Where There's Smoke

Book 2: Alayna Curry

by Kiki Swinson

Genres: African American Urban; African American Women's Fiction; Crime Fiction

Synopsis

In her nationally-bestselling novels, Kiki Swinson ignites an unforgettable portrait of Dirty South scheming, greed, desire--and brutal dead ends. Now the stakes have never been more lethal as a compromised female firefighter starts burning down her all-too-corrupt past . . .

Kill your secrets . . .
Volunteer Virginia Beach firefighter Alayna Curry used to pride herself on saving lives. But now, determined to conceal her part in an arson-for-insurance scam gone bad, she's using her skills to have the scheme's leader, Tim—her ex-lover—shot dead, claiming it was a robbery. She's carefully set him up to be the ultimate fall guy. And she's ruthlessly aiming to silence more witnesses—which will also get her beloved brother Alonzo out of prison . . .

Conceal your lies . . .
. . . Until Alayna has to desperately defend herself against Tim's vengeful wife and his other grieving side piece's very public accusations, all while fighting to stay steps ahead of the fellow firefighters she betrayed—and the husband she's long past fallen out of love with . . .

Watch your back . . .
With a determined FBI agent and the police pulling apart her story—and her lies—bit by bit, Alayna recklessly plays her most dangerous trump card to free Alonzo and clear her name for good. But will one body too many be the catalyst that finally blows her chances of escape, and survival, to pieces?

Release date: April 23, 2024

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 208

Sample

PRICILLA SAT THERE PATIENTLY AND WAITED FOR ME TO SAY SOMETHING as my legs rocked back and forth, the palms of my hands sweaty. I was clearly not in the right headspace to give her the complete rundown of what had just happened. It was too much, so I immediately began constructing lies in my head. I had become so good at it now that it took me no time to think of what I’d tell Pricilla.

After two full minutes of complete silence, she urged me to speak. “Can you tell me what’s really going on?” She broke my train of thought.

“Girl, it just all happened so fast. I was standing there talking to Tim, and then out of nowhere, two guys came from behind his car with guns in hand, demanded that he give them his money. When Tim resisted, they shot him and took his wallet anyway. I was telling him to give it to them, but he wouldn’t listen. And now he’s gone.”

I tried to sound as heartbroken as possible. I even let out a couple of crocodile tears. I couldn’t let on that I was behind this murder and that her brother, K-Rock, and his friend Russell were the gunmen. I couldn’t trust her with that type of information, regardless of the fact this hit was done to bring my brother home. Because knowing the truth could actually alter a person’s mind.

“Why are you crying?” she asked with a puzzled look on her face.

“Because I saw a man get killed right in front of my face,” I explained, my voice rising and falling with emotion.

Pricilla’s facial expression was unsympathetic. “But he was a traitor. He was going to testify against your brother.”

“I know,” I said, and then I let out a loud sigh. “But I still loved the guy.”

“He broke your heart, for God’s sake.”

“So I’m supposed to be happy that he’s dead?” I asked her. Around this time guilt was starting to set in.

“As far as I’m concerned, he got what he deserved,” Pricilla said with finality. She made it perfectly clear that she had no sympathy for him.

I, on the other hand, was starting to feel different. I swear, I can’t say where this was coming from. “Look, can we have some respect for the dead?” I lamented. Pricilla was starting to get underneath my skin, even though I knew she meant well.

“Fuck him! Let his wife and family pay their respects. We’ve got other things to do, like get your brother out of jail.”

“Whatcha think I’ve been doing?” I became more annoyed.

“Look, we’re getting off focus. Are you staying here tonight or are you going home?” she asked.

“I’m staying here.”

“Well, let’s drop this whole conversation and get some rest. We need to save all of our energy for your brother. Not for that traitor!”

I let out a long sigh. It was evident that Pricilla was not going to show any compassion for Tim’s death. It was a moot issue for her, so I left well enough alone and found a comfy spot on her oversize sofa. After Pricilla handed me a blanket, I crawled into a fetal position and just lay there. I immediately thought about what K-Rock and Russell were doing at this particular moment. Not only had I paid them five grand to murder Tim, I also paid five grand for someone else’s head. Eliminating everyone who could testify against my brother and put him away for life had become a top priority of mine.

