Mile High Death Page 9

  He closed the duffel bag zipper and pushed it toward her with his foot. “It’s your business how you get this out of here unseen. It’s five-point-three million. The moment I’m free, my guy will make sure you get the rest.”

  She nodded, feeling she couldn’t breathe in the warm air ripe with jet exhaust. But she knew that was in her mind, the thing keeping her from filling her lungs being the immense revulsion she felt for the killer staring at her.

  “I’ll need your gun,” she said, extending her hand, “and I’ll need you to surrender to me now, so we avoid you getting shot by overzealous SWAT members.”

  He stared at her for a brief moment, but she held his glance without hesitation. She wasn’t a psychopath, but in this case, she felt no remorse and no fear for what she was about to do.

  Apparently convinced, he handed over his gun, which she tucked in her belt. He allowed her to cuff him, without resisting.

  Then Tess walked to the open plane door and shouted, “Hold your fire, we’re coming out.”

  She walked him down the stairs, then turned him over to Michowsky.

  “There’s a case with five mil inside the plane; log that into evidence. It will cover the gate and your Interceptor.”

  Sanford stared at Tess with widened eyes.

  She continued, while a smile curled her lip. “Book him as a capital offender, maximum security.”

  “Hey, you promised I won’t fry,” he shouted, while Michowsky hauled him to the SUV.

  She opened the back door, making room for Michowsky to load him. Then she leaned in at his ear and whispered, “I lied.”

  Michowsky closed the door and wiped his hands on his pants, as if to remove any traces left on his skin by the contact with Sanford. Then he turned to her, grinning widely.

  “We don’t fry people in Florida anymore; we gas them. I’m sure you know that.”

  She waved away his feigned concern.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll find out soon enough.”

  ~~ The End ~~

  Read on for previews from:

  Dawn Girl:

  A short-fused FBI Agent who hides a terrible secret. A serial killer you won’t see coming. A heart-stopping race to catch him.

  *** and ***

  Las Vegas Girl

  They’re two fearless, driven, unrelenting cops. They trust each other with their lives… only not with their darkest secrets.

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  Preview: Dawn Girl

  DAWN GIRL

  Leslie Wolfe

  A Novel

  *** PREVIEW ***

  Chapter One

  Ready

  She made an effort to open her eyes, compelling her heavy eyelids to obey. She swallowed hard, her throat raw and dry, as she urged the wave of nausea to subside. Dizzy and confused, she struggled to gain awareness. Where was she? She felt numb and shaky, unable to move, as if awakening from a deep sleep or a coma. She tried to move her arms, but couldn’t. Something kept her immobilized, but didn’t hurt her. Or maybe she couldn’t feel the pain, not anymore.

  Her eyes started to adjust to the darkness, enough to distinguish the man moving quietly in the room. His silhouette flooded her foggy brain with a wave of memories. She gasped, feeling her throat constrict and burning tears rolling down her swollen cheeks.

  Her increased awareness sent waves of adrenaline through her body, and she tried desperately to free herself from her restraints. With each useless effort, she panted harder, gasping for air, forcing it into her lungs. Fear put a strong chokehold on her throat and was gaining ground, as she rattled her restraints helplessly, growing weaker with every second. She felt a wave of darkness engulf her, this time the darkness coming from within her weary brain. She fought against that darkness, and battled her own betraying body.

  The noises she made got the man’s attention.

  “I see you’re awake. Excellent,” the man said, without turning.

  She watched him place a syringe on a small, metallic tray. Its handle clinked, followed by another sound, this time the raspy, telling sound of a file cutting through the neck of a glass vial. Then a pop when the man opened the vial. He grabbed the syringe and loaded the liquid from the vial, then carefully removed any air, pushing the piston until several droplets of fluid came out.

  Dizziness overtook her, and she closed her eyes for a second.

  “Shit,” the man mumbled, then opened a drawer and went through it in a hurry.

  She felt the needle poke deeply in her thigh, like it was happening to another person. She felt it, but distantly. She perceived a subdued burning sensation where he pushed the fluid into her muscle, then that went away when he pulled the needle out. She closed her weary eyes again, listless against her restraints.

  The man cracked open ammonia salts under her nose, and she bounced back into reality at the speed of a lightning strike, aware, alert, and angry. For a second she fought to free herself, but froze when her eyes focused on the man in front of her.

  He held a scalpel, close to her face. In itself, the small, shiny, silver object was capable of bringing formidable healing, as well as immense pain. The difference stood in the hand wielding it. She knew no healing was coming her way; only pain.

  “No, no, please…” she pleaded, tears falling freely from her puffy eyes, burning as they rolled down her cheeks. “Please, no. I… I’ll do anything.”

  “I am ready,” the man said. He seemed calm, composed, and dispassionate. “Are you ready?”

  “No, no, please…” she whimpered.

  “Yeah,” he said softly, almost whispering, inches away from her face. “Please say no to me. I love that.”

  She fell quiet, scared out of her mind. This time was different. He was different.

