Target of a Killer (A Crime Thriller Short)



  TARGET OF A KILLER

  A Crime Thriller Short

  By R. Barri Flowers

  Cover Image Copyright 2013 by Leah-Anne Thompson

  Used under license from https://www.shutterstock.com

  TARGET OF A KILLER is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  OTHER BOOKS BY R. BARRI FLOWERS

  FICTION

  Before He Kills Again (A Veronica Vasquez Thriller)

  Dark Streets of Whitechapel (A Jack the Ripper Mystery)

  Dead in the Rose City (A Dean Drake Mystery)

  Forever Sweethearts (A Love Story)

  Justice Served (A Barkley and Parker Mystery)

  Killer in The Woods (A Psychological Thriller)

  Murder in Honolulu (A Skye Delaney Mystery)

  Murder in Maui (A Leila Kahana Mystery)

  Persuasive Evidence (A Jordan La Fontaine Legal Thriller)

  Seduced to Kill in Kauai (An Exotic Thriller)

  State's Evidence (A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller)

  TEEN FICTION

  Christmas Wishes: Laura's Story (A Young Adult Holiday Fantasy)

  Count Dracula's Teenage Daughter (A Transylvanica High Novel)

  Danger in Time (A Young Adult Time Travel Mystery)

  Ghost Girl in Shadow Bay (A Young Adult Haunted House Mystery)

  TRUE CRIME

  Dead at the Saddleworth Moor: The Crimes of Serial Killers Ian Brady & Myra Hindley (true crime short)

  Killers of the Lonely Hearts: The Tale of Serial Killers Raymond Fernandez & Martha Beck (true crime short)

  Mass Murder in the Sky: The Bombing of Flight 629 (historical short)

  Masters of True Crime

  Murder at the Pencil Factory: The Killing of Mary Phagan 100 Years Later (historical short)

  Murders in the United States

  Serial Killer Couples: Bonded by Sexual Depravity, Abduction, & Murder

  The Pickaxe Killers: Karla Faye Tucker & Daniel Garrett (true crime short)

  The Sex Slave Murders: The True Story of Serial Killers Gerald & Charlene Gallego

  The Sex Slave Murders 2: The Chilling Story of Serial Killers Fred & Rosemary West (true crime short)

  * * *

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Target of a Killer

  The Jury Has Spoken – Bonus Story

  Persuasive Evidence: A Jordan La Fontaine Legal Thriller – Bonus Excerpt

  About the Author

  TARGET OF A KILLER

  "I've got your back, man," Javier Whitman said into his cell phone while motoring down the busy freeway in a BMW.

  "You'd damn well better have it!" the man shouted back. "If I go down, we all go down. Understand?"

  "Yeah, I hear you." Javier tried to hide his uneasiness at the mere prospect. "Don't worry. They don't have a case. It's nothing but hot air. You ask me, the D.A.'s gonna drop it any time now and we can all get back to business."

  "I don't think so," the man said. "They won't stop till they nail my ass. Unless I beat them at their own game."

  Javier tensed. "Meaning?"

  "Meaning I'm sure as hell not gonna sit back and wait for them to throw the book at me!"

  Javier realized it was too late to stop the wheels that were already in motion. "What did you have in mind?"

  "Probably better if you don't know."

  Javier felt perspiration clinging to his armpits as he took the exit to Lenwood Street. He wondered if his cover had been blown. Impossible. He'd been extra careful as always.

  That did little to ease his discomfort. "Well, look, I've gotta take care of some business—our business—so I'll be in touch."

  "Yeah, you do that," the man said gruffly.

  "Later."

  Javier put the phone in his shirt pocket. He was having second thoughts about being an informant. He was doing his part to help get drug dealers off the streets in Portland. Or at least one very big dealer. But was the price too high? If he screwed up, he was a dead man. Just like his kid sister, who OD'd on heroin last year.

  Javier convinced himself that everything would be all right. Once the drug kingpin's head was chopped off, his arms and legs would cease functioning too.