The plan was to get rid of Tim first, and that other person sometime later, so that the detectives wouldn’t immediately connect the two. Now K-Rock didn’t say when the next murder would take place, but that it would get done and I would get my report from the news, since it wouldn’t be wise to contact each other after tonight. It was better this way when the cops started to look at everyone I interacted with.

During murder investigations detectives always wiretap devices on all murder suspects. It helps them listen in on conversations that may have something to do with the murder that they’re investigating. Nine times out of ten, someone always says something to incriminate themselves over the phone. So, to prevent that from happening in this case, we’d already decided that all forms of communication were out of the question. And that they could never speak of this ever again. I can only hope that they keep up their end of the deal because I’m solid over here.

With everything on my mind, I found it very hard to go to sleep. I found myself tossing and turning for most of the night. I couldn’t get a wink of sleep. All I did was replay every single detail of Tim’s murder. And to see the horror on his face when the guys fired their guns at him was indescribable. He knew he was about to die, so I wondered what he could’ve been thinking. I mean, could he have known that I’d set him up? If he didn’t, I’m sure he knew it by now. Especially since in this afterlife stuff, everybody tended to believe that dead people walked around freely. Well, if that’s the case, then he definitely knew that I had his ass killed. And if he knew, then I also hoped he knew that I did it for my brother. It was all about Alonzo’s freedom and not because Tim cheated on me with Jesse. My brother became my main priority when I found out that Tim had talked to the cops and turned his back on us. He needed to know that he made it this way. Not us. Too bad, the female special agent wasn’t gonna see it this way. In fact, she was going to come for my jugular when she found out that Tim was dead. She was going to hound me until she found a way to lock me up. But I refused to allow that bitch to get one step ahead of me. I knew she was going to be relentless, but I was gonna stay on my toes and show her that she ain’t locking nobody up over here. Not while I was still alive. From this day forward I vowed to eliminate anyone who tried to come between me and my brother’s freedom. He and I would die first before we would spend the rest of our lives in jail.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Startled by the knocks at the front door, I sat up in my bed and looked at the clock on the nightstand and realized it was a little after midnight, so I got up and walked tentatively toward the front door to see who it was. As I approached, more knocks came.

“Who is it?” I asked as I neared the door.

“Detective Showers and Detective Pittman, ma’am,” I heard one man announce.

Curious as to why these guys were here, I opened my door and stood before them, wanting to know what they wanted at this late hour. My porch light was on, and it was shining bright, so I could see the white men dressed in plain clothes, displaying their badges in full view for my benefit. After I acknowledged their presence, I gave them my full attention and looked at them head-on.

“What are your names again?”

“I’m Detective Showers from the homicide division of the Chesapeake Police Department,” replied the taller white gentleman.

“And I’m Detective Pittman,” said the shorter white man.

“Well, gentlemen, what brings you by?” I got straight to the point.

“Can we come in?” Detective Showers asked.

“Can you tell me what this is about?”

“It’s about your husband, ma’am,” Detective Showers continued.

“What about my husband?” I asked, instantly becoming alarmed.

“Please let us come inside, ma’am,” he insisted.

I hesitated, prolonging their entry, because I wanted my questions answered now. “Wait, is he all right?”

“Ma’am, please,” Detective Pittman chimed in.

After falling under heavy pressure by the detectives, I decided to let them into my home. “Come on in,” I finally agreed.

Both men entered my home and stood in the middle of the floor. They both surveyed the immediate area of our surroundings with one look around.

“Is anyone else here with you?” Detective Pittman wondered aloud.

“Yes, my two children are here. But they’re in bed. Why?” I asked as I stood before them.

“We just wanted to be aware of who was in the home,” Detective Showers spoke up.

“Can we sit down?” Detective Pittman wanted to know.

“Yes, sure,” I told them, and then we all sat down, on either the sofa or love seat. “Now can one of you tell me what this is pertaining to my husband?”

Detective Showers scooted to the edge of the sofa, cleared his throat, and said, “Mrs. Stancil, I’m here to inform you that your husband has been murdered.”

