All the Deadly Lies

Book 1: Jake Carrington Thriller

by Marian Lanouette

Genres: Crime Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

Homicide detective Jake Carrington takes murder personally... The victim was bludgeoned, stripped, and left for dead. Shanna Wagner deserves justice-and there's no better cop than Lieutenant Jake Carrington to find her killer. The brutality of the crime reminds Jake of his sister's murder seventeen years ago, and the remorseless man responsible, now up for parole. Then another woman is killed-and Jake goes dangerously close to the edge. He'll have to face his personal demons and focus his formidable skills if he hopes to stop a vicious murderer from striking again-and hold on to his career, and his life . . . ALL THE DEADLY LIES A Jake Carrington Thriller Previously published as If I Fail

Release date: February 27, 2018

Publisher: Lyrical Underground

Print pages: 320

Sample

Chapter 1

“Sergeant, in my office, please.” Captain Shamus McGuire stood at attention in his doorway, all six-feet-four inches of him. His steel-gray hair cut to military precision focused one’s attention on his matching gray eyes.

Homicide Sergeant Jake Carrington of the Wilkesbury Police Department looked across his joined desk to his partner, and lifelong friend Louie Romanelli and shrugged. Louie threw him a questioning look as he adjusted his tie and started to rise from his chair.

“Just Jake, Louie,” the captain said as he turned into his office.

Jake picked up their latest case file to update the captain and walked in to join McGuire.

“Take a seat, Jake.” The captain pointed to one of the two institutional-gray ones in front of his desk. He took off his glasses and massaged his forehead.

Though Jake preferred to stand, he took the less beat-up seat on the right. The room was a monument to the man, all spit and polish. Sparse furnishing with a few awards and medals hung on the walls. Paperwork in precise piles, a picture of his family, the standard computer and phone were all he had on his desk. McGuire’s appearance and stance spoke of his military background and warned his cops he took no crap from them. It wasn’t like him to stall but that’s exactly what he was doing at the moment. McGuire turned his smoky eyes on him. Jake went on alert. Something was up, something big.

“Captain?” Instincts had Jake bracing for what came next.

“Spaulding’s coming up for parole again. And this time he’s requesting a DNA test before he comes before the board.” Jake’s stomach curdled. McGuire continued, “He’s also requesting the DNA samples from your sister’s crime scene be tested against his sample.”

“What bullshit, Shamus.”

Jake jumped up, roamed the office. His mouth went dry. Deep down he was afraid the old samples somehow wouldn’t match and would set Eva’s killer free. This new development would split his attention. What could Spaulding gain from this maneuver? To catch a killer, you had to get inside his head. Did Spaulding assume the system would release him if he got a new trial?

He looked out the window and studied the downtown area as he ran every scenario through his mind. This was his town, though imperfect as it was. He and Eva had been born here of immigrant parents. Its one hundred thousand residents depended on him and those who had come before him to protect it.

Outside of his tour of military duty overseas he didn’t venture far from it, a good city, though down on its luck since all the manufacturing jobs went overseas. Wilkesbury recently had the distinguished honor to be named one of the top five saddest rust belt cities. And it’s the one that was farthest south of the belt. In its glory days, nothing could touch Wilkesbury. Most of the crime in the city came from the twenty percent of the Wilkesburians living under the national poverty level. The city had its mix of people, businesses, homeless, shoppers, and kids. More kids claimed the downtown area since UConn had put a branch right across the street from the station. Today some of the kids wore shorts to celebrate the hot weather. Last week it was in the forties. Today the temperatures hit the seventies. New England, you gotta love it, he thought.

Clearing his mind, he focused on The Palace Marquee. Next month Johnny Mathis would be here for two days. He thought it a monument to the citizens of Wilkesbury when private citizens and businesses raised the money to save the Palace. It had been closed for eighteen years. The last performer had been Tony Bennett in 1987. Bennett had opened the newly restored theater in 2004 and it was still going strong. Jake loved the old theater. It brought back good memories from his childhood. The grand old theater done in the tradition of the Met was a step back in time. Since it had been refurbished it drew some big-name performers and plays. It’s about time we got something decent in the downtown area, he thought. Murders were down in recent years but overall crime continued. Eva’s death was the reason he became a cop instead of going on to play pro ball after college.

Turning from the window, he walked back to stand in front of Shamus’s desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the last part,” Jake said.

“The sperm gathered at the time of the autopsy was preserved, and with new technology he has the right to ask for the testing.”

“When will it happen? I want to be there through the whole process from collection to testing to make sure there aren’t any switch-ups.” What a way to start a Monday.