  Chapter Two

  Dawn

  “What if we get caught?” the girl whispered, trailing behind the boy.

  They walked briskly on the small residential street engulfed in darkness, keeping to the middle of the road. There were no sidewalks. High-end homes lined up both sides, most likely equipped with sensor floodlights they didn’t want to trip.

  She tugged at his hand, but he didn’t stop. “You never care about these things, Carl, but I do. If we get caught, I’ll be grounded, like, forever!”

  The boy kept going, his hand firmly clasping hers.

  “Carl!” she raised the pitch in her whisper, letting her anxiety show more.

  He stopped and turned, facing her. He frowned a little, seeing her anguish, but then smiled and caressed a loose strand of hair rebelling from under her sweatshirt’s hood.

  “There’s no one, Kris. No one’s going to see us. See? No lights are on, nothing. Everyone’s asleep. Zee-zee-zee. It’s five in the morning.”

  “I know,” she sighed, “but—”

  He kissed her pouted lips gently, a little boyish hesitation and awkwardness in his move.

  “We’ll be okay, I promise,” he said, then grabbed her hand again. “We’re almost
there, come on. You’ll love it.”

  A few more steps and the small street ended into the paved parking lot of what was going to be a future development of sorts, maybe a shopping center. From there, they had to cross Highway 1. They crouched down near the road, waiting for the light traffic to be completely clear. They couldn’t afford to be seen, not even from a distance. At the right moment, they crossed the highway, hand in hand, and cut across the field toward the beach. Crossing Ocean Drive was next, then cutting through a few yards of shrubbery and trees to get to the sandy beach.

  “Jeez, Carl,” Kris protested, stopping in her tracks at the tree line. “Who knows what creatures live here? There could be snakes. Lizards. Gah…”

  “There could be, but there aren’t,” Carl replied, seemingly sure of himself. “Trust me.”

  She held her breath and lowered her head, then clasped Carl’s hand tightly. He turned on the flashlight on his phone and led the way without hesitation. A few seconds later, they reached the beach, and Kris let out a tense, long breath.

  The light of the waning gibbous Moon reflected against the calm ocean waves, sending flickers of light everywhere and covering the beach in silver shadows. They were completely alone. The only creatures keeping them company were pale crabs that took bellicose stances when Kris and Carl stomped the sand around them, giggling.

  “See? Told you,” Carl said, “no one’s going to see us out here. We can do whatever we want,” he said playfully.

  Kris squealed and ran toward the lifeguard tower. In daylight, the tower showed its bright yellow and orange, a splash of joyful colors on the tourist-abundant stretch of sand. At night, the structure appeared gloomy, resembling a menacing creature on tall, insect-like legs.

  “It looks like one of those aliens from War of the Worlds,” Kris said, then promptly started running, waving her arms up in the air, pretending she was flying.

  Carl chased Kris, laughing and squealing with her, running in circles around the tower, and weaving footstep patterns between the solid wood posts.

  “Phew,” Carl said, stopping his chase and taking some distance. “Stinks of piss. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Eww…” Kris replied, following him. “Why do men do that?”

  “What? Pee?”

  “Everybody pees, genius,” Kris replied, still panting from the run. “Peeing where it stinks and bothers people, that’s what I meant. Women pee in the bushes. Men should pee in the water if they don’t like the bushes.”

  “Really? That’s gross.”

  “Where do you think fish pee? At least the waves would wash away the pee and it wouldn’t stink, to mess up our sunrise.”

  “Fish pee?” Carl pushed back, incredulous.

  “They don’t?”

  They walked holding hands, putting a few more yards of distance between them and the tower. Then Carl suddenly dropped to the ground, dragging Kris with him. She squealed again, and laughed.

  “Let’s sit here,” he said. “The show’s on. Let’s see if we get a good one.”

  The sky was starting to light up toward the east. They watched silently, hand in hand, as the dark shades of blue and gray gradually turned ablaze, mixing in dark reds and orange hues. The horizon line was clear, a sharp edge marking where ocean met sky.

  “It’s going to be great,” Carl said. “No clouds, no haze.” He kissed her lips quickly, and then turned his attention back to the celestial light show.

  “You’re a strange boy, Carl.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “Other boys would have asked me to sneak out in the middle of the night to make out. With you, it’s a sunrise, period. Should I worry?”

  Carl smiled widely, then tickled Kris until she begged for mercy between gasps of air and bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

  “Stop! Stop it already. I can’t breathe!”

  “I might want to get on with that make out, you know,” Carl laughed.

  “Nah, it’s getting light. Someone could see us,” Kris pushed back, unconvinced. “Someone could come by.”

  Carl shrugged and turned his attention to the sunrise. He grabbed her hand and held it gently, playing with her fingers.

  Almost half the sky had caught fire, challenging the moonlight, and obliterating most of its reflected light against the blissful, serene, ocean waves.

  Carl checked the time on his phone.

