Don’t Look Back: A completely addictive and gripping Kane and Alton crime short-read Read online

  Don’t Look Back

  A completely addictive and gripping Kane and Alton crime short-read

  D.K. Hood

  Books by D.K. Hood

  Detectives Kane and Alton prequels

  Lose Your Breath

  Don’t Look Back

  Detectives Kane and Alton Series

  Don’t Tell a Soul

  Bring Me Flowers

  Follow Me Home

  The Crying Season

  Where Angels Fear

  Whisper in the Night

  Break the Silence

  Her Broken Wings

  Her Shallow Grave

  Promises in the Dark

  Be Mine Forever

  Cross My Heart

  Fallen Angel

  Pray for Mercy

  AVAILABLE IN AUDIO

  Detectives Kane and Alton prequel

  Lose Your Breath (Available in the UK and the US)

  * * *

  Detectives Kane and Alton Series

  Don’t Tell a Soul (Available in the UK and the US)

  Bring Me Flowers (Available in the UK and the US)

  Follow Me Home (Available in the UK and the US)

  The Crying Season (Available in the UK and the US)

  Where Angels Fear (Available in the UK and the US)

  Whisper in the Night (Available in the UK and the US)

  Break the Silence (Available in the UK and the US)

  Her Broken Wings (Available in the UK and the US)

  Her Shallow Grave (Available in the UK and the US)

  Promises in the Dark (Available in the UK and the US)

  Be Mine Forever (Available in the UK and the US)

  Cross My Heart (Available in the UK and the US)

  Fallen Angel (Available in the UK and the US)

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Hear More from D.K. Hood

  Books by D.K. Hood

  A Letter from D.K. Hood

  Lose Your Breath

  Don’t Tell a Soul

  Bring Me Flowers

  Follow Me Home

  The Crying Season

  Where Angels Fear

  Whisper in the Night

  Break the Silence

  Her Broken Wings

  Her Shallow Grave

  Promises in the Dark

  Be Mine Forever

  Cross My Heart

  Fallen Angel

  Pray for Mercy

  Acknowledgments

  *

  This story is for those who have been hurt, trampled, bullied, battered, or used and have had the courage to move forward—I salute you.

  Prologue

  Darkness surrounded Sheriff Jenna Alton as she pressed her back against the cold brick wall. Heart pounding, she reached for her weapon to find nothing at her side, no Glock, no flashlight or phone. Empty pockets lay flat and the thin material was no barrier to the cold seeping into her flesh. Heart hammering, she edged along the alleyway. The stink of garbage from the overflowing dumpsters caught in her throat like sour milk. Terror claimed her, closing her airways and making it hard to breathe, but she must move on. Legs heavy, she dragged them, step by step to the dumpster, and climbing onto an upturned trash can, peered inside. A young girl, eyes fixed in death, her neck a bloody smile, lay tossed out with the garbage. Horrified, Jenna jumped down and pressed her fist to her mouth to contain the threatening sob. She would be next if she didn’t get to safety. Keeping to the shadows, she reached the end of the alleyway, and peered at the empty blacktop. Stores lined the road and their glass façades stared back at her like the unforgiving blackened sockets in a skull.

  Grasping at the moss-covered red brick wall, she edged forward. Ahead, shadows crept toward her. The black fingers seemed to grow longer and more threatening with each step. The unfamiliar straight road vanished into a thick mist. Nothing seemed right. Where was she? What was this place? She had to keep moving. An obvious threat loomed like an entity menacing her in the darkness. Close by, running footsteps echoed down the sidewalk. They were coming for her and she couldn’t suck in enough air to breathe, let alone run. She glanced down at her sticky hands and gasped at the blood dripping from her fingers. What had happened?

  One thing was for sure, she had to run. Lifting her knees, she made it across the blacktop. Gunshots rang out. Bullets slammed into the wall beside her head, sending slithers of brick deep into her tender flesh. Running past the storefronts, she turned to see a figure soaked in blood. She swallowed hard. The reflection in the window wasn’t her. Blonde hair framed a once familiar face and panic gripped her. This couldn’t be happening. The face staring back at her was the woman she’d left behind a lifetime ago: DEA Agent Avril Parker.

  Jenna screamed and her throat unclogged. The next moment, someone had her by the arms, shaking her. She screamed again. It was her time to die.

  “Jenna. Open your eyes.”

  The familiar voice dragged her from the horror. She blinked, immediately recognizing the person beside her. Her close friend and second in command, Deputy David Kane. “Dave?”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed her arms. “You had another nightmare.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s almost five. I’ll make coffee. Was it the same dream again?”

  Jenna pushed her raven hair from her face and nodded. “Yeah. I need to see a shrink. I’m losing my mind.”