“It hasn’t been granted yet. His lawyer is working on the request,” McGuire stated.

“When will it happen?” Jake rubbed his temples where a headache was forming.

“The board acts in their own time. I’d say toward the end of the month. I’m behind you, as is the entire department, Jake, to make sure Eva gets justice.”

Jake paced the room. Seventeen years and it seemed like yesterday. “When they took him out after the trial, Spaulding whispered to me he’d done it and enjoyed every moment of it,” Jake said. It was a moment in time he would never forget.

There were nights after the trial he dreamed up ways of killing Spaulding, making him suffer as much, if not more, than Eva had. Even today, when his moral code screamed there was no justification for taking a life, he understood deep down in his soul that, if given the chance, he’d remove George Spaulding from the face of this Earth and not look back. Captain McGuire’s voice floated back into his head. Jake felt shame standing in front of Shamus with thoughts of murder in his head. If he did kill, what would separate him from the ones he hunted every day of his life?

“As a cop, you and I both understand the evidence is what convicts, along with a smart prosecutor. Spaulding’s lawyer has petitioned the court. Even if the DNA isn’t a match, it wouldn’t get him an immediate release. There was other evidence putting him at the crime scene. And there was an eyewitness who saw him push Eva into his car. All it will get him is a new trial. If I remember this right, all of the evidence pointed to him. Have faith, Jake.”

“Faith? Is that what I should tell Eva? Oh wait. I can’t. Because she’s dead!”

The captain ignored his outburst. “If he goes to trial I promise we’ll reopen the case and work it along with our current files. But, you can’t touch the file when we do.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, it’s not. If we want the chain of evidence to remain pure you can’t touch it. I’ll respect and appoint whoever you want to work it,” McGuire said.

“Louie.”

“It can’t be him either.” McGuire held up his hands before Jake could interrupt him. “He’s too close to you.”

“What’s not to say any of the men in my department aren’t too close to me?”

“Whoever you pick will have a state trooper working with him.”

“You don’t trust your own men?” Aggrieved, Jake threw up his hands.

“Do you want answers?”

“Shamus, I already got my answer. I’ve no doubt Spaulding is guilty,” Jake said.

“Then this is the best way to handle it. When we catch the killer, it will ensure a conviction,” Shamus said.

Jake pushed a hand through his hair. The air thinned, cutting off his next breath. “I need to get out of here.”

He rushed from McGuire’s office. At his desk Jake grabbed his car keys and ignored Louie’s questions. He didn’t trust himself to speak. The pit of his stomach burned. What if the DNA didn’t match Spaulding’s? Damn, he wanted to punch something. No, not something. He wanted to punch out Spaulding.

I swear if they release him—I’ll—I’ll kill him.

“Jake, wait up.” Louie Romanelli followed him out of the bullpen.

“Not now.” Jake kept walking.

Louie caught up to him and grabbed his arm as he would a suspect and twirled him around. If he wanted to, Jake could’ve decked him. They were evenly matched in height and weight. Instead, he stood rigid. “Talk to me,” Louie said.

“Give me a couple of hours to pull myself together. We’ll meet at my house later if you can. In the meantime, work the Wagner case. I’d hate not to give the Wagners the answers they need.” He didn’t bother to mention the case was similar to Eva’s that, he too needed the closure.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Did McGuire fire you?” Louie’s olive complexion whitened as he asked the question. His dark eyes searched Jake’s face for an answer.

Leave it to Louie. For the first time in over a half hour, he laughed. “No, I’m not fired. Spaulding’s up for parole again and has requested new testing.”

He stared down his friend as Louie processed the information. If it wasn’t for Louie and his family during the weeks and months that followed Eva’s death, he wouldn’t be standing here today.

How different we are, Jake thought. Louie, married for seventeen years to his grade-school sweetheart, now had three kids. He, on the other hand, liked being single. Side by side, though they matched each other in height, his skin tone paled next to Louie’s dark Italian coloring.

“Shit.”

“Go back to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jake walked away with his head down and his mind spinning out in every direction. No matter what Shamus said, he owed it to Eva to find the answers.

It’s my fault she died.

* * * *

Louie checked the time. It was gonna be a tall order keeping Jake focused if Spaulding was released. McGuire beckoned him from his doorway as Louie reached for the Wagner file.

“Stay with Jake, he needs a friend right now.”

“Cap, I’m meeting him at his house in a couple of hours. You want to fill me in?”

“Spaulding will come in front of the board sometime in late summer or early fall. The test results could make it sooner. It will depend on the lab’s current and backlog caseloads,” McGuire said.

“I got that from Jake. What aren’t you telling me?” Louie asked.

