Diana Read online

  * * *

  Lachesis Publishing

  www.lachesispublishing.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Laura Marie Henion

  * * *

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

  * * *

  CONTENTS

  Other books by this author:

  Dedication

  Cop's Daughter 4: Diana

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  * * * *

  Cop's Daughter 4: Diana

  by

  Laura Marie Henion

  * * * *

  * * * *

  www.lachesispublishing.com

  Published Internationally by Lachesis Publishing

  Kingston, Nova Scotia, B0P 1R0

  Copyright © 2008 Laura Marie Henion

  Exclusive cover © 2008 Laura Givens

  Inside artwork © 2008 Carole Spencer

  All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher, Lachesis Publishing, is an infringement of the copyright law.

  A catalogue record for the print format of this title is available from the

  National Library of Canada

  ISBN 1-897562-08-6

  A catalogue record for the Ebook is available from the

  National Library of Canada

  multiple ebook formats are available from

  www.lachesispublishing.com

  ISBN 1-897562-09-3

  Credit: Giovana Lagana, editor

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Other books by this author:

  For Lillian's Love

  Cop's Daughter 1: Victoria

  Cop's Daughter 2: Lauren

  Cop's Daughter 3: Grace

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to my father and ‘technical advisor’ Vernon J. Geberth.

  Thank you for your continued support and, most importantly, your love.

  To my husband, Tim, and my three children: I thank you for your encouragement and support as I continue to pursue my dream.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Cop's Daughter 4: Diana

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Prologue

  While Diana held onto the dresser, trying to maintain her balance, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She wasn't drunk, just a little ‘buzzed.'

  I have control of this. I only had three glasses of wine.

  In her mind, she attempted to convince herself she needed it in order to sleep. A few glasses of wine were nothing compared to taking prescription sleeping aids. Drugs could be addictive.

  She stared at herself a moment, realizing for the umpteenth time the wine only coated the bad thoughts—the visions of dead bodies, murdered victims of cases both solved and unsolved. The visions came only at night, when her apartment was quiet, when she was left alone with her thoughts and her insecurities.

  Sometimes people in her line of work became desensitized. The blood, the gore of horrific acts of violence, could never escape her thoughts. Solving murders, bringing justice to victim's families, was her vocation.

  Leaning in closer, she saw the fatigue appearing like half moons under her eyes.

  I'm only human, damn it! Every detective has these feelings, so why shouldn't I? She wasn't some sort of ‘super cop,’ as she'd been referred to many times. It'd been said more so in sarcasm, than in an attempt to rattle her and get under her skin. She was a woman, after all—weak, emotional, unable to last as long working homicide as any male counterpart.

  "Bullshit!” She grabbed the wine glass off the dresser, devouring the burgundy liquid in one quick gulp.

  She was a great detective, taking every challenge head on and without complaint. That's not to say without worry, fear, or concern. She wasn't exactly conceited or confrontational, but she demanded respect, allowed others to perceive her as having an attitude because it was easier that way. Keep a distance, keep it all work and professional, and no one gets hurt.

  She glanced at the mirror again, and the white cotton tank top that clung against the muscles of her abs. She worked out hard to keep in such great physical condition. She had to. Every cop had to, to be prepared for the likely possibility of a physical confrontation. She grabbed the dresser to steady her balance, and examined the definition in her forearms, her upper body, and shoulders. She was strong, or at least she felt strong.

  Juliet and her daughter Mirella were not strong enough.

  She closed her eyes, envisioning the crime scene. It was a crime scene to Diana and Jerry, but to Juliet and Mirella it was once their home. There was so much blood, such a horrible mess. Diana pushed herself away from the dresser, trying to escape the thoughts.

  She thought about walking to the kitchen and opening another bottle of wine. Maybe a couple more sips would do the trick tonight? She didn't drink like this all the time, just occasionally, when cases were rough and her thoughts consumed her. When the scenes re-entered her mind.

  Feeling dizzy, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Slowly, she lay down, her head nowhere near the pillow.

  Placing her arms above her head, she sighed, closing her eyes. In an instant of predictability, more memories of the recent crime scene flooded her thoughts. Two innocent lives. One of them a small helpless child robbed of a future, and a full life, because of a heartless individual.

  Then the haziness covered the victims’ faces, their flesh, and circumstances of their deaths. Diana felt the numbness. No more visions appeared, just darkness and finally sleep.

  * * * *

  Diana and Jerry carefully entered the apartment complex. The early morning phone call revealing the whereabouts of their suspect was enough to send her migraine to a higher level. She and Jerry met right away and prepared to catch their suspect by surprise.

  They climbed the staircase. She saw the door, but could barely make out the words ‘4th Floor’ painted in black lettering. There was no time to wait for backup. Montoya was on the run and fully aware his hideout's location was blown.

