Overview: In this edgy, political thriller, it's a race against time as Matt Christenson desperately tries to expose a powerful Boston Mayor. When Claire McCallin, step-daughter of Mayor Jack McCallin, tells Boston Globe reporter Christenson a dark family secret, Matt takes Claire and her three year old daughter Lizzie into hiding. Will they gather the evidence they need before time runs out or disappear as others before them who have tried to bring the wealthy Mayor to justice? A page-turned that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the final twist.
Excerpt from Relativity
It was a quarter to ten when Jamie turned off her computer. She’d missed part of the morning at work and had to meet an early morning deadline. A few reporters still milled around the newsroom.
She was exhausted. And now, she had to figure out where she could go to be safe. If Kizer suspected her, so did McCallin. She didn’t want to be anyone’s next victim.
She took her cell phone out of her purse as she crossed the street. She hated going leaving work this late. In the small town of Kansas, the streets were safe, well not all the time, but more than Boston. She pushed the speed dial button for Amanda.
“Hey girl, mind if I crash at your place tonight?” Jamie listened as Amanda questioned her. “No, nothing wrong,” Jamie lied, “just need some girl time, that’s all."
She opted to walk up the stairs to the third floor of the public parking lot. If only for the guy she’d been seeing for four months, but had yet to tell her parents, she needed to lose a few pounds.
It took both hands to push open the heavy metal door. She reached into her purse and pulled out the ring of keys. Only a couple of cars were here. Everyone was home, tucked into bed or watching television. Lucky them.
“Hey.” Jamie heard, her stomach tightened. She looked around and spotted a man leaning against a concrete post close to her car. She hadn’t noticed him before. Trapped. Her heart started to race. Damnit, she knew better. Why hadn’t she asked someone to walk her to her car?
Son-of-a-bitch scumbag was going to try to rob her. No use trying to run as he was too close. He’d catch her before she got to the door. She had a surprise for him, however, inside her purse. Bring in on, asshole. Jamie picked up her pace and focused on her car. Casually, she patted the pocket on the side of her purse and felt the Smith and Wesson 38. The first few months she was here, she didn’t carry it with her. Who would want to hurt a girl from Kansas? Working at the Globe, however and reading the stories of innocent women who were raped and murdered everyday convinced her that her father was right. Every woman should protect themselves.
“Don’t you like men? I won't bite.”
She pointed her key chain at the door and unlocked the doors. She was almost there. Don’t look at him. Just get there and fucking jump inside and lock the doors. Her hands trembled.
He jumped in front of her, blocking the way. He was unkempt, slightly built and wearing gloves. Fuck. Don’t’ let him know you’re afraid. “What do you want?” Jamie glared at him as she thrust her hand into the side pocket of her purse.
He lunged at her, catching her arm with one hand. “No.” He shook his head. “No phones.” His pupils were large, dilated. He was a druggie.
She flailed both her arms. “Take your filthy hands off me fucking scum ball!”
He put the palms of his gloved hands up in front of his chest. “I just want to talk to you. That’s all.” His grin sickened her.
He was going to rape her. It was after ten, this was an industrial area. No one was here to help. “So talk.” Jamie put one hand on her hip. Mother Mary, full of Grace.
“Tell me where the McCallin girl is and we'll part friends.”
She met his glare. “McCallin girl? Who the hell is the McCallin girl? And how would I know?” Hazel eyes. Receding hair line. Fortiesh.
He took a few steps towards her. “I know you know.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” She hurrried to move past him, but he blocked her again. Pock mark above right eyebrow. 5’8” or maybe 9.
“You don’t understand, I’m not asking.” His front teeth were yellow; smelled like tobacco.
She took a few steps back and looked over his shoulder.
“No one’s going to help you. No one here but you and me fancy pants.”
“Look, I don’t know anything. Now, get out of my way.”
His beady eyes narrowed. “So, I take it, you’re not going to cooperate."