“Spaulding’s sure the results will clear him. He wants a new trial, an acquittal, this way he won’t ever be tried again for the crime.”

“It doesn’t mean he’ll get it.” Louie ran a hand through his hair as he outlined the possibilities of Spaulding being set free.

“No, it doesn’t. But a lot of prisoners have gone free with no DNA match, no matter what the other evidence against them was. Lawyers are now holding court in the press.”

“If the case is reopened, who are you going to appoint to the case?”

“I’m not jumping the gun, but if it comes to it, Burke and Kraus.”

* * * *

This time of day the bullpen came alive with activity. Criminals locked to chairs complained of their innocence or wrestled to free themselves. Some spit or let loose other bodily functions as revenge for getting caught. Victims cried, reliving their horror as they gave their accounts of events. Nervous witnesses sat waiting their turns to speak. In the midst of all the activities, Louie tried to concentrate on the Wagner file, but kept coming back to Jake and that horrible time in their lives.

Since they were ten, he and Jake had been as close as brothers. In fact, he was closer to Jake than to his own brother. Their lives had become a nightmare when Eva had been killed. Nothing he’d done had helped Jake deal with the tragedy. The only thing he had been able to do was be there for him. The helpless feeling overwhelmed him again. One event had changed many lives. What was he going to say to Jake?

Maybe I should ask Sophia to come with me? Nah, Jake would feel like we’re ganging up on him.

Louie picked up the Wagner file. A thick one with no answers, little evidence, and statements on how wonderful and perfect Shanna was. If they didn’t catch a break soon, Shanna Wagner’s case would go into the unsolved file. A shadow fell over his desk as he studied the file. Looking up, Louie bit back a curse. Not her again. The petite brunette with the sloe eyes stood with hand on hip, waiting on him to look up at her. Chloe Wagner, the bane of Jake’s existence, Louie thought.

Thank God Jake didn’t have to deal with her in his current state of mind. Louie looked around the bullpen as the noise level lowered to a hum. There’s no one nosier than a cop. Chloe’s frequent visits had become louder and more accusing since Jake had dropped her. Louie wondered if the woman had ever cared about her sister. Oh well, deal with it.

“How can I help you, Ms. Wagner?”

“I need answers. My parents need answers. When are we going to get them?”

“Your sister’s case is being worked every day. But we need new evidence, something to lead us in a new direction. Everything we’ve investigated has led to dead ends.”

“My family’s torn apart. My mother checks up on me several times a day to make sure I’m okay. My father walks around in a fog, like he’s lost. I’m positive they’re heading toward a divorce. You say you can’t do anything else? That’s a load of crap. You expect your answer will make me go away? Well, it won’t. I’ll go over your head, Detective,” she shouted. The other detectives in the bullpen came to attention and went on alert. Action or gossip, it didn’t matter to the detectives as long as it got their adrenaline going.

“Take a seat, Ms. Wagner.” Louie pointed to the single torn-up chair on the side of his desk.

Chloe Wagner didn’t resemble her sister in looks, personality, or activities. Her five-foot-two-inch frame carried one hundred five pounds. Her almond-shaped eyes, along with her hair, were brown, offsetting a round face and full lips, and all of it wrapped in a bossy, possessive nature. Louie could see her appeal until she opened her mouth. Her personality would be a turnoff for any man, but a man like Jake, with commitment phobia—it had sent him running. He’d dumped her within a month, but for some reason, this one wouldn’t let go. It would have been amusing if she wasn’t hounding the entire department. Louie understood deep down that Chloe could ruin Jake’s career. He never should’ve dated her while the investigation was going on, but Jake had ignored the rules. The decision seemed to be coming back to bite Jake on the ass ever since. Though they cleared her, Chloe was still a suspect.

Louie repeated himself. Maybe this time it would get through. “Ms. Wagner, we explained it all last week. We’re working the file. Shanna is not forgotten.” He picked up the file and held it out with Shanna’s name facing Chloe. “We haven’t given up.”

“It’s been over two months since she was found.”

“We’ll be interviewing everyone again. In the heat of the moment people sometimes forget the details. Once they calm down they remember more.” He scribbled a number on his pad. A number he and Jake had given her every time she showed up there. “Here’s the number to the station’s switchboard if you have any further questions.”

Chloe was a dog with a bone. “If I don’t get answers soon, I’ll be going over your heads!” she shouted. She didn’t take the paper from his hand but lowered her voice. “Where’s Jake?”

“He’s out on another case. What else can I do for you?”

“Why’s he not returning my phone calls?”

Her anger directed at Jake belonged to the killer. “I have no idea. You’ll need to discuss it with him.”

