Retribution: A Psychic Detective Kate Pierce Crime Thriller (Psychic Detective Kate Pierce Crime Thriller Series Book 1) Read online

  Retribution

  by

  C. M. Sutter

  Copyright © 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction by C. M. Sutter. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used solely for entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  C. M. Sutter is a crime fiction writer who resides in Florida, although she is originally from California.

  She is a member of numerous writers’ organizations, including Fiction for All, Fiction Factor, and Writers etc.

  In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her friends and family. She is an art enthusiast and loves to create gourd birdhouses, pebble art, and handmade soaps. Hiking, bicycling, fishing, and traveling are a few of her favorite pastimes.

  C. M. Sutter

  http://cmsutter.com/

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  Retribution: A Psychic Detective Kate Pierce Crime Thriller, Book 1

  The violent drug-related murders of two prominent attorneys have the homicide division of the Chicago Police Department scrambling for answers, but without clues, a motive, or a suspect, not even the FBI can track down the killer.

  With the media demanding an arrest and at their wits’ end, the Chicago Police Department makes an urgent call to the Washburn County Sheriff’s Office in hopes of bringing in Kate Pierce, a psychic detective, on the case. A reluctant Kate agrees only when word comes that Jesse McCord, a new friend and top-notch Chicago homicide detective, has gone missing.

  Partnered with Detective Henry Johnson of Chicago’s homicide division, Kate goes on the hunt for the killer, armed with clues from her revealing dreams—and her dogged determination. As they inch closer to locating Jesse and learning the identity of the suspect, they realize the killer may be much closer than they think.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 1

  The birthday celebration had ended, and many restaurants and bars on Rush Street were emptying out. It was Sunday night, and Jesse was ready to hit the pillow. Monday would come early enough. Following dinner, drinks, and a few celebratory shots with his old college buddies, Jesse was ready to call it a night.

  “Tonight was great, but let’s not wait for special occasions to get together again. You all know where I live, and Bandit would love to have more people around. He’s probably sick of seeing nothing but my ugly mug day after day.” Jesse exchanged back pats with his buddies and once more wished Steve a happy birthday. The men parted ways outside Gibsons and disappeared to their cars.

  Thanks to the proximity of Jesse’s home—a redbrick mid-century modern walkout that was a reasonable eleven miles away via Lakeshore Drive—he knew he should land in bed by one o’clock. He pulled up his jacket collar and sank his hands into his pockets to ward off the early fall chill as he crossed the street, walked north a block, and turned right on East Cedar Street, where his car was parked. The gusts coming off Lake Michigan swirled around buildings, giving the “Windy City” effect Chicago was nicknamed for.

  Jesse continued toward the lake. Halfway down the street, a man and woman stepped out of a high-rise condo with their small dog, likely giving it one more walk before bedtime. They exchanged hellos, and Jesse leaned down to pet the terrier then continued on. Away from the action of Rush Street, few people milled around at midnight on a Sunday. The couple and dog turned the corner and disappeared.

  The route to his car was quiet and dark, save the occasional streetlamp, yet the sound of footsteps in the distance heightened Jesse’s senses—it was an instinct with cops. He was aware but not alarmed and continued to his car, which sat against the curb only fifty feet away. Movement to his left caught Jesse’s attention. He saw the silhouette of a large man coming out of nowhere. The man stepped off the curb, crossed the street, and headed in Jesse’s direction.

  Jesse pulled the car keys from his jacket pocket and clicked the fob. He heard the door locks pop up as he approached his car. The man would likely give Jesse a passing nod and continue on to wherever his destination was. They were nearly face-to-face when the man reached in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

  He slid one out, cleared his throat, and asked, “Got a light, man? I seem to have lost my lighter.”

  Jesse paused for a second. “Sorry, but I don’t smoke.”

  “Wrong answer, Detective McCord.”

  The buzz of the stun gun against Jesse’s cheek seized his movements. He dropped to his knees, giving his assailant just enough time to punch and kick him into unconsciousness. The man ripped the keys from Jesse’s clenched hand, popped the trunk, then dragged him by the arms to the bumper. With a grunt, he lifted Jesse over the trunk’s opening and threw him inside. He dropped Jesse’s cell phone safely into his own pocket, slammed the trunk lid, and climbed in behind the wheel.

