Enraged Read online

  Enraged

  by

  E. H. Reinhard

  Copyright © 2021

  All Rights Reserved

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction by E. H. Reinhard. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Locations used vary from real streets, locations, and public buildings to fictitious residences and businesses.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  E. H. Reinhard

  http://ehreinhard.com/

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  Enraged

  A double murder kicks off the day for Miami Homicide Lieutenant Nash Harrington, but those bodies were just the beginning.

  Across town, a man has cracked. Infidelity broke him. A homicidal rage has overtaken him. And he’s just getting started.

  Before lunch, the chase is on as Harrington and his team track a man who’s leaving a bloody trail across the city.

  And the only thing on this killer’s mind is who’s next.

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  Table of Contents

  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 1

  “It’s perfect,” Josh said.

  He stared at the ring on the velvet pad on top of the display case. His head rose, and he met the eyes of the jewelry store salesman. A smile crossed Josh’s face. “I’ll take it.”

  “She’ll love it,” the salesman said. “Are we going to be financing or…”

  “No. I’ll just be buying it. I’ve been putting away money for this for almost a year. It’s our two-year anniversary as a couple tomorrow. We’ve got a dinner planned at the place where we had our first date. I’m still trying to figure out how I want to do it. Like do I want to hide the ring in something or have someone bring it over? Drop it in a wine or champagne glass? What do you think?”

  “I think you’ll know what to do when the time comes. But telling her you love her and dropping down on one knee with the ring has been pretty tried and true.”

  “Yeah.” Josh imagined taking a knee at the side of the table and her gasping, covering her mouth, and saying yes with tears in her eyes—as other patrons in the restaurant clapped. He couldn’t contain his smile. “Yeah, maybe that is what I’ll do.”

  “Can’t beat the classics,” the salesman said. “Let’s go get this rung up.”

  Josh followed the man to the register and checked out. He pulled in a big breath as the salesman boxed up the ring. Josh looked at his hands—they shook. He was thirty-nine, had never been married, and had never even thought about asking someone to marry him. “She’ll say yes,” Josh told himself.

  With best wishes from the salesman and the jewelry store’s manager, who had come over to congratulate Josh on his purchase, he left the store and started home. Heather, who had moved in a year before, was under the impression that Josh was watching the game with Mike from work. He’d told her that he would be home around five, and since it was just after two, he needed to come up with a reason that he was home early. Josh figured he would say that Mike’s wife wasn’t feeling well, so he’d taken off. It was a simple-enough excuse.

  Driving his older Dodge Ram pickup, Josh made a left onto West Thirty-Seventh Street and took it until he hit West Sixth Avenue, where he made another left into his subdivision. He would need to get the ring inside and hide it without Heather seeing. Somehow, he would have to bury his cat-that-ate-the-canary smile and not give up the surprise for over twenty-four hours. He could do it. He had to do it.

  Josh reached over the passenger seat and pulled the ring box from the bag. He stuffed the box into the pocket of his jeans and put the bag and receipt into the center console. Josh put eyes on the road, driving. He wondered where she would want to get married, what the wedding would be like, and who all would be there. Next, he thought about where to honeymoon—maybe the Caribbean or Hawaii if she wanted a tropical location. Maybe Europe to see some history or a Mexican beach for some carefree drinking and partying.

  Another block and another left and he drove down his street, West Thirty-Sixth Place. Like every other house in the neighborhood, his was a little over a thousand square feet and was built in the mid-1950s. Most of the homes didn’t have garages, and some didn’t even have driveways. People parked on the side of the street and in front yards. It was a bit of a free-for-all. From down the block, Josh spotted his old boat on a trailer in the driveway as well as Heather’s red Acura sedan. He also saw something that wasn’t quite right.

  “What?”

  Josh slowed to the point of stopping in the middle of the street. He had eyes fixed on the pair of cars parked in the washed-out parking area in front of his house, between the sidewalk and street. He knew that one of the vehicles should be there, but one shouldn’t. Behind Heather’s Acura sat a dark-blue Chevy pickup. The truck belonged to Jeff Larson, Josh’s best friend. Maybe Jeff had popped over to see Josh, but Josh had talked to him that morning and mentioned that he wasn’t going to be home—though he hadn’t mentioned the reason for not being around was that he was going to buy an engagement ring. For some reason, when the topic had been brought up in the past, Jeff hadn’t been too keen on Josh asking Heather to marry him. Jeff apparently didn’t believe they were a good fit.