He had a look in his eyes that Jamie had seen on documentaries of serial killers.
Quickly, she thrust her hand into the side pocket and brought out the pistol. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she held the handle tightly and pointed it at him. “I don’t want to hurt . . .”
Everything happened so fast. When his fist hit her stomach, it knocked the wind out of her and the snub nosed gun flew out of her hand, skidding across the cement floor. She doubled over. “I can’t breathe,” Jamie said as a whisper.
He went behind her, put both hands on her back and pushed her towards her car. Pain ripped through her abdomen.
“Get down,” he ordered when they reached the passenger side.
“Down where?” her voice was strained.
He glanced down at the cement. "Down there, stupid."
She knelt down on her knees, her arm still wrapped around her midriff.
“Lay down on your back, stupid whore. I’d use your car, but you probably have another gun hidden in there.”
She winced as she slowly went down on her back. He was going to rape her. More than likely kill her. Why hadn’t she just shot him? Her father told her to shoot first, think later.
He straddled his legs across her s and sat down, putting his full weight on her abdomen.
Jamie turned her head to the side. “Oh God, please, it hurts.”
“Why is it none of you girls ever listen?” he asked. “All I wanted was just a little information.” He grabbed one of her hands. She fought in vain as he pinned one hand under his knee and then forced her other hand under his other knee.
Jamie looked up at him, raised her head a couple of inches off the cement and spit in his face.
He wiped the spit off angrily. “God damn, bitch!” He looked down at her with soulless eyes. “I was told to kill you if you talk or not, but before I do, we’re going to have a little fun.”
She was five or six feet away from the side of the car. If someone came, he’d cover her mouth and then she’d bite the shit out of his hand. But no one was going to come. Think, Jamie, Think. Our Father who aren’t in heaven hallowed be . . . stop it! Piss on him. There had to be a way. She rolled her head towards the car and saw something shiny underneath. The gun.
As he lifted himself up an inch or two to unbuckle his belt, she found the target. Swiftly, she thrust one leg up through his knees and into his scrotum. He let out a guttural cry, one hand went to his crouch. Slowly, he rolled to one side. "Oh God," he moaned.
His legs were still over hers. Jamie wiggled violently and turned on her side. Using her hands and elbows she pulled herself towards the car, his weight on her legs tripling the weight she had to pull. With each inch forward, she let out a cry of as the cement floor dug into her elbows and forearms. Get the gun. Just get the gun. Don’t think about what he’s . . .
“Nooo,” she screamed when he pulled her back across the cement by her ankles. “Son-of-a-bitch . . . let go!” Violently, she kicked her legs, up, out and back.
“Fuck!” He let go of her legs and they dropped to the floor.
With one huge lunge, she was at the side of the car, her hands frantically searched in opposite directions. God, please, please . . . she pleaded silently. Just when she felt the cole metal, he drug her back, the cement knawed at her stomach, chest and arms. His hands went under her shoulders. He flipped her over on her back, pulled his boot back and kicked her in the side.
Jamie put her hand on her side, “Oh God,” she said as she rolled back and forth.
He straddled his legs over her again and sat down. His breath was a mixture of whiskey and nicotine, the eyes of a madman. He put his hands on the back of her neck, tilted her head up and smashed it down into the cement. “It’s going to be fun to kill you bitch!” She felt dizzy, disoriented.
“Oh God, please,” Jamie pleaded, as she rolled her head back and forth, “just let me go. I won’t say anything.”
He back-handed her left cheek. “Shut up!”
He was right handed. Details didn’t matter now. She was going to die. Mom . . Dad . . .I love . . . tears of both anger and pain tore at her eyes.
Once again, he straddled her and sat down, crushing her with his weight. She fought with little strength as he placed her hands underneath his knees.
“Just get it over,” Jamie whimpered, “you son-of-a-bitch.”
He fumbled with his belt buckle and then wiggled his pants down to mid-thigh exposing an erect penis.