  Slowly, Jerry opened the metal door. Diana followed as he entered the hallway.

  Jerry went still.

  "Stop. Police!” He pulled his revolver from its holster and pointed down the hallway.

  She was at his side, pointing her gun in the same direction. Montoya stopped a moment, then jumped inside the elevator.

  There was only one way to follow him. Diana shoved open the metal door they just emerged from.

  "Oh, shit!” she heard Jerry say, but didn't look back. She sprinted down the narrow staircase, jumping over every third step to make up time.

  Her partner was a step behind her.

  Just as they made it through the metal doorway to the main lobby, Diana heard screams. Then she saw the crowd of people assisting an elderly couple up off the floor. A second glance toward the doorway exposed their assailant, and his
blue shirt blowing in the wind behind him, as he continued to flee on foot.

  They hurried through the entrance and onto the sidewalk. Montoya rounded the corner, heading toward a vacant lot and a set of rundown apartment complexes. He could easily hide from them if they didn't move faster.

  Diana was determined, as the foot chase intensified.

  She heard Jerry behind her, panting in between calling the station house for back up.

  Her muscles burned, and the pressure in her chest deepened, as she ran around the building. Jumping through the air, she just missed colliding with a metal pipe. That would've cost her. She clenched her teeth, her weapon drawn even though she pumped her arms, hoping to increase her speed. She lived for moments like this, loved them when she was a street cop. She would finally catch the bastard and her sleepless nights would end, at least in regards to this case.

  They sped past the little bodega, a hair salon, and another set of buildings before the vacant parking lot.

  She heard a thump and then her partner, Jerry, hollered out in pain. She glanced back before refocusing on her objective. Montoya wouldn't evade capture. Not today. Jerry had tripped over the metal bar she'd just leaped over and barely missed. She didn't want to stop, but he was her partner.

  "Go. Get him, Pellino! I'm coming.” Jerry tried to stand.

  She didn't stay to watch. Instead, she sped around the corner of the adjacent building.

  Montoya came out of nowhere, slamming her in the arm with a piece of metal piping, causing her gun to fall to the ground. She ignored the stinging pain and focused on retrieving her gun.

  He jumped for the weapon, and she dove on top of him. The police radio dislodged from her belt, sliding across the pavement. She had to stop him from getting her gun. She pounded away, punch after punch into his body. Her adrenaline pumped in her veins. The sound of sirens came in the distance, and the radio chatter echoed from her police radio. He was a big guy, and she needed to move fast. She used her leanness and her agility to maneuver out of his grasp.

  He almost got her arm locked behind her, but she continued to fight. He grabbed her hair. Diana gave him a forearm to the face and neck, once, twice. He started to choke. She grabbed the barrel of her gun, just as Montoya came at her again.

  She swung hard, hitting him in the temple, then again in the nose with the handle. The blood splattered as she scrambled to her feet. He grabbed for her leg. The blood covered his eyes. She kicked him hard, knocking him backward onto his back.

  She could tell he was exhausted. He gasped for air in between profanity and promises of death for her.

  The blood continued to ooze from his head wound as he rolled over, trying to stand. Hunched up, practically foaming from the mouth, he swung at her once more. The massive fists made contact with her ribs. He wasn't going to get away.

  Diana swung back, delivering a right hook, then a forearm to his face and neck. Instant pain radiated through her arm to her elbow. He went down hard. As he fell, she grabbed his hands and cuffed him. Jerry arrived, limping from the vacant building.

  "Holy shit! You got him? You did that to him?” He gasped for air as their backup arrived. They rounded the corner with their weapons drawn.

  Diana was out of breath, as well. The adrenaline left her body at record speed and exhaustion kicked in.

  "We got him, Jerry. We got him."

  More officers and paramedics arrived at the scene.

  * * * *

  Diana sat on the ground, trying to get some air and calm her breathing. The adrenaline rush long gone, the pain from the blows to her ribs was now enormous. She gazed at the gash across her forearm. Her bones ached, every single, damn one of them, but she wouldn't reveal the pain. She knew she couldn't. After all, she'd conditioned herself to be strong, unbreakable.

  "Detective Pellino, you get checked over by the paramedics yet?” Lieutenant Paul Fontella asked.

  "She hasn't, Lieu. She's being stubborn, as usual.” Detective Jerry Montoff held an ice pack on his ankle.

  The lieutenant looked back toward the ambulance where Luis Montoya sat handcuffed and in need of medical attention. He already heard the story, and knew Diana was responsible for the capture and arrest.

  Fontella squatted down next to her, so only Diana could hear.

  She gazed into the lieutenant's eyes. She was tired and achy. She wouldn't admit it. Getting up without assistance wasn't an option to a tough cop like herself. She didn't expect preferential treatment just because she was a woman.

