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    21 Weeks: Week 17
    21 Weeks: Week 17
    21 Weeks: Week 17
    Ebook72 pages1 hour

    21 Weeks: Week 17

    By R.A. LaShea

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    About this ebook

    Hijacking the performance of a well-known Vegas illusionist, the serial killer puts his latest victim on public display, making it a challenge for the team to find the victim’s actual physical location, while, to complicate matters, Detective Beck Nash gets a call from mob boss Giancarlo LaVigne.

    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 dateMar 9, 2016
    ISBN9781311493675
    21 Weeks: Week 17
    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 17

      …

      R.A. LaShea

      21 Weeks: Week 17

      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

      Week 18 Teaser

      1 - An Empty Lot Off The Strip - Sunday, 8:55 p.m.

      Crowd ten thousand strong, people stood in uneven rows, watching the magic unfold on the stage. Well, sort of watching it. Most the audience conversing with their friends, or standing around looking bored, it was pretty clear the woman doing some reasonably impressive sleight of hand was not the main attraction. Time counting down at the bottom right corner of the screen hanging above her head, it was what came next everyone really wanted to see, and Officer Lydon knew it would get a whole lot tighter in there as soon as the main event began. Like any free entertainment with alcohol permitted on site, people would forget they could see from right where they were standing, and press in closer, creating a solid crush of bodies nearly impossible to navigate. 

      Even if Piqua wasn’t actually there.

      The man’s performance taking place in a theater east of The Strip, he had a live audience in attendance as well. This set-up was solely for publicity, and for the other crowd, those who were interested enough in watching the man unveil his latest illusion to show up, but not interested enough to actually pay for tickets. 

      Do you see anything?

      Wearing plain clothes, and communicating via earpiece, Lydon was currently unrecognizable as a police officer, so she had seen plenty. A group of teenagers popping pills. A couple trying to use the crowd to shield the fact the guy’s hand was in the woman’s pants. Several joints being passed around.

      Nothing useful, she said. You?

      Nah. Nothing, Bruce uttered in return. Just a lot of what you’d expect from a crowd gathered to watch a spectacle like this.

      Same here, Lydon responded.

      Not sure they were in the right place, she could hardly fault Sergeant Bishop or Detective Nash for sending them. They’d had a real way, over the past weeks, of knowing where things would happen before they happened. That didn’t necessarily mean they were right again, but they couldn’t be sure they were wrong, and it was still overtime Lydon could add to her paycheck.

      I hate to bring it up, Bruce declared. But this guy could kill someone right in the middle of this horde and still get away from us.

      Peering through the rows and rows of bodies, Lydon couldn’t see her partner anywhere amidst the crowd, and knew Bruce was right. It probably didn’t matter if they were there at all. They were at the Mint, and the killer still managed to murder someone. Half the force was on Huntridge, and the guy still got away. Lydon used to hope one day she would make it to Homicide. After these past few weeks, she wasn’t so sure she wanted the job.

      Weak applause drawing her attention to the stage, she watched the opening act take her bow, replaced on her way back to the wings by a man with an electric guitar, who received slightly more enthusiastic a welcome. Or, perhaps, it was the time left on the clock that amplified the murmur of excitement around Lydon. In three minutes and ten seconds, at nine p.m. exactly, Piqua would reveal his latest illusion - another performance piece the press, and police, knew nothing about, other than its name -

      THE PUNISHMENT

      Hey, hey, look at the time. Guitar player hitting his last few notes, a man took to the microphone on the stage as the countdown clock showed thirty seconds until Piqua’s big reveal. Is everybody ready? I said, is everybody ready?! My name is Russell Voth. You probably know me better as Piqua’s personal manager. As you all know, Piqua has survived swimming with sharks. He has survived running with the bulls. This man has even burrowed out of his own grave.

      Twenty seconds. 

      Tonight, though… tonight you will witness him go up against the greatest enemy he has ever faced. The greatest enemy any of us will ever face. Tonight, Piqua comes face to face with death itself. And remember, when a man faces death this often, you never know when a performance will be his last.

      Ten seconds.

      If you think you can handle it…

      Eight seconds.

      If you think you can watch… 

      Five.

      Feast your eyes upon Piqua - The Punishment.

      Clock hitting 0:00, the red velvet curtains displayed on the screen above the stage split open.

      Help me! Scream ripping through the night, dark eyes, larger than life, stared in utter terror across the crowd. Help me! Help!

      Move! Shoving through the grossly enthralled spectators, Lydon headed for the stage and Piqua’s grinning manager,

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