Sullivan’s Evidence Read online

  Praise for Sullivan’s Evidence

  “A great page-turner…. Rosenberg writes authoritatively about the legal system, and she knows how to make a reader identify with her heroines. She’s strong both at plotting and pacing, suckng the reader into a whirlwind, page-turning finish.”

  —Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

  “Chilling…. A determined and fearless sleuth, plenty of insider detail about forensics and the criminal justice system (the author had a 14-year career in law enforcement), and a dramatic and satisfying conclusion make this another winner.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Rosenberg gives readers a detailed insider’s look behind the badge.”

  —New York Daily News

  “A terrific protagonist, fabulous forensic support, and an incredible climax…a superb thriller that will make all the short lists for top books of the year.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Plenty of plot twists and canny reality…. With an obviously keen knowledge of evidence collection, forensics, and the strange and dastardly things human beings are capable of doing, Rosenberg has woven a web of obfuscation and evil that not even the most practiced and discerning readers can solve until the last few pages.”

  —Daily Southerner (Tarboro, North Carolina)

  Praise for the Electriying Thrillers of Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  Sullivan’s Justice

  “Welcome back, Carolyn Sullivan! Rosenberg’s talent is amply displayed here as she gives us a sweaty-palm story of evil and betrayal—and a sharp-eyed look at the gritty world of southern Californian law enforcement. You won’t need coffee or No-Doz with this thriller; it’s guaranteed to keep you turning pages all night long.”

  —Jeffery Deaver

  “Authentic…. The author’s ability to generate narrative drive holds readers. A dark, perilous, and compelling ride.”

  —Booklist

  “A heart-thumping, pulse-pounding thriller filled with vivid, original players and a plot that grabs hold and sweeps the reader along until the last, breathless twist.”

  —Judith Kelman

  “Superb…plenty of action, the storyline is fast-paced, and readers have a good time wondering who the killer might be. The heroine is a valiant warrior in the fight against crime.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Confidently plotted…. Thriller enthusiasts will relish the intricate plot, accelerating action and novel climax of this gripping ride.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Rosenberg’s personal experience in law enforcement brings a chilling reality to this page-turner…. Begins with an eerie, leave-the-lights on murder and ends with a high-speed chase. In between are breathtaking action and nonstop suspense.”

  —Sandra Brown

  Sullivan’s Law

  “A gutsy heroine, a fast-moving plot, an insider’s look at the justice system—Sullivan’s Law is everything a legal thriller fan could hope for. As always, Nancy Taylor Rosenberg delivers the goods. This will be another bestseller.”

  —Nelson DeMille

  “Rosenberg uses her firsthand knowledge of law enforcement to create convincing sketches of criminal predators, mental patients, and hardworking civil servants in this fast-paced thriller…. Carolyn Sullivan is so human and determined that it’s almost impossible not to race to the ends to see what happens to her next.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Rosenberg’s experience as a cop and a probation officer gives her work an additional layer of investigatory authenticity…. Rosenberg puts it all together here with another thoroughly believable heroine dealing with corruption, greed, deceit, and danger.”

  —Booklist

  “Full or menace, romance, and violence.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Engaging, with enough excitement to keep thrill-seekers happy.”

  —New York Daily News

  Conflict of Interest

  “Rosenberg’s legal thrillers make the most of breakneck pacing and high-energy plotting.”

  —Booklist

  “Frighteningly real.”

  —Los Angeles Times

  Buried Evidence

  “Nancy Taylor Rosenberg is back with a vengeance, and Buried Evidence is the best evidence that she’s at the top of her game!”

  —Lisa Scottoline

  “Watch your pulse and don’t forget to breathe. Nancy Taylor Rosenberg’s legal thrillers are a guaranteed adrenaline rush!”

  —Tess Gerritsen

  Trial by Fire

  “Incredibly fast-paced and exciting from page one until the end.”

  —James Patterson

  “A legal thriller with the works.”

  —Nelson DeMille

  California Angel

  “There’s no doubt that Rosenberg knows how to spin a yarn.”

  —Booklist

  “Tantalizing”

  —People

  Abuse of Power

  “Nancy Taylor Rosenberg writes legal thrillers with strong female heroes who triumph…. Keeps the tension high.”

  —People

  “Convincingly demonstrates why a bad cop is even more dangerous than a bad perp.”

