Thrill Kill - Softcover

Motley, Ralph L. Jr.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1440182256 ISBN 13: 9781440182259

Verlag: iUniverse, 2009

Inhaltsangabe

Detective Zack Townes is just getting over the sudden death of his former partner when he's assigned a new one. Sgt. Kim Patterson, an Alicia Keys look-alike, seems more like a model than a police officer. But while on the clock, she's all business. When she isn't at work, however, it's a different story. She's single and ready to find Mr. Right, or at least Mr. Right Now. And she thinks that her partner, Zack, who is married, might be just the man to satisfy her desires. Zack must use all his strength to resist the heat coming from his beautiful partner. When Kim goes to a local club to let off some steam and find a man, she meets someone who is doing some hunting of his own. Now, she finds herself kidnapped by a sadistic serial killer who has been preying on women throughout the city. Kim must rely on all her cunning if she's to outsmart her kidnapper and manage to survive in Thrill Kill.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Ralph L. Motley Jr. is also the author of Ruthless and A Family Out of Kilter. He lives in Danville, Virginia, where he loves to read, write, and play chess.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

THRILL KILL

By RALPH L. MOTLEY, JR.

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2009 Ralph L. Motley, Jr.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4401-8225-9

Chapter One

IT HAD BEEN nearly a month since Zack's old partner, Casey, was kicked off the force. With distress in his voice Casey called Zack in the middle of the night. Zack reluctantly rolled out of bed. His wife and six-month-old baby boy slept soundly, at least until the detective had gotten completely dressed. Then Diane asked, drowsily, "Where are you going?"

"Police work, hon."

Lifting her head slightly, she said, "Okay. Be safe."

He gave her a peck on the forehead. Zack stepped out into the sea of darkness, his black, bald head glistening under a streetlight and half-moon. He slid his big body behind the steering wheel, and he muttered under his breath, "This shit better be good."

When Zack reached Casey's apartment, all he heard was somber music coming from inside. Marilyn Manson's creepy voice rose above the dark chords. Zack wasn't a fan. But he had heard Casey play it before when he was depressed.

A dim light from inside barely showed through the partially drawn curtains. This was Zack's second visit since Casey's termination. The apartment door was ajar. Zack slowly pushed it open and was shocked by what he saw. On Zack's previous visit, Casey had been half-drunk. This time he was completely drunk and had a big gun pointed at his temple. The hammer was cocked.

"Come on in, big man," Casey said.

Zack's heart began to hammer against his chest. He immediately tried to diffuse the situation. It was part of his job. "Casey, calm down," he said, cautiously, extending his hands to emphasize his point. "Just calm down, it's not worth it."

Casey gave an eerie chuckle. "Of course it's worth it," he said.

Zack knew what Casey had at his temple: a snub-nosed 357 Taurus, one of many handguns they practiced with at the shooting range.

Zack glanced around and saw the place was a mess. Broken furniture and shards of glass and ceramics were scattered across the floor. Among the rubbish were countless empty beer cans and liquor bottles. Zack deduced Casey'd been on a drinking binge for days. His soiled clothes were further proof that he had been behaving this way for a while.

Slouching in a high-back chair in the corner, Casey slurred as he said, "Let's reminisce a little, big man. Look how well we worked together. How we busted those assholes. You know, the drug dealers and the serial killer that was thought to be dead."

Stepping over debris as he crossed the floor gingerly toward Casey, Zack said, "That's true, partner."

"How about that drifter that took us for a ride? I knew for sure that scumbag was the killer. For some strange reason, I still believe he was involved."

The bald, six-foot-six detective was just a few feet from Casey. One of his huge feet crushed a beer can. Zack froze in his tracks.

"Hold it, big guy!" Casey shouted, pushing the end of the revolver deeper into his skull. "I'll do it."

Zack threw up his hands. "Okay ... okay, I believe you."

"Now, back to my story. Look at all the good things I did."

