Double or Nothing (Sword and Lead Book 5)

  Copyright © 2020 Rhiley McCabe

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  About the author

  CHAPTER 1

  New York

  6 AM September 15th

  Detective Harry Rogers extended his hand and reached for the alarm, which was blurring out the loud sound of chirping birds. Harry had not gotten much sleep because he had been on a video call with his parents for a better part of the previous night, and he was hoping the alarm would somehow adjust itself in line with his current mood. Harry dragged himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. As the sheets of warm water poured on his head, Harry felt a sharp pain. It felt like a tiny hole was being drilled into his brain. Harry felt lightheaded, his knees felt too weak to carry his weight, and he had to rest one hand on the wall to avoid falling. Harry stood motionless in the shower for some minutes, too weak to move. He felt as though any attempt to lift his legs could result in him falling headfirst into the tub. After some minutes, Harry was able to regain control of his legs; he sat in the tub, and he let the water run all over his warm body. Harry felt both physically and mentally exhausted. Physical exhaustion from having been up all night and the mental exhaustion from the conversation he had with his parents. For some months now, Harry’s father had been pressuring him into quitting the police force.

  “It is embarrassing to the family that you insist on working as a detective who barely earns more than my lowest-paid staff. The only consolation is that you are very good at your job, which is a source of pride for me. Be that as it may, I have allowed you to spend your twenties doing what you are passionate about, and I assume that by now you must have fulfilled your passion. It is high time you come to work for me. You need to start learning how to run the business because your sister cannot do it alone, and your mom and I are not going to be around forever. However, if you insist on having no part in the family business, and spending the rest of your life playing Batman, then you should do it in a more prestigious organization. I have connections in the FBI, CIA, and Secret Service. You just have to pick which of the organization you fancy. Either way, it is time for you to quit the NYPD.”

  Harry recalled his father’s words. His father had advised, pleaded, and now it appeared the old man was putting his foot down. Insisting that Harry must quit the police force and ‘stop making a mockery of the family,’ was only the first step. Harry did not share his father’s sentiments. Dr. Wilson Rogers insisted that he had not sent his son to Harvard only for him to become a Detective. He did not care that his son was the NYPD’s finest. If his son was going to work in law enforcement, then it has to be in the big leagues and not as a Detective. Harry had inherited some of his father’s stubbornness, and he had insisted that he was not going to quit the police force. However, at the end of the day, his father’s love for him, the responsibility of preserving the family honor, and stubbornness was a combination that was just too much for Harry to resist.

  “Young man, you are going to meet with the Director of the FBI, and he is going to make you an offer you shall accept. The Director is fully aware of your achievements with the NYPD, and he wants you to join the FBI’s New York field office. You might be happy wasting your talents in a police department, but I, for one, am definitely not fine with it. I will not sit back and let you waste your talents in an underfunded police precinct. Since you are determined not to use your gifts for the growth of the family business, the least you can do is to use it for the advancement of the family name.”

  Before Harry was allowed to go to bed, his father demanded that he to the family mansion in New Jersey for Thanksgiving. It did not matter to his father that Thanksgiving was still two months away. Harry knew his father was aware that he would likely come up with and excuse if his presence was to be requested closer to the date. The three months’ notice was to ensure that he could not come up with an excuse to avoid partaking in the family’s Thanksgiving dinner.

  Harry felt ashamed at the way he consciously tried to avoid family functions. His parents were good people, and they had raised him into a fine gentleman. His twin sister was a wonderful soul whose blissful marriage had produced an adorable daughter. Harry knew there was really no justification for avoiding his family or trying to disassociate himself from his family name. The only justification was the pressure from his parents to quit the police force and join the family business or join the FBI. Deep down in Harry’s heart, he knew that his parents only wanted the best for him, just as any parent would want the best for their child. He knew that the only reason his parents had to stay up at night talking to him was that he was always too busy in the day to create time to talk to them.

  Harry felt better after the shower. His headache had subsided, and his joints no longer hurt. He had contemplated his father’s demands, and he was able to see his father’s perspective. He decided that he would consider the demands, and perhaps he could make some concessions.

  Harry poured himself a cup of coffee from the coffee maker that sat on the table in the large kitchen of his condominium. He decided to watch a few minutes of the news while he sipped his coffee. He surfed through the stations then settled for a station that was talking about the sudden crash in the New York Stock Exchange. Harry waited to see how long it would take before his father’s company was mentioned, and it took less than five minutes. He finished his coffee and switched off the television.

  Detective Harry Rogers got into the elevator, and as the elevator descended, he could not shake off the feeling that he was nearing the end of his time at the NYPD.