He stood, dismissing her as he started to walk her toward the door. “I would if he’d answer his freakin’ phone,” Chloe said in a huff.

“I don’t get involved in his personal life, Ms. Wagner. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

* * * *

Before he headed home, Jake walked around the downtown area hoping the distraction would clear his head. The weather for April suited him. It was said, if you didn’t like the weather in New England, you only had to wait five minutes for it to change. And that was no folktale, he thought. The sixty-degree temperatures were a gift this time of year. Last week there was frost, this week heat. A mild breeze ruffled his auburn hair, the promise of summer in the air. I was looking forward to summer and the outdoor activities until McGuire dropped his damn bomb. He passed the new modern courthouse on Meadow Street. Smokers puffed away outside the building. The courthouse stood out against the nineteen-thirties architecture of the other municipal buildings lining the street. The size of the city suited him. One hundred thousand-plus residents made it a city, but kept the small-town attitudes and feelings alive.

His lanky stride ate up the sidewalk as he headed down Grand Street toward the federal building, which housed the main post office and other federal divisions. Son of a gun, it isn’t my day. As he walked past city hall, Wilkesbury’s idiot mayor, along with his entourage, stepped in front of him.

The Honorable John Velky sucked in his gut and puffed out his chest like he always did when he met up with him. Jake found it amusing most days. The mayor, with his styled brown hair and expensive suits, was a true politician. He kissed babies one moment and overtaxed their parents the next. Jake had never voted for him.

“You don’t have anything better to do then stroll around town, Lieutenant?” Mayor Velky asked.

“Good morning, Mayor.” It took all his control to be polite, as he tried to walk away. Today isn’t a good day to get in a pissing match with the mayor. It might cost me my career.

Jake studied the quote over the doors of city hall as he tuned out the mayor. Quid Aere Perennius. The meaning was something you were taught in local schools. His father, as an immigrant and Wilkesbury cop, had him and Eva studying the history of Wilkesbury, “The Brass Capital of the World” in its heyday. Translated from Latin it meant, “What is More Lasting Than Brass?” He forced his attention back to the mayor.

“I’ll be at the station this week in discussions with the commissioner,” Mayor Velky said before walking away, leaving Jake baffled. He watched Velky jump into the back of the town car. It takes all kinds, he thought. His mind drifted back to Eva. A girl he would never see beyond her fifteen years, thanks to Spaulding.

* * * *

At home, Jake rummaged through his basement, searching for his father’s records. Why now? He couldn’t get the question out of his head. What did Spaulding and his lawyer hope to achieve with the new testing? Every couple of years he was subjected to this torment. And every couple of years he gathered his strength to face down the parole board with his gruesome evidence. The pictures of the crime scene, along with Eva’s bruised and bloody body, gave them many reasons to deny Spaulding’s request. His father had kept a copy of Eva’s case file at home since he wasn’t allowed to work it. The other detectives made sure he had every bit of evidence he needed. It was one of their own who’d been victimized. Nobody messed with a cop’s family and got away with it. Except maybe this time, he thought as he rubbed his throbbing head. Had George Spaulding found a way to cheat the system? It couldn’t be true after seventeen years that they had imprisoned the wrong man. If it was true, then who had killed his sister Eva? Jake couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

No, it was George.

The fifth box he opened was dedicated to her case. On top, his father had marked it one of five. After hunting down the other boxes, he brought them upstairs and placed them in his office. The first box he opened sent him right back to hell and his first visit to the morgue. It was the year he had lost his innocence.

A buzzing rang out in his ears from the fluorescent lights overhead. The starkness of the corridor as their footsteps echoed in the silence created the crescendo of a day gone horribly wrong. The buzzing grew louder as they approached the door. The medical examiner, Doctor Ed Jerome, put his hand up to stop them.

Taking a deep breath, Doc Jerome said, “James, you’ve done this a hundred times, but this is different. I can make the identification for you.”

“No, I need to do this, Ed,” Captain James Carrington said.

“Okay. Why doesn’t Jake wait out here?” Doctor Jerome offered, giving him an out.

He spoke up, his voice louder than intended. “I’m going in.” He said it with such force it brooked no argument.

Ed pushed open the door.

On the table lay a body covered with a white sheet. Ed’s assistants had set the victim up for viewing. There was no way to hide the odor of death, though they tried to camouflage it with disinfectant, air fresheners, and Clorox. “The house of death” is what the cops called it.

Jake inhaled as he looked to his father for support. His father, a tall man, who Jake favored in height only, squared his shoulders and nodded to the M.E.

“Show me,” James demanded.