  Still stopped in the street and staring at his place, Josh thought about throwing the truck in Park, going inside, and seeing what the hell was going on, but something told him not to. Josh checked his mirrors, put his truck in Reverse, and backed into the driveway of the house he’d just passed. He turned around and headed away from his house. Josh’s mind was in a fog, turning over one scenario then the next. A minute or two later, he found himself parked in the lot of a fast-food restaurant a mile from his house—he barely remembered driving there.

  He shook his head and pulled out his phone. There were no missed calls or messages from Heather or Jeff. He sent a text to Heather, asking her what she was up to. No immediate response came.

  He would have messaged me if he was stopping over. She would have messaged me to say that Jeff was there looking for me.

  Minutes passed.

  “Maybe he was dropping off
something he borrowed.” But Josh knew that Jeff hadn’t borrowed anything. “Maybe they’re planning something for me.” Josh cocked his head to the side. His birthday was in a couple of weeks—the big four-oh. Maybe they were planning some party. Yet why would Jeff have to be there in person? It didn’t quite fit. His phone buzzed with a return text from Heather. She said she was hanging out at home and watching TV. No mention of Jeff. Josh thought about texting Jeff to see what he would say that he was doing, but he refrained. He sent a return text to Heather, saying that he was going to come home from Mike’s in a little bit. His phone rang a second later.

  “Hey,” Josh said.

  “What’s up? You’re coming home?” Heather sounded out of breath.

  Josh cracked his neck to the side and clenched his jaw. “On my way now. Hey, I’ve got another call. I’ve got to go.” He ended the call and squeezed his phone. He stared at his hand as it shook. His knuckles wrapping his phone were white. It buzzed in his hand. Heather asked him to call her back. Josh didn’t. He watched the street from the parking lot of the restaurant. Jeff lived down in Fountainebleau, and he would more than likely be taking West Fourth Avenue south before heading west. Josh would see him pass, and not five minutes later, he did. Jeff looked straight ahead as he went through the intersection, not seeing Josh in his truck, watching him from the restaurant’s lot.

  “You dirty son of a bitch.” Josh started his truck and headed for his house.

  As he drove, Josh wondered what Heather would say when he walked in. Would she say that Jeff had stopped over? Would she have some story planned? Would she fess up? Should he even confront her or just tell her to get out? He wasn’t certain that he would be able to restrain himself. Josh pulled up in front of his house and sat in his truck. He stared out of the windshield as he gripped the steering wheel. Shaking with anger, he threw the door open and walked to the house. Josh opened the front door. His eyes shot to the right, looking for Heather in the living room. She wasn’t there. The sound of water running caught his ear. She was in the shower. Heather never showered during the day—always at night, about an hour or two before bed so her hair could dry.

  Josh closed the door at his back and walked through the house and into the master bedroom. He stopped and looked at the bed. It was made, and it hadn’t been when he’d left. The chances of Heather taking it upon herself to make the bed were about as good as Josh’s of winning the damned lotto. Josh pushed open the master bathroom door and entered.

  “Hey.” Heather poked her head out of the shower curtain and gave him a smile. “So why did you leave Mike’s early?”

  “Why are you in the shower?” Josh asked.

  Heather furrowed her brow. Her dark wet hair hung over her shoulder. “I did a quick workout in the living room. Figured I’d rinse off. You want to go grab late lunch or early dinner in a little while or something?”

  “I thought you were just sitting on the couch, watching TV?”

  “I was. And then I did a workout on my phone app.”

  “Ah,” Josh said.

  Heather ducked back inside the shower and let the curtain close.

  Josh looked down and saw the bulge of the ring box in his pocket. He needed to know. He could never ask her to marry him with the thoughts lingering in his head. He needed to press. “So Jeff was here when you were working out?”

  “Huh?” she said.

  Josh knew damn well that she’d heard him. “I said so Jeff was here while you were working out.”

  She poked her head out of the shower curtain again then let it close.

  “Oh, yeah, he stopped by looking for you. He said he was on his way home from somewhere. I don’t know. He was only here for a second.”

  From the first word to the last, the entire excuse sounded like bullshit.

  “Weird that you didn’t mention that when I messaged you,” Josh said. “Because I’d already been home before I messaged you. And I saw Jeff’s truck here. And you said that you were just watching TV and didn’t mention that he was here.”

  “Like I said, he was only here for a second.”

  “Right. But that doesn’t really answer my question,” Josh said.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “I want to know why he was here and why you didn’t tell me he was. See, he knew that I wasn’t going to be home, and he didn’t text me that he was stopping over. And he was here, and you didn’t mention him being here. And the goddamn bed is made. And you’re in the shower.”

  “What are you trying to say? What, do you think that we were screwing around or something? We were just talking.”

