Dead Center

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by Susan Sleeman


  Grady’s mouth dropped open, and it took him a moment to regain control of it to speak. “You knew about it? About the truck damage?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Tommy had nothing to hide. In fact, when he heard about the vagrant dying and that his vehicle matched the hit-and-run driver’s vehicle, he went straight to the police so they’d know about the deer and could check out his truck.”

  Grady sat forward, Ainslie’s hand dropping away as his brain worked to process this information. “And he wasn’t just using that as a coverup?”

  His dad shook his head. “They swabbed the blood on the front just to be sure.”

  “Plus, he had an alibi for the time the vagrant died,” his mom added. “And the deer was on the side of the road where he hit it, and the damage matched a deer, not a person.”

  Grady sagged in his chair. “Then Uncle Tommy didn’t kill that guy.”

  “No.” His mother pressed her hand on his. “Have you thought all these years that he did?”

  Grady nodded. “I was afraid to come forward because I thought it would tear the family apart.”

  “Oh, my poor boy. That’s a lot to carry.” She squeezed his hand.

  He felt like that nine-year-old kid again, only this time he’d finally been able to tell his mom about the terrible secret he’d been carrying. The relief nearly overwhelmed him, and he had to think hard about breathing.

  Breathe in. Out. Inhale. Exhale. He had this. It was over. He could move on. Finally. Move on. Live life like God intended. Free and in His will. A heavy weight floated from his shoulders.

  “It’s over. All over. And everything is fine.” He looked at Ainslie, who had a broad smile on her face. “More than fine.”

  Her eyes glistened with tears. Of joy, he hoped. “I’m so happy everything worked out like this.”

  Grady wished he was alone with her so he could draw her close and talk about that forever with her. “I’m just sorry I wasted so many years when I could’ve been free from it.”

  “God works everything for our good.” His mom planted her hands on the table and came to her feet. “Now, if that’s all you needed to talk about, I want all of you out of my kitchen so I can finish getting supper ready. Everyone should be arriving soon.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “I mean it. Skedaddle now. You too, Lyle.”

  Grady took Ainslie’s hand and helped her to her feet. “I want to apologize in advance for what I’m about to put you through.”

  “Now come on, son.” His mother swatted a hand at him. “I know you don’t have a lot of practice bringing a girl home to meet us, but you just got her here. For heaven’s sake, don’t scare her away.”

  “Don’t worry.” Ainslie locked gazes with Grady. “I don’t scare easily, and it’ll take a lot more than his comment to get rid of me.”

  But maybe she did scare easily.

  When the family room—a roaring fire blazing in the fireplace—filled with Grady’s three brothers, two sisters-in-law, three nieces, two nephews, the infamous Uncle Tommy, Grady’s great aunt, and his grandma, Ainslie was overwhelmed. She’d never been in a room with so many family members in her life.

  Grady took her hand. “You look shell-shocked.”

  “Honestly, I am,” she readily admitted. “I didn’t expect a big family dinner tonight. I thought that, once you broke the news to your parents, it would be called off.”

  Grady shook his head. “I should have told you Mom wouldn’t have canceled, no matter what happened. Sunday night dinner has never been called off. Not for the birth of a grandchild. A tornado. A flood. She’s very serious about it.”

  “I guess so.” Ainslie admired the commitment to family that she’d sorely missed and had always wished she’d been a part of. Even now, overwhelmed or not, joy, good-natured ribbing, and love filled the room to the rafters. And what a blessing that was. She didn’t know how Grady had ever left it behind.

  His eyes narrowed with deep concern. “Do you think you can handle it, or do you want to take a quick walk to clear your head before we sit down to eat?”

  Oh, the walk. That would be perfect. She moved closer to him. “Would you think less of me if I opted for the walk?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But I bragged to your mom that I didn’t scare easily.”

  “You’re not really scared, right? Just a bit overwhelmed.”

  “I don’t actually know. Let’s take that walk and talk about it.”

  “I’ll grab your jacket.” He squeezed her hand and eased through the crowded space, dodging an unsteady toddler wobbling toward a table for support, a stuffed bunny in his arms. Ainslie loved seeing the children most of all. She could easily imagine having Grady’s children and bringing them up in the way she’d longed to be raised.

  Irma came out of the kitchen and brushed the back of her hand over her forehead. Her cheeks were rosy red, her floral apron dotted with fresh stains. She zoned in on Ainslie and made her way across the room. “It’s a lot to take in with such a small room.”

  Ainslie nodded. “If it’s okay, Grady and I are going to take a little walk. Just to clear my head.”

  “Oh, I get it.” She smiled. “I remember meeting Lyle’s family for the first time. There were three more brothers in that family, and they all had four children apiece. We met in the small farmhouse that we came to live in after we got married, and I swear there were kids hanging from the dining room chandelier.” She chuckled, and her eyes crinkled with joy.

