed the contract … and he had ways to make sure that it did.

As the likely project manager, she was too high up the ladder to try to get anything serious going with, but it would probably be enjoyable to flirt with her. From a few of her side comments, he got the impression that she was quick-witted with a good sense of humor.

Her outfit was a dark blue suit with crisply-pleated slacks, and a jacket that she left unbuttoned. They fit her trim figure—the curve of her behind, her slim waist, her chest, and her square shoulders—so perfectly that he was sure the suit had been tailored, if not tailor-made.

Lucky tailor, he thought, as he imagined him wrapping a cloth tape-measure around her various curves.

On her feet, she wore simple black pumps with perhaps two-inch heels that were half covered by the turned-up cuff of the slacks.

Under the jacket, she wore a button-front white blouse with the top two buttons left undone, exposing the short string of pearls around her neck.

The blouse exposed no cleavage—which would only have distracted from the professional look—but was cut and sewn to flow over her breasts without a single too-tight pull, or too-loose gap.

Did she have her blouses tailored, too? he wondered.

As Avery scrolled to the next slide of the proposal, and prattled on with far more detail than anyone could care about, he began to undress her.

First he imagined her without the jacket, the white blouse hugging her athletic shape, and smoothly flowing over the curves of her breasts. Before too long, the blouse was gone, as well, leaving her to stand before her attentive audience in the delicate cotton bra that cupped her breasts like they had been poured into the light fabric. Was the bra custom tailored, too? In his mind's eye, it fit that perfectly.

Then she was bare chested, her breasts perky, and pink-nippled. But she continued to wear the slacks. There was something inexplicably erotic to him about a topless woman in dress pants.

Suddenly, his lewd game was interrupted by the conference room door opening, and another woman entering.

She was an inch shorter than Avery, and eight or ten pounds heavier; not fat, really, but certainly more curvy compared to Avery's lean look.

She wore her hair pulled back, and had on a pair of fashionable glasses that missed the mark slightly with the shape of her face.

She had on a one-piece brown and white striped dress that ended at her knees, with a shiny, narrow black belt around her waist.

As she leaned over to set a folder on the table in front of Jim, she happened to glance up and smile, and all thoughts of Avery—topless or otherwise—vanished from Steven's mind. He preferred a woman with cleavage that she wasn't afraid to have noticed.

After the woman left, Steven leaned over to one of Jim's people, and whispered, Who was that?

Name's Marcie, the guy whispered back. She's one of Avery's assistants.

He nodded and leaned back in his chair. As he replayed the image of her generous breasts and her smiling face in his mind, he wrote her name in small letters at the top of his note pad.

Chapter Three

Monday; October 8

A week after her presentation, Jim stopped into Avery's shared office, and said, Congratulations! The PO for the Hanover project just came in.

Fantastic! she said as he took Marcie's vacant seat. "Of course, it would be ten percent more fantastic if I'd followed orders," she added, still feeling guilty about her gaff.

When I called Bill to thank him, Jim said, he told me that Davidson came in about eighteen percent higher than our bid.

Thanks for sharing, Avery said with a chuckle. That wound needed a little salt.

Jim laughed and went on, "He also told me that there was a third bidder—a company out of Florida—and that we beat them by only three percent. He waited a second for that to sink in, and continued, So, as it turns out, your Ouija-mouse was right.

"Now, I'm not above admitting that I was wrong, but, right or wrong, he went on, I'm still the boss, and I reserve the right to be right or wrong. You have good instincts, Avery; I've known that since your first week here, and I value it greatly. But, please don't ever blindside me in a meeting like that, again."

I won't. Scout's honor, she said raising her right hand.

He nodded, and as he stood up he said, So, now the real work begins. You've put together a great outline for this project; now you have to make it happen. Hanover and his group will be here a week from today, for the kick-off meeting.

After work, Avery felt good as she walked along Adams St. toward the garage where she always parked. She was excited to get started on organizing the project for real, now, not just theoretically for the proposal.

As she passed the little convenience store that she walked by twice a day, a sign in the window caught her attention. It had probably always been there, but she couldn't recall noticing it before. It was for the Arizona State Lottery.

The only time that Avery ever played the lottery was when they would get a pool going at work if Powerball went over two-hundred-thousand dollars. Then, more to be part of the group than expecting a miracle, she would throw in her five bucks, and hope for the best. Other than that, her understanding of the mathematical odds against winning made her see it as a waste of money.

Today, however, something made her want to try her luck, and she was sure it had to do with the lucky-streak she was riding regarding the Hanover contract.

She took a PowerBall slip from the rack, and filled in the dots next to the numbers she wanted to play. She used the six digits in the price of the Hanover proposal that she had not changed when she was told to.

So, what are you going to do with eighty-million dollars-and-change when you win tonight? the clerk asked her as she handed him her slip and her money.

I have no idea, Avery replied, but what a wonderful problem to try to solve, huh?

