Incidental Justice

By Eileen Harris

It's bad enough that romance is causing a disruption in Tavia's ordered life, but a thief spending time with an assistant district attorney isn't a minor issue. To complicate matters further, the policeman who has been her best friend since childhood has gotten her involved in helping children in trouble, dealing with high-level corruption, and hunting a serial killer. Being in the middle of a large theft doesn't mix well with all the do-gooder problems her friend has made it impossible for her to avoid. Tavia has just begun to tackle these problems when she discovers her best friend is missing and someone is trying to kill her.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781590880623

Book preview

Incidental Justice

The first guard hadn't hesitated to fire when he'd discovered me. I had no way of knowing how serious Haversham was about keeping the police away from his collection, but the guards seemed to take their duty seriously. For me it didn't matter much, because either way, I needed to be gone immediately if I wanted to avoid shooting anyone.

I looked out both bedroom windows. The yard lights below allowed me to see fairly well, but these second-story windows offered no easy way down. The only option was to jump. If I injured myself in the landing, my goose was cooked. I went into the adjoining bathroom. This window was a lot smaller than the bedroom ones, but not too far down was an old grapevine that might hold my weight, or at least break my fall. I didn't know if I could wiggle through the small opening. I had a momentary vision of the guard walking into the room and seeing my butt wedged tightly in the window. The thought struck me as funny, and I had to work hard to suppress a giggle. I got control of myself, climbed on the edge of the tub, and opened the window. As soon as I got my shoulders through, I was confident the rest of me would fit, but I'd scraped the bullet wound on the jamb and the pain made me dizzy. I took a second to clear my head, reached for the vine, and pulled myself the rest of the way outside. I turned back to make sure I hadn't left any blood on the window. So far nothing had seeped through the rag I'd stuffed under my shirt. The vine was old, thick, and strong, and seemed capable of holding my weight. It was full of dried branches and I was getting scratched up some, but I protected my face and descended. As I inched my way toward the ground, the vine bent away from the wall a foot or two, but I was able to climb down far enough to jump safely to the ground. I pushed the vine back into what I thought was its normal shape and began making my way among the trees in the citrus grove back toward the car.

Incidental Justice

––––––––

Eileen Harris

––––––––

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Mystery Novel

Wings ePress, Inc.

––––––––

Edited by: Jeanne Smith

Copy Edited by: Bev Haynes

Executive Editor: Jeanne Smith

Cover Artist: Trisha FitzGerald-Jung

Image: Midjourney

Excerpt from Nodes used with permission of the author.

––––––––

All rights reserved

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

www.wingsepress.com

Copyright © 2023 by: Eileen Harris

ISBN 978-1-59088-631-1

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress, Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS 67114

Dedication

A dedication is long past due to the person who taught me that reading opens up whole new worlds, and that books truly are magic. Thank you, Mom.

The world offers few butterflies

unencumbered by cruel caterpillars.

—from the poem Nodes by M. C. Rush

One

The massive door to my walk-in vault rolled smoothly and quietly shut on its ball-bearing casters until the lock snicked securely into place. That sound, as always, was music to my ears. Sliding the adjacent bookcase back into place hid any trace of the vault's existence. Glancing around to assure myself all was in order, I was as ready as I'd ever be to turn my attention to the doorbell, which had been ringing incessantly for the last few minutes.

There was no doubt about the identity of the visitor waiting on my front porch. I was in no hurry to confront him. Was my rising irritation from the fact that this man was taking up my valuable time, or because I'd allowed myself to be affected by his need? Fred Silva rang the bell again, and it was a no-brainer to know he wouldn't, couldn't give up, so I trudged upstairs knowing procrastination wouldn't change the fact that I wished I'd never met Fred Silva. Too late for that, and here he stood on my stoop with his suit hanging from his large frame like castoffs from a much heavier man, with muscles that seemed to have lost the ability to hold his body upright, and eyes that radiated pain. Gray was beginning to stain his black hair, and wrinkles fanning out from his eyes marred his face. He was a study in misery.

Fred had knocked on my door the first time because his daughter had been kidnapped. He knew why and was fairly sure he knew who. He'd come to me rather than the police because he believed too many people in power were protecting the people he suspected.

