Above the Law (2 page)

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Above the Law

© 2016 By Carsen Taite. All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-559-6

This Electronic Book is published by

Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 249

Valley Falls, New York 12185

First Edition: June 2016

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

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Credits

Editor: Cindy Cresap

Production Design: Susan Ramundo

Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

By the Author

Truelesbianlove.com

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Beyond Innocence

Rush

Courtship

Reasonable Doubt

The Luca Bennett Mystery Series

Slingshot

Battle Axe

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Lone Star Law Series

Lay Down the Law

Above the Law

Acknowledgments

A series is a big commitment, both for the author and the reader. I’ve developed a keen appreciation for the fact that while I need to leave enough threads hanging at the end of each book so I can weave the next story out of the same cloth, I understand that means my readers are left hanging as well. Thanks to all you patient souls who read the first book,
Lay Down the Law
, in the Lone Star Law series. Your emails and social media posts supporting my work fueled the inspiration for this volume. Rest assured, there’s another installment in the works.

Thanks to all the usual suspects who helped me bring this book to life. Rad for giving my stories a place to thrive. Sandy Lowe for patiently tending to every detail along the way. Cindy Cresap, my editor, who makes me laugh even while she’s schoolin’ me about crazy hyphen rules. Sheri, thanks for another amazing cover. A huge shout out to the entire Bold Strokes team, from PR to proofreading—thanks for everything you do!

Ashley Bartlett and VK Powell—the best first readers in the world! Thanks for always being willing to work with me up until the clock strikes midnight on deadline day.

Thanks to fellow author Kim Baldwin for her insights into network news and thanks to outstanding indie film director, Robert Camina, for taking the time to answer all my questions about documentary filmmaking.

Lainey, thanks for all the sacrifices you make, big and small, to allow me to pursue my dreams. I love you more every day.

To all my readers—thanks for making this journey so worthwhile. I cherish all the emails, notes, and words of encouragement. This story is for you.

Dedication

To Lainey, above all.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

Signing out. Text you when it’s done. Yours, D.

Dale looked at the words she’d typed into her phone and closed her eyes. She’d sent the same words to Maria every time she’d gone into a potentially dangerous situation. The simple act of typing the text had been her lucky charm, her talisman. Until it wasn’t.

A year had passed, and she couldn’t shake the desire to type the text even though she knew no one would read it. Maria was gone—three words that never failed to dash a bucket of cold water on any lingering notions of sentiment, chilling her inside and out.

She pressed her thumb against the backspace button, slowly and methodically erasing every trace of her good-bye, but her eyes stayed closed and, against the backdrop of self-imposed darkness, she replayed the worst moments of the worst day of her life.

She’d powered her phone back up the minute the plane touched down. The sunrise flight from El Paso had only lasted an hour and a half, but the agent she’d met with there had promised she’d have the reports of Zeta Cartel activity in her e-mail inbox by the time she returned to Dallas. Before she could open her email account, her phone started blowing up with messages, voice and text. Her boss, Hector Diego, had called three times, and she had calls from several unfamiliar numbers, as well as a series of texts from the office with vague requests for a callback. She thumbed through them all and seized on the one call from a friend, ATF Agent Mary Lovelace. She touched the number and waited for Mary to pick up the line. She didn’t wait long.

“Dale, where are you?”

“At Love Field. Just landed. What’s up?” She pushed aside a rising sense of panic fueled by the unfamiliar anxious undercurrent in Mary’s voice. She’d met Mary during one of her tours in the Middle East where they both served in the Marine Corps. Sure and steady was their calling card, and Maria often joked that when they were on the job, folks would only be able to register one beating pulse between them.

“I’m ten minutes away,” Mary said, her voice tight with urgency. “I’m coming to get you.”

The offer of a ride was welcome since she’d been planning to catch a cab to the office, but she couldn’t help but feel something was off. “What’s the deal? Hector’s blowing up my phone, and he knows I was on a flight. Seriously, it’s like you guys can’t make it without me sometimes.”

Mary’s response was clipped and to the point. “Stay put. I’ll explain when I get there.” The line went dead before Dale could say another word, and her stomach roiled with unease. She hadn’t checked a bag, so she paced outside, watching for the sight of Mary’s Jeep and checking her watch as each of the promised ten minutes ticked slowly by before a loud honk shook her into awareness.

Mary pulled up next to her and leaned over to unlock the door. Dale barely had time to slide into her seat before Mary floored the accelerator, barely missing the Dallas cop on a Segway who shook his fist in their wake. When she looked back at Mary, her gaze was firmly fixed on the road ahead. “Where’s the fire?”

“We’ll be there in a minute.”