  “I have a much smaller family. Just me and my brother.” Ainslie didn’t know how much to share, but Irma was so warm and open that Ainslie opted to continue. “And I’ve never gone home to meet a guy’s parents either.”

  Irma searched her gaze. “You love my son, though, right?”

  “I do,” Ainslie said, putting as much oomph behind her words as she could so Irma didn’t doubt Ainslie’s commitment to Grady.

  “Then all of this?” She waved a hand. “This isn’t important now. Just love him, and you’ll find a way to incorporate what he loves into your life.”

  Ainslie instantly knew she was going to come to love this woman. “I might need some help.”

  “With the family?” Irma’s gaze narrowed.

  Ainslie shook her head. “Football. I really hate it.”

  For a moment Irma didn’t move, but then she tossed back her head and laughed, her red cheeks rising.

  Ainslie had no idea what she’d said to cause this reaction. “What’s so funny?”

  Irma inched closer. “I don’t like football either. Not one little bit. But I’ve learned how to hate it in full view of everyone else and not let them know. You ask my Lyle or Grady—anyone here really—and they’ll say I love the sport.”

  Something cemented between them at that moment. Something even more important than getting the recipe for the cookie bars. “Then you’ll have to share your secret with me.”

  “No secret.” She settled her hands on her curvy hips. “I just love Lyle and he—”

  “Loves football.”

  “Exactly.”

  Grady came back with her jacket and helped her slip into it. He looked between them, a question in his eyes. “You two look like you’ve got some big secret.”

  Ainslie faced Irma. “Secret? Not really. Just some very sound advice being passed along that will make our relationship so much stronger.”

  “Ah, she’s telling you to run for the hills while you can, right?” He chuckled.

  She tucked her arm in his and winked. “Let’s make a break for it.”

  His smile faded, and he led her outside. The moment she closed the door, he turned to face her. “You’re kidding, right? You do want to come back after the walk?”

  “Do you want me to?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Then, Grady Houston, I will be back today and as many times as you want. Because you are the man I love, and I want to see you happy.”

  He cupped the side of her
face. “And I want to see you happy, too. Forever happy with me.”

  She smiled up at him, and he swung her into his arms. She didn’t need more than his arms tightly folded around her to know that their dreams had come true and their forever together had just begun.

  Enjoy this book?

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  A committed and loyal bunch of readers like you.

  If you’ve enjoyed Dead Center, I would be very grateful if you could leave an honest review on the bookseller’s site. It can be as short as you like. Just a few words is all it takes. Just click or tap on the link below and you will jump to the right page to post your review. Thank you very much.

  DEAD CENTER REVIEW

  Want to see more of the Truth Seekers in action?

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of the other books in my Truth Seekers Series where the Cold Harbor characters work side-by-side with the Truth Seekers of the Veritas Center.

  * * *

  BUY DEAD EVEN - BOOK 6

  Maya Glass, toxicology/controlled substances expert with FBI Agent Hunter Lane

  When she discovers her worst nightmare…

  When Maya Glass—the Veritas Center’s toxicology/controlled substances expert—goes to check on her scientist friend after a cryptic phone message, Maya stumbles upon her worst nightmare. A deadly toxin has been released, her friend’s assistant has died in his secluded island lab, and her friend is missing. Worse yet, Maya is exposed to the deadly botulism toxin and she needs help. Fast. Problem is, the only person she can think of with the right contacts is her former love and FBI Agent Hunter Lane.

  Will she let him help her or go it alone?

  Hunter warns the feisty and tantalizing Maya to back down, but when it becomes clear that he needs Maya to locate her missing friend and find the killer, Hunter knows they must work together to stop the killing spree before the killer gets even and ends Maya’s life.

  Chapter One

  Warning! Death Ahead. Land At Your Own Risk.

  The boat pitched under Maya Glass’s feet, and she grabbed the railing. She rolled her eyes at the sign.

  Death ahead. Seriously?

  Her friend Fletch’s idea of a joke. Not hers for sure. A fellow scientist, Dr. Fletcher Gilliam, had positioned numerous signs warning of death on the beaches of his private island in the Willamette River near Portland, Oregon. No one found it funny except him. Just the kind of geeky and eccentric thing the near hermit was always doing.

  The boat captain, a fellow with a heavy belly draping over khaki pants and wearing a nautical cap, stepped from his cabin and marched toward her in the August sunshine beating down on the boat. He’d idled the motor, now a steady hum, and without the breeze, perspiration beaded up on her forehead. She was starting to get cranky.

  The captain swayed with the river’s movement, his frown deepening. “I’m not landing there, Dr. Glass,” he shouted to be heard over the thrum of the boat’s idling motor. “Not with those signs. No way.”

  Maya waved his words away. “It’s just my friend’s idea of a joke. He likes his solitude, and he had a problem with boaters who ignored his private property signs. They invade the place to picnic on his beach and explore the island. He put those up to curtail the problem.”