  That gave Javier hope he could get his life back in order and try an honest and safer way to make a living.

  Javier pulled into the underground parking garage. He was fifteen minutes late for his appointment, and they didn't tolerate tardiness. But he couldn't help it if he'd had to make a couple of runs for the boss this morning and then got stuck in rush hour traffic. He nervously ran a hand through his hair, sucked in a deep breath, and was about to get out of the car.

  That was when he noticed a shadowy figure creeping swiftly toward his car.

  Instinctively Javier went for his .357 Magnum. He'd never used it, but never left home without it, keenly aware of the dangers he faced in the drug business.

  * * *

  The assassin, dressed in black, stood outside the mark's window aiming a gun directly at Javier's face. Before Javier could get off a shot with his own weapon, the assassin fired three rounds pointblank through the window, shattering it. Each bullet landed in Javier's head, causing blood and brain matter to explode everywhere.

  The assassin shot the snitch two more times for good measure and one after that just for the hell of it.

  Reaching through what was left of the window, the assassin grabbed the dead man's wallet.

  One down, one to go.

  * * *

  Lydia Muldaur fidgeted in her cold cell. At least she was alone, which was about the only thing she had to smile about. She hated the food, didn't dare drink the water, and felt dirty. For now she was willing to be in jail, considering the price for getting out.

  She had refused to reveal the name of her source for the article she'd written for the Rose City Daily about reputed drug kingpin Antonio Escobero. She had also signed with a major publisher to write a book on Escobero and his illicit drug empire in Portland.

  But then the man had gotten himself arrested and charged with a host of crimes and Lydia was subpoenaed to testify for the prosecution. Yes, Escobero was the worst kind of scum and she would be happy if they put him away for the rest of his miserable life. Only not as a result of her crossing that principled line as a journalist and disclosing the name of the man who was her pipeline to the inner workings of the city's drug trade. Aside from endangering her source, Lydia would be jeopardizing the career she had worked so hard to achieve.

  Was it worth her job and reputation? She didn't think so.

  But Judge Barnard Nishida III didn't see it that way. He ordered her to reveal her source or be held in contempt of court. Lydia hoped she might get off with a stern admonition and be given the right to protect her sources like any good journalist.

  Didn't happen.

  The judge put her in jail and seemed unaffected by his decision. As he put it, "Once you spend a little time in hell, maybe you'll be ready to do your civic and professional duty, Ms. Muldaur."

  It was all Lydia could do not to give the judge a piece of her mind. Common sense had prevailed. No reason to anger him even more, only to wind up with additional time in a place she clearly didn't belong.

  How long would he keep her locked up like a common criminal? A month? Two months? A year?

  She didn't dare hazard a guess.

  Lydia wanted to laugh to keep from crying. She had already shed enough tears to turn her blue eyes permanently
scarlet.

  Maybe this had gone far enough. Was she supposed to stick to her guns for a lifetime?

  Stubbornly, Lydia decided she would do just that. Otherwise how could she possibly expect to gain the trust of future sources for investigations if her word was not solid?

  Still, a part of Lydia would give almost anything right now to be relaxing in her Jacuzzi tub, sipping a glass of red wine.

  Almost.

  * * *

  DEA Special Agent Devlin Carter wasn't surprised to learn that a member of Antonio Escobero's inner circle, Javier Whitman, had been murdered. After all, with the drug lord in custody on a number of serious charges that would likely put him away for life, it wasn't unexpected that some turmoil would occur within his organization. It had obviously been a professional hit.

  Carter had been surprised to find Lydia Muldaur's business card in Whitman's pocket. She was the journalist in jail for refusing to name her source. He had scrolled through Whitman's cell phone and saw her number on his speed dial.

  It didn't take much for Carter to put the pieces together. Whitman had been Lydia's informant, supplying her with insider knowledge of the drug world. And she'd been willing to go to jail just to protect her source.

  Commendable, yes. Smart, no.

