Dream Walker

Copyright© 2014 by Denise Harvey

First Edition

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, places and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  

License Notes: Thank you for your purchase. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase/download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support. Ref. book: Shakespeare and the art of verbal seduction by Wayne F. Hill and Cynthia J. Ottchen. Cover Illustration: Shardel

ISBN 13: 978-1499268887

ISBN 13: 9781311593214 (epub book)

Chapter One

 St. Augustine, Florida

February 17

Another dead end, literally, but he’d had to come down in person to check. They, every police department involved and the FBI were missing something, overlooking some small shred of evidence to make the connection, five crime scenes and zero forensic evidence leading to the killer.

Reviewing the few facts everyone had on the cold case didn’t require much time or the file in his briefcase. Three things linked the murders from South Carolina to Florida, a lovely or use-to-be lovely early-fifties dead widow with a knife wound to the heart and a long-stemmed red rose.

Arriving late afternoon on the seventeenth at the Shores Inn, Gary checked in at the front desk then drove down the lot to the parking space directly in front of his room. He shut off the Jag and pulled the key from the ignition switch, while taking in the outer facade of the small American owned beach front Inn. The other nineteen rooms seemed to be occupied also, ten at ground level and ten stacked on top.

After carrying his suit case and brief case inside, Gary unpacked the two changes of clothes he had brought with him. The restless need for action he always felt when hunting a killer settled in and he knew a sleepless night was all he had to look forward to while waiting to hear from the Captain of the St. Augustine Police Department.

 Standing on the beach a short distance from the open patio doors to his room, the waves rolled in. Gary looked out over the ocean to the horizon. Waiting for the sun to rise, he let the salty wind coming in off the Atlantic clear the last of the dark nightmare away. Hearing his cell phone ring, he sighed in frustration. Jogging back to his room he grabbed the cell off the patio table answering it on the fourth ring. “Wellington.”

“Mr. Wellington, this is Captain Anderson with St. Augustine P.D., I just got your message that you would like to meet with me. If you’d come by the station ‘bout an hour, I’ve fifteen minutes free, before a meeting.”

“I’ll be there.” Gary flipped the cell shut ending the call and headed back into the motel room. Rubbing at the tension that had rode his shoulders for the last two years; he poured coffee from the carafe, compliments of the Inn, into a mug on the small table. The scent of roasted coffee beans filled his nose and he groaned. “Thank God for this little bit of room service.”

Gary opened the St. Augustine newspaper room service had left beside the coffee carafe. Front page headlines read THE EAST COAST LOVER KILLS AGAIN, “Three days ago, Marie McMillon found Julia McMillon, her mother, dead in her home. Julia McMillon is the fifth victim of the East Coast Lover.” He laid the newspaper next to his suitcase to take with him when he left the Inn. Forgetting the coffee, Gary dressed for his meeting with Captain Anderson.

“Mr. Wellington, come in, come in. How can I help you?” Captain Anderson shifted his bulky weight in the leather chair, making it squeak in protest.

“I’m hoping you’ll let me speak with the detective in charge of the McMillon case, sir?” Gary knew it was a long shot before he’d arrived in St. Augustine, Florida, last night. Wearing a black Armani suit with a pale gray shirt and a tie the color of dark storm clouds matching his eyes, he sat across from the captain with an unblinking stare, waiting for an answer.

The Captain folded his stubby fingers together over the paper on his desk. His first thought after taking in the sight of the young man sitting across from him, Cop plain as day, though the Armani suit was a puzzle. The questions were, from where did he come and why did he want to speak with the detective about an ongoing investigation? Anderson decided to give Wellington the usual brush off, “Investigation is still ongoing Mr. Wellington.” He did wonder though, the boy looked familiar even with the cold unblinking stare. “Where are you from, Mr. Wellington? You look familiar, but I can’t place where I know you from.”

“Atlanta Georgia, sir.” With an inward sigh, Gary figured the big burly bastard wasn’t going to give an inch on the McMillon case. “Homicide, Atlanta P.D., I’ve been tracking The East Coast Lover for two years.”

“Yes, that’s it, Detective Wellington. Your mother was one of the victims.” Captain Anderson looked toward the closed office door when someone knocked, “Excuse me,” and bellowed, “Come in.”

The office door swung open. “Sorry for the interruption, sir, you wanted to see me.”

 Holding his hand up, Anderson motioned for the detective to wait. He cast a hooded glance at the man sitting across from him. “Mr. Wellington, I’m afraid our time is up. I have a press conference to attend.” Gary stood the same time Anderson heaved his bulky body up out of his leather chair and picked up the press release file. “I’ll speak to your captain and let you know if I can help you.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call, sir, you have my cell number.” Gary walked by nodding to the detective still standing inside the office doorway. He walked through the bullpen past the desks the detectives used and could smell the scent of stale coffee hanging in the air and hear the sound of fingers tick-tacking out reports on the keyboards of their computer. Gary wasn’t surprised by the faint stirring of nostalgia.

Back outside, he pulled his cell out to call Stevens. Waiting for the call to connect, he noticed a crowd forming across the street. About fifty people or so had gathered near a big white gazebo. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear so he could hear Stevens when he answered.

“Stevens.” Hearing his best friend bark into the phone always had a smile tugging at the corners of Gary’s lips. Ben Stevens, an ex-cop/partner and more brother and friend since elementary school.

“Stevens, its Wellington.”

“What’s up, Gary?”

“I’m returning your call. Tell me you have something other than a dead body and a long-stemmed red rose and I’ll give you a big bonus.” Gary felt it in his gut, he was close. The something unknown to them all, the one small detail that may not blow the case wide open, but would give them a focal point leading to his mother’s killer.

“What kind of big bonus are we talking about, warm white sandy beaches and lots of water, Babes from Land O’Legs. You know, I could really get into this, its fifty-five degrees here in Atlanta.”

“Depends on what you have for me?” A game they often played, and usually he didn’t mind, but today the questions grated some.

“I have a credit card and the billing address.”

“Don’t joke with me on this, Stevens.” He growled into the little phone. His pulse began to race, at the mention of a solid lead. Stevens had been playing a lot of jokes on him the last few months, mostly setting up blind dates that Gary knew nothing about, and sending the strange women to his house.

“No joke, same credit card was used for payment at the three different restaurants for the last three victims.”

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed the seek peek of chapter one. The full epub addition is available for Kindle, Nook, iTunes, Txtr and several others.  To pre-order your autographed copy of Dream Walker before the release date please visit me . authorsden.com  or check with your local retailers.

Sincerely,

Denise Harvey