  CHAPTER 2

  Memphis, Tennessee

  9 AM September 15th

  Detective Nathaniel Joy Jones stopped by his favorite drive-in restaurant on his way to work. He had been frequenting the restaurant for six months now, and he had become familiar with most of the staff. He always ordered a turkey sandwich and two cups of coffee. His order had never changed, and after a couple of weeks patronizing the restaurant, the staff had become so familiar with his order that the moment they saw Jones’s black truck pull in, they’d go ahead and pack him a turkey sandwich and two cups of coffee. It was always two cups of coffee, and the staff at the restaurant assumed that Jones had an unhealthy love for caffeine. However, nothing could have been further from the truth.

  The story of the second cup of coffee was a rather funny one. Detective Joy Jones had unwittingly entered a bet with his partner about who could run a 200-meter distance in the fastest time. Detective Jones had written off his partner because of his small frame, and he had an obvious overestimation of his own ability. What Jones did not count on was that back in High School, Detective Peyton had participated in track events, and if Jones had been aware of this, he would not have allowed Peyton to talk him into the race. The news of the race between Jones and his partner quickly circulated the precinct, and over half their colleagues showed up at the de
signated High School on the Saturday morning of the race. Jones had been so certain of his victory on the tracks that he came with a trophy, which he insisted Peyton should hand to him after he inevitably won the race. It was also Jones who insisted that the loser would buy the winner a cup of coffee every morning for the next twelve months. Peyton made a halfhearted attempt to object to Jones’s condition, all in a bid to get Jones to insist on the terms.

  The police chief started the race, and to the surprise of everyone, Peyton led from start to finish. The gap was so embarrassing that it left the spectators in stitches. Jones had been so disappointed at himself. He was angry that half the precinct had witnessed his embarrassing defeat, and the race would be talked about for years. Jones wanted to drive off, but his chief insisted that he hand the trophy to Peyton as agreed. This was almost a year ago, and Jones had been buying Peyton a cup of coffee ever since, and the story of the race had never been forgotten, to Jones’s dismay.

  Detective Jones switched on the radio, and a morning talk show was on. He adjusted the radio again, and the next station was reporting some news. Jones tuned the radio again, trying to look for a station with some music. He was not in the mood to listen to people talk about socio-political issues from their various partisan perspectives. Jones adjusted yet again, and he discovered that all the stations seemed to be in a talking mood that morning. He reached into the glove compartment and brought out a Blake Shelton album. The two cups of coffee were placed on the passenger seat next to him, and he held his turkey sandwich with one hand and the wheel with the other. He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded along to the music.

  * * *

  Detective Jones had barely settled into his chair before Peyton was standing over him. Jones pushed the cup of coffee in Peyton’s direction without looking at him. Peyton ignored the cup of coffee and took sat on the chair at the opposite side of the desk.

  “Have you seen the news?” Peyton’s voice complemented the curiosity on his face.

  Jones did not understand what Peyton was talking about. He assumed it was more news about police reforms and Tennessee police politics. Such things excited Peyton, but held no fascination with Jones. And despite the fact that Jones had told Peyton he didn’t care for police bureaucracy and police politics, it did not stop Peyton from trying to indulge Jones in such conversations.

  “No, I haven’t seen the news. What’s so interesting?” Jones asked in a manner that did not conceal his clear lack of interest.

  “You haven’t heard of the supermodel that was murdered?” Peyton’s voice indicated a surprise at Jones’s ignorance.

  “No, I haven’t heard of any dead supermodel,” Jones replied impatiently. “Who is she?”

  “Justine Gray. A famous swimsuit model and she was murdered right here in Memphis.” Peyton looked at Jones with surprised expression on his face. “Can you believe it? She was murdered here in Memphis.”

  Jones had not heard of Justine Gray until that morning, and he assumed that her death must have been on the news on the radio this morning.

  “That is quite unfortunate,” Jones said. “How old was she?”

  “I am not sure, but she couldn’t have been over 27.” Peyton reached for the cup coffee and took a sip. “This is going to be a huge case, the press will be covering every aspect of the case, and that includes the detective in charge.” Peyton took another sip and looked at Jones to see if he had caught his attention. “Wouldn’t it be nice if the case was assigned to us? We would become famous detectives,” Peyton said, jokingly.

  Jones knew Peyton was not joking. Peyton was the type of detective that would lobby to be in charge of a case that would bring him media exposure. Jones knew Peyton was a very ambitious cop, and he would not hesitate to use the murder of a famous swimsuit model as a launching pad.

  “I don’t care for the attention that comes with such case,” Jones replied sternly.

  Peyton smiled and said, “You may not fancy the attention that comes with such a high profile case, but there’s nothing you can do if the case is handed to you.” Peyton took the cup of coffee from the desk and got on his feet. “You just might get the case, and I, for one, would be waiting to tag along.” Peyton walked away before Jones could give a reply.