Doc Jerome pulled back the sheet to reveal a girl in her mid-teens, black and blue from head to toe, the violent trauma of death etched in her horrified expression. Fright forever pasted on her face.

“Was she raped?” James asked, while tears escaped his eyes.

“Yes,” Doc Jerome said.

Neither man paid attention to Jake’s weeping at their side. He couldn’t stop as he viewed his younger sister. With a gentle caress, he touched her forehead, her cheek, then kissed her good-bye on the lips.

He turned away in grief, saw both his anger and his pain reflected in his father’s face. His father’s fists clenched, his shoulders racked with heavy sobs as he viewed the broken body of his daughter. Jake understood he looked with a father’s eye, not a cop’s.

“My baby,” James cried.

Jake listened every night at dinner when his father spoke of his cases. It was something distant, stories that didn’t touch his life. Until now.

The buzzing in his ears increased. Time and space slipped by, then someone held a glass of water to his lips. The stress of the situation had overtaken him—he’d collapsed on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Jake. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” James hugged him, crushing him to his chest.

“I’m fine, Dad. When you catch the bastard, I’m going to kill him for what he did to Eva. You need to know I’ll do it.”

It was the first time he’d ever cursed in front of his father.

It took every ounce of strength within him to pull himself out of the memory. A fist squeezed his heart. He couldn’t do this alone. God, he needed a drink. No, he needed Louie.

After a couple of hours, Jake decided to go back to work. Until a new trial came to fruition, he’d continue to line up the info on the case if and when they needed the ammunition to get a second conviction on Spaulding. He’d have it ready. Tonight, he would lay out a strategy and organize the files as he would for any other case he worked.

* * * *

News traveled fast in a cop shop. Among curious glances thrown his way, or comments of support from his detectives in the bullpen, Jake ignored them all. He took a seat at his desk across from Louie. His friend eyeballed him but didn’t comment, which Jake found out of character for him. The Wagner file he wanted to review wasn’t in his desk drawer.

“You got the Wagner file?”

“Yes.” Louie gathered the papers spread across his desk, placed them back in the file, closed it and handed the bulk of it to Jake.

As he took the file from Louie, Jake studied his partner and his messy desk. The finicky Louie didn’t match up with how he maintained his area. His suits pressed, his pants creased to razor sharpness, along with his precisely knotted tie and styled black hair, were at odds with the mess on his desk.

He wondered how Louie worked with all the clutter. Jake kept a phone and computer on his desk. All his files were in the desk drawer, alphabetized for easy access. Louie had all his files on top, an in-and-out box, an empty coffee cup and this morning’s wrapper from his breakfast sandwich. A cluttered desk would clog up my mind, Jake thought as he opened the file. Pushing Eva’s case to the back burner, he tried to concentrate on Shanna’s.

“Are you free tonight to throw a couple of things around?”

“Yep.”

“We’ll do it at my house after we get out of here. I’m going to suggest to McGuire that Burke and Kraus work Eva’s case if Spaulding gets a new trial,” Jake said.

“I agree.”

“I’ll need to tell him. And I don’t care what he said. I need to be in on the briefing. I’ll be right back.”

Jake got up and walked into McGuire’s office without knocking. “Shamus, give the case to Burke and Kraus. When the time comes, I’d like to be in on the initial meeting in case they have questions.”

“I’ll need them to come at it with fresh eyes, Jake, not with your preconceived notions.”

“I’m not going to offer personal opinions. The file will speak for itself. No one is more familiar with it than me.”

McGuire checked his calendar. “We might as well get ahead of this. Set it up in Conference Room One for three o’clock on Wednesday afternoon. I want to refamiliarize myself with the file and also give Burke and Kraus time to do the same. And Jake? I’m still in charge here.” Jake took the mild slap on the wrist without comment.

After reserving the conference room, he left it up to the captain to speak with Burke and Kraus. All day he tried to keep his mind off Eva’s case while he dug into Shanna Wagner’s file and rearranged the contents to coincide with the timeline as they understood it.

“I’ll let you catch up before I give you my thoughts on this.” Louie scratched his head. “Chloe Wagner stopped in to see you.”

“Shit.” Jake blew out a breath.

“Yeah, she asked a few questions about her sister, but she seemed more concerned about you ignoring her calls.”

He’d been an idiot to date her in the first place. Right from the beginning, he handled her wrong and now he was paying for it. Never before had he disregarded a regulation. Ha, the one time I do and it’s a catastrophe. An indiscretion like this could cost him his career. He’d been flattered by the way she had pursued him. Her pretty girl-next-door looks fooled him. No matter where he turned, restaurants, ba. . .