What She Left (Martina Monroe Book 1) Read online

  What She Left

  Martina Monroe Book 1

  H.K. Christie

  Contents

  1. Before

  2. Martina

  3. Martina

  4. Alonso

  5. Martina

  6. Martina

  7. Martina

  8. Martina

  9. Martina

  10. Alonso

  11. Martina

  12. Detective Hirsch

  13. Martina

  14. Detective Hirsch

  15. Alonso

  16. Martina

  17. Detective Hirsch

  18. Martina

  19. Detective Hirsch

  20. Martina

  21. Detective Hirsch

  22. Martina

  23. Alonso

  24. Detective Hirsch

  25. Martina

  26. Martina

  27. Detective Hirsch

  28. Martina

  29. Martina

  30. Detective Hirsch

  31. Martina

  32. Detective Hirsch

  33. Martina

  34. Detective Hirsch

  35. Alonso

  36. Martina

  37. Detective Hirsch

  38. Martina

  39. Detective Hirsch

  40. Alonso

  41. Detective Hirsch

  42. Martina

  43. Detective Hirsch

  44. Detective Hirsch

  45. Martina

  46. Martina

  47. Detective Hirsch

  48. Martina

  Martina Monroe Book 2

  Also by H.K. Christie

  About the Author

  Thank you!

  Join H.K. Christie’s Reader Club

  Acknowledgments

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by H.K. Christie

  Cover design by Odile Stamanne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  If you would like to use material from this book, prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at:

  www.authorhkchristie.com

  First edition: July 2021

  1

  Before

  I gazed down at her and wondered how something so magnificent could have come from something so horrible.

  When I learned I was pregnant, I didn’t know what I would do. Terrified and confused, I had busied myself with activities until he noticed my rounded belly. He’d seemed as surprised as I was by the predicament. To my astonishment, he hadn’t ordered me to terminate; instead he’d kept me hidden away until she was born. I wasn’t sure how I would react to her birth. Would I accept her, or would I despise her because she reminded me of him? Him. A horrible man. A despicable tyrant. A phony and a fraud.

  The moment I pressed her against my chest and heard her cry, for the first time in my life, I understood what love was. Since then, she made my miserable days tolerable and became my reason for living. I lightly skimmed her scalp with my fingertips, careful not to wake her. My angel, my Amelia. I lowered my lips to plant a soft kiss on the top of her head, inhaled her scent, and then pivoted to head back to my bedroom.

  My pulse quickened at the sight of him. I hadn’t realized he’d been standing in the doorway. I stepped closer and whispered, “What are you doing in here? I don’t want you waking her.”

  “Come with me, now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Hurry up.“

  I didn’t know what all of this was about, but I knew better than to fight him when he had that look in his eyes and a revolver in his hand. “I have to get Amelia.”

  “Leave her.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not leaving her.”

  He raised his arm and pressed the revolver to my abdomen. “You will leave Amelia or I’ll kill her while you watch.”

  My body trembled. Was he going to kill me? What would happen to Amelia? I glanced around the room, trying to find an escape, but there was none. He was blocking the door. “I won’t leave her. You’ll have to kill me,” I said, hoping he was bluffing.

  He hesitated. “Fine. Take her, but be quiet about it. I don’t want to hear her cries.”

  I swung around and scooped up Amelia as carefully as I could. She wiggled and cooed as I picked her up and held her firmly to my chest. I glanced back over at him. “Fine, let’s go.”

  “Now. Hurry. Do as I say, and be quiet.” He waved the gun and said, “Go.”

  I led the way out of the nursery and down the stairs before I hesitated. What if I called out? Would someone save me? I could feel the muzzle of the gun pressed into my lower back. No one was coming to save me.

  I continued down the steps, reached the front door and stopped. He spat, “Open it. We’re going for a drive.”

  I silently opened the door and exited our home as he held the gun on me. “Put Amelia in her car seat and then get in the front.”

  I obeyed and entered the passenger side of the vehicle.

  He pulled out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the revolver that was pointed right at me. I recognized the weapon with its nickel-plated barrel and wood grip and knew he could shoot as well as I could. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Why are you doing this?”

  “Be quiet. This is best for everyone.”

  “Please, can you just tell me what is happening?”

  “Say another word and I’ll shoot you right here.”

  I swallowed my thoughts and my words. At least I had Amelia with me.

  We drove for ten minutes before he pulled the car over to the side of the road and put it in park. He reached over, using his free hand to open the glove box, and pulled out a leather pouch. He handed it to me. “There’s five thousand dollars in here. The train station is less than a mile down the road. Now go, never return, and erase us from your memory. We don’t know you and you don’t know us.”