  "Let's get you checked out. That arm looks bad. I want you patched up, and a full report on my desk by this afternoon."

  Diana raised her eyebrows at the lieutenant. Was he crazy?

  No. He knew her well, and he knew exactly what he was doing. She smiled, acknowledging his tactic of egging her on. She challenged herself and went for it.

  The lieutenant grabbed her good elbow as he helped her to her feet. She cringed from the pain in her ribs. She pleaded for the dizziness to go away as they walked toward the paramedics.

  "Take care of her,” he told the EMS technician. Then he glanced at Diana.

  "You did a fantastic job, Pellino. Another one for the good guys.” He winked.

  "Thanks, Lieu."

  Guthery's Department Store

  He stood in the long line, frustrated and angry. People around him didn't seem so bothered. Some looked over the merchandise they were purchasing, while others searched for their credit cards or counted their cash, making sure they had enough to buy all their items.

  He released a long breath. This is ridiculous. He eyed the older woman behind the register. He wasn't sure of her ethnicity. Could be Spanish, Iranian, Indian—who gives a shit? Just move faster, you incompetent bitch!

  He shifted his weight from left to right and stared at the cashier.

  She had curly, dark hair, brown eyes, and dirty fingernails. The new red smock covered her plain old brown slacks and yellowed blouse.

  "Hey, Barbara, it's five minutes past twelve,” another store clerk nearby called to the slovenly worker behind the register.

  "Thanks, Lee,” the incompetent worker said, still not smiling or showing any sign of moving faster. Then, she did the unacceptable.

  "Line closed.” The next customer in line had already placed her items down on the counter.

  "What?” was heard in unison.

  "Are you kidding me? You can't do this. We've been standing in this damn line for twenty minutes. The next line has fifteen people in it. This is bullshit!” he yelled, and the incompetent worker ignored his every word. She took her purse from under the register and slowly headed away from the angry mob.

  People complained, but he knew no one had a choice. They ran to the next line to beat the others who waited

  He was angry as hell. What was this world coming to?

  He searched for a manager, someone, anyone who could possibly have even the minutest amount of work ethics left, but he came up with no one. No one gave a shit. Not even the manager.

  He tossed his items onto the floor and left the building.

  "Bitch!” he yelled, as he left through the double automatic doors.

  As he made his way onto the pedestrian crosswalk, he caught sight of a yellow sports car and just in the nick of time. Obviously, the dumb blonde behind the wheel was too stupid to realize walking pedestrians had the right of way. She nearly ran him over.

  He cursed at her, and the stupid disco music she had blaring from her radio, as he made his way to his car. The beat of the loud base drums echoed through the air. He swore each car window he passed vibrated.

  His temper flared. His brow grew damp and the angry thoughts flooded his mind, fogging any chance of rational thinking. He memorized the license plate, the color and make of the yellow sports car, and the driver.

  He got in his car, cranked up the air conditioning despite the 70 degree weather, and laid his head back against the seat. “I need to calm down. I just need to calm down."
br />   He started the engine and headed toward the highway and into traffic. Could this day get any worse? Thoughts of the woman behind the register now dominated his mind. He couldn't help himself. She was worthless, ignorant, and the world wouldn't miss someone like her for a second. Ideas formed in his mind, and as hard as he tried to ignore them, it became apparent it was no use.

  The decision was made. The fantasy started. He grew excited just thinking about how he could make his fantasy a reality.

  Smiling, he sat patiently in traffic for another half hour, focusing on his mission, his plan, and his revenge.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 1

  The Pellino house was filled with guests, inside, outside, down the driveway, everywhere. Diana's brothers decided to ask a few friends to come join the family barbeque. She'd attempted to help her mom cook since yesterday afternoon, but unfortunately they disagreed on the methods and ingredients needed to make a good Italian tomato sauce.

  Her mother was Irish, and more of a by the book cook. She needed detailed instructions, and refused to venture off to try new herbs, new types of ingredients, or anything she considered exotic. Her mother thought tacos were an exotic food. The rest of the world just looked at it as something different to eat.

  Diana was glad she received more of the Italian genes when it came to cooking. She loved to try new things and experiment with foods. Her sauce was a thousand times better than her mom's, but no one would ever let her mom know this, especially not her dad.

  She laughed just thinking about it, as she leaned toward the doorway in the kitchen and tried to make her way out of the room. Her mother decided she needed to make her special spiked punch, and wanted the punch bowl from the upstairs closet.

  Diana volunteered to get it. She walked past family and others she didn't know. It was wall to wall cops, firemen, local storeowners, and God knew who else.

  She thought about how she took the three-day weekend to help her parents prepare, but she wished she were working. Even though she knew she needed this break. The double homicide she'd been working on had finally come to an end, and another killer was brought to justice.