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    21 Weeks: Week 18
    21 Weeks: Week 18
    21 Weeks: Week 18
    Ebook88 pages1 hour

    21 Weeks: Week 18

    By R.A. LaShea

    ()

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    About this ebook

    When the serial killer takes someone close to her, Detective Beck Nash must keep it together in order to stay on the investigation, but the outcome of events may finally push this detective to her breaking point.

    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 13, 2016
    ISBN9781310236549
    21 Weeks: Week 18
    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 18

      …

      R.A. LaShea

      21 Weeks: Week 18

      Copyright 2015 R.A. LaShea

      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

      Week 19 Teaser

      1 - Beck’s Apartment - Sunday, 5:10 a.m.

      Beck woke in gauze. Eyes shrouded, mouth devoid of all moisture, even her limbs felt wrapped and heavy. Rolling over with effort, it was as if she had been swaddled in the night, the nerves in her arms and legs left in a tingle, lethargy unshakably deep.

      Carmen?

      Two thumps echoing weakly through the apartment as she reached across the bed, Beck wondered if it was the sound that had woken her. Or was it the chill? Bed empty, she couldn’t remember if Carmen had been there the night before. Was that days ago? Did she even show up there at all? Head so fuzzy, Beck was having a hard time distinguishing fantasy from reality as three more faint thuds came out of the living room.

      Numbish legs swinging off the edge of the mattress, she looked down at her naked body, and it assured her it was, in fact, only the night before that Carmen had been at her apartment. In her bed. Pulse quickening at the realization, it seemed to weaken at the same time, and Beck had to hold onto the headboard to pull herself up. Staggering to the dresser, she grabbed a shirt and underwear out of a drawer, pulling them on as the dull hammering came once again from the living room.

      Carmen?

      No idea what time it was, she wondered if Carmen would have left already to meet with LaVigne. Beck said she would put Carmen on a plane herself, but she wouldn’t be upset if Carmen was already in the air, halfway to a foreign land by now.

      Foot hitting something cold and hard, she dropped her gaze to the floor. Rooms dark, she could just make out the flash of silver, and reached for it without thought. Canister falling from her hand as soon as she recognized what it was, Beck rammed the frame as she turned back through the door, hip slamming into the footboard when she didn’t quite clear it.

      Body not fully under her control, she managed to get into the drawer at her bedside, and her hand on her gun, as the knocking came more adamant from the front room.

      Whirling around, sweat poured from every gland as she tried to think what she should do. Eyes skittering to the empty bed, Beck knew only three things with absolute certainty: Carmen was there, Carmen was no longer there, and that canister on the floor was designed to hold some sort of gas, which was why she was having such a hard time getting everything from her brain to her feet to work.

      Cell phones somewhere, she couldn’t remember where at the moment, so she couldn’t call for help. Though, she was supposed to already have help. Thought occurring to her as the thumping came again from the front room, Beck’s finger tightened on the side of her Sig as she moved back to the bedroom doorway, managing to avoid pain and injury along the way, and looked across her vacant living room, before approaching the front door.

      Back against the wall beside it, she tried to get her breathing under control. She didn’t know much at the moment, but she did know she couldn’t shoot if she couldn’t breathe.

      Who’s there?

      Detective Nash?

      Weak thumps on the door again, Beck recognized the voice of Officer Coates, and reached for the lock, turning it and the doorknob with the same hand, gun raised as she spun in the doorway, completely unprepared for Officer Coates falling in at her feet. Stepping past him, she looked both ways down the hall, before dropping to put her fingers to the wildly out of control pulse at the young officer’s throat.

      Coates. Where’s Hartley?

      Patrol. Coates raised a weak hand with his cell. I’ve got Sergeant Bishop.

      Bishop? Beck said as she took the cell from Coates’ hand.

      Nash? Bishop sounded surprised to hear her voice.

      We were drugged, Beck said. I was… Seeing the small circle on Coates’ skin, she got distracted for a moment, until she found the inch-long dart that the officer must have pulled from his neck on the floor beside him. It looks like Coates may have been tranked. He looks bad.

      Unbuttoning the top buttons of his uniform shirt, Beck hoped it would make breathing a little easier for the man.

      Help is already on the way, Bishop said.

      I don’t know where Hartley is. Or Carmen.

      Statement pausing Bishop a few seconds, Beck glanced into her apartment, eyes catching on another flash of silver as Bishop spoke again. Help is on the way, Nash. Just hold on a few minutes.

      My keys. Recognizing the shape of the metal, Beck blinked in confusion. He moved my keys. Why would he… Oh my God.

      Help is on the way, Nash. Just stay where you are, Bishop demanded.

      Tell them to hurry. Beck ignored Bishop as he started to talk again, putting the cell back in Coates’ hand, and crawling across the hardwood to grab her keys off the kitchen floor.

      With the support of the counter’s edge, she pulled herself up, glancing back at Coates in the doorway, realizing she couldn’t leave him like that. Strength in limited supply, Beck found just enough to drag the officer the rest of the way through her door and shut him up inside.

      Back in the hallway, her breaths turned into shallow bursts, vision blurring, and she shook her head in an effort to clear it, making it to the elevator and staggering inside, hands going to the rails to hold herself up as it jerked downward toward the parking garage.

      When the doors opened again, Beck raised her weapon, shaky

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