Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Crime was low here, especially when compared to Porsche’s hometown of Boston, but it wasn’t nonexistent, for sure. In fact, it had been doing a slow, steady crawl uphill, and that caused some residents concern. A few blamed gentrification, which attracted outsiders. Others blamed the police force or the government. Some blamed the drug epidemic that had now spread its dirty tentacles to their side of the globe.
She reached into her purse and looked in her wallet, flipping through it, counting the dollar bills for the brew she’d stopped to purchase. Yeah, that should be enough cash. She felt a raindrop hit her cheek, then paused to look up at the sky.
Rain. Again.
She tsked. Porsche didn’t wish to be in this part of town today anyway, but duty called. Downtown Portland was always bustling and she was attracting far too much attention, but she’d given Ava her word, and her word was her bond. Besides, she had no choice. Captain White had intel she needed, including some about the now deceased Clark Johnson. Regardless, her phone calls to the man had been ignored. So here she was. In the flesh.
She entered the coffee shop to grab her drink and sit for a few minutes. Right after giving her order to the lady at the counter, her cellphone rang.
Speaking of the Devil…
“Hello, this is Lee. Who’s calling?” she asked, feigning ignorance of who was on the other end.
“This is Captain White, Ms. Lee. I understand that you’re in town again asking questions about the Clark Johnson case. I must remind you that you are interfering with an active investigation, and you have—”
“An active investigation you wish would just vanish. How interesting that you finally called me back after ignoring me for weeks. Seems you managed to fit me into your schedule now. Maybe we can finally get down to business.”
“Ms. Lee, interesting choice of words… what we have going on here, at this point, is none of your business. You could be impeding progress. You could be jeopardizing witnesses and potential intelligence by insinuating yourself in police dealings. You are no longer a police officer, so I am asking you, respectfully, before I have to inform others to take action against you, to step away from this case.”
“Are you threatening me? I hope not… thank you.” She nodded to the barista as she took her coffee and made her way to the front of the shop, situating herself onto one of the highboy wooden seats. “…I don’t do threats, Captain White.”
“It wasn’t a threat. It was me informing you of the possible consequences of your actions.”
“My actions are in direct contrast to your department’s lack of action. I have a right to continue to work on my client’s case. I am not breaking any laws or ordinances, so feel free to take this higher up the ladder if you wish.”
“You’ve forced my hand.”
“Well, good. It’s about time your hand moved more than just papers. Maybe now we can get some traction on this case.” She grabbed a packet of sugar from the table, tore it open, and dumped it into the hot, dark brew.
“You’re not going to find what you’re looking for because you aren’t privy to the information we have. All you have is what the media has released, the coroner’s assessment, and whatever Clark Johnson’s sister has told you. Essentially, you have nothing.”
“…Obviously I had enough because I was able to pull the right strings to find him, and your entire department didn’t. I approached a few people and within two hours and got results, while you worked on this for weeks. Allegedly.” She scoffed. “Now, unless you need my address to send me thank you flowers—I’m a fan of calla lilies—I think this conversation is over.” She disconnected the call, slipped her phone in her pocket, and stirred the drink.
Meanwhile, she could feel the pressure in her forehead building—the tension from her ire being yanked, strung out and tangled. She took a couple of sips of the coffee, then sighed with relief. It wouldn’t be long before her internal gas tank was full, and she was ready for action.
That man is not going to stop me from at least looking around. If nothing is here, that’s fine, but I have to try. I’ll walk the beach… call the fishermen… take some photos… I’ve started to compare cases of other people whose deaths have been ruled as murders, too, occurring under similar circumstances in the last year. Most of them are men in their twenties or thirties. Many were drug addicts, but not all. Most have been strangled, but some were found stabbed to death, or with gunshot wounds. Those were earlier reports though. If it’s a serial killer, it seems he’s changed his method. Maybe he feels more confident now? Strangulation is personal… It takes a lot of strength. On top of that, several of the people were possibly murdered in one location, but found in another. The bodies are showing up close to or along the beach. That takes physical strength and planning.