Corrupt code eden mercer.., p.1
Corrupt Code (Eden Mercer K-9 Mystery Thriller), page 1
CONTENTS
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Books by Paige Black
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
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Books by Paige Black
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In the misty town of Nightfall, rookie officer Eden Mercer races against time to solve a decades-old mystery and save a missing woman.
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www.paigeblackauthor.com
BOOKS BY PAIGE BLACK
Eden Mercer Mystery Thrillers
In the fog-shrouded town of Nightfall, Oregon, Officer Eden Mercer confronts dark secrets and hidden dangers. As she battles her cult past and tackles chilling cases, Eden is determined to uncover the sinister truths lurking beneath the surface.
Shattered Silence
Deadly Lessons
Lethal Lines
Treacherous Depths
Twisted Pursuit
Terminal Treatment
Unsafe Haven
Fatal Bond
Corrupt Code
Final Vow
PROLOGUE
His gloved right hand closes around the thick rope overhead while his left clamps the tether running from his harness to the guideline. His arms and legs tremble. Don’t look down. Air won’t come—his chest cinches tight as he inches farther from the platform.
“You’ve got this, Jared!”
He hazards a glance to his right, too terrified to turn his head. Chester, his boss, stands on the wooden platform built around a tree trunk. He’s grinning like he’s never had more fun, though in all fairness, he’s usually that inhumanly positive. But Jared has never been able to understand his enthusiasm less than he does now.
“Come on, Jared. One step at a time, just like anything else!” Chester claps a few times, encouraging Jared across the abyss.
A sudden gust of wind rustles the treetops, sending the boughs all around him bobbing and dipping. It also makes the rope he’s on sway, and he gasps. He’s in reasonably good shape, goes to the gym a couple of days a week and likes to run. But the height has reduced his muscles to trembling mush. A bead of sweat trickles down his neck, his heartbeat and breathing loud in his ears.
He’d been dreading this team-building activity for weeks. Ropes courses were common in corporate outings, and he doubted Chester—or whoever booked this place—knew about his phobia. Still, the whole thing felt uniquely designed to torture him.
The constant sway under his feet has worn him out faster than he expected. Now he fears he won’t have the strength to make it across.
He peers under his arm toward Chester again. He and their instructor, Al, cheer Jared on. He has about thirty more feet of rope and two hexagonal wooden floating rings to navigate before reaching the platform.
Sweating harder, he casts a quick look left and his gut twists. It’s just as far to turn back toward the platform where ten of his colleagues wait to follow him. Greg Billings, his junior lawyer, rolls his eyes, looking bored. “Hurry up! Some of us want to finish this up sometime today.” He already has both of his carabiners hooked onto the guideline.
A young woman beside Greg, from finance, shoots him a disapproving look. Jared’s gaze flits to Diana, the head coder and software developer. She looks as grim as he feels and merely gives him a solemn nod.
“Trust the harness,” Al’s deep voice calls, and Jared steels himself.
Keep going or turn back? Both options would take equally as long, so he might as well press forward. The only other option is down, and he forces himself not to look past the single rope beneath his feet to the forest floor fifty feet below.
Fifty feet.
The thought makes his stomach clench and his head swim. Al, the younger man who’d coached them through a few activities like climbing through a rope spiderweb and trust falls on the ground, had prepared them by explaining it was one of the highest ropes courses in Oregon. Fantastic.
Jared inches to the right, legs shaking as the rope creaks beneath him. He squeezes his eyes shut and moves by feel.
You can do this. You can do this.
He cries out as the line jolts beneath him, making his knees buckle. He drops into a crouch, then overcorrects as he pushes upright, his hips swinging forward and back. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he turns toward the sound of cruel laughter.
Greg has started onto the same rope, sidling toward him, sending everything pitching and jerking.
“Wait! Don’t!” Jared shouts.
“It’s all right. The ropes can hold both of you just fine,” Al calls out. “Keep moving!”
“Remember, your team is your net,” Chester yells. “We’ve got you. Just head my way.” He’s reaching his arm out, as if ready to catch Jared and haul him onto the platform.
Jared shakes his head. How did I let myself get dragged into this? Then again, it wasn’t presented as an option. “Mandatory,” the invite had said.
With Greg advancing, Jared resumes his slow sideways shuffle. Then Greg takes a big step, the recoil in the rope flinging Jared off-balance.
He loses his hold on the overhead line and tumbles backward, free-falling for a horrifying, gut-wrenching moment before yanking to a violent stop. The green and brown trees blur and his heart pounds. Jared dangles upside down, spinning uncontrollably.
“It’s all right. Just listen, I’ll coach you on how to get upright,” the instructor yells. “Greg, is it? Pause for a sec, okay?”
