Death Deserved (A Detective Jackson Mystery)

BOOK: Death Deserved (A Detective Jackson Mystery)
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Books by L.J. Sellers

The Detective Jackson Series

The Sex Club

Secrets to Die For

Thrilled to Death

Passions of the Dead

Dying for Justice

Liars, Cheaters, & Thieves

Rules of Crime

Crimes of Memory

Deadly Bonds

Wrongful Death

Death Deserved

The Agent Dallas Series

The Trigger

The Target

The Trap

Stand-Alone Novels

Point of Control

The Lethal Effect
(previously published as
The Suicide Effect
)

The Baby Thief

The Gauntlet Assassin

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Text copyright © 2016 by L.J. Sellers

All rights reserved.

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.

Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

www.apub.com

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781503936843

ISBN-10: 1503936848

Cover design by Marc Cohen

Cast of Characters

Wade Jackson:
detective, Violent Crimes Unit

Katie Jackson:
Detective Jackson’s daughter

Kera Kollmorgan:
Jackson’s girlfriend / nurse

Lara Evans:
detective / task force member

Rob Schakowski (Schak):
detective / task force member

Michael Quince:
detective / task force member

Denise Lammers:
Detective Jackson’s supervisor / sergeant

Sophie Speranza:
newspaper reporter

Rich Gunderson:
medical examiner (attends crime scenes)

Jasmine Parker:
evidence technician

Joe Berloni:
evidence technician

Victor Slonecker:
district attorney

Josh Stalling:
dead shooting victim

Kayla Benson:
surviving shooting victim

Clark Paulson:
victims’ neighbor / suspect

Alexa Tattriona:
victims’ neighbor / witness

Matt Sheldon:
Ganja Growers’ owner / suspect

Shanna McCoy:
victim’s sister / suspect

Charles Kazmir
: McCoy’s boyfriend / suspect

Susan Burkowitz:
Lammers’ domestic partner

Conner Harron:
war veteran in SWAT incident

Ursula and John Fenton:
Hightones’ owners

Brian Edward:
newspaper photographer

Shane Edward:
Brian’s son / poisoning victim

CHAPTER 1

Wednesday, December 2, 8:35 a.m.

Detective Wade Jackson braced himself before stepping into the chief’s office. Being summoned to see the head of the department was never good, and it happening first thing in the morning seemed ominous. This would be about politics to make the citizens’ review board happy—or some other project that didn’t enhance public safety. But the people of Eugene, Oregon, had high standards, and the city’s police officers had screwed up time and again. The top brass was trying to orchestrate a cleanup and regain the community’s trust.

“Have a seat.” Chief Warner’s expression was grim.

So this wouldn’t be quick. Jackson sat on the edge of a chair, back straight.

“Lammers was hospitalized last night,” Warner said. “She’s violently ill, and the doctors suspect it’s some kind of environmental poison.” The chief paused to let him process the information.

Not what he’d expected to hear. The sergeant who ran his investigative unit was a pain in the ass sometimes, but they’d worked together for twelve years. “She’s going to pull through, right?”

Warner hunched forward. “I don’t know. She’s in the ICU, fighting for her life.” A disbelieving shake of his head. “Lammers was a beat cop for ten years and had some close calls. I can’t believe some bullshit chemical accident could take her down.”

“What happened?” Jackson couldn’t imagine a scenario in which the big, smart sergeant could be accidentally poisoned.

“Her roommate says she was working in the yard, then suddenly became ill. That’s all I know.”

He hated to ask, but it was his job. “Could she have been deliberately poisoned? Do you want me to investigate?”

The chief nodded. “It seems unlikely, because she’s been behind the desk for years, but she could have enemies. Have someone in your unit look into recently released prisoners she put away.”

“We’ll prioritize it.” Jackson shifted, ready to get started.

Warner held up a hand. “The reason I said ‘your unit’ is because I need you to run Violent Crimes while Lammers is incapacitated.”

Crap.
He hated administration. But he couldn’t refuse. “All right. I’ll call a meeting today and get up to speed on everyone’s cases.” If he was going to be accountable, he needed information. The biggest change in his day-to-day function would be to take calls from the dispatch center about new cases, then assign them to other detectives. He could do this for a week or so. He’d handled the position once or twice when Lammers was on vacation. Jackson stood. At six-foot, he was looking down at his boss. “Anything else?”

“Pray for a quiet spell.”

Jackson headed back to his workspace, appreciating the big windows with a view of the trees along the Willamette River. A huge improvement over the ugly building he’d worked in for the previous twenty-two years. As Jackson neared his desk, Rob Schakowski stood up in his own cubicle, a fresh buzz cut highlighting his square face.

“What’s going on?” his partner asked. Schak was the longest-serving detective in the unit. But he wouldn’t be offended that the chief had asked Jackson to take charge. Neither of them wanted the mostly administrative position. They preferred the fieldwork.

“Lammers is in the hospital,” Jackson said. “Likely poisoned with some chemical from her own garage.”

“Holy hell.” Schak stepped out of his workspace. “Is she gonna make it?”

“I hope so.” Jackson’s phone rang, and he looked at the ID. The 911 call center. He glanced at Schak. “It’s dispatch, and I have to take this.” His pulse ticked up as he responded. “Detective Jackson here.”

“There’s been a shooting. Two people at 6753 River Loop 2, which comes up as a licensed marijuana nursery called Riverside Farms. That’s all the detail I have. The caller hung up on me.”

“Are the victims still alive?”

“I don’t know, so I sent an ambulance.”

“Thanks. I’ll take it from here.” He glanced at Schak. “A shooting. I need you to get out there while I make more calls.” Jackson gave him the address, which was in one of their pockets of jurisdiction in the Santa Clara area.

Schak hustled back to his desk on short legs topped by a barrel-shaped chest. It wasn’t pretty, but his partner could hustle.

“Get Evans and Quince out there too,” Jackson called after him. He hurried toward his own cube to grab his shoulder bag. While he checked the contents to make sure he had everything he needed to process the scene, he made more calls. First to the evidence lab to get technicians and a ballistics expert out to the crime location, then to the medical examiner’s office. They weren’t currently working a homicide together, so Rich Gunderson seemed surprised to hear from him.

“Hey, Jackson. What’s up? Did I miss a court date?”

“Two things: Lammers is in the hospital with a case of poisoning, and I’d like you to go see her. We need to treat her case like an attempted homicide.”

“Is she unconscious?”

“I don’t know. I just found out.” Jackson grabbed latex gloves from a drawer and shoved them into his satchel. “But our first priority is a shooting at a pot farm. Two victims, who may or may not be dead.” Why had the caller not given a name or stayed on the phone?

“We all knew something like this would happen when they passed the law.”

Jackson gave him the location without comment. He had mixed feelings about the legalization of marijuana. It was making law enforcement more challenging during the transition, but in the long run, it would free officers to focus on crimes with real victims. Even though possession had been only a misdemeanor in Oregon for decades, the black market for sales created turf wars that got ugly sometimes. Now it looked like the legal market was getting ugly too.

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