Read Dangerous Passage (Southern Crimes Book #1): A Novel Online

Authors: Lisa Harris

Tags: #Single mothers—Fiction, #FIC042060, #FIC042040, #Murder—Investigation—Fiction, #FIC027110, #Women detectives—Fiction

Dangerous Passage (Southern Crimes Book #1): A Novel (3 page)

BOOK: Dangerous Passage (Southern Crimes Book #1): A Novel
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5

A
s long as Mason Taylor could remember, blending in had been as easy as breathing. By the age of twelve, he’d been fluent in English, Spanish, and Portuguese, thanks to his Brazilian mother who died from an overdose when he was fourteen. By the time he turned eighteen, he and his three brothers had lived in Los Angeles, Phoenix, St. Louis, and a dozen other crime-ridden inner cities across the US—thanks to his deadbeat dad.

Suburban homes with their picket fences, Little League baseball, soccer teams, and private schools had never been an option for the Taylors. They’d moved from one flea-infested hole to the next, skipping out when there wasn’t enough money to pay the rent and changing schools more often than his father changed the oil on their 1972 Ford pickup.

In the process, Mason had become the perfect chameleon, learning to avoid the bullies at school and the gangs on the streets. No one remembered Mason Taylor from the class of ’02.

Until the night that changed everything.

Mason wiped the beads of perspiration from his neck and leaned back into the shade partially covering the wooden bench where he sat. Suburban Atlanta had been the last place he’d imagined living . . . and the first place he’d run to after his brother Sam’s death. Piedmont Park was one of those places
where he’d found the anonymity he’d craved. No one had noticed or cared about his late-night runs or early-morning study breaks. And that was how he wanted it.

Burying Sam that foggy November became not only his wake-up call but his way out. He’d stolen three hundred bucks from his father’s wallet, and with his two younger brothers, disappeared to Atlanta, where he’d begged his mother’s older sister to take them in.

She agreed, as long as they followed her rules. Church three times a week, no swearing or drinking, and piano lessons. He’d managed to avoid the altar calls and music recitals, but not his aunt’s unconditional love and bottomless pans of peach cobbler.

She’d been gone four years now. It was days like today when he missed her most.

A woman jogged by, late twenties, short shorts, and a smile just for him. He studied her perfect figure as she passed before reining in his thoughts and forcing himself to look away as Finn approached Mason wearing his signature baggy pants, rumpled T-shirt, and a Braves cap. He dropped his cell phone into his back pocket and slid into the empty space beside Mason.

Mason shoved any lingering memories from the past aside and let his fingers drum against his thigh. Playing the part of user had become all too natural. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”

“Didn’t know you were in such a hurry to be somewhere.”

Mason shifted his weight on the bench, shrugging off the urge to finger the pistol missing from his hip. Trust wasn’t something he could afford, just like he couldn’t forget who Finn really was. He shoved his hand into his pocket, making sure the marked bills were still there.

He leaned forward, then back again, completely into his role. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Finn set the package on the bench between them and took the money Mason offered. The exchange took less than five seconds.

Finn stood to leave.

“Wait,” Mason began. “There’s something else.”

Finn raised his brow but didn’t respond.

“I’m lookin’ to make some extra cash.”

“Selling?” Finn’s voice lowered, even though the nearest jogger was a hundred yards away.

“No. Heard your boss wants drivers to transport goods.” Mason added a hint of desperation into his voice. “I need this, Finn. I’ve . . . I’ve run into some serious financial trouble. I was told you’re the one to talk to.”

“By who?”

“One of the guys at the dock.” Mason studied Finn’s face. So far, Finn had no idea that Mason saving his life had been nothing more than an elaborate setup. Or that their relationship was based on lies.

“Think I owe you that much?”

Mason measured his words, knowing he had to push hard enough to motivate Finn, but not too hard that he started asking the wrong questions. “You’d be looking at ten to twenty if it weren’t for me, and you know it.”

Finn didn’t look convinced.

Mason pushed harder. “I didn’t think I’d need to remind you how I took out that cop so you could—”

“You not trying to blackmail me, are you?” Finn took a step toward the bench.

