The Mystery of Jessica Benson (25 page)

Karen was having difficulty getting off a clear shot, but
for one second they separated. She took aim and shot Will with
surgical precision in the thigh, careful not to hit an artery.
Recognizing that it was all over, Will went limp and
grabbed his leg. Frank shook free, pulled the holster across the
floor and released the cuffs from his belt. Will’s arm dragged
over something — his gun. He took it in his right hand, pushed
himself up and pointed it at Garcia.
“Give it up!” Karen ordered.
“It’s over, Will.” Frank Garcia spoke with sincerity to
his old colleague and friend.
Karen’s gun targeted Will. Will’s gun targeted Frank. In
one swift move, Will shoved his gun into his own mouth and
pulled the trigger. Blood and brains sprayed Karen’s living
room, leaving the two detectives staring at one another in
disbelief.
Karen’s blouse still hung open. Frank, who was the first
to find his voice, limped over to her, pulled it closed and put his
arms around her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, as he put his fingers gently
on her cheekbone, which was angry red and quite swollen. “How
bad is it? Ice. Let me get you some ice.”
“It’s alright,” she droned, in a voice she didn’t quite
recognize. “I’ll call Tom. Someone’s going to have to take
charge here.”
She looked down at her fallen partner. Tears streamed
down her cheeks.

C
oach Raymond banned all reporters — newspaper, magazine
and television — from the Demons’ complex. He demanded
focus from all the players and refused to tolerate any outside
interference. Practices started early and ended long after dark,
leaving little time for sleep.

But Kyle found time for Karen. They spoke frequently
and she kept him apprised of all the events following Will
Kaufman’s death. The ‘debriefing’ process was brutal, and the
interrogations she and Frank Garcia were subjected to were
arduous and draining. No one really faulted her or Frank for
attempting to talk Will in rather than turn him in without the
opportunity to explain himself. It had been the right way to deal
with a fellow officer. In the end, she and Frank were exonerated
of any wrongdoing and credited with clearing the case.

Despite the ugly realizations during the days leading up
to Will’s death, Karen confided to Kyle that she felt she lost an
old friend as much as a partner. The discovery that Kaufman’s
view of their relationship had been so warped hit her hard, like a
strong punch in the stomach. She anguished over signals she
might have given him that helped propel his fantasies about her,
and worried over what she might have done differently.

Karen could no longer face living in the place where
Will had killed himself. The entire scene from that awful day
played over and over in her mind every time she walked into that
room. She moved to a new apartment, hoping the change would
help her recover.

Unfortunately, she fell into a deep depression. She
simply could not put things into the proper perspective.
Department psychologists helped her to understand what had
happened to Will. He had apparently become delusional at some
point in time, perhaps because of a chemical imbalance in his
brain, or maybe the drugs, or a combination of both. He had
probably started unraveling long before he murdered Jessica
Benson, and there was no way she could have foreseen the
freefall of his mind and prevent the final explosion.

Karen and Kyle leaned on one another for strength
during the ordeal, and, in turn, formed a sort of glue that
continued to bond their growing respect for one another. She had
never doubted his innocence during the investigation, and had
even risked her life as well as her career to protect his name. He
was determined to stand by her now that she needed him.

Karen had been understandably nervous about her
colleagues’ reactions to her romance with a former suspect, but
after people learned of their past, there hadn’t been more than a
murmur of discontent. Of course, she never let on that their affair
had begun before the case ended.

For the most part, and especially within the Crimes
Against Persons unit, everyone was just relieved to have the
entire mess behind them. Kyle had actually become quite
popular in the squad room. He had offered box seats to the final
game of the season to all who were interested in them, which had
been just about everyone.

Kyle’s important career decision was, of course, whether
to retire from football or extend his contract for another year.
The Demons had already put an offer on the table, and it was all
up to him. Nietzsche said that which does not kill us, only makes
us stronger. Kyle Sands knew that to be true, certainly in his
relationship with Karen, and probably in his dealings with the
team. He had hit the zone at practice all week, and was going
into the last game with dogged determination to come out a
winner.

