Author's note: I'll be posting one of five chapters from the first book in the Jake Carrington Mystery series, If I Fail for the next five weeks with my publisher's blessings. I hope you enjoy them. Language warning and violence! If I Fail was released on September 7, 2012.
If I Fail c 2012 by Marian Lanouette
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
MuseItUp Publishing
14878 James, Pierrefonds, Quebec, Canada, H9H 1P5
https://museituppublishing.com
Cover Art c 2012 by Winterheart Designs
Edited by Julie Lynn Hayes
Copyedited by Les Tucker
Layout and Book Production by Lea Schizas
eBook ISBN: 978-1-77127-145-5
First eBook Edition *September 2012
Production by MuseItUp Publishing
If I Fail,
A Jake Carrington Mystery
Marian Lanouette
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MuseItUp Publishing
www.museituppublishing.com
IF I FAIL,
A JAKE CARRINGTON MYSTERY BOOK ONE
Chapter One
On days like this, Jake questioned if there was a God. He held the broken, lifeless body of the infant girl in his arms, tears running down his face. He didn’t try to hide them. Jake’s emotions reflected in the eyes of everyone. His partner Louie turned away and kicked the chair. Jake knew this horror would live with each of them for the rest of their lives.
Keith Amara, the morgue assistant, tapped Jake on the shoulder. “I’ll take her.”
“She didn’t have a chance.” Jake handed her to Keith.
“No, she didn’t.”
He lay the child on the stretcher with such care that Jake’s respect for Keith increased immensely. Jake reached down and pulled the sheet up over the baby to conceal her from the morbid crowd that waited in the street below. He never understood the fascination of the onlookers at each crime scene. He believed they hoped to view the body so they could talk about the gruesome details, get their fifteen minutes of fame. Some would offer up a silent prayer of thanks to God for the safety of their children. Tragedy, even the tragedy of a stranger, affected people—t reaffirmed their zest for life, even here in the slums.
Jake composed himself. Turning to face the suspect, he fisted his hands at his side to contain his fury. The line of the law could be blurred here, Jake understood. Each officer wanted a piece of the bastard. Knowing he had to keep a tight rein over the situation, Jake held his voice level when he spoke to Washington. He saw no humanity in the suspect; his act alone proved Washington had none. Looking into Washington’s eyes he observed they were dead, like the child he’d killed. He wore a dirty, wrinkled cotton T-shirt with stained jeans. The front of the jeans showed a large, wet patch where Washington pissed himself. The only thing this creep cared about was his next fix.