The man began a stream of questions before he was fully in the door, but rather than answer, I said, Fred, come in and sit down. Before you ask questions that have no answers, let me lay out what you need to know. First and most important, I've located where your daughter is being held. My plan is to attempt a rescue tonight, but before you start celebrating, you need to understand that she isn't in great shape, so when I bring her home tonight, I'd advise you to have a doctor standing by. She'll recover physically, but it's going to take a lot of patience on your part if she's ever going to heal emotionally.

I knew I'd been brutal, but it was intentional. He needed to come to grips with the truth, so he didn't inflict his misery on his daughter LeAnn. As I explained the situation to him, he'd dropped his head onto his arms and was crying openly, but I didn't try to comfort him. He was going to have to get tough in a hurry, and he needed to get his crying over with now.

A week and a half ago, Fred had reluctantly knocked on my door because he was desperate. He'd gotten my name from Detective John Perez, and believe me, I'd already torn strips off John's hide for that unwelcome favor.

Fred told me his eight-year-old daughter had mysteriously disappeared, and the cops had no leads. John knew that if she were still alive, she might not be for long and he also knew I could find her, but getting me involved broke all the rules between us and I wouldn't forgive John quickly. Yes, I could find the girl.

The underbelly of Phoenix was my playground, and I knew it well, but that wasn't the point. John knew I had no desire to help the police and wasn't prone to good deeds, but even that wasn't the main problem here. He also knew how I felt about child abuse and why, and he'd used his personal knowledge of my past when he’d sent Fred to me. Compounding his transgression even further, he'd given the man my real name. I operated under several aliases, but the one I'd been born with, Tavia Weldon, was only known to a handful of people.

John and I'd grown up together in the most hellish conditions possible. At least at the time, I'd believed nothing worse was possible. We'd spent our first eight years at the mercy of a system where there wasn't much oversight on the type of care provided by the state, and the low-paid help varied from stupid to cruel.

At eight, John had been adopted by the Perez family. They had a five-year-old daughter but couldn't have any more children. They believed adopting an older brother for Connie was a good idea, and as it turned out, they were right. Six months later, I was also adopted and sent to live with Uncle Clive and Aunt Alice, where for the next five years, I endured all the tortures of hell. What had been done to LeAnn was nothing in comparison. At thirteen I'd taken my revenge, and then run away to begin the long journey back to sanity. Now here was Fred, sent by John, to remind me of the past.

I waited without speaking until Fred eventually looked up and said, I know you probably blame me for letting my daughter get taken in the first place, but not nearly as much as I blame myself. If I'd been paying more attention to LeAnn and less to my career, this might never have happened. When you bring my daughter home, that becomes the past, and I understand fully what you're telling me about the future. I swear I will do everything in my power to ensure LeAnn gets the future she deserves. I want to thank you now for everything you're doing, since there may not be time later. What can I pay you for your help? Believe me when I say no amount is too high, just name your price.

I have no interest in judging you, and I don't want your money. I have plenty of my own. What I do want is you in my debt. You're a powerful man in this town, and the day may come when I want or need a favor. All I need right now is your assurance that when I ask, you'll deliver.

Without hesitation, he wrote and signed his promise on the back of one of his cards and handed it to me. I said, I think we're done here. Go home, get a doctor, and wait for your daughter.

When he'd gone, I slumped down on the sofa and sighed, exhausted by his emotional outburst. It was at least five hours until I could risk taking LeAnn from the Domino Club. I wanted to be sure not to be seen because most of the club members were well-respected men in town and not people I wanted knowing my face. The Domino was a busy place, but by two a.m., the perverted members had usually gone home to their upstanding lives and conventional families. The night would be mine.

I lay on the couch searching for flaws in my plan for the late-night rescue, but at some point, I drifted into an uneasy sleep. The dream came quickly. At first, I couldn't tell if it was going to be bad or terrible. It began when I was twelve-almost-thirteen and standing in the hall outside Clive and Alice's bedroom. They could insist I called them aunt and uncle in public, but they couldn't force me to think it. They were in bed, but awake. Clive said, You know, Alice, our little Tavia is getting way too big to provide much fun. I think we've done about everything we can with her. So, how would you feel about coming up with some inventive way to kill her?

You're right, she is getting older than we like, but Jesus, murder... I know the older she gets the more risk there is she'll talk to someone, but I assumed we'd drop her in the middle of some large city and abandon her. Dumping a used-up kid, changing our names, and moving has kept anyone from finding us in the past.

That's true. We have done that before, and that's the point. It seems like we should try something new. Don’t you think watching her die would be the ultimate thrill?