Why had he ever agreed to come up into these trees? He tries to mentally teleport himself safely to the ground. Nausea lurches through him. The spinning isn’t helping, and blood is rushing to his head, his frantic pulse pounding in his temples.
“Can you reach the rope you were standing on?”
Jared peels an eye open and awkwardly attempts a sort of sit-up, curling in on himself, but can’t quite reach. He falls back upside down, panting.
“That’s all right,” Al assures him. “Can you hook a leg over it?”
“Come on, Jared!” his colleagues cheer. But the encouragement sounds almost macabre. Isn’t anyone alarmed that he’s dangling upside down fifty feet above the ground? Surely this isn’t a normal or safe scenario.
“Try for a leg, Jare,” Chester calls out, clapping. “This is all about functioning under pressure. You’ve conquered worse than this.”
In the boardroom or courtroom maybe, but not like this.
Jared tightens his death grip on the tether and kicks a leg out, trying to hook it around the narrow line he’d been balancing on moments before. The movement causes him to swing, and when he misses, his body jerks back down hard on the lifeline.
Which rips. Loudly.
Jared drops a few inches lower, his mind going white with panic. He can’t breathe. The cheering stops, and a couple of the women scream. He spins, still hanging upside down…
And then the lanyard tears all the way and he’s falling, headfirst, the trunks of the trees whooshing by in a blur.
CHAPTER 1
“Hanks, Mercer—a word?”
I glance up from my desk as Chief Jamison calls us into his office. The ringing phones and smell of burnt coffee snap back into focus. I’ve been zoned out, buried in paperwork all morning. I type out the final few words of a car break-in report, hit Submit, and push to my feet.
My German shepherd K-9 stretches in his bed, then follows me across the bullpen, his tags jingling. I join up with the older detective emerging from his office—wearing his standard tweed jacket despite it being May—and he raises a bushy brow, silently asking if I know what this is about. I shrug in response, and we file into the chief’s office.
It’s been a few months since our sleepy coastal town of Nightfall had a big case. While I certainly don’t hope for crime, I’m eager to investigate something more substantial than speeding tickets and petty smash-and-grabs. I’m mentoring under Hanks, in hopes of becoming a detective someday, like my grandpa. And I’m not going to hone my investigation skills by checking parking meters.
Jamison gestures t
“There’s been a death at the local ropes course. A place called…” Jamison frowns down at his notepad, which is covered in neat handwriting. Fastidious, proper—like the man himself. “Ridgeline Adventures, just off the 26.”
Hanks nods, and I raise a skeptical brow. “You know it?” I smirk, finding it hard to imagine the grizzled older man scrambling among the treetops.
There’s a tightness around his eyes. “My niece had a birthday party there many years ago. The place has been open for decades.”
I sober immediately, and Jamison and I exchange a knowing look. Hanks’s niece, Max, was like a daughter to him and his wife, Rosie, but she tragically drowned while cliff jumping at thirteen. My stomach clenches with sympathy, but Hanks merely clears his throat and pushes forward. “Someone fall?”
The chief nods. “Seems like an accident, but I need you two to check it out and make an official ruling.” He consults his papers again. “Victim is Jared Maloy. He was in critical condition when he arrived at Nightfall Clatsop Regional this morning but never regained consciousness. He passed about half an hour ago.”
Hanks shifts in his chair, propping a hand under his chin. “I’m assuming we’ve sent uniforms out to Ridgeline already?”
“Tanaka and Jensen.” Jamison tilts his chin toward the door to my left. “They’re back now, so I suggest you speak with them first and see what they’ve come up with.”
My stomach sinks. Jensen is nicknamed Bulldog, which fits both his appearance and his level of intelligence. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s bitten a few people.
He was the bane of my existence when I first started, but since Hanks took me under his wing, I’ve mostly avoided him. Still, I’m not eager to deal with the man. At least Tanaka’s competent. Hopefully he’ll have some good insights for us.
“Will do.” Another thought occurs to me. “Has next of kin been notified?”
“The hospital took care of that,” Jamison says. “His wife. They’re holding off on details until we rule if this is a criminal matter.”
My chest tightens. We all know a ropes course is a bit dangerous, but no one expects their partner to die during a workplace team-building activity.
“Thanks, Chief.” Hanks stands, wincing slightly. His old gunshot wound still gives him trouble, though he’ll never admit it. We head toward the door, but the detective pauses. “Did Beth get the body?”
Jamison consults his watch, the silver shining against his dark skin and matching his tight-cropped hair. “ME should be picking him up as we speak.”
CHAPTER 2
Hanks and I step outside Jamison’s office and scan the bustling bullpen for Tanaka or Bulldog. Shadow pants, tail wagging, game for whatever we’re doing next.
“What do you think?” I glance at Hanks. “Was it an accident?”