On the Friday night preceding the game against New
England, the coach told the players to take a night to themselves
and get their heads straight. Kyle had used the time to take Karen
to City Hall The Restaurant, which had become their favorite
place. In the romantic ambiance, they shared a bottle of
expensive champagne and each had the signature lobster pot pie.

Kyle took Karen back to his place afterwards, and they
went straight to his bedroom. He undressed in a hurry, but she
was nude before he, and suddenly, seized by a moment of
pheromonal abandon, or so he remembered it, he whispered he
loved her. Before she had the chance to respond, his mouth
covered hers. The sweet warmth of her told him his feelings
were shared.

J
oe Fraga faced serious jail time for trafficking. Life outside
prison walls would be no less traumatic, though. He was
barraged with malpractice suits from athletes who, after careful
research and examinations, found he had been shooting them up
with steroids on a regular basis. The American Medical
Association immediately suspended his license, yet the doctor,
who had more guts than glory, actually protested that action.

Tyrell Utley, former up and coming star quarterback for
the Miami Demons, was out on bail from the truckload of drug
charges that had been leveled against him.

Coach Raymond’s press release had been succinct.
Kyle
Sands is and always was the Demons’ starting quarterback.
Tyrell Utley has been released from the team
. Words to the
players were not so gracious. He growled daily about how he
would not tolerate that kind of behavior from a player, on or off
the field. To Kyle, he said, “I always liked your style, son. Utley,
he was way too interested in his own butt to appreciate the
importance of team mentality.”

Kyle’s mind was nearly blown by that one. “
Importance
of a team mentality
,” he joked to James Lundy. “I didn’t think he
even knew any
two
-syllable words.” The two had enjoyed a long
laugh.

I
t was late January when the World Championship game was
played in the Demons’ home stadium on a cold, windy
afternoon, somewhat of an anomaly for South Florida. Seventyeight thousand in attendance — a huge number were Miami fans
— huddled in uncharacteristic sweaters and jackets kept the
volume pumped up. When Number Thirteen was called, the roar
of approval could be heard for miles. The stadium rocked with a
standing ovation that was so out of control it delayed the opening
kick-off for two minutes.

The players on both teams had slugged it out for three
and a half hours and the atmosphere was tense. The Demons
were down by five, and now had the ball with a little less than a
minute to play. The fans were howling for Kyle to put it in the
end zone, and he intended to do just that.

Pulling himself up from his third sack of the day, he felt
the pain, every pain in every joint.
Suck it up
, he muttered to no
one in particular and dragged himself over to the huddle. He
called the play, broke and waited as his teammates took their
positions. It occurred to him that this might be the last ball he
ever threw professionally and he damn sure wanted to make it
count.

In his stance, he watched as the defensive players shifted
back and forth into different slots, trying to confuse him and at
the same time defend whatever the Demons had to toss at them.
As planned, he counted “blue-72” then shouted “blue blue 7-2”
and dropped back as James Lundy began his charge downfield.

The crowd gasped as two tackles bore down on Kyle.
Adrenaline pumping, he moved as well as he had done as a
young rookie, danced a couple of defined steps, raised his right
arm, and released the perfectly thrown ball. He backed up a few
feet and took a couple of deep breaths as he watched the football
arc higher and higher in its flight toward the end zone.

Novelist C.K. Laurence, who lives in and writes about steamy
South Beach in Florida, holds a Masters Degree in Sports
Administration from St. Thomas University and has worked
professionally with the University of Miami Hurricanes
(Football) and the Miami Heat Basketball Team. Known for her
quick wit and competitive spirit, C. K. is a passionate football
fan, thus the thread that runs through her novels. In addition to
football, she has spent tireless hours with homicide detectives
and CSI personnel, researching each story and every situation,
learning the nuances of criminal investigation. Her riveting plot
lines, brought to life by great characters, run through twists and
turns toward shocking finales. C.K. believes that all of life is
truly a mystery, but dreams do come true “as long as one is very,
very patient but aggressive. The older you get, the closer you are
to success.” She’s happy to tell you all about it when she's
signing your copy of her works.

The restaurants in this novel are actual South Florida eateries.
C.K. writes about only the places she loves and suggests if you
live in the area or are visiting that you put them on your dining
list. You won't be disappointed. Be sure to mention that you read
about them in THE MYSTERY OF JESSICA BENSON!