  He was sending me away. I didn’t understand, but knew better than to ask any more questions. I cracked open the door and stopped. “I don’t have her ear drops.”

  “She’ll have her drops. Now go.”

  “But, I’m taking her with me.”

  “No, you’re not. Now go, before this ends badly for both of you.”

  He couldn’t mean it. Without budging, I stared him in the eyes with as much determination as I could muster. “Not a chance. I’m not leaving her.”

  His eyes went dark and then he swung his arm around to the back seat, the revolver now pointed at Amelia, who slept soundly in her carrier. “I’ll shoot her right now if you don’t get out of the damn car.”

  My heart beat pounded in my ears but I was frozen by the thought of leaving Amelia.

  He growled, “I’ll count to three. One. Two…”

  I pushed open the car door and stepped out. Before I could fully exit and close the door behind me, he shoved me to the pavement and sped off.

  I scrambled to my feet and broke into a sprint, trying to catch up to the car. As the taillights disappeared into the darkness of night, I fell to my knees and screamed.

  2

  Martina

  Click click click. That ought to do it, Mr. Jones. I lowered my ca
mera and placed it into the leather case sitting on the passenger seat before I rolled up the car window. Another one bites the dust. I shook my head as I considered Mr. Jones’s situation. He was going to have a tough time explaining why he could play basketball, but still needed to be on disability from his job in the warehouse. He was one of thousands of people who thought they could get away with defrauding their employer. It probably never occurred to them that their workplace’s insurance company would hire a private investigator to follow them around to see if there were any cracks in their claim. Newsflash, they did. They always did. Well, I didn’t know that for sure, but considering the number of folks I had been following around lately to uncover evidence of insurance fraud, I assumed so.

  Yes, that was my job now - following around people who had open workers’ compensation claims. I didn’t go into the private investigations and security business to hunt down people trying to cheat their companies out of insurance money. I almost felt sorry for those people I followed around - at least the ones who were legitimately injured. I didn’t shed any tears for the others. It was hard to feel sorry for someone when they were stupid enough to play a game of basketball on a public court while claiming they’re too injured to return to work. Mr. Jones wasn’t even the worst of them.

  Over the last six months, I’d seen tons of people who thought they were fooling everyone. One subject, out on workers’ comp from a roofing company, had been caught doing a roofing job for cash. That was bold. And stupid. When I handed over the report to his employer, the man’s face turned beet red and I thought I had seen steam come out of his ears. The employer insisted he’d not only fire him immediately but also pursue criminal charges. I didn’t blame him. If I had an employee and they pulled that with me, I’d probably do the same. Our past always seemed to have a way of coming back to bite us. That was a little tidbit I knew firsthand.

  I’d messed up, and now this soul-sucking work was my penance. My days now consisted of either tracking fraudsters or cheaters. I wasn’t sure whom I detested more. Even I recognized I had begun to turn cynical. I needed a heavy dose of the goodness that I believed was inherent in all of us. It was why I’d chosen this line of work. I wanted to help and protect, not catch petty criminals and capture evidence for divorce court.

  My AA sponsor, Rocco, often reminded me I needed to look for the small positive things - the light - and not dwell on the dark. Like, the fact that I was healthy and sober for nine months. I was alive, and so was my little girl, Zoey.

  To be honest, if it wasn’t for Zoey or Rocco, I’m not sure I would’ve made it through the last few years. Jared’s death, and later, nearly losing my life because of a drunk driving accident - my fault - had been the lowest I’d ever stooped, and that was saying a lot. Despite my dissatisfaction with my line of work, it was boring enough that I was home by six each night. Zoey reveled in having me home each night for family dinner for a change. It was during these meals that my world brightened, as she recounted every detail of her day and her plans for the future. I envied her youth and excitement for all things, which included snakes, bugs, and glitter. Oh, to be seven years old again and not have a care in the world. My nightly conversations with Zoey were a pleasant distraction from the hole in my heart and the empty chair where Jared used to sit. He would’ve loved these moments with our daughter.

  I shook myself out of the thoughts and started the car. I’d delayed heading back to the office as long as I could. Believe it or not, I dreaded desk work even more than following my subjects around. The office was where I’d sit for hours filling out reports, cropping photos, and sifting through my inbox. I had gone from bad-ass protector to nothing more than a glorified paper pusher.

  As I drove, I tried to stay positive. I was grateful that Stavros had taken me back after what I’d done. I hadn’t earned the right to complain or ask for more meaningful work, not yet anyhow. I had to play it cautiously with Stavros. He’d been clear about his concerns about putting me back on higher-level cases. As he explained it, he didn’t want to put me in unnecessary danger, leaving Zoey an orphan, or drive my stress levels to a point that might push me back toward the bottle. What he didn’t understand was the demoralizing nature of my work had me craving the drink more than ever. I needed to call Rocco.