  —Booklist

  First Offense

  “Compelling tension…gutsy and full-blooded.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Rosenberg can construct a roller coaster plot with the best of them.”

  —Cleveland Plain Dealer

  Interest of Justice

  “Intricate, vivid, thrilling…one of the year’s ten best.”

  —Los Angeles Times

  “A taut thriller, written with authority.”

  —New York Times Book Review

  Mitigating Circumstances

  “Adrenaline-pumped.”

  —New York Times Book Review

  “Intricate and satisfying…. Rosenberg develops a startling premise skillfully.”

  —Los Angeles Times

  Also by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  Mitigating Circumstances

  Interest of Justice

  First Offense

  Trial by Fire

  California Angel

  Abuse of Power

  Buried Evidence

  Conflict of Interest

  Sullivan’s Law

  Sullivan’s Justice

  NANCY TAYLOR ROSENBERG

  Sullivan’s Evidence

  PINNACLE BOOKS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To Forrest Blake and Christian Gabriel Nesci

  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

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  St. Louis, Missouri


  As the sun disappeared and darkness fell, death lurked in the shadows. Outside the winds were howling, causing the shutters in the cramped living room to rattle. Eleanor Beckworth headed to the bedroom to change into her nightclothes. Even when she wore her slippers, the cold hardwood floors chafed her feet. She was a petite woman. Her weight had never risen over one twenty. When she was younger, she stood almost five four, but now she was barely five feet. Age had not only shriveled her skin, it had compressed her spine.

  Eleanor stopped walking, sensing something. The atmosphere in the room felt different. Was it a change in the barometric pressure? Maybe the storm they were predicting for tomorrow was moving in early. She hoped not, as her roof was badly in need of repair and the boiler was acting up again. Reluctantly, she had called her handyman, Mitch, today. She had space heaters, but she knew they weren’t always safe, and she was terrified of fire. Maybe Mitch could patch the roof as he’d done the year before.

  Eleanor tried to live on the money she received from social security, which was barely enough to pay the mortgage and buy groceries. She had twenty thousand in her savings account and a modest amount of equity in her house. She had pulled out most of the money over the years, but she wanted to leave something for her granddaughter when she died.

  Glancing at Elizabeth’s pictures lined up on the walls in the hall, she touched her finger to her lip, and then pressed it against her granddaughter’s face. She’d raised the girl from the age of three after her daughter, Anna, had died of leukemia. Since Anna hadn’t married the child’s father, the young man had left town, never to be heard from again. Eleanor gladly served as Elizabeth’s mother.

  Elizabeth was such a darling girl, Eleanor thought, but terribly unlucky when it came to men. Her granddaughter had dated one young man for five years, letting him live with her in her apartment. The man had never contributed a dime, worked only a day or two a week, and refused to commit to a permanent relationship. Elizabeth had finally had no choice but to toss the freeloader out. Her little heart had been shattered.

  Men living off women! Eleanor thought in disgust. She remembered the days when a man opened your car door, took you out for a nice dinner, treated you like a lady. They didn’t swoop down like vultures on lonely women, use them like prostitutes, then take off as soon as they got bored or decided there was nothing more they could take.

  “Oh, well,” she said, entering the bathroom. She hung her clothes on a hook so she could wear them the next day and stepped into her blue flannel nightgown. Once she had removed her dentures and was bundled up in her bathrobe, she performed her nightly rituals: checking to make certain all the doors and windows were locked, watering the plants on a ledge above the kitchen sink, then selecting the pills she took every night and placing them inside a plastic lid.

  Eleanor had always thought her granddaughter would live close by. She glanced at the clock and wondered why Elizabeth hadn’t called yet. They spoke on the phone once a week, and Sunday was her night to call. Eleanor rarely phoned Elizabeth, as the girl sometimes talked for hours, and Eleanor couldn’t afford to run up her bill calling California. Elizabeth must have lost track of time. She was a computer technician who worked out of her home.

  When the phone rang, Eleanor rushed over and grabbed it. “Is that you, darling?” she said. “I was worried I wasn’t going to hear from you tonight.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, Mom,” her granddaughter said. Since childhood, she had called Eleanor “Mom.” “Matt and I had a terrible fight.”

  “Oh my,” Eleanor said, “I thought your marriage was working out wonderfully.”

  “So did I,” Elizabeth said, her voice cracking with emotion. “Matt’s not the man I thought I married, though.”

