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    21 Weeks: Week 5
    21 Weeks: Week 5
    21 Weeks: Week 5
    Ebook77 pages1 hour

    21 Weeks: Week 5

    By R.A. LaShea

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    About this ebook

    When a student is found murdered on the campus of a local high school, Nash and Williams must face off with their fellow detectives in pursuit of the truth, while Bishop is missing in action, and Beck’s brother, Leo, is falling back into old habits.

    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 dateJan 7, 2016
    ISBN9781310067921
    21 Weeks: Week 5
    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 5

      …

      R.A. LaShea

      21 Weeks: Week 5

      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 updates on upcoming Beck Nash thrillers.

      CONTENTS

      1

      2

      3

      4

      5

      6

      7

      8

      9

      10

      11

      12

      13

      14

      15

      16

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      19

      Week 6 Teaser

      1 - Bishop High School Football Field - Wednesday, 4:30 a.m.

      Head down, knees bent, Davis Mitchell’s fingertips brushed the grass by his cleat as he lined up. The tenth man back, he had watched nine of his teammates fail to push through, and the subsequent reaming they’d gotten from Coach Springer as they were banished to the back of the line. Determined not to go out the same way, Davis barreled forward as the whistle sounded, shouldering into the bag with all his might, and groaned when it felt as if the bag was shouldering back.

      Again, Coach Springer demanded, and, ignoring the pain, Davis reset at the twenty-five yard line, running at the tackle sled when the whistle blew. Come on, Mitchell. Keep your shoulder down and run through it. What the hell’s wrong with you?

      It hurts, Coach. Dropping back, Davis reached for his shoulder, pain radiating down his arm as he rubbed through the lightweight pads he wore in place of his heavy game pads.

      It hurts? He knew Coach Springer would hate the answer. It’s football. It’s meant to hurt. You three, get up there and weight it down.

      Rushing to do as they were told, Davis’ teammates lined up front to back on the tackle sled’s base, pressing forward behind the padded bag, hands on each other’s backs to provide stability.

      If it hurts, you hit harder. Shoving Davis aside, Coach Springer lined up. No pads, no helmet, he gave his own call, going at the tackle sled and carrying it back three feet with Davis’ teammates aboard. You hit it. He moved the bag another foot. You hit it. You hit it. As long and as hard as you have to.

      Watching Coach Springer shoulder into the bag again and again, Davis wondered if the man had any feeling left in his body at all.

      That’s what breaks a line. That’s what wins games. That is what makes you great.

      One last explosive hit to its padded surface, and the bag on the tackle sled split. Startling backward as something fell out at him, Coach Springer gaped in shock, and Davis tilted his head, trying to make out who it was beneath the rapid discoloration of skin. The fabric of the bag catching the body at the torso, the guy just hung there, naked from the waist up, arms bound to his sides with duct tape, team towel stuffed and taped into his mouth, blood dripping from the contusions all over his body.

      Lump forming in his throat, Davis couldn’t choke it down as he recognized the face of their fellow senior, Jacob Kroll.

      2 - Beck’s Apartment - Wednesday, 4:40 a.m.

      Cell intruding upon her sleep, Beck couldn’t distinguish phone call from alarm until she fumbled the device up to turn it off, and had only the option of answering or ignoring it. One of those options preferable to the other, she reevaluated her life choices as she put the phone to her ear.

      Let me guess, she said, wiping sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand like a cranky five-year-old.

      Morning. We got a call. Williams didn’t give her the opportunity.

      Where?

      Bishop High School.

      That’s Spring Valley, right?

      Correct.

      Meet in the station parking garage and go from there?

      Sounds good, Williams said. Well, as good as anything can sound at 4:30 in the morning.

      Laugh stifled, it occurred to Beck half of partnerhood was going through the same blah moments and feeling each other’s pain.

      See you in a few, she said.

      Cell falling to her chest as the call came to an end, she laid for a moment trying to become a fully functional human being, swinging her legs to the bed’s edge when it could no longer be avoided.

      Did I wake you? Finding Leo awake on the couch as she stepped out her bedroom door, Beck watched him glance back over its arm.

      Can’t sleep. Leo’s eyes returned to the action movie playing in near pantomime on the screen. Are you going to work?

      Yeah. I got called in.

      Dude, you like just went to bed.

      I went to bed five hours ago, Beck uttered, and could tell by the way Leo blinked at the clock on the DVR he had no clue what time it was. "I have to go. I’ll see you later,

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