“My hands,” Jamie cried and tried to wiggle her hands free. “You’re hurting me.”
“Stay still then, bitch!”
Mascara burned her eyes, her hands were going numb. Think. Oh God, she couldn’t. She closed her eyes. What did they tell her in self-defense class? Damnit, Jamie, think. If it’s a rape, go with it. If he’s going to kill you, fight like hell!
“I’m into fat bitches.” He yanked her blouse up and unbuttoned her jeans. “Too bad you’re not going to live to tell what a great fuck I am.”
Do something! She drew in a breath and pressed her hips and buttocks into the cement as hard as she could.
“God damnit,” he said as he tried to wiggle her pants down, not realizing when he lifted up he’d taken some weight off one of her hands.
Her eyes were almost swollen shut; his were crazed. God help me, please. She drew in a breath, doubled up her fist and rammed it into his face.
"Shit!" The blow sent him backwards which released her other hand.
She shot her arm back over her head and shoved it underneath the car. Hurry, hurry, hurry . . .
She wrapped her hands around the handle a second before he grabbed her legs. “Damn you to hell!” Terrified, Jamie pushed the gun into his stomach and pulled the trigger three times.
It seemed their eyes were locked for longer than a couple of seconds, both seemed frozen in time. Blood spurted out his abdomen as he fell backwards in slow motion.
“Oh God, oh god, oh God,” she said as she scooted out from under his legs. When she reached the car, she leaned back into it and brought her knees up to her chest. Still gripping the gun tightly, she stared at him wide-eyed. He rolled slowly from one side to the other.
“Call someone,” he pleaded in a weak voice, “get help.”
Jamie put one hand on the side of the car and worked herself up to a standing position. Her legs felt like they were going to give out, so she held onto the side of the car for support as she made her way to the trunk. She spotted her purse and, as she made her way towards it, a lightening sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She grimaced as she sat down on the cement, reached inside her purse and found her phone. She laid the gun down, flipped open the phone and placed a shaky index finger on the number 9.
“Fucking bitch.” Jamie heard faintly.
She closed the phone, put it in her pocket, picked up the gun and slowly crawled back to the trunk. She brought the gun up to eye level before she cautiously peeked around the corner. He wasn’t moving.
“Fucking whore bitch,” he grimaced.
She leaned back against the trunk and took out her phone. She stared down at it, crying softly. When she heard him draw in the last breath, she felt relieved that the decision was made for her. She tilted her head back and looked up. “Why?” She moved her head slowly back and forth “Why?”
She had to get a grip. She took her phone out, opened it and scrolled down to Matt’s name. Between the tears that blurred her vision and trembling hands, it was difficult to see the letters. Sonone tru kill ne
what
help Deas.
It startled her when the phone rang.
“What the hell does deas mean?” Matt asked.
“Oh God, Matt,” Jamie said hysterical, her words running together. She leaned over and glanced at the dead man. Guy wanted to know where Claire was.” She talked so fast her words were slurred and ran together.
“Wait. Slow down.”
“Guy tried to kill me.”
“What? Where?”
“Parking lot.”
“Shit. Are you okay.”
“God, no, I’m not okay!” Jamie looked around.
“You got away though.”
“He’s five feet away from me,” Jamie drew in a panicked breath. “God! I’m a mess!”
“Five feet? I don’t under . . . “
“I KILLED him!” She put one hand on the car and stood up slowly.
“You’re not making any sense, Jamie, calm down and . . . ”
“God damnit, Matt listen to me! A guy came up to me in the parking lot. He asked me questions, then tried to rape me and I shot him.”
“Oh my God, Jamie. What did he . . . ”
“He wanted to know where Claire was and when I wouldn’t tell him, he tried to rape me, told me he was going to kill me and I . . .Oh God, I can’t think. I can’t fucking think!.” Her head throbbed where he’d slammed her into the cement, her side throbbed with pain.
“You need to get to the hospital?”