  “Now you were just talking? I thought he stopped by looking for me and was only here for a second. But now he was here and you guys were just talking? Talking about what?”

  “I don’t know. Things,” Heather said.

  “What the hell kind of things do you and Jeff have to talk about?”

  “Ugh,” Heather said. “Just drop it already.”

  “So if you came home and you saw one of your friends’ cars here and I was in the shower and you questioned me about it and I gave you some half-ass not-believable bullshit answer, you would just drop it? That’s what you’re saying?” The anger that had been brewing was reaching a full boil.

  “Oh my God, Josh. This isn’t working. You and me. It’s just not—” She paused. “Working. I’m not going to sit here and do this with you.”

  Josh shook his head. He let out a sharp breath and looked down. He cracked his neck to the side. “You’re not going to do this with me. I catch you with my friend and you aren’t going to do this with me?”

  The water stopped, and Josh saw her hand as she snatched a towel from the towel bar outside the shower.

  “Are you sleeping with him?” Josh asked.

  She didn’t immediately respond.

  “Answer my question,” he said.

  The curtain pulled open, and Heather stood wrapped in a towel. Her face said everything that Josh needed to know. He wanted to grab her, choke her, and beat her. He did nothing but stand there and watch her walk from the bathroom.

  Chapter 2

  I’d gotten the call halfway through my scrambled eggs, at a little after seven in the morning. Steve, who’d gone into the office early to wrap up some paperwork, met me in the station’s parking lot with an Explorer from the carpool, and we rolled out. Just a few minutes after eight o’clock, I stood inside the doorway of a small Spanish-style house in Melrose. The Miami neighborhood, located northwest of downtown, was one of the oldest communities in the city. The homes were generally small, and most had been built in the thirties. Steve and I had just arrived on scene. He went to the officers gathered out front, and I went straight to the house.

  “Harrington,” I heard.

  I put eyes on the dark-haired uniformed officer who called for me—Sergeant Elian Fernandez from our Central District.

  “Fernandez,” I said.

  “We’re starting to see too much of each other.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Any new news on Jake Fox?” he asked.

  Responsible for nine deaths including that of his own sister, Jake Fox was a former child star that we’d put away just months before. Fernandez had worked with us on the investigation.

  “Waiting on a court date,” I said.

  “I’m sure that’ll be fun.”

  I shook my head just thinking about the media coverage that the trial would get—coverage that Jake Fox would eat up. I let out a sharp breath and got back on topic. “So what are we looking at here? Other than the obvious.” A man lay dead in the kitchen area, and another lay face down in the small home’s living room, between an old couch and a coffee table. Aside from the coffee table and couch, the living room was empty. No television, no other furniture, nothing hanging on the walls, empty.

  “Looks like a smash and grab,” Fernandez said. “Or smash, kill, and grab.”

  “Do we have IDs on these two?”
I asked.

  “Andre Jackson and Aaron Meyer. That one there is Meyer.” Fernandez motioned to the guy on the floor in the kitchen.

  “Priors?” I asked.

  “How much time you got? Typical gang-member profiles. Drugs, guns, battery. Jackson did a stint on a robbery charge.”

  “Dealers, though?” I asked.

  “Pretty safe bet.”

  “So what is going on with this house?”

  “Vacant,” Fernandez said. “But it’s too clean to be a drug house and obviously too empty to be someplace that anyone is living in.”

  “Do we know who owns it?”

  “We’re looking into it.”

  I pointed at the ceiling fan spinning overhead. “Someone is paying to keep the lights on.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. We’ll get someone looking into the utilities on the place.”

  “All right. What are the neighbors saying?” I asked.

  “Not much, which is to be expected. The only thing that we got was that the house was empty until a day or two ago and it was two guys who came running out of here. Younger. One wearing a red shirt and the other wearing a black shirt with a black hat.”

  “That should make finding the shooters pretty easy,” I said with a good dose of sarcasm.

  “Yeah, well, everyone is blind and doesn’t know anything around here. It’s just how it is until someone gives them up. If someone gives them up. The crime scene tells us a little. Someone booted the door and put these two guys down. Pretty much right away. This guy over here doesn’t look like he made it off the couch. We’ve got shell casings from two different weapons, a nine-millimeter and a forty-five.”

  “Did we find any weapons in the house?” I asked.

  “There’s a shotgun in the bathroom. And this guy over here has on a shoulder holster.” Fernandez pointed at the guy near the couch. “This cat looked like he was unarmed unless he’s got a gun in his waistline.” He pointed his chin at the downed man in the kitchen. “But even if he did, it looks like he was trying to get away when these guys came in. Rounds went into his back. Guessing he was going for the door there.”