 On
That Note . . .
Prologue
After a long and profitable day, he looked forward to the
evening.He popped the tab
on a Budweiser, went out on the patio, dropped onto a chair, and took a
swig. Twisting his neck
from side to side, the man felt the kinks begin to relax.
He’d been working sixteen-hour days, and he was tired. No, he passed tired weeks ago—he was exhausted. When he locked his desk drawer for the day, he had decided what
he wanted to do. He would
take a few days off and be kind to himself. Might go kayaking. He
yearned for the solitude of the churning water, towering cliffs on one
side of the river, and the canopied forest on the other side. Yes, that was what he was going to
do. Life was good,
and he enjoyed it to the fullest.
A silent figure slipped between the flowering forsythia bushes. He took aim, and the gun popped. The unsuspecting man slumped onto the patio with a single shot to
the back of his head, shuddering before the dark veil of death washed
over his body.
Chapter 1
Beth Carlson and Joe Bishop sat at a scratched, imitation wood
table in the courthouse sipping coffee. “Think we did it?” asked Joe.
“I’m fairly confident, but you never know,” answered Beth
in a pleasant voice.She
slapped her palm on the table with such force her complexion turned a
bright shade of red. “That arrogant fool thinks his high-priced attorneys will get him off.”
"And they may.” Joe
walked to the window and for several minutes gazed at the street below
before turning to face her. “It
never ceases to amaze me how far some people will go in a divorce
case.”
Looking at Joe’s short, round body and sparkling blue eyes, she
said, “Well, it certainly wasn’t your typical divorce. He stood to lose millions.”
Joe pushed his fingers through his curly, blonde hair. “So, he knocks her off.”
“And if we’ve done our job, he’s off the street.”
“Is the rest of the team coming for the verdict?” he asked.
“No.I ’m supposed to call them.
”The
ringing phone jarred the air. Joe
picked it up and listened to the caller. “Thanks.” He
hung up the phone and told her, “Jury’s in.”
She linked her arm with his and tugged him toward the door.
Entering the courtroom and sitting at their table, Beth felt her
heartbeat quicken as she studied the smug-looking defense team.
Had her team done their job? Would the scumbag be sent away? Beth rubbed her clammy hands on her royal blue suit skirt as she
watched the grim-faced men and women file into the jury box.
The bailiff handed the form with the verdict on it to the judge. Studying it for what seemed an eternity, he finally read, “We,
the jury, find the defendant, James Earl Martin guilty of murder in the
first degree.” The short,
beefy man seemed unmoved by the verdict. The judge continued, “The jury recommends life in prison
without parole.”
Beth was elated! They
did it! As the bailiff led Martin from the courtroom, he glared at
Joe and Beth and in a cold, raspy voice growled, “Don’t think for
one minute this is over. I’ll
get you—all of you! And
that’s a promise!”
Beth asked Joe, “Did he scare you?”
“Not really. Did he bother you?”
“Yes. As I looked at his cold eyes, terror charged up my spine."
"Beth,
we’ve been threatened before, and I think you’re overreacting.”
“That
may be, but I can’t help how I feel. And you know as well as I do, he’s so powerful he’ll be
connected even from prison.
”They
stepped into the warm sunshine. Joe
paused on the courtroom steps.“Relax,
it’ll be okay, I promise.”
“You
can’t promise me that.”
“Yes,
I can.”He turned toward
her, placed his hands on her small shoulders, and met her large, green
eyes. “Forget it.This case is over.”
“Maybe.”
“Look
I’m having a party tomorrow night to celebrate. Can you come?”
“Sure.”
“Say around seven.
“Can I bring anything?”
“No. I’ll order party
trays.”
“I’ll
come a few minutes early to help.”
“Great.”
The threat lingered in Beth’s thoughts.She knew what she felt, and she knew enough to trust her
intuition. From this day
forward, she would always be looking over her shoulder.
* * *
The following day, she slipped on a yellow sundress, slid a
strand of pearls over her head, and pushed pearl earrings through her
earlobes. After applying
makeup and spraying her wrists with a floral-scented perfume, she
stepped back to survey herself. She
nodded in approval and went downstairs.
* * *
Beth
drove under a sunny sky toward Joe’s home. She parked in the driveway, went up the steps, and rang the
doorbell. When he didn’t
answer, she turned the unlocked doorknob and went inside. Her sandals clicked as she crossed the oak floor calling, “Joe,
it’s Beth. Where are
you?”
Nothing
but silence answered her. She
figured he’d forgotten something and had left the door unlocked for
her. Pulling platters of
food from the refrigerator, Beth opened the door leading to the patio. Her green eyes widened, her heartbeat surged, her hands flew to
her face, and the platter of sandwiches crashed onto the patio bricks.
Joe
lay on his side.There was
a gaping hole in the back of his head. Blood pooled around the side of his face and dried blood matted
his blonde hair. His eyes
were open, fixed, and vacant with a death-stare. More blood surrounded an overturned can of Budweiser beside his
body. Beth began to scream
and didn’t think she would ever stop. The revenge had begun.
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