“Never.” Mason weighed his options. Even at three inches shorter and ten pounds lighter, he was certain he could take Finn down if it came to that, but a fight wasn’t what he was after. They were supposed to be on the same side.

Mason searched for another angle, his fingers tapping faster against his leg. “I grew up—”

“Forget the tough-boy sob story.” Finn shook his head. “My connection isn’t looking for some hungover druggie.”

“My habit won’t affect my work.”

“You’d be transporting certain goods across state lines that would require avoiding both the local cops and the Feds.”

Bingo.

Mason tempered his desire to smile. This was the break he’d been waiting for. “I need the extra work, so illegal or not, I really don’t care.”

“If you get caught, you’ll be on your own.” Finn grabbed a pen from his front pocket, then scribbled on a scrap of paper. “Show up at work tomorrow as usual and talk to Owen.”

“You won’t regret this.”

“I know.” Finn handed Mason the note and started to walk away. “’Cause we’re even now.”

6

A
very pulled into the driveway of her house and parked in front of the garage. Jackson sat on the front step of the veranda, forearms resting against his knees, while he read something on his phone. She’d called to tell him she was running behind, but she hadn’t planned to be this late.

Tess jutted her chin toward the house before opening the passenger door. “Guess I’m not the only one you disappointed today.”

Avery bit her tongue. Arriving late to the tryouts had cost her the chance to watch her daughter swim. “I’m sorry, Tess. You know more than anyone that I can’t always be everywhere I want to.”

“These were tryouts. They’re important.”

“I know how important they are to you.”

She might have missed her daughter’s advancement to the next level of competition, but apologizing again wouldn’t make a difference at this point. Because she couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again. Couldn’t promise that the next time she headed off to a swim meet or school activity that she wouldn’t get called into work. Not being able to always be there for her daughter was the hardest part of what she did.

“Emily should be here any minute.” She handed the house
keys to Tess, who was already gathering up her school bag, swim paraphernalia, and the deluxe pepperoni, sausage, onion, and extra cheese pizza they’d just picked up. “She’s bringing a couple movies and stuff to make root beer floats.”

Avery grabbed her own bag and phone and started toward the house behind Tess. At least her sister Emily was never late and always willing to help pick up the slack. But even that knowledge did little to alleviate the guilt.

Tess greeted Jackson as she climbed the front steps, then slipped into the house. Avery shot up a short prayer of thanks that Tess hadn’t taken out her frustration on him.

She stopped at the bottom of the steps and shot Jackson a sheepish grin. “I’m even later than I told you I’d be.”

“I was late too if that helps any.”

Years of police work might have taught her to be meticulous in her cases, but when it came to her personal life, she always seemed to fall short. She caught his forgiving gaze and realized for a moment how much she missed coming home to someone. Someone who helped keep her grounded and balanced.

She sat down beside him on the porch and dropped her bag beside her. “I ended up having to stay longer at the precinct, which meant I missed Tess’s swim tryouts, and then there was the issue of picking up the pizza, which took twice as long as it should have . . .”

She grasped for something else. Legitimate or not, her excuses sounded more like a cop-out. “Bottom line is that sometimes I fall short in meeting everyone’s expectations.”

“I’m not here to make you feel guilty. I came, knowing you’d been out working the case on your day off, and how on top of everything else this one hit close to home.”

Way too close.

He shot her a concerned look. “You look tired.”

“I am, but I’ll be okay.” Her body was used to the long hours
and constant lack of sleep. It was the emotional issues that tended to take their toll on her.

“What about James Philips?” he continued. “Any luck tracking him down?”

Thanks to Jackson, she’d been able to add a mug shot of Philips to their crime board this afternoon. Unfortunately, finding his fingerprints on the hidden photo was about as far as they’d gotten.

“From the looks of his mug shot, he was clean cut. Six foot one. Two hundred pounds. He’d worked for a local community college as a history professor since 2005. Married to Laurie Philips, an elementary school teacher for seven years, now deceased. No children. Arrested eighteen months ago for assaulting the man he claimed to be responsible for his wife’s death.”

