Child's Play

By Linda Rettstatt

Two young boys digging in an excavator pit at a closed city playground unearth more than they expected. The body of a woman who was strangled has been buried in the shallow sand pit.

Homicide detective Susan Wycoff and her new partner, Donovan Casey get the call to investigate. Wycoff and Casey grasp at threads to weave together a clear picture of Diana Flaherty’s final days in an effort to track down her killer.

All the while, Susan and Donovan ride an undercurrent of tension as they try to balance their work as partners and their deepening personal relationship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Rettstatt
• Release date: Sep 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215991589

Linda Rettstatt

Linda Rettstatt is a best-selling and award-winning author of Women’s Fiction and Mainstream Contemporary Romance. In March of 2012 her novel, LOVE, SAM, won the prestigious EPIC eBook Award for Mainstream Fiction. And in April, 2016, LADIES IN WAITING won the EPIC eBook Award for Contemporary Fiction. Rettstatt grew up in the small town of Brownsville in Southwestern Pennsylvania. After 20 years living and working in Mississippi, she has returned to the hills of PA to write and work as an editor.

Book preview

CHILD’S PLAY

* * *

Linda Rettstatt

CHILD’S PLAY

3rd Act Books

© 2023, Linda Rettstatt

Smashwords Edition

Cover design: Linda Rettstatt

Cover photo courtesy of Pixabay

All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction

or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part,

by any electronic, mechanical, or other means,

is illegal and forbidden.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and

bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead,

places or settings, and/or occurrences.

Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

For my readers who never complain when I switch genres and give them whiplash, but instead encourage me to, just keep writing.

Thank you.

Chapter One

Detective Susan Wycoff stood in front of the empty coffee pot in the break room, drumming her fingers on the counter and watching the slow drip, drip as the pot filled. When was the last time the department invested in a new coffeemaker?

She turned at a tap on the door. Lieutenant, good morning.

Good morning. When you’re finished here, would you stop by my office?

She glanced from the lieutenant to the coffee pot and back. This could take a while.

He grinned. I have a new single cup brewer in my office. But don’t tell everybody.

She snatched up her mug and turned. Right behind you.

She liked the newly appointed lieutenant. He was a no-nonsense type, but with a healthy sense of humor. Balanced. He was quick to defend his squad when necessary, and clear with a reprimand when one was warranted.

Have a seat, he said, reaching for her mug. You want regular or something with flavor? he asked setting her coffee mug under the single-cup brewer.

Regular, stronger the better. Thanks.

He popped in a coffee pod and pressed a button. Within seconds she heard the hiss and sputter of fresh brew. He turned with the steaming mug and handed it to her. Cream or sugar?

No, thanks. She blew on the steam, sipped carefully, and nearly moaned.

He sat behind his desk across from her and lifted his own mug. Nothing like fresh-brewed coffee. That gadget was a gift from my wife.

Nothing like it, she agreed. Thank her for me. She glanced at him. I know you didn’t invite me in here for coffee. What’s up?

You’re being assigned a new partner.

She grimaced unintentionally. It was bound to happen, though, since her former partner, Frank Dillard had retired. Her temporary partner, a Barbie wannabe aptly named Babs, got an offer to work as a consultant for a movie producer and fled to L.A. a few weeks earlier.

He held up a hand. You knew this was coming. Hold your judgment until you at least know who it is. He should be here any minute.

He?

A knock sounded on the door.

Come in, the lieutenant called out. He stood.

Susan stood and turned.

I believe you know Detective Donovan Casey. You two worked on a case together last year.

Donovan looked at her as if they’d barely met and flashed his professional smile. The one that looked a little constipated. Detective Wycoff. Yes, I had the privilege of assisting on the serial killer case. He extended his hand.

Susan pressed her lips together and gave him a firm handshake. The warmth from his palm shot up her arm. The last time she’d seen Donovan, he was naked and soaking wet. In her shower. A little over an hour ago.

Please, sit down. The lieutenant returned to his chair.