  “You know that’s not an option.” Kane stood and stretched. “I figure it’s time to tell me the truth about what happened during your last assignment. What exactly made the US Marshals change your face and hide you here in plain sight? Once you have it off your chest, the nightmares will end or I’ll be in the dream with you, and you know darn well I’ll never allow anything to happen to you.”

  Jenna chewed on her fingers and then nodded. She trusted him implicitly. “Okay, but this is going to take some time, and you’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”

  One

  Four years ago

  Carlos Vineyard, California

  DEA Agent Avril Parker flattened her back against the wall and peeked around the corner of the building. Ahead, almost hidden in the shadows, guards patrolled the area with M4A1 Carbines. It seemed overkill for the protection of a shipment of wine. After overhearing a fragment of conversation about tightening security and hearing trucks arriving in the middle of the night over the last three days, she’d decided to find out what was happening. It might be the breakthrough she’d been waiting for, the evidence she needed to take down the cartel. Heart pounding, she pulled her woolen cap down tight to conceal her blonde hair and dropped to crawl through the bushes. This building was used for storing barrels of wine and was an unusual place for the pickup of a consignment. Carlos Winery sold its wine in bottles and the secrecy surrounding the blending of the fine wines made the idea of selling barrels of the precious aged nectar ludicro
us. As the doors slid open, she pressed her binoculars to her eyes and blinked in astonishment as, beyond the rows of stacked casks, a wall slid back to display a brightly lit room filled with people wearing hazmat suits and working on stainless steel benches.

  Her attention went to the trays of a glistening ice-like substance, recognizing it at once as crystal meth. Workers moved plastic bags filled with the drug from the table to a line of barrels. Once packed, they sealed the barrels and marked them on the side using a special stencil. As they filled each barrel, it was loaded onto a truck. It was the proof she needed. She raised her camera and zoomed in. The high-resolution images could be enlarged without distortion but getting closer to take pictures of the main players would seal the deal. At this angle, all the men in suits had their backs to her and she dashed across open ground to the next building. Panting more with fear than overexertion, she hit the ground and rolled onto her belly. The camera clicked, taking the shots she needed, but if anyone looked her way, they’d discover her.

  As one truck left, another rumbled up and backed slowly to the entrance. The headlights swept the area, including her hiding place. She flattened against the damp earth, too frightened to breathe. Being married to Michael Carlos meant nothing to her safety. He and his father, Viktor, were ruthless and unforgiving. If they found her spying on them, there’d be no mercy. The lights moved again as the truck backed closer to the entrance and shadows bathed her.

  Voices and desperate pleas came from inside the building, the sound coming to her as crystal clear as if from an amphitheater. Accusations of theft of the product and threats of the consequences. There would be no mercy for this man. She lifted her head as two men dragged a beaten man from inside and tossed him at the feet of her husband. Trembling in horror, she held the camera to her eye and kept taking photographs. The way Michael spoke to the man and then spat on him terrified her. It was the voice of a psychopath, unfeeling and brutal. Panic gripped her as Michael calmly pulled out a pistol, twirled a suppressor onto the muzzle, and calmly shot the man in the head. Not one person reacted, as if blowing out a man’s brains was common practice. After a short discussion, his henchmen dragged the body across the lawn and tossed it into a pit right outside the bottling plant. The cement trucks were due at six the next morning to fill the foundation of a pergola to be erected for visitors to enjoy on wine-tasting tours. Teeth chattering with shock, Avril froze as one of the workers, hosed down the area, washing away all traces of blood. Men seemingly oblivious to the murder right in front of them worked swiftly using forklifts to lift barrels tied to pallets onto the truck. The guards and Michael constantly scanned the grounds as if they knew she lay watching them.

  As ants crawled over her, Avril remained motionless until the truck moved again, laden with casks, hiding millions of dollars’ worth of drugs on their way to the street hustlers. She rolled over and stared at the stars, trying to process the enormity of what she’d seen. It had been her mission to uncover Carlos’s operation, and she’d hit the jackpot. It had been so well hidden for so many years and, having the winery, the business offices, and residences encapsulated inside a restricted estate, it was as secure as Fort Knox. The fenced vineyards extended over the surrounding picturesque hills, and the grapevines had workers tending them year-round with loving care, but the mysteries surrounding vintner Viktor Carlos’s secret blend, including the buildings containing the massive stainless steel vats, the specially treated oak barrels, and the extensive cellars holding thousands of bottles of wine, were kept as secure as gold.

  During her time at the winery, she’d watched and listened for any hint of the drug business, but no one ever mentioned a word. Ready to give up and be evacuated from the mission, she’d overheard Michael mention the word shift in relation to the workers. She’d not been aware of any shift workers and made sure to watch the staff coming and going a little closer. Where the extent of the workforce had been working hadn’t been an issue until now. In her job arranging winery tours and dinners for the guests, she had access to the computer system. In the files, she’d found less than half the workforce she’d seen arriving each morning on the books and decided to follow up. She swallowed hard. Luck must have been on her side to stumble over a meth lab on the way to Michael’s office.