"Yeah, you're right." Zack had learned in training years ago that if someone was trying to commit suicide, you should always agree with anything positive he or she said. Do whatever it takes to keep him alive.

"Then why would they just throw me off the force?" Casey asked.

You dumb ass, Zack thought. You failed one drug test after another. And if that wasn't enough, you violated rule after rule, which only confirmed everybody's suspicion that you were a rogue cop. An asshole that thought rules didn't apply to you. And to add insult to injury, Chief Watts stuck you with me; nonetheless, I managed to keep you clean during the good times, and now this.

Zack was within inches of grabbing Casey's hand when the hammer dropped. The side of Casey's head exploded. He twitched a few times, slipped down the chair, and slumped over.

The detective watched in horror. He thought he had done everything humanly possible to keep Casey alive.

A few days after the suicide, Zack recalled vividly the day he and Casey had celebrated the capture of the killer. They had been all but assured to receive their promotions. But that fateful night they decided to hit a few bars, dressed in civilian attire, much like the rest of the patrons. Before their night of drinking started, the detective said he would drink in moderation. Said he would drink just enough alcohol to get a buzz and then call it quits. A junior officer by the name of Chuck who happened to have the night off said he would be their designated driver for fifty bucks.

They hit the Tavern first. Situated downtown between a burger joint and a bookstore, the popular bar and grill catered to a mostly blue-collar crowd.

Zack ambled in last, standing for a second at the threshold. He nearly filled the doorway as he peered around. The bartender waved them over.

"What's happening, fellows?" said the bartender, a slightly overweight man in his forties with thinning hair and a goatee. "So what're you guys having?"

They each took a stool at the bar. Casey ordered first. "How about a Long Island Iced Tea?"

"And you big man?"

"A Bud," Zack said.

The designated driver, sheepish, said, "I'll have a cold water."

With a frown, the bartender stared at the junior cop.

"I'm the driver," Chuck said. "It's their party."

"Good deal."

Even though he was a thin man and just under five-foot-nine, Casey could drink the average man under the table; he polished off his iced tea in seconds and ordered a Zombie.

The detective just shook his head. "You're going to pay in the morning."

"You might be right, partner. But that last drink was a little watered down, too weak."

After another beer for the detective and a third drink for Casey, they decided to hit another bar, called Sammy's Joint, out in the suburbs. The place was packed. It was an older crowd, which suited Zack just fine since he was middle-aged. Still holding up well, Casey filed in first as music from the seventies filled the air. Donna Summer's "Last Dance" was playing.

"I love her music," Casey shouted over his shoulder, bobbing his head to the beat.

They surveyed the bar for a place to sit, finding an empty booth next to the dance floor and sliding in.

Moments later, a pretty young waitress ambled over. "May I help you, gentlemen?"

Casey, sitting on the outside of the booth, leaned toward her and slurred something in her ear that made her chuckle. They placed their orders. The designated driver, Chuck, got a Coke; Zack a water; and Casey, vodka on the rocks.

When the waitress left, Zack, his expression disgusted, blurted, "Don't you think you've had enough?"

Casey laughed at him and said, "Have you seen me fall down or even stumble, Zack? Chuck?"

"Nope," Chuck quickly replied.

Zack didn't let up. "You know alcohol can be tricky. Once your body metabolizes it, we'll probably have to drag your ass out of here."

"I doubt that," Casey said with a wry smile. "I know how to hold my liquor. I'll be right back. I need to use the restroom."

Moments later, the waitress brought over their drinks. Zack gave her a twenty and told her to keep the change.

Seven minutes had elapsed, and Casey hadn't shown up. A bit concerned, Zack decided to check out the men's room. When he entered two other men were handling their business at the urinals,...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: iUniverse
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2009
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1440182256
• ISBN 13: 9781440182259
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 180
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: preigu GmbH & Co. KG; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; Niedersachsen; 49078; Deutschland