I’m a little confused. Detective Casey works narcotics, doesn’t he? She slid a hard look at Donovan.

He did. We needed someone here in homicide with experience. I guess his foray into homicide on that case he worked with you sold him on our division. It didn’t take much coaxing to get Donovan here to agree.

I’ll bet it didn’t.

Donovan had the grace to look sheepish. He cleared his throat. Yes, well, a change can be good from time to time. I’m looking forward to our partnership.

The double meaning in his words was not lost on her. She suddenly found herself mute. If she argued too vehemently against Donovan, the lieutenant would get suspicious and demand to know her reasons. Those reasons should have been obvious to Donovan, though. They had been dancing around a relationship since they worked together on the last case. She guessed they were dating, but they hadn’t gotten so far as saying the ‘L’ word. In the past few weeks as things heated up, Susan had set stricter ground rules designed to keep Donovan Casey at a distance. Unless you counted the few occasions where he slept at her place. She was a good cop. She was a lousy girlfriend. He was an amazing lover.

She was the product of an abusive marriage that ended badly. Intimacy made her skittish, caused her to feel out of control. She knew about her control issues. The problem was, so did Donovan—and he was a very patient man. The idea of them working closely together every day and then going home together most nights sent a surge of anxiety through her. It smacked of too much ‘we.’ She wasn’t certain she knew how to be part of a we in a healthy relationship.

Susan wasn’t sure if her greater concern was that their working together would negatively impact their personal relationship, or if it would be the other way around.

The lieutenant stood. Well, I’ll let you two get to work. Wycoff, I can count on you to help orient Detective Casey to our unit, I assume?

"Yes, sir. I’ll be happy to orient him." Right after I throttle him for not saying a word about this.

Good. The lieutenant stretched out a hand to Donovan. Welcome aboard, detective.

Thank you.

Susan turned on her heel to exit the office.

Detective Wycoff, the lieutenant called.

She turned back, nearly crashing into Donovan. Yes?

The lieutenant held out her coffee mug that said World’s Best Detective—a gift from Frank Dillard.

Donovan took the mug and studied it before handing it to her. World’s best, huh?

Yes. And don’t forget it.

As they started down the hallway, Susan pulled Donovan into an empty conference room and closed the door. What the hell is wrong with you?

I know. You’re thinking I should have told you. I only knew this was a done deal on Friday. And I knew if I told you then, it would spoil our weekend. Besides, I thought you’d be pleasantly surprised. We work well together—in more ways than one.

You’re worried about the weekend? I’m talking about my career. Our careers. We can’t work together as partners and be in any kind of intimate relationship.

We’ve managed so far. He leaned against the conference table, his long legs stretched down in front of him. It’s obvious no one knows about us. We can work together and keep our personal life to ourselves. At least until I convince you to marry me. Then I suppose one of us will have to transfer.

She whirled around. Marry you? Right now, I don’t even want to be in the same room with you. You as much as lied to me.

I did not lie to you.

You knew this was coming. You failed to tell me about this all weekend. She lowered her voice. You shared my bed, my shower, and my body. And still it never occurred to you to mention this minor detail.

He stared at her. What are you most angry about? That you were blindsided by the announcement that I’d be your new partner? Or are you angry about this weekend and my staying over for three nights? This was a first.

Well, that won’t be an issue now, will it? she said.

He let out a breath. Are you looking for an excuse to end what we have? Because you are seriously over-reacting to this new partnership.

I am not over-reacting. I was blindsided in there. You said so yourself.

The door swung open and Molly, one of the unit clerks stared at them. Sorry to interrupt. I’m here to set up for a meeting that starts in ten minutes.

We’re finished, Susan said, moving past her to exit and leaving Donovan standing with his hands in his pockets.

She strode to her desk and slammed down the mug of now-cold coffee, splattering the desk blotter. Shit, she muttered.