  Tires screeched as he peeled away from the curb and disappeared down Chicago’s side streets.

  As soon as Jesse had regained consciousness,
he started yelling and kicking in the trunk.

  “Save your energy, Detective McCord,” the man called out. “Soon enough, you’ll need every ounce you have.”

  The drive seemed like an eternity to Jesse. He checked his pockets and felt in the darkness for his phone, but it wasn’t there.

  Who the hell is after me, and why? The guy even knew my name. With all the shit going on lately, why didn’t I wear my gun? I should have known better.

  The recent murders of two prominent Chicagoland attorneys should have had Jesse leaning on the side of caution, but he was off the clock and enjoying the night out with his buddies. His gun, safely tucked in the car’s glovebox, was little help at that moment.

  If he starts rifling through the car, he’ll find my gun for sure.

  Jesse continued to kick the trunk’s lid and felt the car’s speed increase. They were leaving the city. His chances of drawing attention to himself had just gotten a whole lot slimmer.

  He isn’t stopping at lights, so we have to be on back roads or residential streets.

  Jesse pushed up his sleeve and pressed the button to illuminate the dial on his watch—12:43 a.m. The city sounds were fading in the distance, and he had no idea in which direction they were going.

  Rush Street is on the near north side. He’d get out of the city faster by continuing north.

  Jesse felt the car speed up again.

  We have to be getting on the freeway, but to where?

  The humming tires against the road were a constant for another forty minutes until Jesse felt a slight shift to the right—they were slowing down. A short stop and then a quick left meant they had turned onto a surface street off the freeway. He checked the time again—1:18. Ten minutes later, the car crossed a set of railroad tracks, made several turns, then slowed to a stop. Jesse’s heart pounded as he thought of what might come next. The unknown was far worse than anything he had dealt with before. He closed his eyes and felt his head begin to spin.

  Chapter 2

  Jack’s Monday started out better than he had expected. After taking that lengthy call, he set the receiver back on the base. He rubbed his temples, sucked in a deep breath, and pushed back his chair. Two wide strides took him to his office door, and he pushed it open and proudly folded his arms across his chest. “He’s in custody. It took two months to track him down after realizing Matt Mellon wasn’t the real necktie killer, but nonetheless, we got him.”

  “How and where?” Kate nearly jumped out of her skin. “I actually dreamed he was caught in the act.”

  Amber spun her head. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  Clayton shushed both of them. “How about letting Jack talk?”

  Jack waited until all eyes were back on him. “Ready, ladies?”

  They nodded.

  “That phone call was from Landry. He said the perp was actually caught in the act by a group of teenagers late last night as they were cutting through a park after their high school football game. They heard a ruckus, went to investigate, and saw a commotion between two people in a ravine. They rushed in—I’ll admit, stupidly—and tackled the guy. Turns out, the man was straddling a woman who had a tie wrapped around her neck. She had been thrashing and fighting for her life just as the teens happened by.”

  “Oh my God, talk about being in the right place at the right time,” Amber said.

  Jack raised his brows. “It didn’t hurt that the young men were all football players on their high school varsity team. Their parents are probably very proud of their bravery, but it was still a risky thing to do.”

  Adam spoke up. “What teenager thinks about risks? I’ve already gone through the stupid teen years with Mia. Luckily she’s in college now.”

  Amber snickered. “Right, and college kids don’t take risks? What about hazing pranks and drinking until they go unconscious from alcohol poisoning?”

  Billings frowned.

  “Okay, everyone, I think we’re getting off course here. Anyway, the real necktie killer was caught in Pleasant Prairie and has been undergoing extensive questioning throughout the night. So far, he hasn’t lawyered up, but of course that could end at any time. The woman was taken to the hospital last night and will be interviewed by the Kenosha County Sheriff’s Office and the task force once the doctor gives the okay.”

  “Humph, he finally hit Kenosha County. Either he was ready to be caught after dumping a body in every county of southeast Wisconsin or he just became careless,” Kate said.

  Jack scratched his head. “I think it was because those kids happened by and heard the scuffle. The victim is lucky her guardian angels showed up in the nick of time. She should count her blessings.”

  “And we should have a celebration since that’s one more psychotic murderer taken off the streets,” Amber said.