  Carter doubted Whitman had given her much information that was credible, knowing he had to walk the line carefully so he wouldn't tip his hand to those who would rather see him dead than bring the cartel down.

  Unfortunately he hadn't been careful enough and paid the ultimate price.

  Since Carter believed that Lydia Muldaur might have just enough information to bolster the strong case they already had against Escobero, he'd gotten the judge to release her. Now that her source was dead, there was no need to keep her in jail.

  But Carter wanted to make sure his new ace in the hole stayed alive. At least long enough to testify against Escobero.

  * * *

  "You're free to go," the guard said tonelessly.

  "Me?" Lydia's eyes widened.

  "Yes, you." The guard sneered. "It's your lucky day."

  Lydia didn't feel lucky, but was thankful for the judge's apparent change of heart. She stood up and practically skipped out of the cell before she was locked in again.

  After collecting her belongings, Lydia took a cab home.

  She never wanted to see the inside of a jail cell again, unless she was interviewing an inmate.

  She brushed aside the thought, happy to be free.

  Lydia wondered how Javier Whitman was holding up. They had spoken yesterday and he sounded nervous, as if she would betray his trust. She had guaranteed him that would never happen.

  Now she wasn't sure if it was worth getting anything more from him. She had plenty to work with to write her book. Maybe it was best to leave well enough alone.

  Lydia called her good friend, Suzanne Pratt. Suzanne had told her several times that she'd gotten way over her head on this one and that she probably should think about dropping the whole book idea and give up her source. But Lydia had assured her it was worth it and she knew what she was doing. In the end, Suzanne had stood by Lydia's decision to continue to pursue inside info on Escobero.

  "Lydia! It's good to hear your voice," Suzanne said.

  "Same here," Lydia said. "I'm in a cab on my way home. I've been released."

  "Really? So...you revealed your source then?"

  "Nope. I didn't say a thing. They just told me I was free to go, and they didn't have to tell me twice."

  "Thank goodness for small favors," Suzanne said. "Maybe sticking to your guns was the best way to handle this."

  "Maybe," Lydia agreed. "Guess I'll just have to play it by ear and see what happens next."

  "Do you want me to come over?" Suzanne asked.

  "Sure, that would be great."

  "I'll pick up some sandwiches from the deli and a bottle of wine to celebrate your freedom."

  "Sounds good," Lydia said. "Just give me about an hour to shower away the jail stench."

  Lydia disconnected. She tried Javier's number, but got his voicemail. They agreed it was best if she never left a message. She would call him later.

  * * *

  Antonio Escobero sat in the visitor cubicle of the correctional facility where he was being held. It was only a matter of time before he was out of that hellhole and back on the street where he belonged.

  In the meantime, he would plot his revenge against everyone who double-crossed him.

  Escobero ran a hand through his slicked back hair and studied the person through the glass before grabbing the phone. "What you got for me?"

  "It's done. That snitch Whitman will never utter another word to anyone!"

  Escobero smiled. "That's good to hear."

  It was important for his organization to make examples out of snitches like Javier Whitman, a man he'd trusted who betrayed him by ratting out to a journalist. Javier had to die and Escobero hoped he'd suffered.

  With Javier out of the way, it would make things easier for Escobero to beat the rap they were trying to pin on him. Minus one key witness, the State's case was that much weaker.

  But not weak enough.

  His brows stitched. "What about the journalist?"

  "Soon, Antonio. Trust me when I tell you that her days are numbered."

  Escobero grinned, but was impatient. "Good. The sooner the better."

  "I understand."

  "I'm counting on that."

  "I'll be in touch."

  Escobero hung up the phone, satisfied for now. He stood up and approached the guard so he could go back to his cell. He was already anticipating his freedom and being back in full command of his drug empire.

  * * *

  The cab pulled up to the converted warehouse turned condo. The developer had done a wonderful job turning an old furniture warehouse into modern condos in the heart of downtown. Lydia paid the driver and headed to the entrance. Out of her periphery, she noticed movement coming toward her.