Donovan joined her and stared around at the desks, settling on the one with the empty desktop. The one that had belonged to Frank Dillard before he retired and then to Babs. I, uh, guess this is mine? He lifted a plastic cup holding a bright yellow silk daisy and dropped it into the trash.

She picked up a stack of papers from the desk and noisily straightened them.

Donovan pulled back the desk chair and opened each desk drawer. Okay, then, so I’ll just find the supply closet.

He walked back through the squad room and approached Molly. Susan watched as the young clerk gave Donovan an eager head nod and bright smile. Seriously? He was going to have Molly stock the desk for him? Would she be fetching him coffee next? Perhaps eating out of his hand?

Donovan returned with an armload of notepads and a fistful of pens and pencils.

Molly reached around him to power up the outdated desktop computer. You’ll need to log in to make sure your password works, the young woman said. If it doesn’t, I’ll contact IT and get someone to fix that for you. Molly stepped back, hands clasped in front of her. Welcome to homicide. If you need anything at all, just let me know.

Donovan grinned. Thank you. I’m sure I’m going to like it here. His glance slid toward Susan. You’ve made me feel welcomed.

Her new partner made a noisy show of putting away his desk supplies. She ignored him.

He logged into the computer and scrolled. Without looking at her, he asked, So, do we have a case to work on?

I’m finishing up notes on my last case. Don’t worry. We’re sure to get a call any…

Molly came toward them. We have a body at the playground on East Agnew in Carrick. Uniforms are already on site, and the coroner’s on his way.

Molly offered the paper with the details to Donovan, but Susan reached out and snatched it from her hand. She grabbed up the keys to her vehicle. I’m driving, she said as she walked past Donovan.

Yes, ma’am. He followed and hurried to get ahead of her to hold the door—something he knew irked her. She refused to react.

Half the bridges in Pittsburgh were either undergoing repairs or inspections. The ten-minute drive took almost twenty, even with lights and siren going. She slid to a stop in front of the coroner’s van and got out. An early autumn splashed the surrounding trees in a palette of colors. The setting was serene, if not for the police vehicles and yellow caution tape. The entry gates were chained shut and a ‘Closed’ sign hung from them.

Donovan bent to pass under the yellow police tape she held up for him.

Four uniformed officers were on scene. Two stood by a large dirt pit. The others stood in front of two young boys and a woman seated on a bench nearby.

She approached the officers at the pit. What do we have?

One of the officers whose name tag identified him as Officer Smart said, Kids were playing with the excavator and dug up a hand. They freaked. The mom of one of the boys over there called it in. She wasn’t sure it was real. But the coroner’s tech says it is. He nodded to where a tech from the coroner’s office brushed around a human arm, deftly but carefully uncovering a body.

How deep is this thing? Donovan asked.

The dirt’s about two-and-a-half feet so the kids can run that excavator through it. Just enough to cover over a body.

Susan stared down at the body—dark hair, mouth partially open and sand caked around bluish lips, bruising around the slender neck.

She was strangled, Donovan said.

That’s personal. Let’s see if we can talk to the kids.

I hate talking to kids about this shit. No kid should have to see this. They already look scared to death, he muttered.

Meet them on their level. Shouldn’t be too hard for you, she said. I’ll take the mom.

Susan focused first on the woman. I’m Detective Wycoff. This is my partner, Detective Casey. We need to talk to the boys and find out what happened here.

They’re already terrified. I can tell you what happened. They were playing in the excavation pit and unearthed a dead body. Maybe if the city took better care of maintaining the playground, this wouldn’t happen. There’s no security here. Kids shouldn’t be digging up bodies.

Yes, ma’am. And you are? Susan took a notepad from the shoulder bag.

I’m Lisa Rowells. This is my son, Tim, and his friend, Bobby Schwartz. I’m sitting today for Bobby’s mother and brought the boys to the park to blow off steam. I didn’t realize it was closed until we got here. Didn’t seem to hurt, though, to let them dig in the dirt for a bit.

How old are they?

Both are eight.