  “I’ll give that some thought. Anyway, there won’t be any deals on the table for him unless he gives up all the names of the ladies he killed. Their families need to know what happened, and those women deserve a proper burial.” Jack gave each detective a smile. “I’d like to thank all of you again for the hard work you put in trying to track him down. Even though Matt was a copycat killer, he was still a killer, and we caught the son of a bitch.” Jack slapped his hands together. “Good job, Detectives.”

  He returned to his office and closed the door at his back. Jack jiggled the mouse to wake up his computer then opened the desktop folder that contained every employee’s resume. Mary Davidson had been helping out in the field often and had been hinting that she’d like to be promoted to detective. Jack double-clicked on her file and read through her credentials.

  She does have a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and has been on the force for five years. Mary is definitely a team player, and all the detectives get along well with her. I have to give this some thought.

  After taking a quick gulp of coffee, he picked up his ringing desk phone. “What’s up, Jan?”

  “Sir, Sergeant Lutz from the Chicago Homicide Division is calling. He’d like a few minutes of your time.”

  “Sure, put him through.” Jack drummed his pen against a yellow legal pad while Jan transferred the call to his phone.

  “Jack, it’s Bob Lutz. I met you and several of your detectives at Jenna Mellon’s funeral. How are you?”

  Jack chuckled. “I’m not sure how to answer that. Normally I end up with a bull pen of scowls aimed my way every time I say things are going fine. That’s usually when the shit hits the proverbial fan. But on a good note, I just got word that the real necktie killer was apprehended last night in Pleasant Prairie. Kenosha County Sheriff’s Office has him in custody, and they’re keeping tight-lipped as far as the press is concerned while they question him.” Jack heard nothing but silence. He gave the screen a glance to make sure he was still connected. Finally, a sigh sounded on the other end. “What’s going on, Bob?”

  “We have a situation, Jack, and I know Kate Pierce works under your command.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “I’ve been told by the Twelfth District Precinct that Kate has assisted the Chicago PD in the past.”

  “She has, as a consultant.”

  “You’ve heard about our assistant state’s attorney, Adam Pitts, getting murdered, haven’t you?”

  “I have, and it’s unbelievable.” Jack centered the legal pad on his desk and held his pen at the ready.

  “Since then, a very prominent defense attorney was found murdered too.”

  “Are you thinking it was the same perp?”

  “We’re leaning that way. Method of death was the same—methamphetamine overdose.”

  “And neither had addictions?”

  Lutz let out a puff of air. “Not even close. They were straight arrows. The only addictions they had were their careers. They were found in the worst part of the city and beaten pretty badly, and each had extensive facial trauma.”

  “It’s odd that a prosecutor and a defense attorney were murdered. They work on opposite teams
. Somebody had it out for both of them?”

  “It appears that way, which is very puzzling to us. I’ll admit, we’re at our wits’ end, Jack. No matter how many man-hours we put in, our detectives can’t solve these latest murders, and the press is relentless wanting answers. We’ve even gotten the Chicago FBI involved, but we still can’t crack the case. We’ve gotten nowhere. Jesse McCord was actually going to make this call since he’s better acquainted with your team, but he hasn’t arrived at work yet. It isn’t like him to be late, but we are talking about Chicago. Traffic here is usually a nightmare.” Bob sighed. “I don’t want to sound like a skeptic, even though I am, but I need to know more about Kate’s psychic ability. We’ve exhausted all of our resources on these two murders. I can’t wrap my head around the whole psychic thing, but it’s time to open my mind. Has she really solved murder cases?”

  “Yeah, she has, but it isn’t like she twitches her nose and the killer is captured. There’s a lot more to it than that, but I shouldn’t speak for her. I will tell you that Kate has worked on homicide cases in several other states too with good results.”

  “Believe me, I’ve done my research, and that’s the reason for this call. I spoke with several of the detectives who worked with her years back in Chicago, but since you’re her day-to-day supervisor, I wanted to speak to you. Does she still have that same ability? She doesn’t do weekend palm-reading stints at local carnivals, does she?”

  Jack chuckled. “Not anymore. She did on occasion before I hired her, but I will say Kate’s the real deal, and her visions and dreams are uncanny.”

  “Okay, that means we need to learn more about Psychic Detective Kate Pierce. Would you mind if I sent Jesse up to Wisconsin to talk to her?”