Alice said, Even talking about watching her life slip away gets me excited, but we'll need to give it some serious thought and see if we can come up with a plan that’s both thrilling and safe. We wouldn't want to waste this opportunity on anything ordinary, but we'd better know every detail in advance, especially what we're going to do with the body.

I was getting good at waking myself before the dreams could take over and go from scary to terrifying. I dragged myself out of the past and into the present. My dreams weren't always exact replicas of the past and often seemed even worse than the reality had been.

Shaking off the morose mood brought on by the dream, I forcibly shifted my mind back to the present. It was time to gather the things I'd need for my night's work, so once more sliding back the section of bookcase in my study, I opened the large vault. Habitually, I stopped on the threshold and glanced around my trophy room before entering.

On the right wall was my file cabinet, containing precisely labeled files with the names and information on the people that owed me, as well as information that could be used for blackmail to obtain favors from those who didn't already owe them. Soon I would add a new file on Senator Fred Silva, definitely a valuable addition to those already in the cabinet.

On the vault's back wall was a mid-sized safe where I kept cash. A safe in a vault might be redundant, but I kept a great deal of money on hand, even though not all of it was American dollars. There were large stacks of cash corresponding to the excellently faked passports stacked on the bottom shelf. The left wall was covered with row upon row of open shelves that held the safe’s most fascinating items. These shelves held my treasures—everything from gold, jewels, and small valuable antiques to paintings by famous artists. Some of these items were stolen but would be safe to fence in time, and others were payment for jobs completed.

The large portion of the right wall not occupied by file cabinets was my objective tonight. This area contained both drawers and shelves, which were filled with the tools of my trade. Tonight, I didn’t want to cause any undo noise, so from the large selection, I chose a handgun and a silencer, because even though the building should be empty of members, the security team would still be on duty. Out of habit, I also picked up my belt knife, boot knife, and a taser. I shouldn't need anything else. I'd reconned the area plenty already and knew exactly how I planned to enter and escape, hopefully with LeAnn.

~ * ~

At what I believed was the optimal time, I drove to an upscale area of town and parked a block away from the back side of my target building. I didn't think my car would be noticed, but just in case I'd put on a set of recently-stolen plates. As soon as I'd finished, I would ditch them and put my own plates back on. There was a convenient narrow alley from this street to the back of the building. It was used for trash pickup, and I knew a pickup wasn't scheduled for another two days. Almost no job ever went according to plan, but I thought I had considered every contingency I could in advance. Checking my weapons one last time and making sure my blond hair was completely hidden under my black knit hat, I began working my way quietly through the alley.

When I reached the back of the club, I stood next to the trunk of a large palo verde tree. Fortunately, these ornamental trees were spineless, and after a careful look around, I began climbing the wide, evenly spaced branches. It was an easy climb. When I reached a branch that was level with the roof, I jumped over onto the building. My black ankle-high moccasins made no noise on the shingles that were still warm from the afternoon sun, as I worked my way to the door I knew led to an elevator.

The social standing of the club members was working to my advantage. The roof contained a helicopter landing pad so these upstanding members of society could fly in, take a quick elevator ride, and enjoy their perversions. Using the elevator constituted what I considered to be the biggest risk of the whole operation. If one of the security team heard the elevator descending, they could be waiting for me when the door opened, and from the information I'd been able to learn about the place, if they believed they had an intruder, they would shoot first and not worry about asking questions.

Anyone legitimately using this elevator from the roof would be an expected guest. If they heard me descend, they would know I didn't belong. The only advantage I had was that they wouldn't know which floor I planned to exit on until the elevator car stopped.

I was going to the third floor, one down from the top.

Picking the lock on the outside door was easy, and as expected, the elevator remained functional, even at night. I entered quickly. Unfortunately, the guard on floor three must have heard the elevator descending, because when the door opened, I stepped out nearly on top of him. His surprise delayed his reaction long enough for me to render him unconscious with the taser before he could draw his weapon or sound an alarm. I didn't think he'd gotten enough of a look at me to know whether I was male or female, let alone recognize me if we were to meet on the street tomorrow.

I hoped the tasing would keep him down long enough for me to complete my mission. If he were expected to report in anytime soon, that might be a problem, but I couldn't worry about that now. To be sure I wasn't accidentally discovered because someone found the unconscious guard, I pulled his limp body around the corner out of sight.