  “Dear, dear,” Eleanor said, taking a seat on a stool beside the phone, saddened by what she was hearing. “Maybe you’ve been on your computer too much and not paying him enough attention. A man needs to be doted on, honey. I’m sure you’ll work things out. Where’s Matt now?”

  “I don’t know. He got so angry, Mom. I’ve never seen him that mad. He’s been stomping around all day. About an hour ago, he left without telling me where he was going.”

  “It might make him even angrier if he hears us talking, honey. What goes on in a marriage should remain between a husband and wife. No man wants people poking around in his private affairs.”

  “You’re right,” her granddaughter said, sighing. “I’m sorry I said anything.” She paused, then whispered, “I think I hear Matt now. I’ll call you next week.”

  “I love you,” Eleanor told her, hating to end the call so abruptly.

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  Eleanor was asleep when she heard a noise. Glancing at the clock on the table by the bed, she saw that it was a few minutes past five in the morning. She was certain the noise she heard was the garbage truck, but she decided to check. Putting on her robe and slippers, she made it halfway down the hall when she saw a large, dark figure standing in front of her. “Get out of here!” she shrieked, her hand over her chest. “I have a gun. If you don’t leave, I’ll shoot you.”

  As she turned to run back to the bedroom to call the police, the intruder grabbed her around the neck, then released her. She fell face first onto the wood floor. The man was on top of her, his hot breath in her ear. “My purse is in the kitchen,” she panted, pain shooting through her left hip. “There’s cash…take it…you can buy drugs with it.”

  “Drugs, huh?” the man said, wrenching her arms behind her. “I don’t need drugs. Killing is a natural high. Are you afraid to die? You should be.”

  He rolled off and yanked her to her feet. She sank against his arm, unable to stand. “I think my hip is broken,” Eleanor said, moaning. Breaking a hip at her age was worse than a heart attack. If she couldn’t care for herself, she would have to go into a nursing home. “I’ll never walk again, you evil man,” she spat at him. “God is going to strike you dead.”

  “Really?” he said, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her along behind him. “If there was a God, he would have struck me dead already. The things I’ve done, the things I’ve gotten away with. Shit, killing an old woman like you is like swatting a fly.”

  When they reached the bedroom, he picked her up and tossed her on the bed. Eleanor made a frantic move to grab the phone, but the man ripped it from the wall. The phone tumbled to the floor with a loud thud. She saw the awful man wrapping the phone cord around his wrist, and scooted up close to the headboard to get away from him. “Oh, no, please!” she pleaded. “Help me! Please have mercy on me!”

  He squared his shoulders and faced her. The seconds ticked off inside her head. Through a crack in the blinds, a beam of light from a passing car struck his face. “You!” Eleanor shouted, her body shaking in terror and outrage. “For the love of heaven, it can’t be you!”

  The man circled to the side of the bed, leaping on top of the mattress behind her and planting his feet on either side. “Your eyesight is pretty good,” he said, bending over and wrapping the cord around her neck. “Too good.”

  He twisted the cord in his hands, watching as it cut into the crinkly skin on Eleanor’s neck. Placing his foot on her collarbone, he extended his leg, pushing her toward the foot of the bed until she began to struggle. “Sorry you’re not happy to see me,” he said. “I’m the last person you’ll ever see. Don’t blame yourself. I was going to kill you even if you didn’t recognize me.”

  Eleanor tried to scream but couldn’t. There was no air. Her body buckled, her eyes felt as if they were going to burst out of their sockets.

  “Just relax, old girl. It’ll be over in a few minutes. All you’re going to do is take a long nap.” The attacker stood, the muscles in his leg shaking from exertion until Eleanor’s body became limp and lifeless. He stared down at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Once he was certain she was dead, he wrapped the cord around the bedpost and tied it into a knot. H
is victim’s head dangled several inches off the pillow.

  Jumping off the bed, he tossed the electric blanket over the body, turned on the bedside lamp, and began rummaging through Eleanor Beckworth’s drawers and closets.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ventura County Corrections Services Agency

  Ventura, California

  Thursday, September 14—2:10 P.M.

  “Have you heard anything about the DA’s office cutting a deal with Robert Abernathy?” Carolyn Sullivan asked her supervisor. As usual, she had walked into his office unannounced. Anyone else would have been tossed out. Most people knew Carolyn had been a close contender for Brad Preston’s job and that the two of them almost ran the unit in concert.