“I need to call the police.” Jamie jerked around quickly, her eyes darted around the garage. “Oh Jesus.” She whispered and dropped down to her knees. She felt the same terror as when he was on top of her. “I think someone else is here.”
“Get the hell out of there, Jamie! Now!”
It was a quarter to ten when Jamie turned off her computer. She’d missed part of the morning at work and had to meet an early morning deadline. A few reporters still milled around the newsroom.
She was exhausted. And now, she had to figure out where she could go to be safe. If Kizer suspected her, so did McCallin. She didn’t want to be anyone’s next victim.
She took her cell phone out of her purse as she crossed the street. She hated going leaving work this late. In the small town of Kansas, the streets were safe, well not all the time, but more than Boston. She pushed the speed dial button for Amanda.
“Hey girl, mind if I crash at your place tonight?” Jamie listened as Amanda questioned her. “No, nothing wrong,” Jamie lied, “just need some girl time, that’s all."
She opted to walk up the stairs to the third floor of the public parking lot. If only for the guy she’d been seeing for four months, but had yet to tell her parents, she needed to lose a few pounds.
It took both hands to push open the heavy metal door. She reached into her purse and pulled out the ring of keys. Only a couple of cars were here. Everyone was home, tucked into bed or watching television. Lucky them.
“Hey.” Jamie heard, her stomach tightened. She looked around and spotted a man leaning against a concrete post close to her car. She hadn’t noticed him before. Trapped. Her heart started to race. Damnit, she knew better. Why hadn’t she asked someone to walk her to her car?
Son-of-a-bitch scumbag was going to try to rob her. No use trying to run as he was too close. He’d catch her before she got to the door. She had a surprise for him, however, inside her purse. Bring in on, asshole. Jamie picked up her pace and focused on her car. Casually, she patted the pocket on the side of her purse and felt the Smith and Wesson 38. The first few months she was here, she didn’t carry it with her. Who would want to hurt a girl from Kansas? Working at the Globe, however and reading the stories of innocent women who were raped and murdered everyday convinced her that her father was right. Every woman should protect themselves.
“Don’t you like men? I won't bite.”
She pointed her key chain at the door and unlocked the doors. She was almost there. Don’t look at him. Just get there and fucking jump inside and lock the doors. Her hands trembled.
He jumped in front of her, blocking the way. He was unkempt, slightly built and wearing gloves. Fuck. Don’t’ let him know you’re afraid. “What do you want?” Jamie glared at him as she thrust her hand into the side pocket of her purse.
He lunged at her, catching her arm with one hand. “No.” He shook his head. “No phones.” His pupils were large, dilated. He was a druggie.
She flailed both her arms. “Take your filthy hands off me fucking scum ball!”
He put the palms of his gloved hands up in front of his chest. “I just want to talk to you. That’s all.” His grin sickened her.
He was going to rape her. It was after ten, this was an industrial area. No one was here to help. “So talk.” Jamie put one hand on her hip. Mother Mary, full of Grace.
“Tell me where the McCallin girl is and we'll part friends.”
She met his glare. “McCallin girl? Who the hell is the McCallin girl? And how would I know?” Hazel eyes. Receding hair line. Fortiesh.
He took a few steps towards her. “I know you know.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” She hurrried to move past him, but he blocked her again. Pock mark above right eyebrow. 5’8” or maybe 9.
“You don’t understand, I’m not asking.” His front teeth were yellow; smelled like tobacco.
She took a few steps back and looked over his shoulder.
“No one’s going to help you. No one here but you and me fancy pants.”
“Look, I don’t know anything. Now, get out of my way.”
His beady eyes narrowed. “So, I take it, you’re not going to cooperate."
He had a look in his eyes that Jamie had seen on documentaries of serial killers.
Quickly, she thrust her hand into the side pocket and brought out the pistol. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she held the handle tightly and pointed it at him. “I don’t want to hurt . . .”