He narrows his eyes, considering my question. “Occam’s razor. It’s the most straightforward explanation.”
“True enough.” He’s focused on searching the room, but I feel the need to check in with him. “You okay? I mean, talking about Max? I know it’s a tough subject.”
He stiffens, then stuffs his hands into his pockets. There’s a long pause filled with the ringing of phones and whirring of the copier, but I’ve learned to wait with him until he’s ready to talk. Just like he does with me.
Hanks clears his throat. “Yeah. We did the ropes course for her ninth birthday.” A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “She was like a monkey up there in the ropes. Fearless.” He chuckles. “Loved the zip line. Screamed the whole way down, then immediately wanted to go again.”
I give him a small smile, and he pats my shoulder. “I’m okay. It’s a good memory.” He frowns, his gaze drifting to the bullpen again. Still not spotting who we’re looking for, he turns on his heel. “Come on, kid.” He starts toward the break room, and my K-9 and I hurry to keep up.
We poke our heads into the small room, and I wave to Linda, one of our administrators, who’s eating a plastic cup of yogurt at the table. Hanks clears his throat. “Hey, Linda. You seen Tanaka or Bulldog?”
She arches a dark brow and sniffs, the spoon halfway to her mouth. “You sure you really want to find him?”
We both know she’s talking about Bulldog. He’s loud and misogynistic and naturally makes friends wherever he goes.
I roll my eyes. “Not really, but… we need to.”
She smirks and pokes her spoon to my left. “Evidence locker.”
Hanks winks. “Thanks.”
We stride down the narrow hallway, dark hardwood floors creaking beneath us and the tall arched ceiling amplifying our footsteps. Given the building is historic and was originally the jail instead of the police station, we make do with the layout we’ve got, which means the evidence locker is more of a glorified closet. We round the corner and find the door to the cramped space propped open with the dinged-up metal toolbox that lives in evidence storage.
Tanaka, slim and dark-haired, leans against the doorframe, a clipboard in hand. My jaw clenches when I spot Bulldog in the room past him, hoisting a cardboard crate onto a shelving unit.
“Got it,” Tanaka says, scribbling something on his paper. Both officers look up as we approach, our footsteps and Shadow’s jangling tags announcing our arrival.
Hanks lifts a hand in greeting, and Tanaka tips his head with a small smile, while Bulldog scowls in response, his already-beady eyes tightening further. The feeling is mutual.
A low rumble makes me frown. Shadow’s growling so subtly that it’s more a vibration than a sound. I hastily stroke his head, murmuring for him to calm down. He’s sensitive to my mood and reactions.
Hanks gestures to the box Bulldog just finished shelving. “That related to the case from this morning?”
The other two men exchange a look, and Tanaka nods. “You need it?”
“Yeah.”
Bulldog audibly huffs, grabbing the box and bringing it toward the door, where he slams it down on a metal table with more force than necessary. I jump despite my best efforts to not let him get to me. Tanaka watches him warily, then turns to Hanks and hands over the clipboard. “Just finished cataloging it.”
Hanks signs out the box while Bulldog stands between the rows of evidence, the shelves reaching to the ceiling, making the place feel claustrophobic. His bulk nearly blocks the whole pathway and his biceps bulge, veins visible, as he stares me down. The single naked bulb dangling above his head shadows his features and accentuates his heavy brow, making him appear even more intimidating than he normally does.
I do my best to ignore him.
“What are your thoughts?” Hanks asks, handing back the pen and clipboard.
Tanaka shrugs. “First impression, I’d say it was an accident.” He scrunches up his face. “Pretty gruesome to be honest. Guy was hanging upside down, then fell headfirst from fifty feet.”
My stomach twists as I imagine how terrifying his last moments must have been.
“Splat,” Bulldog chimes in, slapping his hands together.
Hanks shoots him a withering look. “Enlightening addition, thank you.”
The beefy cop grinds his jaw as though he’d like to respond to Hanks with more than a witty comeback.
The detective keeps his attention on Tanaka. “You get witness statements?”
“All in the report,” Bulldog quips.
Hanks closes his eyes for a long moment, then fixes his gaze on Tanaka, ignoring the other officer. “Recap it for me.”
We’ll read the statements, of course, but I know Hanks likes to either be at the crime scene himself or hear it from the officers directly if possible. Sometimes unconscious sensations and opinions that don’t always make it into the official written records can surface that way.
Tanaka widens his stance and his gaze grows unfocused, as if casting back in his memory. “The owner of the place, Joe Mitchell, said it seemed like an old strap just failed.”
“Which strap?” Hanks probes.
“The one on the front of the harness that clips into the safety tether,” Tanaka explains, gesturing to his stomach area. “I asked Mr. Mitchell if he’d inspected it recently, and he said either he or the instructors check them every day.”
