Read Online Revenge is Sweet (A Samantha Church Mystery) by Betta Ferrendelli - Free Book Online
Authors: Betta Ferrendelli
Ads: Link
her continue Robin’s investigation. Seeing mangled bodies on the roadway, however, wasn’t how Sam wanted to end her day. It had been bad enough waiting to hear from Wilson’s kidnappers. Instead she hoped the staff photographer had heard about the accident on the police scanner in his car and was on his way to the scene.
She’d call the police department and get the full report in the morning. That was one advantage of working at a weekly. The Grandview Perspective published only on Fridays. At the Denver Post, she’d have to file the story before going home. Now Sam wouldn’t have to write anything before Wednesday. And when she did write it, she would have to use a second or third day lead. By the time it appeared in the Perspective the accident would be old news. The city and the people in it would already have moved on to different tragedies.
The thought of being able to wait a day before having to file the story relieved her. She just wasn’t ready to cover the scene of a traffic accident. Sadness pulled at her as she thought of Rey again and the day he was killed. She had only known him a short time, and she could not believe how much she had come to care about him and be so affected by his death.
She could picture him, young, tall and standing straight. She could see him in his safety orange vest directing traffic. His left arm extended straight out, palm up, holding traffic in that direction to a standstill, while motioning rapidly to the traffic with his right hand to move through the intersection. She stopped her thoughts there. She would not allow herself to think of how he died.
Instead she drove the Accord slowly along West 20 th Avenue that paralleled Sixth Avenue, going where she knew she should not be headed. She had gone there so often that she navigated the streets without thinking. She drove along a quiet tree-lined 20 th Avenue, before turning onto winding Glen-Garry Street. She drove until she reached the last house on the corner, coming to a stop before she got to the white-clapboard, two-storey home that sat back from the street on a half-acre plot.
The ‘for-sale’ sign went up almost immediately after Jonathan’s death and the house sold in four days. The garage door was up and Sam could see stacks of moving boxes inside. She wondered about the family who had moved in and thought of her own that had unraveled somewhere along the way because she couldn’t be trusted with a drink in her hand.
The judge had given Jonathan custody of April when they divorced because she wasn’t responsible enough to continue to raise her.
“Until you can convince me, Mrs. Church, that you can be grown-up enough to raise your daughter, she shall not be in your custody. What kind of influence can you be to a 9-year-old if you’re drunk all the time?”
‘Doesn’t mean that I don’t love her,’ Sam had wanted to shout at the judge during the court proceedings. Instead she just stared at him solemnly, her hands clasps tightly in front of her.
Jonathan and April kept the house and Sam had rented an apartment less than five miles away. Some nights following their divorce, Sam would drive by after work, but she wouldn’t go to the door. April had become so upset with her mother that it made Jonathan angry when Sam stopped by unannounced.
Of course, she couldn’t blame them.
Sam tried not to think of the night following the custody hearing when she stopped by without calling and managed to make a complete fool of herself. Sam stared at the new family’s moving boxes in her old garage, trying to keep her mind off that night, but she couldn’t help it, the scene played out vividly before her.
Jonathan and April weren’t home when Sam arrived, so she parked on the street by the driveway and waited for them. She stayed in the car, a bottle of Jack Daniels nestled between her legs. She had a buzz as she drove to the house, and now, in the nearly hour that had passed, she was totally sloshed. She
She’d call the police department and get the full report in the morning. That was one advantage of working at a weekly. The Grandview Perspective published only on Fridays. At the Denver Post, she’d have to file the story before going home. Now Sam wouldn’t have to write anything before Wednesday. And when she did write it, she would have to use a second or third day lead. By the time it appeared in the Perspective the accident would be old news. The city and the people in it would already have moved on to different tragedies.
The thought of being able to wait a day before having to file the story relieved her. She just wasn’t ready to cover the scene of a traffic accident. Sadness pulled at her as she thought of Rey again and the day he was killed. She had only known him a short time, and she could not believe how much she had come to care about him and be so affected by his death.
She could picture him, young, tall and standing straight. She could see him in his safety orange vest directing traffic. His left arm extended straight out, palm up, holding traffic in that direction to a standstill, while motioning rapidly to the traffic with his right hand to move through the intersection. She stopped her thoughts there. She would not allow herself to think of how he died.
Instead she drove the Accord slowly along West 20 th Avenue that paralleled Sixth Avenue, going where she knew she should not be headed. She had gone there so often that she navigated the streets without thinking. She drove along a quiet tree-lined 20 th Avenue, before turning onto winding Glen-Garry Street. She drove until she reached the last house on the corner, coming to a stop before she got to the white-clapboard, two-storey home that sat back from the street on a half-acre plot.
The ‘for-sale’ sign went up almost immediately after Jonathan’s death and the house sold in four days. The garage door was up and Sam could see stacks of moving boxes inside. She wondered about the family who had moved in and thought of her own that had unraveled somewhere along the way because she couldn’t be trusted with a drink in her hand.
The judge had given Jonathan custody of April when they divorced because she wasn’t responsible enough to continue to raise her.
“Until you can convince me, Mrs. Church, that you can be grown-up enough to raise your daughter, she shall not be in your custody. What kind of influence can you be to a 9-year-old if you’re drunk all the time?”
‘Doesn’t mean that I don’t love her,’ Sam had wanted to shout at the judge during the court proceedings. Instead she just stared at him solemnly, her hands clasps tightly in front of her.
Jonathan and April kept the house and Sam had rented an apartment less than five miles away. Some nights following their divorce, Sam would drive by after work, but she wouldn’t go to the door. April had become so upset with her mother that it made Jonathan angry when Sam stopped by unannounced.
Of course, she couldn’t blame them.
Sam tried not to think of the night following the custody hearing when she stopped by without calling and managed to make a complete fool of herself. Sam stared at the new family’s moving boxes in her old garage, trying to keep her mind off that night, but she couldn’t help it, the scene played out vividly before her.
Jonathan and April weren’t home when Sam arrived, so she parked on the street by the driveway and waited for them. She stayed in the car, a bottle of Jack Daniels nestled between her legs. She had a buzz as she drove to the house, and now, in the nearly hour that had passed, she was totally sloshed. She
Similar Books