Everything happened so fast. When his fist hit her stomach, it knocked the wind out of her and the snub nosed gun flew out of her hand, skidding across the cement floor. She doubled over. “I can’t breathe,” Jamie said as a whisper.
He went behind her, put both hands on her back and pushed her towards her car. Pain ripped through her abdomen.
“Get down,” he ordered when they reached the passenger side.
“Down where?” her voice was strained.
He glanced down at the cement. "Down there, stupid."
She knelt down on her knees, her arm still wrapped around her midriff.
“Lay down on your back, stupid whore. I’d use your car, but you probably have another gun hidden in there.”
She winced as she slowly went down on her back. He was going to rape her. More than likely kill her. Why hadn’t she just shot him? Her father told her to shoot first, think later.
He straddled his legs across her s and sat down, putting his full weight on her abdomen.
Jamie turned her head to the side. “Oh God, please, it hurts.”
“Why is it none of you girls ever listen?” he asked. “All I wanted was just a little information.” He grabbed one of her hands. She fought in vain as he pinned one hand under his knee and then forced her other hand under his other knee.
Jamie looked up at him, raised her head a couple of inches off the cement and spit in his face.
He wiped the spit off angrily. “God damn, bitch!” He looked down at her with soulless eyes. “I was told to kill you if you talk or not, but before I do, we’re going to have a little fun.”
She was five or six feet away from the side of the car. If someone came, he’d cover her mouth and then she’d bite the shit out of his hand. But no one was going to come. Think, Jamie, Think. Our Father who aren’t in heaven hallowed be . . . stop it! Piss on him. There had to be a way. She rolled her head towards the car and saw something shiny underneath. The gun.
As he lifted himself up an inch or two to unbuckle his belt, she found the target. Swiftly, she thrust one leg up through his knees and into his scrotum. He let out a guttural cry, one hand went to his crouch. Slowly, he rolled to one side. "Oh God," he moaned.
His legs were still over hers. Jamie wiggled violently and turned on her side. Using her hands and elbows she pulled herself towards the car, his weight on her legs tripling the weight she had to pull. With each inch forward, she let out a cry of as the cement floor dug into her elbows and forearms. Get the gun. Just get the gun. Don’t think about what he’s . . .
“Nooo,” she screamed when he pulled her back across the cement by her ankles. “Son-of-a-bitch . . . let go!” Violently, she kicked her legs, up, out and back.
“Fuck!” He let go of her legs and they dropped to the floor.
With one huge lunge, she was at the side of the car, her hands frantically searched in opposite directions. God, please, please . . . she pleaded silently. Just when she felt the cole metal, he drug her back, the cement knawed at her stomach, chest and arms. His hands went under her shoulders. He flipped her over on her back, pulled his boot back and kicked her in the side.
Jamie put her hand on her side, “Oh God,” she said as she rolled back and forth.
He straddled his legs over her again and sat down. His breath was a mixture of whiskey and nicotine, the eyes of a madman. He put his hands on the back of her neck, tilted her head up and smashed it down into the cement. “It’s going to be fun to kill you bitch!” She felt dizzy, disoriented.
“Oh God, please,” Jamie pleaded, as she rolled her head back and forth, “just let me go. I won’t say anything.”
He back-handed her left cheek. “Shut up!”
He was right handed. Details didn’t matter now. She was going to die. Mom . . Dad . . .I love . . . tears of both anger and pain tore at her eyes.
Once again, he straddled her and sat down, crushing her with his weight. She fought with little strength as he placed her hands underneath his knees.
“Just get it over,” Jamie whimpered, “you son-of-a-bitch.”
He fumbled with his belt buckle and then wiggled his pants down to mid-thigh exposing an erect penis.
“My hands,” Jamie cried and tried to wiggle her hands free. “You’re hurting me.”
“Stay still then, bitch!”
Mascara burned her eyes, her hands were going numb. Think. Oh God, she couldn’t. She closed her eyes. What did they tell her in self-defense class? Damnit, Jamie, think. If it’s a rape, go with it. If he’s going to kill you, fight like hell!