Quietly, I made my way to room twelve. The door was locked, but again, it was easy to pick. The club's hierarchy obviously wasn't expecting intruders this far into their inner sanctum, but they'd made a mistake when they'd taken the senator's daughter. It had been a move on their part to derail the most outspoken member of Congress's campaign to stop prostitution and the exploitation of children. Instead, it had spurred his obsession on the subject to a fever pitch. They had also underestimated the friends and acquaintances he could call on for aid. Silva might be a mental wreck at the moment, but he had been ruthless in the process of finding his daughter, and I was sure he must have used all of his connections in order to find me.

I silently slipped into the room and turned on the light. The room could never have been intended to be used for guests. What little furniture it contained was cheap, and the beds were just frames with thin, lumpy mattresses. I groaned inwardly when I saw two beds, each containing a sleeping child. Crap, now what? Fred had shown me a picture of his daughter, so I didn't have a problem identifying her thin frame and black hair so like her father's. The problem would be getting her out of the room without waking the other girl. If she didn't wake up, I could just leave her as she was, but if she woke, I would have to take them both to keep her from causing a ruckus, which could bring every guard in the place to this floor. Watching her jerk in her sleep and seeing the obvious signs of abuse would make it tough to leave her, but I would to complete my prime objective of getting the Silva kid away safely. This building was full of unfortunate women and children. I couldn't save them all.

At the side of LeAnn's bed, I ran into my first complication when I put my hand over her mouth and shook her lightly to wake her. I got no reaction. She was obviously alive and breathing fine, so I figured they must have drugged her. Great! I couldn't imagine why they would have needed to keep her drugged, but it meant I would have to carry her to the elevator. She might only be eight, but she was a big girl. I was sure I could move her, but I hoped we didn't meet anyone on the way, because an armload of girl would not leave me much freedom in a firefight. I was bending over to pick her up when a voice behind me said, What are you doing? Haven't you hurt her enough for one day? Go away and leave us alone.

I spun around to find the girl in the opposite bed sitting up and glaring at me. Her red curls stuck out in every direction, and her delicate face was stiff with determination. I said, You've got me all wrong. I'm one of the good guys. I'm not here to hurt LeAnn, I'm here to rescue her. Her dad hired me for the job. If you want to get out of this place, you need to be as quiet as possible and do exactly what I tell you.

She glared at me a little longer and then sighed. At least when she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. I don't know if I believe you or not, but going with you can't be worse than staying. What do you want me to do?

Get dressed and wait by the door. Let me know if you hear anyone coming.

She quickly pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and moved to the right side of the door, opened it a tiny bit, and seemed to listen. She looked a couple of years older than LeAnn, but even ten was young to grasp her new situation so quickly. I'd just scooped the unconscious girl from the bed when my new partner said, I hear something.

She had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when a lone security guard burst through the door, and even before he could take in the position of the people in the room, he began firing. The first bullet hit the bed exactly where LeAnn's roommate would have been if she hadn't woken. The second shattered the lamp between the two beds. The senselessness of his random shots infuriated me. I dropped my burden back on the bed and grabbed my gun. The guard had taken in the situation and was preparing to fire at me, but I quickly dropped him with two well-placed shots before he fired. Now we really had to hurry, because even though my gun was silenced, his wasn't. The roommate was still standing by the door. Her eyes were huge, but she was looking at me and not the body when she said, I hear the elevator moving. What do we do now?

Stay here. Get some shoes on LeAnn if you can. She seems to be coming around a little, and she may need the shoes if she gets to the point where she can walk. I'll be right back.

I knew she didn't want me to leave her with a drugged girl and a dead body, but she didn't say anything as she moved to follow my instructions. I patted her shoulder awkwardly as I walked toward the door.

The minute I stepped outside the room, I could hear the elevator moving, but at least this time I was the one waiting for the door to open rather than the other way around. I'd barely finished that thought when the noise stopped, and the door slid open. A split-second glance told me there were two armed men inside. One was a guard, but the other was a tall, good-looking man in an expensive suit. The handsome one tried to raise his gun, but I shot them both before the door was fully open. I stopped long enough to take a quick look at the bodies, and even though I was sure they were dead, I kicked the guns, which had fallen from their hands, into the corner of the elevator. I recognized the guy in the suit.

It was Nick Tanner, one of the owners of the Domino Club.

I hurried back into the girls’ room. The look of relief on my helper's face was the most emotion I'd seen her show so far. She had LeAnn sitting up, but