Heart of Murder

HEART OF MURDER LESSONS IN MURDER, BOOK 4 EDALE LANE PAST AND PROLOGUE PRESS Heart of Murder, Lesson in Murder book 4 By Edale Lane Published by Past and Prologue Press All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews. Edited by Melodie Romeo Cover art by Melodie Romeo This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental. First Edition February 2023 Copyright © 2023 by Edale Lane Printed in the United States of America Created with Vellum Created with Vellum CONTENTS Acknowledgements & Content Warning Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Other Books by Edale Lane About the Author ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & CONTENT WARNING Acknowledgements and Content Warning Thank you to Beta readers Karen Worden, Rowan Liddell, and Maryann Kafka for your input to this novella. I appreciate J. Scott Coatsworth’s contributions and my partner Johanna White who provided the inspiration for the “Lessons in Murder” series. It is also with gratitude to my readers I present to you, “Heart of Murder.” In the spirit of full disclosure, this story involves the rape and murder of a young woman, neither of which is described in detail on the page; however, it is mentioned as the detectives investigate the case. CHAPTER 1 Saturday, February 11th Jenna dug in with her sensible cop boots as she raced down the sidewalk after a robbery suspect, her black leather coat zipped against an icy blast. “Stop! Police!” Her demand just made him run faster. Lieutenant Detective Jenna Ferrari and Detective Ron Owens were in the downtown area on Saturday morning interviewing the owner of a liquor store which had been broken into and all the cash taken the previous night when they heard shouting. “Help! I’ve been robbed; he’s getting away!” The clamour came from a pawnshop two doors down the street, and Jenna and Owens jumped into pursuit. “Call for backup!” she snapped over her shoulder. Owens was both former footballer and soldier; however, his fitness days were long behind him. While very useful in a test of strength, he would never keep up with her in a sprint. Jenna skimmed around pedestrians, parking meters, ornamental trees, and a telephone pole before bearing into a hard left turn as she chased the skinny guy in the faded navy hoody. So far, the only description she could glean was thin, white, with a string of dark hair in his eyes when he had glanced back at her. “Stop! Police!” Her shout was as much for the bystanders gawking as it was for the criminal who had proved he had no intention of stopping. She slapped her hand on the hood of a car trying to pull into a parallel spot to insure she didn’t crash into it. For his next maneuver, the speedster hung another left into the service lane behind the row of businesses. Jenna puffed out breath like steam in the February morning as she braced herself for another swift turn. The pistol’s report and ping of a ricocheted bullet had her diving for cover behind a dumpster, where she whipped out her service issue. “Drop your weapon and raise your hands in the air!” The command may have been useless, but she was required to deliver it before returning fire. With adrenaline pumping, she peeked around the edge of the dumpster. The alley lined with back doors to stores and eateries contained a couple of full-sized green dumpsters, stacks of boxes, several air conditioning units, a recycling bin, and a black grease receptacle. Leading with the barrel of her gun, Jenna stayed low as she edged out into the open. Her suspect’s head and weapon popped up about ten yards ahead of her and he fired off a panicked round, puncturing a hole in the oozy grease bin. Revolver in hand, the skinny guy in the hoody turned and fled again. Where is my backup? She sprinted after him, gun in hand, and this time he didn’t have such a head start. Without slowing, the haphazard thief pointed his pistol vaguely behind himself and fired once more, this time chipping the bricks of some business’s wall. Jenna was aware of people standing at the far end of the lane to stare. Fear one of them may be hurt if she fired her revolver, or because of his poor attempts to aim at her, charged straight to Jenna’s heart. “Roanoke PD,” she bellowed. “Drop your weapon!” He blasted two more wild shots, bursting a rear wall light globe and denting a dumpster, before a black and white with lights flashing and sirens blaring screeched to a stop blocking the other end of the alley. He ran smack into the driver’s door, almost knocking himself to the ground. Jenna raced up after him while the policeman in the passenger’s seat jumped out, firearm drawn, and took his stance. “Drop your gun and put your hands behind your head. Don’t make me shoot you!” Relief poured through Jenna at the tone of Officer Matt Murphy’s voice. When did he learn to sound so forceful? She halted five yards from the perpetrator, planted her feet, and drew aim with a two-handed grip. The skinny man in the hoody spun and advanced two unaware strides in her direction while the patrol car’s driver, Officer Vicki Stone, pushed out behind him. “You’ve nowhere to go,” she declared in a firm voice. The sturdy woman outsized both Jenna and the robber, presenting a formidable obstacle to any evasive ideas which may pop into his drug-stupored brain. He spun around, wild eyes seeking an escape, though had yet to drop