Instantly panic-stricken at the idea that my husband was murdered, I clutched the collar of my robe in disbelief. “No, there must be some mistake.”

“No, ma’am, I’m afraid there isn’t. We found him shot and killed in a salvage junkyard, about fifteen miles from here.”

“Wait, but that can’t be. I just saw him a few hours ago. He was fine when he left this house.” I began to sob, sending bat-size butterflies into my stomach.

“Can you tell me what time that was?” Detective Showers asked.

“It was about a little after nine o’clock. I remember when he came into the house, because I was watching television. And when I saw him, I told him that he was going to live a long time, because I was just talking about him. So he laughed, went to the bathroom, and a few minutes later, he came out. We said a few more words to each other and then he left,” I explained.

“What did he say? Did he tell you where he was going? Or who he was meeting?” Detective Showers inquired after taking out a notepad and pen. He waited for me to answer his question so that he could jot down my answer.

“No, he didn’t. I assumed he went back to work,” I told him.

“Does your husband have any enemies, Mrs. Stancil?”

“Not to my knowledge. Everyone loved him.”

“Does he owe anyone money? Or have any gambling debts?”

“No. My husband didn’t gamble.” I didn’t hesitate to reply to their questions.

“Can you tell us if he was involved in the murder investigation launched by Virginia Beach homicide detectives and the federal agents?” Detective Pittman interjected.

Appalled by his question, I gave him a sharp look and then I bit into my bottom lip. I could feel heat rising up from my chest, and my hands involuntarily curled into fists with intentions of using them at any given moment. “Of course not. Didn’t you guys see the news? The man who committed those murders is locked up right now,” I said, gritting my teeth. I mean, how dare these men ask me such a question? My husband was an honorable man.

“Listen, Mrs. Stancil, we aren’t trying to accuse your husband of any wrongdoing. We’re just trying to get to the bottom of why someone wanted to murder him,” Detective Pittman chimed back in.

“Why don’t you talk to Alayna. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was behind my husband’s murder,” I hissed, looking at both detectives seriously.

“We’ve talked to her. She was there at the scene when it happened,” Detective Showers pointed out.

I hopped up from the sofa and shouted, “I knew it! That fucking bitch had my husband killed, and I’m not going to let her get away with it!”

Detective Showers stood up and waved both hands. “Wait, hold on! We don’t know that for sure,” he acknowledged.

“You found them both at a junkyard, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, did she tell you why they were there?”

“She acknowledged that they were having an affair . . .” Detective Showers started explaining.

“I freaking knew it. That dirty slut!” I roared, my voice cracking with pain and anger. I was visibly shaken; my eyebrows shot up and my pulse sped up. I could only take so much shit when it came to hearing about my husband and that tramp. A woman’s intuition was always spot-on. And here I was standing in my living room with two detectives telling me that Alayna confessed to being my husband’s mistress. Fucking bitch!

“Wait, Mrs. Stancil, hold on. Just hear us out,” Detective Pittman interjected.

“Yes, and why don’t you have a seat? You don’t wanna wake up your kids, right?” Detective Showers said calmly.

I instantly reacted, thought for a second, and knew the detectives were right. I didn’t want to wake up my kids. They didn’t need to hear this about their father. Not like this. So I took the advice of the cops and sat back down on the edge of the sofa. But I stayed on high alert.

Detective Showers sat back down across from me and began to tell me everything Alayna had told them. I eyed the detective evilly, my nostrils moving in and out. I had one shaky finger jutted toward the floor while my other hand was balled so tightly my nails dug moon-shaped craters into my palms. I swear, I was tired of hearing the bullshit-ass story Alayna had given them, and I was two seconds from telling them that. In my assessment there was nothing else for them to say that would convince me that Alayna didn’t have anything to do with Tim’s murder. In my eyes this was an open-and-shut case. And I made sure I expressed that to the detectives.

“Listen, I don’t care what Alayna told you guys. I believe strongly that she either killed my husband or had someone do it. So you need to get out of here and get the evidence you need to put her behind bars for the rest of her life,” I barked at them, and then I stood back up on my feet. This was a clear indication that this conversation was over and that I was ready for them to leave.

“Well, we want to thank you for your time,” Detective Pittman said, and stood up.

Dete. . .