  “A few more minutes until it comes out,” he announced, sounding serious, as if predicting a rare and significant event. He took a few pictures of the sky, then suddenly snapped one of Kris.

  “Ah… no,” she reacted, “give that to me right this second, Carl.” She grabbed the phone from his hand and looked at the picture he’d taken. The image showed a young girl with messy, golden brown hair, partially covering a scrunched, tense face with deep ridges on her brow. The snapshot revealed Kris biting her index fingernail, totally absorbed by the process, slobbering her sleeve cuff while at it.

  “God-awful,” she reacted, then pressed the option to delete.

  “No!” Carl said, pulling the phone from her hands. “I like it!”

  “There’s nothing to like. There,” she said, relaxing a little, and arranging her hair briefly with her long, thin fingers. “I’ll pose for you.” She smiled.

  Carl took a few pictures. She looked gorgeous, against the backdrop of fiery skies, pink sand, and turquoise water. He took image after image, as she got into it and made faces, danced, and swirled in front of him, laughing.

  The sun’s first piercing ray shot out of the sea, just as Kris shrieked, a blood-curdling scream that got Carl to spring to his feet and run to her.

  Speechless, Kris pointed a trembling hand at the lifeguard tower. Underneath the tower, between the wooden posts supporting the elevated structure, was the naked body of a young woman. She appeared to be kneeling, as if praying to the rising sun. Her hands were clasped together in front of her in the universal, unmistakable gesture of silent pleading.

  Holding their breaths, they approached carefully, curious and yet afraid of what they stood to discover. The growing light of the new morning revealed more details with each step they took. Her back, covered in bruises and small cuts, stained in smudged, dried blood. Her blue eyes wide open, glossed over. A few specks of sand clung to her long, dark lashes. Her beautiful face, immobile, covered in sparkling flecks of sand. Her lips slightly parted, as if to let a last breath escape. Long, blonde hair, wet from sea spray, almost managed to disguise the deep cut in her neck.

  No blood dripped from the wound; her heart had stopped beating for some time. Yet she held upright, unyielding in her praying posture, her knees stuck firmly in the sand covered in their footprints, and her eyes fixed on the beautiful sunrise they came to enjoy.

  ~~~End Preview~~~

  Like Dawn Girl?

  Preview: Love, Lies and Murder

  Preview: Las Vegas Girl

  LAS VEGAS GIRL

  Leslie Wolfe

  A Novel

  *** PREVIEW ***

  1

  Elevator Ride

  Her smile waned when the elevator doors slid open and her gaze met the scrutiny of the stranger. She hesitated before stepping in, looked left and right uneasily, hoping there’d be other hotel guests to ride in the elevator, so she wouldn’t have to share it alone with that man. No one came.

  Her step faltered, and her hand grabbed the doorframe, afraid to let go, still unsure of what to do. The hotel lobby sizzled with life and excitement and sparkled in a million colors, as can only be seen in Vegas. Nearby, clusters of gaming tables and slot machines were surrounded by tourists, and cheers erupted every now and then, almost covering the ringing of bells and the digital sound of tokens overflowing in silver trays, while the actual winnings printed silently on thermal paper in coupons redeemable at the cashier’s desk. That was Las Vegas: alive, filled with adrenaline, forever young at heart. Her town.

  The elevator had a glass wall, overlooking the sumptuous lobby. As t
he cage climbed higher and higher, riders could feel the whole world at their feet. She was at home here, amid scores of rowdy tourists and intoxicated hollers, among beautiful young women dressed provocatively, even if only for a weekend.

  She loved riding in those elevators. Nothing bad was going to happen, not with so many people watching.

  She forced some air into her lungs and stepped in, still hesitant. The doors whooshed to a close, and the elevator set in motion. She willed herself to look through the glass at the effervescent lobby, as the ruckus grew more distant with each floor. She didn’t want to look at the man, but she felt his gaze burn into her flesh. She shot a brief glance in his direction, as she casually let her eyes wander toward the elevator’s floor display.

  The man was tall and well-built, strong, even if a bit hunchbacked. He wore a dark gray hoodie, all zipped up, and faded jeans. He’d pulled his hood up on top of a baseball cap bearing the colors of the New York Mets. A pair of reflective sunglasses completed his attire, and, despite the dim lights in the elevator cabin, he didn’t remove them. The rest of his face was covered by the raised collar of his hoodie, leaving just an inch of his face visible, not more.

  She registered all the details, and as she did, she desperately tried to ignore the alarm bells going off in her mind. Who was this man, and why was he staring at her? He was as anonymous as someone could be, and even if she’d studied him for a full minute instead of just shooting him a passing glance, she wouldn’t be able to describe him to anyone. Just a ghost in a hoodie and a baseball cap.

  Then she noticed the command panel near the doors. Only her floor number was lit, eighteen. She remembered pressing the button herself, as soon as she’d climbed inside the cabin. Where was he going? Maybe she should get off that elevator already. Maybe she should’ve listened to her gut and waited for the next ride up.