  Always wary, she quickly went into self-defense mode and whipped out her pepper mace, preparing to coat the possible assailant's face.

  "Wait..." the voice said. "That won't be necessary."

  Lydia eyed a dark-haired man in a blue suit. She kept the mace in front of her, not sure if he was friend or foe.

  "Lydia Muldaur?"

  Lydia had the feeling he knew exactly who she was, which didn't make her feel any safer.

  "Yes."

  "Sorry if I scared you." He lifted his ID. "Devlin Carter, DEA Special Agent. Can we go somewhere private to talk? Your condo perhaps?"

  "Not till you tell me what this is all about," Lydia said.

  "It's about you and Javier Whitman."

  Lydia reacted. Javier? If the DEA knew about their association, did Escobero know too?

  Deny. Deny. Deny.

  "I'm sorry, but I don't—"

  "Whitman was murdered a few hours ago," Carter said. "And you might be next on someone's hit list!"

  * * *

  Lydia reluctantly invited him up to her condo. She assumed that if he was there to kill her, she would already be dead. So why did she still have an uneasy feeling about this?

  "Javier is dead?"

  "I'm afraid so," Carter said.

  They were standing in the living room in front of a large window that offered a great view of the city.

  Lydia held her cat, Muffin. "When? How? I just—"

  "He was gunned down in a parking garage."

  Lydia winced. Is that why she'd been set free? Had Judge Nishida somehow discovered that Javier Whitman was her source?

  She put Muffin down, watching as she scurried across the room; thankful that Suzanne had fed the cat while she was in jail.

  "I'm sorry to hear about Jav—Mr. Whitman," she told Carter. "But what does this have to do with me?"

  "Everything, I'm afraid. We know Whitman was feeding you information about the Antonio Escobero cartel."

  Lydia's eyes
widened. "Did he tell you that?"

  "More or less. We found your card in his pocket and your number was on his speed dial. It was pretty easy to put two and two together."

  She sucked in a deep breath. "And you think he was killed because he was my source?"

  "Whitman was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. Whoever killed him was sending a clear message that they knew he was a snitch." Carter paused before saying, "They're coming after anyone he confided in. And that means you, Ms. Muldaur—"

  Lydia shivered at the thought. With Javier Whitman dead, it freed her of any obligation to maintain his anonymity. But at what price? Her life?

  Apparently Escobero wanted her dead before she could write a book about him, irrespective of what she revealed about her source of information.

  She looked at Carter. "Is that why I was set free—to make it easier for him to take me out?"

  He shook his head. "You're free because the judge felt keeping you detained no longer served a purpose."

  "Are you going to offer me protection or what?"

  "Yes."

  "And in return...?"

  He looked her in the eye. "We'll need you to testify against Escobero."

  Lydia raised her brows. "Wouldn't that be tantamount to committing suicide?"

  "Just the opposite," Carter said. "With the evidence we already have on Escobero, and what you can provide, it might be the one way to ensure you live to a ripe old age."

  * * *

  The DSR-1 sniper rifle was aimed at the window, waiting to get the target in site for a clear shot.

  The shooter was perched on a rooftop across the street from the warehouse, fidgeting impatiently; wanting only to get the job done with little to no collateral damage.

  There were two figures in the room, neither standing still long enough to get a good fix. The woman glanced at the window for an instant before ducking out of view. The man kept his back to the window, but seemed acutely aware of his surroundings.

  The shooter wondered if the mission could be accomplished with one clean shot. Or would it take two to put down the target?

  Peering through the scope, finger on the trigger, the shooter tried to find the right angle, expecting the hit to go down at any moment.

  * * *

  Lydia considered her options. It was easier to write a book about a drug kingpin than testify against him in court. But now that the word was out concerning her association with Javier Whitman, her testimony carried more weight. Meaning that Antonio Escobero saw her as a threat, not only to his ability to beat the charges he faced but to his organization as well.