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21 Weeks: Week 3
21 Weeks: Week 3
21 Weeks: Week 3
Ebook78 pages56 minutes

21 Weeks: Week 3

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A man is found dead in the stairwell of a casino hotel. Stabbed multiple times. His wounds stuffed with casino chips. Investigation hindered by the hotel staff’s attempts to cover up the true nature of the crime, Detective Beck Nash must pull out a few tricks of her own as she tries to determine if the murder is the work of someone with a personal vendetta or a serial killer.

21 Weeks is a fast-paced police procedural thriller series that ramps up in intensity with each victim that falls until its explosive final week.

Warning: This series is about a serial killer. There will be violence. There will be language. There will be other adult things. It is intended for a mature audience.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherRiley LaShea
Release dateAug 13, 2015
ISBN9781311965356
21 Weeks: Week 3
Author

R.A. LaShea

R.A. LaShea is a pen name of author Riley LaShea. Under this name, LaShea writes police procedural/thriller 21 Weeks.

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    Book preview

    21 Weeks - R.A. LaShea

    21 Weeks

    WEEK 3

    R.A. LaShea

    21 Weeks: Week 3

    Copyright 2015 R.A. LaShea

    Smashwords Edition

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form, without written permission of the author. Thank you for supporting the author’s rights and buying an authorized edition of this e-book.

    Visit http://www.lasheathrillers.com/sign-up/ to sign up for the 21 Weeks mailing list and receive reminders for each release.

    CONTENTS

    1

    2

    3

    4

    5

    6

    7

    8

    9

    10

    11

    12

    13

    14

    Week 4 Teaser

    1 - Four Kings Casino & Hotel East Tower Stairwell - Tuesday, 2:45 p.m.

    Blood marred the cotton fabric of black boxers, turning their cartoony spreads of playing cards and tumbling dice unsightly reds and browns. Waistband obscured by the man’s slightly protruding belly, his novelty underwear’s boastful proclamation that Tonight, I’m Gonna Get Lucky looked pretty ironic from where Beck stood on the landing below.

    Is this what you meant by ‘a break’? she asked.

    No, this really wasn’t what I was thinking, Williams uttered in return.

    First of their week spent buried back in case files, looking for any insight into the mind of a sadistic killer, Beck had encountered some truly horrendous things that day. An eyeball gazing out of someone’s belly button was never something she needed to see, in old crime scene photos or otherwise. Having made it to the period Bishop dubbed the killer’s Picasso Phase, the real-life murder before her, gruesome as it may be, was relatively tame.

    The things people do.

    Still, it did have its unfortunate aspects.

    Baxton plucking a green casino chip out of one of the man’s numerous stab wounds, Beck pulled her eyes from the sight to survey the stairwell. What she could see of it, at least, through the dozen people waiting around to be told where to go and what to do next. No blood trail leading to the body, the minimal mess there was remained focused around the dead man, which meant they had a murderer with OCD, an anemic vic, or somebody who had some explaining to do.

    I know you’re kind of doing something there. Beck leaned over Baxton’s shoulder, and Baxton looked greener than the chip she’d just removed as she reached for a bag from her assistant and dropped it inside. But before we lose too much time, can we safely assume this guy didn’t wander down here in his boxer shorts and get neatly murdered in the stairwell?

    Yes, that’s a safe assumption, Baxton responded. He’s been stabbed at least thirty-five times with a two-inch blade. There’s not nearly enough blood, and no spatter. Plus, he’s been dead twelve to thirteen hours, and no one found him in an unlocked stairwell until an hour ago? He was killed someplace else. Find out where that was, and CSU will have better luck there. They’re not going to find anything here.

    Are there chips in all of his wounds? Williams asked.

    Looks like it, Baxton said as she dug her long tweezers in after another.

    Can I see one of those?

    Looking to Baxton for the okay, the young assistant Beck had dubbed Mini Baxton handed an evidence bag up the stairs to where Bishop stood like a sentry on the landing above them.

    This is a twenty-five-dollar chip, he declared as the one Baxton was working to extract came free with a sludgy pop. Is that one the same?

    They all appear to be. Throat clearing, Baxton shifted her gaze from the blood and tissue clinging to the chip’s edges, inhaling a shaky breath and dropping it into the bag when her assistant made it available for her. We’ll leave the rest in until we get him back.

    Mint? Williams produced the roll from his pocket.

    Would if I could. When Baxton held her gloved hands in the air, Beck took the roll, twisting the wrapper down, and leaned over Baxton’s shoulder to pop one into the M.E.’s mouth when she opened it. Thanks.

    No problem. Handing the mints back to Williams, Beck was fairly certain it was in all their best interests for Baxton not to throw up on, or in, their murder victim.

    Nash and I have been looking through old murders, Williams said. We’ve been popping these things like painkillers all morning.

    Not that they had dulled the pain.

    Is there anything else you can tell us? Beck asked.

    There’s bruising on his cheeks. He was gagged at some point.

    No surprise there, Williams said. "If he was still alive when those chips were shoved in

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