Well, don't forget where you bought the ticket when you're trying to solve it, okay? he said.

Thursday morning, on her way to work, Avery was disappointed to see that the lottery billboard announcing the expected jackpot for the next drawing displayed $86 Million. Obviously, her lucky streak had a limit.

Chapter Four

Friday; October 12

"I am so through with that guy! Avery shouted into her cell phone, talking to her friend, Donna. He's turning out to be such an ass!"

She was shouting as much out of the anger she felt towards the guy she'd been dating for two months, as to make herself heard over the driving rain that beat her umbrella like a drum.

The rain was being blown nearly horizontal, now, as Avery made her way along the puddled sidewalk toward the parking garage. She had to hold her umbrella almost sideways over her left shoulder to protect her head from the cold fall rain. She had long since given up trying to keep her legs and feet dry.

No, that part's fine … and frequent, Avery answered her friend’s question. But everything else seems to have to be all about him. She paused a moment, and added, And I guess that is, too, though, huh?

As Avery vented her dating woes to her friend, her ear was beginning to hurt from pressing the phone against it so hard to be able to hear over the rain.

No, Avery replied to another question. "Well, I guess I don't really know. There could be somebody else, I suppose; it's not like I've ever gone through his texts, or anything."

Avery was finally nearing the mid-block crosswalk. It was a dozen steps ahead, and would lead her across the street into the dryness of the parking garage, and then into the warmth of her car. She couldn’t wait!

Me? No! You know me better than that, Avery replied as she stood watching the walk signal across the street.

Peering around the side of the umbrella that she still held nearly sideways, the don't-walk signal was just an orange blur through the driving rain. She waited impatiently for it to change to a white blur, telling her to walk.

To get just a foot or two closer to the garage, Avery stepped off the curb, and waited between the parked cars on either side of the crosswalk. She discovered that the car to her left blocked some of the rain and she moved closer to it. It had apparently just been parked, because warmth was emanating from its grille. It felt wonderful!

No thanks, Avery continued to her friend, I think I'll just take myself out of the dating game for a while. This project at work is going to be all-consuming, and will probably make me pretty poor company for the next couple months, anyway.

Though she felt slightly less miserable in the warm lee of the car, Avery was beginning to wonder if the signal was malfunctioning because of the rain. It was taking forever to change.

Just then, a voice from behind her said, "Turn around—look in the store window."

The voice startled Avery because she hadn’t noticed anyone else on the sidewalk. It also seemed strange because it sounded like a little girl, and what she had said sounded more like a command than a request. On top of that, it was very clear, despite the noise of the rain.

Avery turned and saw a young girl standing there looking up at her. She looked to be about eight years old, or so. She didn’t have an umbrella, and wasn’t even wearing a coat.

Avery looked left and right, and into the window of the store behind the girl, expecting to find an inattentive parent somewhere. There was no one else around. The motherly instincts in her took over, and Avery forgot about crossing the road.

She stepped back up on the sidewalk and took a couple steps toward the girl, switching her umbrella around to her right side.

Are you okay? Avery asked her. Where’s your mom or dad?

The girl continued to look at Avery, but she made no reply.

Avery guessed that the girl was probably lost and scared. Are you okay? Avery repeated, crouching down to her level as she moved toward her. Extending her umbrella to shield the girl, she said, You must be freezing! Let me ...

Avery’s sentence was cut off by a thunderous crash right behind her as a delivery truck ran into the back of the parked car that had moments earlier been warming her legs, plowing it through the crosswalk and crashing it into the back of the next parked car.

Startled by the crashing boom of the impact behind her, Avery reflexively ducked her head, and leapt forward away from the crash, but at the same time, she reached out to scoop up the little girl to protect her.

The girl must have seen the crash coming, however, because she was no longer there to be scooped up, and Avery tumbled to the sidewalk empty armed.

Wrenched from her hand, her umbrella went bouncing and flipping like a tumbleweed as the wind whipped it down the sidewalk into the night.

Avery quickly spun around and was back on her feet, looking for the girl. She had to use her hands to shield her eyes from the rain, now, but she couldn’t see the little girl anywhere.

She looked into the store, thinking she might have run in there, but saw now, that the store was closed.

The poor little girl must have been scared to death to have run off that quickly.

It was only then that Avery looked at the vehicular carnage in front of her.

The car that she had been using a moment earlier as an impromptu leg-warmer was embedded half a foot into the back of the small car that had been on the other side of the crosswalk.

She could smell something automotive and realized that one or both of the cars must be leaking. She quickly backed away out of fear that one of them might burst into flames. She took shelter from the driving rain and distanced herself from the possible explosion in the doorway of the closed store.

She reached for her cell phone to call 9-1-1, and found her pocket empty. She remembered then that she’d been talking with her friend, Donna, and had never hung up. She must have lost the phone when she fell.