“A man with a record. That easily ups the odds he could have been involved in this.”

“Yes, but that is where the trail ends. Philips served his time in prison, but there is no record of employment since that time, no credit cards, not even government aid. It’s like the guy dropped off the face of the earth after getting out of prison. We put out a BOLO so local authorities would be on the lookout for him, but until we find him, we’re stuck with more questions than answers.”

“And the leads from the canvassing?”

“For the most part no one saw anything. No suspects, no witnesses other than a possible homeless man we’re trying to find. Even the parked car in the alley turned out to be a dead end. Turns out Paul Adams works at the bar. When his shift ended, his car wouldn’t start so he got a ride home with a co-worker.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “You know how it goes. We’ll be sifting through possible evidence over the next week or two that may or may
not be related to the case. What about you? Anything more from the lab work?”

“Just a few inconsistencies. She had an enlarged spleen, for one. I’m running tests, but as you said, it will take time.”

“Any preliminary ideas?”

“Give me another day or two, and I’ll be able to tell you more.”

Avery nudged him with her shoulder. “You didn’t come over here to talk about Philips, lab reports, or for that matter, listen to my assortment of excuses for being perpetually late.”

He smiled down at her. “No, I didn’t.”

Avery started to get up, then noticed the white box with the familiar Krispy Kreme logo sitting next to him. Her stomach growled. “You brought me donuts.”

“Someone told me you love chocolate and cream filled.” Jackson pried open the lid of the box while Avery tried not to drool. “This is supposed to be your dessert. After you’ve eaten a substantial dinner.”

“You actually think I have the willpower to wait until then?”

“I’m not getting into that argument, but you do have to share. I thought Tess might like one too.”

“You’re a smart man.” She picked one up and took a bite. “Bribery just might work in her case.”

Jackson laughed. “That was my plan.”

His smile tugged at her heart, but also brought with it the uncertainties she wanted to ignore. Being single and dating was one thing. Being single and dating and dealing with a twelve-year-old daughter had thrust her into an entirely different ball game that she knew nothing about. Ensuring Tess was comfortable with the idea and liked the man she dated was essential. She took another bite, then ran her finger across the icing on top. Gooey . . . chocolaty . . . sticky . . . chocolaty . . . Oh yeah. A few bribes here and there certainly didn’t hurt her either.

She felt herself slowly relaxing for the first time all day. For
their first date, he’d brought her a red rose. By their second date, he’d somehow discovered her favorite flower was a white rose, and he’d brought her two. Simple. Elegant. She loved the fact that he was a gentleman and even a bit old-fashioned. She pressed her lips together and sighed. Something told her this guy was a keeper. And it wasn’t just his good taste in dessert.

“This is delicious, but we’re never going to make it to dinner if I don’t quickly change. Five . . . ten minutes tops.”

“Take your time.” He followed her across the porch to the front door. “Tess told me that next time I come by she’d introduce me to her conglomerate of pets, so that should keep me occupied.”

“The donut will help too, but don’t count on too much bonding tonight. She’s mad at me for missing the tryouts and liable to take that out on anyone who happens to be in the same room.”

“Give her some space. I grew up with a hormonal sister. Eventually I discovered she was a bit like the Texas weather where we grew up. Wait a few minutes and her mood will probably change.”

Avery laughed. “You’re right about that.”

Solidarity between her and Tess had been the one redeeming outcome of Ethan’s death. The weeks and months that had followed their loss had created a stronger bond between them, forcing them to survive what life had handed them together. It was something she prayed they never lost.

Upstairs, it took Avery ten minutes just to figure out what she wanted to wear. The pants and top she’d laid out this morning seemed too stuffy. Three outfits later she finally settled on a green print sundress Emily had picked out with her and a missing pair of silver sandals. She hollered at Tess to see if she knew where the shoes were, then remembered she’d worn them Sunday for church and taken them off in the basement.

