Authors: Rayven T. Hill
Fugitive Justice (27 page)
Jake lunged forward, reaching for the gun.
Friday, 10:14 a.m.
ANNIE SAT IN THE backseat of Hank’s car as it sped toward 220 Crestwood. King was holding Hank’s cell, and she leaned forward, listening in alarm as sounds of a battle came over the phone.
A few minutes earlier, following the revelation Ace was Merrilla Overstone’s nephew, Hank had decided it was reason enough to bring Ace in for a good long talk. Annie had insisted on coming along.
“If you don’t, I’m going to follow in my car, and you can’t stop me,” she’d stubbornly said.
Hank had relented.
Halfway to their destination, Hank’s cell phone had rung, and he’d been surprised to hear Jake’s voice. The moment he’d found out what was transpiring, he’d set the phone to record the call, then put it on speaker. They’d listened to Ace’s entire confession.
But now, something other than talk was going on inside the house.
“We’d better get there before Jake gets himself shot,” King said. He’d been fingering his weapon the whole time, and he looked ready to charge in the moment they reached the house.
The portable police siren blared from its spot on the roof. Cars pulled over in front of them. Hank leaned into the steering wheel and spun around a vehicle that had failed to yield.
Backup was on the way, but he was eager to get there before it was too late.
Amid grunts and thumps, Jake’s voice sounded from the phone. “I hope you’re on your way, Hank.”
Then, the sound of a single gunshot came over the line, and Annie held her breath.
“I’m okay,” Jake said a moment later. “But he’s getting away. He crashed right through the back window.”
Hank spun the vehicle onto Crestwood Drive, and King pointed. “Two twenty.”
The vehicle ground to a stop and the cops jumped out.
“Annie, you stay here,” Hank called over his shoulder.
Hank ran toward the front door of the house as King circled around behind.
An engine roared from the rear of the building. It was the Mustang.
Annie leaped over the seat and worked her way behind the steering wheel. She started the car, hit the gas, and backed the Chevy into the driveway. It stopped at an awkward angle, blocking the exit.
She spun around in her seat and held her breath as the Mustang thundered toward her. The Chevy rocked as the other vehicle rammed its bumper. Then the Mustang howled and leaped off the driveway onto the front lawn.
Hank leveled his weapon and fired two shots as the powerful car lurched over the sidewalk and hit the street.
Jake raced out the front door of the house and stopped beside Hank. King appeared from behind, emptying his weapon at the fleeing vehicle.
The rear tire of the Mustang exploded, and the vehicle careened off the street. It continued for a hundred feet, one wheel on the sidewalk, as the driver fought to bring it under control. Then the Mustang sideswiped a tree and came to a shattering stop, its front end damaged beyond repair against a second immovable tree.
Ace leaped from the vehicle and sprinted up the street in the opposite direction.
Jake and the two cops raced after the fugitive, but Ace had a long lead.
He was getting away.
Annie had no choice.
She dropped the Chevy into gear and hit the gas. Tires whined as the vehicle hurtled onto the street and gathered speed. She zoomed past the detectives and clung to the steering wheel, gaining on the fleeing man.
Jake had outraced the cops and was twenty feet ahead of Hank. He turned and stepped aside as the Chevy approached. Jake had a big grin on his face and one thumb in the air when Annie whipped past him.
She was closing in. Ace glanced over his shoulder, then veered left and crossed the sidewalk, heading for a pathway between two houses.
Annie didn’t let up. She gave the steering wheel a hard wrench. Her head brushed the ceiling as the Chevy lurched wildly and bounced over the curb. It spun onto the front lawn of the house, its front end almost on the heels of the fugitive.
With one smooth motion, Annie slammed on the brakes, threw the car into park, and opened the driver-side door. She sprang from the vehicle and hit the ground running.
Ace was fast, but he was tiring, panting for air as Annie closed in.
Two feet from the killer, she dove forward and tackled the runner. She wrapped her arms around his legs, clinging with all she had.
They both went down. Her breath left her body with a whoosh as his foot dug into her ribs.
He cursed and she hung on, but he was slipping from her grasp.
Just a few more seconds and Jake would be there.
Just a few more seconds.
Ace worked one leg loose and kicked frantically. His heel caught her in the shoulder, and she felt an intense pain. Her arms grew weak. She lost her grip, now clinging to one ankle with both hands.
He struggled, kicked, and cursed. Then, with a final desperate heave, he worked his foot free, and Annie was left holding a running shoe. She tossed it aside in disgust, then lay prostrate, exhausted, and too tired to persevere. From the corner of her eye, she saw the killer roll to his feet and stumble away.
Then a blur ran past, leaped forward, and brought the fugitive to the ground.
It was Jake.
Annie struggled to her feet, a bruised rib causing her to wince in pain, but with an expression of triumph on her face.
Ace lay prone on the ground, one arm wrenched behind his back. He struggled in vain as the full weight of Jake’s body held him down.