She made a quick scan of the sidewalk and saw it sitting in a shallow puddle. She dashed out, plucked it from the water, and returned to the doorway.

Water dripped from the case as she held it up—the screen was shattered and completely blank.

This just keeps getting better all the time, she lamented out loud as she slid the useless phone into her pocket.

In the distance she could hear a siren. Someone else must have called 9-1-1. She looked up into the cab of the delivery truck, and saw through the blur of the rain on the windshield that the driver was moving around, probably digging out his registration papers. He didn’t appear hurt. Luckily, no one was hurt.

It wasn’t until that moment that the realization struck her that if that little girl hadn’t called to her and gotten her attention, she would have been standing right between the two cars that were now one. If the impact hadn’t killed her, it would have at least cut her legs off. She just stood there staring dumbly at the steam billowing from where she would have been if not for that little girl.

In the front seat of the Suburban police cruiser, with her feet stuffed almost into the heater duct, Avery explained to officer Martin Cole, that she hadn’t actually seen the accident at all—it had taken place behind her. As a result, she couldn’t confirm or deny the driver’s story that he had swerved to avoid somebody jaywalking, but had to say that she hadn’t seen anyone else around except the little girl. Avery then described the girl and what she was wearing.

She went on, The fact that she wasn't wearing a jacket makes me wonder if maybe she belongs to some homeless family.

Possible, Cole replied. I know most of the homeless people in the area, and there are none with young kids, but there's people moving in and out all the time, so I'll just have to keep my eyes open for your little girl. He went on, As well as being a possible victim of neglect, I'd like to talk to her as a witness to the crash. And I'll get your description of her to Child Protective Services, as well.

When you find her, Avery asked, could you please let me know? I owe her an awful lot—I’d like to reward her somehow.

Well ... Cole hesitated, wanting to avoid coming right out and saying, "No chance. Instead he hedged, and said, We’ll have to wait and see, okay? There's privacy rights that need to be considered, especially with her being a minor. If she wants to contact you, and if it’s okay with her parents, I can probably arrange something, though."

Although Avery’s shoulder-length dark hair was a snarled mess from the wind, rain, and the quick paper-towel-drying she had given it in the cruiser, Cole still thought she was very attractive. And her obvious concern about the little girl touched him. The two facts made him want to help her more than might be officially required.

While Cole had been taking Avery's statement, two more cruisers, a fire truck, and an ambulance had shown up.

Would you mind waiting here while I talk to the other officers for a few minutes? Cole asked Avery. In fact, he had all the information that he needed from her—name, address, e-mail, and phone number—but he found himself reluctant to just dismiss her out into the rain—and possibly out of his life.

Five minutes later, Cole slid back into the car, and said, Okay. I guess we're all set. Sorry to make you wait for nothing. So, can I repay your patience by giving you a lift to your car?

Thank you, she said with a little chuckle, but it’s just over there. She pointed to the parking garage on the other side of the street. Then holding her fingers an inch apart, she added, "I was that close!"

Cole checked his mirrors, dropped the shift into drive, and made a U-turn in the street, bringing her twenty feet closer to her car.

Thank you, she said with a laugh, that was very chivalrous. She reached awkwardly over the computer console between the two front seats to shake his hand. It was a pleasure meeting you, Officer Cole, she said, if not under the greatest of circumstances.

Martin, he said shaking her hand. It was a pleasure meeting you, too, Miss Burke. I hope we’re able to find your little mystery girl.

Avery, she replied with a smile. I hope so.

Their handshake had lasted a couple seconds longer than just a handshake, and each of them read the same thing into it.

He was kind of cute, she thought to herself. Nice personality, too. If she hadn’t just sworn off men for a while—and if she didn't look like a drowned rat—she’d have been a lot more flirty.

She climbed out of the cruiser and dashed to the cover of the garage. She turned back and gave Officer Cole … Martin … a wave. He returned it with a big smile.

Chapter Five

Monday; October 15

Ready for the kick-off? Jim asked as he stopped in Avery's doorway.

Ready, and anxious to get going, she replied. I don't recall a project that came together this smoothly before. I don't want to jinx it, but we should be able to knock this out of the park.

Who's in your starting lineup? he asked.

Rick Porter is going to handle the software code, she answered. Pam Villa and her crew will have all of the IT stuff, Pat Andrews will help Rick with some of the programming, but he'll also head the off-site installation and test team, when that starts. Mary Wilson will do purchasing and watch the budget, I'm project manager, and Marcie is my second in command.

You think Marcie's a better back-up than Craig? he asked.

She knows Hanover's specification and our proposal better, Avery said. Craig probably knows the numbers better, but that's why we've got Mary. Plus, Craig's wife is due in about three weeks, and he's already put in for four weeks of time-off when that happens. That's right when things are going to start getting intense. He's on the team, for now, but I have it in the plan to lose him.

Jim nodded, and said, "I just wondered, because