“I’m into fat bitches.” He yanked her blouse up and unbuttoned her jeans. “Too bad you’re not going to live to tell what a great fuck I am.”
Do something! She drew in a breath and pressed her hips and buttocks into the cement as hard as she could.
“God damnit,” he said as he tried to wiggle her pants down, not realizing when he lifted up he’d taken some weight off one of her hands.
Her eyes were almost swollen shut; his were crazed. God help me, please. She drew in a breath, doubled up her fist and rammed it into his face.
"Shit!" The blow sent him backwards which released her other hand.
She shot her arm back over her head and shoved it underneath the car. Hurry, hurry, hurry . . .
She wrapped her hands around the handle a second before he grabbed her legs. “Damn you to hell!” Terrified, Jamie pushed the gun into his stomach and pulled the trigger three times.
It seemed their eyes were locked for longer than a couple of seconds, both seemed frozen in time. Blood spurted out his abdomen as he fell backwards in slow motion.
“Oh God, oh god, oh God,” she said as she scooted out from under his legs. When she reached the car, she leaned back into it and brought her knees up to her chest. Still gripping the gun tightly, she stared at him wide-eyed. He rolled slowly from one side to the other.
“Call someone,” he pleaded in a weak voice, “get help.”
Jamie put one hand on the side of the car and worked herself up to a standing position. Her legs felt like they were going to give out, so she held onto the side of the car for support as she made her way to the trunk. She spotted her purse and, as she made her way towards it, a lightening sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She grimaced as she sat down on the cement, reached inside her purse and found her phone. She laid the gun down, flipped open the phone and placed a shaky index finger on the number 9.
“Fucking bitch.” Jamie heard faintly.
She closed the phone, put it in her pocket, picked up the gun and slowly crawled back to the trunk. She brought the gun up to eye level before she cautiously peeked around the corner. He wasn’t moving.
“Fucking whore bitch,” he grimaced.
She leaned back against the trunk and took out her phone. She stared down at it, crying softly. When she heard him draw in the last breath, she felt relieved that the decision was made for her. She tilted her head back and looked up. “Why?” She moved her head slowly back and forth “Why?”
She had to get a grip. She took her phone out, opened it and scrolled down to Matt’s name. Between the tears that blurred her vision and trembling hands, it was difficult to see the letters. Sonone tru kill ne
what
help Deas.
It startled her when the phone rang.
“What the hell does deas mean?” Matt asked.
“Oh God, Matt,” Jamie said hysterical, her words running together. She leaned over and glanced at the dead man. Guy wanted to know where Claire was.” She talked so fast her words were slurred and ran together.
“Wait. Slow down.”
“Guy tried to kill me.”
“What? Where?”
“Parking lot.”
“Shit. Are you okay.”
“God, no, I’m not okay!” Jamie looked around.
“You got away though.”
“He’s five feet away from me,” Jamie drew in a panicked breath. “God! I’m a mess!”
“Five feet? I don’t under . . . “
“I KILLED him!” She put one hand on the car and stood up slowly.
“You’re not making any sense, Jamie, calm down and . . . ”
“God damnit, Matt listen to me! A guy came up to me in the parking lot. He asked me questions, then tried to rape me and I shot him.”
“Oh my God, Jamie. What did he . . . ”
“He wanted to know where Claire was and when I wouldn’t tell him, he tried to rape me, told me he was going to kill me and I . . .Oh God, I can’t think. I can’t fucking think!.” Her head throbbed where he’d slammed her into the cement, her side throbbed with pain.
“You need to get to the hospital?”
“I need to call the police.” Jamie jerked around quickly, her eyes darted around the garage. “Oh Jesus.” She whispered and dropped down to her knees. She felt the same terror as when he was on top of her. “I think someone else is here.”
“Get the hell out of there, Jamie! Now!”