Avery hurried downstairs, hesitating at the top of the
basement stairs to listen to Tess talk to Jackson about her pet mice. With a dog out of the equation because of their busy schedule, Tess had somehow managed to talk her into a variety of low-maintenance alternatives that now included three female mice, an African clawed frog, a hamster, and a Birman cat named Tiger.

Tess laughed at something Jackson said. Avery let out a soft sigh of relief. At least they seemed to be getting along.

In the basement that she’d converted into an office, she paused in front of the crime board she’d put together, like she’d done a thousand times before over the past four months. Each time reminding her that Michael was never coming back. Each time praying that this time, something would jump out at her so she could find his killer.

She’d studied the photos and files of her brother’s case until she’d memorized every detail. Witnesses’ photos, suspect photos, crime scene photos, lab reports. It was all in front of her like a jumbled collage that made sense only to her. This was truly her domain. The only place in the entire house with no trace of Tess’s presence.

“Avery?” Jackson stood at the bottom of the stairs, carrying her missing pair of sandals and wearing a sheepish grin as if he were unsure that he should be here. “Tess sent me down here with these. They were in her room.”

“Thanks.” Avery plopped down onto her old leather couch to slip them on. “My daughter loves to borrow my stuff.”

She smiled, unsure when her little girl had found time to morph into a full-fledged preteen. Or, for that matter, when
she
had become old enough to have a preteen daughter.

Jackson shoved his thumbs into his jeans’ front pockets. “I came down here for another reason. I feel like I should offer you a rain check on dinner. You’ve had a rough day, and I know you’re tired. If you need to cancel tonight, we can do this another time.”

Avery hesitated. He was right. Fatigue had settled in, making part of her long for nothing more than a hot bath and a good night’s sleep. But on the other hand she’d been looking forward to tonight for a long time.

She looked up at him and felt her stomach quiver. “I think I’ll be fine as long as you promise not to keep me out too late.”

“I think I can manage that.” His smile hinted relief. “So this is how you wind down?”

He looked around the room, seemingly in no hurry to leave.

“Working on cases . . . ,” she glanced at the easel set up in the far corner of the room, “and painting when I can find the time.”

“Watercolor?”

She nodded. The only splash of color in the room—besides the crime scene photos—was the purple spray of wildflowers she’d started painting a couple weeks ago.

“You’re good.” He turned back to her. “And I’ve just uncovered yet another layer of a fascinating woman.”

Avery felt her cheeks flush as she looked around the sparsely decorated room, trying to see it through Jackson’s eyes. But while refurbishing the house had become an ongoing task—like the still-needed visit from the plumber—remodeling the basement had dropped to the bottom of her to-do list. For now, the bare room didn’t hold much more than a chair, desk, some filing cabinets, and the old leather couch from her college years she’d patched using duct tape.

“I suppose this room could use some fixing up, but for now its purpose is more functional. I don’t exactly have the kind of job I can leave behind when I head home, so this gives me a place to work away from the precinct.”

“I don’t know. I always pictured you relaxing at the end of a hard day with a glass of iced tea and a good book.”

“A glass of iced tea, yes, but a good book?” She let out a low laugh. “I don’t even remember the last time I read something
other than a police report. Besides, if I’m really going to unwind, I prefer a fast-paced workout at the gym, or even better, rock climbing with Tess.”

Of course, who was she kidding about unwinding? Lately, between leading murder investigations, looking into Michael’s death, and trying to balance her personal life, her nerves were—more often than not—strung tighter than the piano wires on Mama’s polished Steinway.

Jackson stopped in front of her crime board. “You’ve told me you’re investigating his death, but you’ve never spoken much about your brother.”

“Losing Michael was—and still is—very personal.”

She crossed the room and ran her fingers across the last photo she’d taken of Michael at her parents’ home, feeling the familiar sting of sadness the memory brought with it. She’d meticulously arranged the photos beside the timeline and key points of the case. Five more boxes of paperwork sat filed away in the corner of the room. Suddenly, the threads of information surrounding her brother’s death seemed too on display. She didn’t even let Tess hang out down here. She started to flip the board, but Jackson caught her hand.

BOOK: Dangerous Passage (Southern Crimes Book #1): A Novel
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