  CHAPTER 3

  10 AM September 15th

  Fifth Police Precinct, New York Police Department

  Detective Harry Rogers sat at his desk at the Fifth Precinct of the NYPD. Sitting at his desk, staring at his computer was not the way he had intended to start his day. His initial plan had been to head straight to the field to follow up on some clues on a missing persons case he was handling. He hadn’t planned on showing up in the office until the afternoon. Harry was forced to alter his schedule when he remembered that today was the precinct’s quarterly review. Like everyone else, Harry was waiting for the review officer from NYPD headquarters who was going to conduct the review.

  Harry logged on to his case file and scrolled through the cases he had investigated since he became a detective seven years ago. Harry thought of which case was his most important case, but he could not settle for one. All the cases had been interesting and demanding, from his first stolen vehicle case as a rookie detective to his most recent case, which had involved a murdered university student. Harry thought if he were asked to pick the most important case of his career, then it would surely be the case of the Brazilian Human Trafficking Ring. The case was the turning point of his career, and was what had given him his reputation as one of NYPD’s best.

  A wave of emotion ran through Harry as he scrolled through the cases. He had had an interesting career as a detective, preventing many crimes and solving many more. He was the most decorated detective his age and a prized asset to the NYPD, but Harry could not help but feel that he was entering his last days as a detective. The feeling created an urge for him to abandon the review and head out onto the street. He didn’t want to spend his last moments reviewing the last three months. Instead, he wanted to spend it doing what he enjoyed, which was preventing and solving crimes.

  * * *

  Detective Harry Rogers sat on the visitor’s chair in the office of his chief. The commissioner of police sat next to Harry, and the chief sat on the opposite side of the desk. Harry did not understand his presence in the room. He could not remember asking his chief to facilitate a meeting between him and the commissioner. Harry knew this was not a courtesy visit, and the commissioner’s presence suggested that he had something he had to convey in person to the chief, and, strangely, to Harry as well. For a brief moment, Harry wondered if the commissioner had found out that he was the one who hired Felicia Brown to represent Amanda. Harry knew he was going to be in big trouble if that was the case.

  The commissioner turned to Harry and cleared his throat. “Good morning, Detective Rogers. I assume you’ve seen the news about the death of Parker Lennie, the young billionaire.”

  The chief shifted in his chair. “He was discovered dead this morning by one of his staff. The officers who responded to the 911 call believe it was a suicide.”

  Harry knew Parker Lennie more than the chief, as the commissioner was aware. The news of Lennie’s his death came as a rude shock to him. Parker had worked for Harry’s father before leaving to start his own company. Harry had met Parker at a couple of his father’s parties, and Parker was the quintessential rich, nice guy. Parker was lively, funny, and he was not like other eccentric billionaires who only played golf and maintained a billionaire friendship circle. Parker hung around with sports stars, musicians and movie stars, and models, which made him a popular figure in the media. Parker loved the good things in life, and he spent good money funding his lifestyle. Parker appeared to Harry to be the type of person that enjoys life too much to end it voluntarily.

  The chief continued, “I know the case doesn’t fall within the jurisdiction of your precinct, but Parker’s death has aroused interest in high places. The governor requested that I place the best team in charge of
the case.” The commissioner paused and looked at the chief.

  The chief turned to his eyes to Harry. “The commissioner requested that you join the team investigating Parker Lennie’s death, but I communicated your reluctance to working with a partner to the commissioner.”

  The commissioner turned to Harry and smiled. “Detective Rogers, the entire NYPD is familiar with your stellar record, and also with the fact that you’re a one-man team. I am here to personally assign Parker’s case to you. I want you to get to the root of the case as soon as possible and report directly to my office.” The commissioner moved the chair backward and got on his feet. “You can count on me for anything you need. Thank you for your time, Detective Rogers, I hope to hear from you soon.” The commissioner turned to the chief, who was also on his feet. “Gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I have a meeting with the state security council.”

  Harry left the chief’s office with the feeling that this might be his last case as a detective. His lower lip curved and produced a half-smile. This was an interesting case, one which he could use to draw the curtain on a remarkable career.

  CHAPTER 4

  Memphis Police Department

  10 AM September 15th

  Detective Jones walked out of the chief’s office, and he was met by Peyton’s grinning face. The case had been assigned to him, and Peyton could not conceal his excitement. Since he was commissioned as a Detective, Peyton had been waiting for that one big case that would make him a star cop. Jones understood Peyton’s excitement even if he didn’t share in it.

  “The chief has assigned the investigation of the murder to me. Apparently, the victim was a famous person, and her murder has created huge interest. The chief said there’s a pressure on the police to find the killer as soon as possible and he expects results in weeks.”