Handcuffs rattled as Hank knelt and cuffed the defeated fugitive, then Jake stepped back as the detectives dragged the sputtering man to his feet and read him his rights.
Without a word, Jake put his arm around Annie and drew her close. She was exhausted and sore all over, but it didn’t matter. She was happy.
Jake was coming home at last.
Friday, 3:10 p.m.
HANK FOLDED UP his notes and stepped back from the podium. The hastily assembled press conference had gone well, and he’d been able to answer most of the questions put to him.
The subject of Jake’s once-suspected involvement hadn’t come up. Instead, he’d made sure the press knew the Lincolns deserved the credit for breaking the case wide open.
As the crowd of reporters dissipated, he turned to Jake and Annie and flashed a grin. He’d never before been so pleased at the outcome of a case, and his face couldn’t stop showing it.
They went back into the precinct, and the three of them sat around Hank’s desk. He had a pile of paperwork to take care of, interviews to do, and statements to take.
It was going to be a long process, but it could wait.
“Ace’s confession is what really nailed this case closed,” Hank said, looking at Jake. “Once he found out there’d been an open phone line, and we’d heard his confession, he knew he was sunk.”
“Did he confess to killing Dewey Hicks?” Annie asked. “I don’t think Jake managed to get that out of him.”
Hank nodded. “Yes, he did. We’re gonna be having a few more long talks with him, but everything he told us appears to fit together with what we already knew and with Jake’s story.”
“What about the insurance money?” Jake asked.
Hank shrugged. “I’m no expert in that area. But usually, a death benefit won’t be paid if the insured commits suicide. Niles Overstone might have to fight for it, but since the policy was a few years old, he might stand a chance of winning.”
“Ace was an idiot,” Jake said. “If Niles Overstone was dead, it doesn’t mean the money would go to Wanda Tinker. We don’t know what Niles has in his will. He might be leaving everything to charity.”
“Ace isn’t very bright, anyway,” Annie said. “Jake had him fooled pretty easily.”
Jake frowned at Annie. “Are you saying my brilliant plan wasn’t all that brilliant?”
Annie laughed. “It was a little hairy.”
“It worked. That’s the main thing,” Jake said with a shrug. “Besides, I didn’t have much choice.”
“Diego’s happy about how it all worked out,” Hank said. “He wouldn’t admit it, but I think he’s feeling a little guilty about not giving you more support.”
“I won’t hold it against him,” Jake said. “That is, unless I need some leverage in the future.”
“I have a lot of sympathy for Niles Overstone,” Hank said. “When he heard what his wife had planned, he took it hard. Eventually he revealed she hadn’t been herself lately. Her emotions had run from one extreme to the other, from fear of dying to looking forward to it. Though Niles had tried to convince her otherwise, Merrilla’s greatest concern was in being a burden to her husband in her final few days.”
“I guess I can forgive her for trying to frame me,” Jake said. “Actually, I blame Ace for coming up with the idea and taking advantage of his aunt’s fragile physical and mental condition.”
“When all is said and done,” Hank said, “we can’t forget the woman killed at the bank, Arlina Madine.” He paused and sighed. “I need to visit her family yet. They’ll be pleased the murderer has been caught. A small consolation, but it’s something.”
Annie looked at her watch. “We’d better be getting home. Matty’ll be there soon, and he’ll be looking forward to seeing his daddy.”
“And his daddy’s looking forward to seeing him,” Jake said as he stood. “I have to tell him how brave his mother was.”
Annie laughed and stood. “Yeah, I was so busy being brave, no one noticed I was scared to death.”
Hank sat back, chuckling to himself as he watched his good friends leave. The case was closed, and he’d be able to relax for a while.
He picked up his briefcase, flipped it open, and removed the small velvet-covered box.
He had no excuses left, and he had some plans to make.
###
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Rayven T. Hill
Blood and Justice
The First Book in the Series
When sixteen-year-old Jenny James goes missing, and the local police are unable to find her, the girl’s frantic mother hires private investigators Jake and Annie Lincoln to search for her daughter.
When the body of Jenny’s boyfriend is discovered, the mystery of her disappearance deepens. Shaken out of their comfort zone of Internet searches and poring over public records, the couple soon find themselves facing the frightening possibility they are looking for the latest victim of a serial killer.
As more bodies pile up, the town is gripped with fear. It seems no one is safe, and the Lincolns race to solve an impossible puzzle before they become the killer’s next victims.
Cold Justice
The Second Book in the Series
Late one night, an emotionally disturbed woman, Abigail Macy, witnesses a murder. She reports what she saw to the police, but out of fear the killer will return to eliminate her as a witness, she keeps quiet about his identity. When the police investigate her claim, they find no evidence of a crime and, influenced by her psychiatrist’s diagnosis that she was delusional, they close the case.
Abigail’s condition deteriorates, and she shuts herself away, withdrawn and distraught, refusing to speak to anyone except the occasional word to her husband. To ease her tormented mind, he hires private investigators Jake and Annie Lincoln to find a supposed killer, with no proof one exists.
