Nancy Taylor Rosenberg - Sullivans Law

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Rosenbergs next thriller
SULLIVANS JUSTICE

Coming from Kensington in May 2005

Thursday, December 23rd, 12:30 P.M .

D eath was waiting, crouched inside the garage of Suzanne Porters beautiful home.

Her shoes slapped against the wet pavement only a few blocks away. The sky had been overcast when shed left on her daily run. Now it was raining, and she was soaked. Because her hair was layered, its thick strands stuck to her face and annoyed her. The only way to tame it was to wear a baseball cap. She didnt like to wear hats, though, as they gave her headaches.

Trivial things couldnt upset her today. She loved Ventura when it rained. Crossing to the other side of the street, she glanced through an opening between the houses and caught a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean snaking its way along the shoreline, the whitecaps churning. The surfers must be in heaven, she thought, seeing their heads bobbing in the water as they waited to catch the next wave.

The town had grown around the historic San Buenaventura Mission, founded in 1782. Suzanne was delighted with her husbands hometown, framed on one side by the sea and the other by the mountains. She felt certain they would spend the rest of their lives here. Her parents were dead and she had become very fond of Teds mother and father. In addition, they had a wide base of friends, some who had known Ted since childhood.

She was filled with anticipation. Several months back, shed decided on the perfect Christmas gift for her husband. Actually, it was a combined birthday and Christmas gift, but she was too excited to wait two weeks to give it to him. Her husband restored cars as a way to relax from the stress of his job. Once they were finished, it could take several months to find a buyer. He was always eager to start on another project, but he couldnt due to lack of space. Three weeks ago, she had secretly sold off some of the stock shed owned prior to their marriage and hired a contractor to expand their garage so it would hold four cars. She would show him the plans on Christmas Day. Ted would love it.

She had spent the last week preparing for the holiday. This was Suzannes year to have Teds family over, and she wanted everything to be just right. Her sister-in-law, Janice, was a gourmet cook. Rather than take a chance, shed arranged to have the meal catered by La Orange, one of the best restaurants in Ventura. Shed threatened Ted that she would tell his mother he looked at pictures of naked girls on the Internet if he told anyone. So what if she was a lousy cook? She could make salads and spaghetti. Most of the time they ate out.

Before she married, Suzanne had been a bond trader on Wall Street. When her hair had started turning gray at twenty-eight, she knew it was time to shop for a husband. Ted had been in New York on a business trip. He brokered for Merrill Lynch. She was taking a break while considering new career options.

During the holidays, she lost her will power and ate everything in sight. The night before shed wolfed down half a box of Godiva chocolates. Since shed turned thirty the month before, she knew her indulgence would show up on her thighs. Her daily workout consisted of an hour lifting weights in her home gym followed by a two mile run. That morning, shed forced herself to step on the dreaded scales. Shed expected three pounds, maybe four tops. How could she have gained eight pounds in two months? All her clothes were a size six. She decided to extend her run.

Crossing the street again, she picked up the pace. By the time she reached her house, she was winded. Shed only added one mile, for Gods sake, she told herself. A few years ago, she could run ten miles and hardly break a sweat. She leaned over and clasped her knees, then started up the sidewalk. The rain had eased up, but the weather report had predicted another front would move in by evening. She missed snow.

Suzanne had grown up in Connecticut. She remembered the snowball fights in her familys front yard on Christmas Day, ice skating on Whitman Lake, and sledding down Black Canyon with her brothers. Sure the constantly sunny skies were nice, but when the average temperature ranged in the seventies, she sometimes forgot what month it was. And it didnt seem like Christmas without snow. At least the rain provided some atmosphere. She laughed, thinking she should throw white sheets on the lawn and turn up the air conditioner.

Seeing her neighbors nineteen-year-old son pull into the driveway, she walked over to speak to him. Rap music blasted through the windows of his black Mustang. His mother had bought it for him on the condition that he only drove his motorcycle on the weekends. Franny was afraid he was going to get killed.

Suzanne waited until he turned off the cars ignition and then approached him. Is Franny home from work yet? Im planning a surprise party for my husband and I wanted to invite your parents.

You have a phone, dont you? Eric Rittermier said, getting out of the car and slamming the door. He was a tall, brooding young man with pale skin and dark eyes. He wore two diamond stud earrings in his left nostril, a blue knit cap pulled down low over his forehead, and a stained gray sweatshirt with low-slung baggy jeans.