  The soles of my shoes squeaked on the tile as I walked through the lobby of Drakos Security & Investigations. I headed toward Mrs. Pearson, giving her my best friendly nod. “How are you, Mrs. Pearson?”

  She gave me a bright smile outlined with magenta lipstick. “Martina, dear, I’m fine. Thank you for asking. Long day?”

  Did I look that defeated? I guess sitting in a stuffy car all day will do that to a person. I needed to hit the gym STAT. Besides Zoey, the other thing that got me through the last nine months was a strict fitness regime and healthy eating. My sponsor, Rocco, was right. Healthy body, healthy mind. I had to stay strong. “Not too bad today.”

  “Nice to hear. You have a good evening, my dear.”

  “You too.”

  I headed back into the cubicle area and past the first three stations before I halted. The six foot three inch burly man leaning over my desk drove a wave of panic through me. Stavros didn’t normally drop by my desk unannounced. I actually didn’t see him much outside of our weekly debriefs. It hadn’t always been that way. In the past, he had been more of an uncle to me than a boss, but after the accident he’d been nearly all business. I’d disappointed him and from what I could tell that was worse than a betrayal. I vowed to never let it happen again - I couldn’t let it happen again. I owed him my life. I sucked in some air and held my head high. I could face anything, or at the very least I could fake it until I made it. “Stavros, this is a surprise.”

  Stavros studied me from head to toe assessing my current state. Was I drinking again? Was I stressed? Was I too thin from working out too hard? Was I mentally stable? They were all good questions. Fingers crossed one day he’d be able to trust me again. I supposed that was up to me now.

  “You’re looking well,” He said.

  “I’m feeling good. What can I do for you Stavros?” Our relationship hadn’t been the same since the accident. He now kept me at arm’s length. It hurt more than he could ever understand.

  He stood, hands on hips, as if he was about to command me to head out into the field. Some training never went away. Stavros was a decorated ex-special forces commander and all-around tough guy, and I braced myself since I had a hunch he was about to tell me what was what. And I was going to listen. “I was just leaving a note. We received a call today from a potential new client. They requested you specifically, do you have time to discuss it?”

  My body relaxed. “Yes, of course.”

  “All right. Let’s talk in conference room one.” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead he headed toward the first conference room on the right.

  I followed dutifully behind him, keeping up with his pace. A closed door conversation with Stavros wasn’t typical for a new insurance case or cheating lover. Was it an actual case? Was he going to let me run it? I couldn’t get my hopes up. Whatever it was, I’d accept it and be grateful.

  I entered the conference room and shut the door behind me. He stood with his hands on the table, as if contemplating how to address the situation. Was I the situation? He pushed off and took a seat. I sat down across the table from him and met his gaze. “Stavros?”

  He leaned back. “Here’s the deal. The client asked for you specifically. She was referred to us by a previous client of yours, of the firm’s, where you were the lead. I’m sure you remember the Rose Green case. Apparently this woman is a coworker of Rose’s. Rose talked you up pretty good.”

  I nearly jumped out of my chair, but before I could enthusiastically accept whatever it was, he raised his hand to stop me. I settled back down and listened. “The case involves identifying a child in a photo. This photo was found after Ms. Gilmore’s mother’s death. All we know so far is that when she asked her father ab
out the child in the picture, he was so upset he stormed out of the room and refused to discuss it. This piqued Ms. Gilmore’s interest and she shared the story with her coworker, Rose. Rose said she should contact you because you could probably identify the baby in the picture. You know and I know, damn well, that secrets typically lay buried for a reason. It could be a can of worms or completely benign. You won’t know until you start digging around. The mission is to identify the child. Does that sound like something you would be up for?”

  My heart was racing. One thousand percent, yes. I would show him I could do this. I could be trusted. I wouldn’t let him down. “Absolutely. I am ready.”

  He squinted. “Have you been keeping up with your meetings?”

  He still didn’t trust me. I tipped up my chin. “Every day, and Rocco is on speed dial.”

  His eyes bore into my soul as if he was assessing whether I could be trusted. “I’m not completely sure that you’re ready for this.”

  I hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in nine months. I had done everything right. I could do this. Not that I hadn’t wanted a drink, or that I didn’t call Rocco several times a week. I don’t know what I’d do without Rocco. Or my spunky seven-year-old who kept me honest every single day. We called my addiction an illness because it was. I’d been sick, but was getting better every day. I was okay. I’d be okay. I know that I’d have to fight every day for the rest of my life to stay this way. I stared Stavros directly in the eyes. “I’m ready, Stavros.”