Fatal Enemy

Chapter 2

The news from the amber alert Internet subscription service flashed across her computer as she worked on revisions to her most recent investigative article for Taboo Magazine. She ignored the alert several times until she reached a logical stopping point. A domestic violence call in a Miami neighborhood. Every nerve in her body vibrated the instant Jess read the address. Eyebrows gathered at the bridge of her nose reflecting her pain when she squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with both hands in the only brief moment of regret she allowed herself now. More pain would follow, as it should.

Her fingers shook as she worked the keys for information, hoping she was wrong while certain she wasn’t.

The first officer at the scene found a woman shot and a five-year-old girl missing. An amber alert went out at 4:15 a.m. Jess glanced down at the clock on the screen. Twenty-Five minutes ago. Wasting no time on useless recriminations, she left immediately.

Thirty minutes later, she reached Saturn Circle, a few houses scattered around the cul-de-sac bordering Lake Tarpon. Miami P.D. cruisers blocked the Dolphin Avenue entrance. Jess parked the rental and slipped her Glock under the front seat. She had a license to carry, but no need to make this tense situation worse.

She grabbed her laptop and approached the first officer she saw.

“Hey, Randy,” she said, as powerfully as she could muster simply to avoid startling him in the darkness. She showed her ID. She’d been working in Miami for several weeks on another story. The cops she’d met were helpful and sympathetic. No one wanted to help crime victims within the bounds of the law more than Jess did, and she always made sure local law enforcement knew that. They were all on the same team, she felt.

Officer Randy Wilson wagged his head, rubbed his neck. “Sorry. No media inside. What’s your interest, anyway?”

Jess met his steady gaze. “Betsy Martin is a crime victim. I came to offer support.”

“She doesn’t need it,” Randy told her, too bluntly.

Jess released her breath in a long exhale, closed her eyes. The news hit her hard in the gut, even though she’d expected it, really. Pressing a man like Richard as hard as she’d done was dangerous. She’d known it at the time, but she’d thought the stakes were worth it. A short moment of guilty mourning was all she permitted herself for now. Plenty of time for remorse later, too.

“Suspects?”

“Nasty divorce. Custody problems with the daughter.”

Jess nodded to draw him out, not trusting her voice to remain steady just yet.

“Bet on the ex,” Randy said. His tone conveyed the disgust only the well-informed would feel. “Real piece of shit. Restraining orders, my ass.”

Nobody needed to tell her how inadequate the law was at protecting women from men like Richard.

“Can I go up?” While my legs will still carry me?

He shrugged again, nodded, as if to suggest there was no harm she could do at this point. “Why not?”

“Who’s primary?” she asked.

“Jerry Schmidt. Missing persons.”

Jess shivered in the morning’s cool breeze, wishing she’d pulled her sweater from the back seat. She made her way down the short street to the brick colonial at the end. She saw two unmarked cars, an ambulance, and people milling around. Officers, crime scene technicians, photographers.

A couple of detectives interviewing a woman, maybe one of the neighbors, maybe the one who’d called in the gunshots. Tallish woman, mid-forties probably. Hair gathered at her nape. Very pregnant. She made a mental note to interview the woman later, if she needed to.