Dale shifted in her seat. Mary’s vague response fanned the flames of her anxiety, and as she watched familiar landmarks flash by, her apprehension became more acute. She asked again, and this time she didn’t try to hide the urgency in her voice. “Where are we going?” When Mary hesitated, she pressed the point. “It looks like we’re headed to my neighborhood. Are you going to tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to jump out at the next stoplight and figure it out for myself?”

Mary turned the Jeep down the main street that led into the Oaklawn neighborhood Dale and Maria called home. She pulled over a block from their street and turned in her seat. “Dale, I’d give anything in the world if I didn’t have to tell you this, but I need you to prepare yourself.”

“Tell me what?” Dale scoured Mary’s face for a clue, but she got nothing. Her stomach started churning, and she could feel a trickle of sweat along the back of her neck. “For Christ’s sake, Lovelace, quit stringing me along.”

“It’s Maria. There was a shooting. It happened less than an hour ago when she was leaving the house.”

Dale saw Mary place a hand on her thigh, but she barely registered the touch. Her heart thumped wildly, and her skin felt tight and suffocating. She fought for breath.“Where is she?”

Mary opened her mouth to answer, but her expression telegraphed the message before the words could leave her lips.

Dale’s gut clenched. She pushed her door open, jumped out of the Jeep, and started running. She could hear Mary’s voice calling out to her as the cement sidewalk blurred under her feet, but her entire focus was on the loud pounding of her boots against the pavement, guiding her home.

She pulled up short at the yellow ribbon of tape. Her yard, her house, a crime scene. Unbelievable.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step back.”

Her head took a slow motion turn toward the voice, and she registered the uniform, the badge. A local cop she didn’t know, but whose face she would never forget. Before she could growl her anger that it was he, not her, who was a trespasser, a hand touched her arm and she whirled to face her boss. She had only one question. “Where is she?”

Diego shook his head, and his eyes cast shadows of regret. “I’m sorry, Dale. She’s gone.”

Dale closed her eyes, praying when she opened them, time would have turned back to yesterday when she’d lingered in bed and tried to tempt Maria to do the same. She’d teased and cajoled, but Maria insisted she’d be late for a hearing. “When you get home,” she’d said. “We’ll spend an entire weekend in bed. I promise.”

Dale, reeling from the memory, opened her eyes, but nothing changed. Her lawn was crawling with law enforcement personnel. Measuring, photographing, bagging, and tagging—all the things she would be doing if this weren’t her house, her wife, her life. She might not be able to join in, but she had to know more. “What happened?”

Diego started talking, and she closed her eyes again to block out everything except his words. She cringed as he relayed the details provided by a neighbor who’d seen everything unfold.

Maria had walked out the front door. The neighbor waved from his own front yard. Maria called out a greeting and was bending down to retrieve the newspaper when a black SUV roared up to the curb. The neighbor had been startled at first, but the sound of rapid-fire gunshots spurred him into action. He ran back into his house and dialed 911 while straining to get a better view from his living room window. Before he was done with the call, the SUV drove off, leaving Maria sprawled on the lawn. With the phone still in his hand, he’d run across the street, screaming for help, but it was too late. Maria’s body was riddled with gunshots. She was still and lifeless, lying in a river of blood.

Dale listened to the account, allowing the horrific images to penetrate her consciousness, but filing away her pain for later. Right now, paralysis was her friend, but she needed one more thing to make sure what they were telling her was real and not some tragic nightmare. “I need to see her.”

Diego stared at her with a frown of reluctance, but finally nodded and grasped her arm. She stumbled, feeling faint, floating above her body—she wondered vaguely if she would ever feel normal again. A second later, she saw a different hand on her arm and she turned to see Mary standing beside her.

“I’ll take her.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“We’re fine.”

“I’m here if you need me.”

Dale saw their mouths move, but their words drifted through the air like they were discussing someone else, something else. Anything besides her. It didn’t matter—all the talk was just a delay of the inevitable. Without waiting for an escort, she stepped over the crime scene tape and walked slowly across her lawn toward a cluster of people kneeling on the ground. As she drew closer, she saw Mary out of the corner of her eye, waving everyone away until it was just her and the torn and bloody body of the woman she loved. She dropped to her knees, clutched her chest, and keened her sorrow, not caring who heard.

Dale shoved her phone into her pocket and slid her arms into the bulletproof vest, flinching as she adjusted the Velcro straps tight around her chest and shoulders. She hated the bulk and the vulnerability the vest symbolized, not to mention her left shoulder was still sore from the gunshot wound she’d gotten while checking out a lead at one of Cyrus Gantry’s warehouses. If she didn’t need to set an example for the rest of her team, the vest would have stayed in the back of her truck.