Mrs. Rowells…

Miss, the woman corrected. Look, the boys already told these two officers what happened. Can’t I take them home now. Bobby’s mom will be wondering where we are.

You might want to call her. We need you to bring the boys to the precinct to be interviewed.

Interviewed? Like they’re suspects?

Not at all. Or we can take your statements here. We have to know everything. How long you were here. How long they were in the excavator. If you or they saw anyone else around…

Susan was interrupted by the coroner’s technician and stepped aside.

That body was moved here from another location. I’d estimate she’s been dead for at least two days. Likely killed somewhere else and then buried here.

You have a cause of death? she asked.

I can’t confirm until we autopsy, but she appears to have been strangled.

She shuddered at the thoughts of the autopsy. She hated the morgue—the smells, the unbearable coldness, and bodies laid open for inspection.

Okay if we take the body now? he asked.

She looked to where the crime lab photographer walked around the pit flashing photos. As soon as she’s finished.

Got it. I’ll let you know when the autopsy is scheduled.

Thank you Maybe she could turn that part of the investigation over to Donovan.

She returned to the woman and boys to find Donovan on his haunches in front of the boys and taking notes.

As she approached, he stood. Miss Rowells got here with the boys about an hour ago. They played on the other equipment before getting into the excavator pit. They’d only been in there a few minutes because, as soon as she noticed, she yelled for them to get out. Didn’t want them getting all sandy. Tim gave the excavator one final spin, and that’s when the hand was uncovered. The boys say they were the only ones here in the park the whole time.

He paused and, when Susan said nothing, said, I think we can let them go. I got their information.

Susan nodded. I don’t suppose it’ll do any good to ask them not to talk to anyone, especially the press, until we get more information.

I can try.

Susan watched as Donovan spoke with Lisa Rowells and then knelt again to talk to the boys. All three nodded in agreement with him. She had to admit that Donovan’s good looks and charm might come in handy at times. It had worked on her.

Donovan trotted back to where she stood. They promised, but you know how that goes, especially with kids. They’re already bordering between being terrified and thinking this is the coolest thing ever.

Lisa Rowells had each boy by a hand as she hastily brushed past Susan and Donovan. Miss Rowells, I can have one of our officers take you and the boys home, Susan said.

Great. I show up in a police car, and the whole neighborhood wants to know why. No thank you. It’s only two blocks. The woman turned and tugged on the boys’ hands. Come on.

You’ll tell me when I say something right, right? Susan said to Donovan. Let’s hope she maintains that privacy and keeps her mouth shut.

He glanced past her to where a TV van pulled up. It might not matter.

She knew the press would show up sooner than later. They monitored police radio calls. Susan watched the leggy brunette climb out of the van, iPad and microphone in hand. Shit. It’s Paula Stovall.

Want me to take this? Donovan asked. She likes me.

They all like you. Sure, you take it.

Susan watched as Donovan practically sprinted past Lisa Rowells and the boys to divert the reporter’s attention to himself. She walked back to the pit to watch as the body was about to be zipped into the body bag. She stared at the ashen face, lips parted, eyes open. Who are you, and what the hell happened to you? Then she asked the tech, Was there any ID on the body?

Nothing. Unless someone reports her missing, we’re probably going to have to run dental records.

How old do you think she is?

My guess, maybe late twenties, possibly thirty. One thing I did notice—she has a tattoo on her neck. He unzipped the bag and turned the victim’s head slightly, revealing the black tattoo of a shooting star.

She wasn’t sure of the significance. Lots of people had tattoos, and this was not something she’d identify as prison-related. Susan waved the photographer over. Get a close shot of that, will you?

The photographer flashed a few photos from different angles, including close up.

Susan knelt and studied the woman’s hands. There on the left hand between the thumb and forefinger was a tiny teddy bear. Get a shot of this, too, please.

After the body was loaded into the van, Susan returned to the uniformed officers. Tape off this entire playground. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here yet. We’ve probably already destroyed tire tracks.

With the crime scene secured, Susan returned to the vehicle where