  The end to the mission loomed ahead of her like a guiding light. It had been tough, fighting through the suffering of Michael’s constant abuse, all the time acting the doting wife. He treated her like property and enjoyed making her suffer. Because of her implied disposability, her initial plan to sneak out tonight to search his office had placed her in a perilous situation. Even more so now, after witnessing his ruthlessness firsthand. If discovered, she’d disappear and become another one of the winery’s garden features. She gave herself a mental shake. Stick to the plan and go search the office.

  The increase in security and staff now made sense, but who else was involved? She’d figured searching Michael’s office for evidence was crucial and she might only have the one chance. She’d been lying fully clothed in bed when she’d heard him drive away and had snuck out of the house. If he’d taken his sedan, he wouldn’t be going to the office. That was for sure. The building was within walking distance, and she’d planned to dash there and back long before he returned. Earlier in the day, she’d gone by his office and dropped her engagement ring behind the filing cabinet as an excuse to be there, if he returned and discovered her in his office, late at night. She’d rehearsed her story and would tell him she’d lost her ring, couldn’t sleep with the worry, and decided to retrace her steps before the cleaners arrived in the early hours.

  Her plans had changed on the way to the office building when she’d spotted Michael’s sedan bathed in the lights spilling from the cask storage area, and she changed course to investigate. The discovery of a meth lab had made the need to find the extent of the players in the syndicate urgent—she had to search his office and time was running out fast. Biting her bottom lip, she gathered her courage. It was lucky that Michael wasn’t the brightest peg on the rack and had a habit of writing important times and dates in a desk diary. He was old school, leaving his secretary to file manifests and other important information for the company on the computer, but Avril doubted the distribution of crystal meth was in her job description. Knowing Michael’s bad memory, he’d likely written a note for himself. All she had to do was discover the main players involved in the drug shipments, and with these names added to the images she’d just taken, she’d have enough evidence to take down the cartel.

  Keeping to the shadows, she slipped through the bushes and made her way to the office building. She’d learned the code to the door, so getting inside wouldn’t be a problem. Lights blazed in the foyer as usual, but also spilled from the windows of both Michael’s and his father Viktor’s offices, which was unusual for a Sunday. Avril straightened and pushed at the glass door and, finding it open, walked inside and headed for the bathroom. She thrust her hat and gloves deep inside her pockets and then checked her appearance. After brushing the leaves from her clothes, and then washing her hands and face, she raked her fingers through her hair. Heart hammering, she lifted her chin and headed for Michael’s office. Acting as if she owned the place and had the right to be there was part of the deception, no matter how her stomach cramped with fear. As she reached the office, she called out his name, like an innocent wife seeking her husband would do, and peered inside the office just in case her father-in-law was lurking close by. The scent of his cologne greeted her as if he’d just left the room and gave her the feeling that he was watching her as she stepped inside. She had a few minutes to get in and out without being seen and pushed down the rising panic. After closing the door behind her, she scanned Michael’s desk and found nothing of interest, but her attention fixed on a bunch of keys hanging from the lock in the desk drawer.

  Listening for any sound, she tugged at the handle and the drawer slid open. She couldn’t believe her luck. Right on the top of a stack of pap
ers was his diary. Lifting out the red leatherbound volume, she flipped through the pages until she found today’s date and scanned the page. The date and time references coincided with the coming and going of trucks late at night. It gave amounts listed in hundreds and the number of barrels required. The only problem was the receiver of the goods was in code or perhaps initials, but the destination was clear. It couldn’t be wine; The three women working in the office handled the wine orders and it wasn’t Michael but his father, Viktor Carlos, who negotiated the terms to supply restaurants, hotels, and overseas orders, so this information must refer to the movement of drugs. From what she could see, this was Michael’s field of expertise.

  She flipped back and forth and, using the camera from the heel of her boot, took pictures of anything incriminating. A slight click like a door opening along the hallway was as loud as a gunshot in the silence. Heart thundering, she pushed the book back inside the drawer as the distinctive sound of footsteps came toward her. She couldn’t allow anyone to find her spying on her husband and dropped to the floor. She thrust the camera back inside the heel of her boot and with her heart in her mouth, turned to stare at the door. Perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades as the doorknob turned slowly and the door brushed across the thick wool carpet. Unable to breathe with fear, she rolled to all fours and bent her face to the floor to peer under the office furniture. She could see her ring, a gold and diamond circle between the wall and the filing cabinet. The door opened wide and feigning surprise she turned her head to greet the man standing in the doorway looking at her with a deep frown. She pressed one hand to her chest and smiled. “Oh, thank goodness it’s you, Viktor. I need your help.”