  The captain planted a hand on the railing next to her and lifted a bushy eyebrow as he faced the single-story concrete building that resembled a bunker. “What does this Fletcher guy do on his island? I mean, that building looks like a business, not a home.”

  Fletcher researched toxins and viruses for the government and private companies, but there was no way she’d tell the captain that. “He’s a scientist.”

  The captain pursed his lips and eyed her. “A scientist who studies what?”

  She shrugged lightly. “He’s always changing his focus. But there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Right, nothing,” He stared over her shoulder at the building.

  “Hey.” She forced out a smile. “Do you think I’d be visiting him if there was a problem?”

  “No.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I suppose not. But still, I don’t think the crew will go for it.”

  Maya wanted to sigh like he’d just done. Let it go on and on. Why hadn’t she chosen to rent a boat instead of renting a boat and crew? Because she was a landlubber and knew nothing about boating, that’s why. She’d likely have killed herself if she’d tried to get to the island on her own. She’d visited Fletch many times before, but the boat tour company she’d always used had gone out of business, and she’d had to find a new one.

  Now she was stuck explaining everything to this wary captain. “Have you ever heard of the Veritas Center?”

  He swiped a handkerchief over his bald head. “Yeah, I think so. They’re on the west side. Do DNA testing, right?”

  She nodded. “And process forensics for law enforcement. I’m the toxicology and controlled substances expert and a partner there. So you can trust me when I tell you it’s safe to land the boat and wait for me at the dock.”

  He bit his lip and looked back at one of his crew members. “I don’t know.”

  “What if you dropped me at the dock and then came back out here to anchor where you can see me when I’m ready to leave? Would your crew agree to that?”

  “Let me ask them.” He spun, his rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the deck.

  She wasn’t one to accept failure, and she wouldn’t today. Not with the cryptic voicemail Fletch had left three days ago. She got out her phone and listened to it again.

  “Maya. It’s Fletch. You won’t believe what they’re planning to do. I don’t even believe it, and I need someone to confirm. Someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut and has top-notch scientific skills. That’s you. Get here as quickly as you can. Please. It’s important. Hurry.”

  The message ended, the silence feeling ominous to her.

  She could easily imagine him in his lab, his curly red head bent over his lab table, his face covered in a scraggly beard because he wouldn’t take the time to shower much less shave. His latest research in front of him. Maybe his assistant, Carson Delvalle, next to him or at another table. Likely another table, as Fletch really did need his space. Fletch’s deep brown eyes would be narrowed behind thick glasses, pondering whatever problem he was working on.

  That was typical Fletch. Leaving a message wasn’t. They’d been friends for years, and she would’ve come running, but she was out of town testifying in court. She’d called him back. Multiple times. Got his voicemail and left messages, which he hadn’t returned. If it was anyone else, she’d worry, but Fletch was scatterbrained and often ignored calls. He probably didn’t even need her anymore and thought that, by not calling her back, she would figure that out. But she wouldn’t take any chances, just in case.

  The captain marched back to her. “We’ll do it. Drop you off, I mean. But anything hinky happens, and we’re out of here and you find your own way home.”

  She smiled, though worry formed in the pit of her stomach. After Fletch’s phone call, maybe she should consider something hinky was going on.

  Didn’t matter. She was here to help her friend, and she wasn’t leaving until she knew he was all right. She pulled her shoulders back and came to her full five-foot-nine-inch height. “Let’s go ahead and dock.”

  He gave a sharp nod and returned to the controls. The motor roared to life, and he piloted the boat to the long wooden dock. A young deckhand swung a rope into the air and captured a post on the dock to pull them in. He lowered a short gangplank and stood back, looking at her like she had the plague or something equally as deadly.

  She resisted saying something sarcastic. He was uneasy, and she needed him to get back to the mainland.

  “Go ahead, Doctor,” the captain said. “No o
ne’s going to join you on that dock.”

  She picked up her backpack and shouldered it, taking her time moving down the dock where the odor of rotting fish rose up to assault her nose. She felt like she was walking the plank or being exiled, not going to visit a friend.

  “You are so going to pay for this, Fletch,” she muttered as she stepped onto the buoyant dock. She turned and waved at the captain, but he’d already returned to his cabin, and the deckhand was busy setting them free.

  Listening to the revving motor on the boat fleeing to a safe distance, she strode down the dock. She glanced back to see that the boat was already a blip in the river, but the captain was true to his word, and the deckhand was tossing the anchor overboard.

  She stepped onto firm ground, grateful to be on land since she often suffered from motion sickness. Today had been a good day, and her stomach was barely upset, but now that she was off the boat with a cool breeze, the sweltering temperatures wrapped around her like an unwanted blanket. She swiped a hand over her forehead and took the winding stone path toward the single-story building. Fletch was devoted to his work but had severe anxiety disorders that kept him confined to his own space. The very reason he’d had his own lab constructed with living quarters at the back of the building.

  Weeds and perennials co-mingled along the path, but the weeds were winning and the path narrowing. Fletch needed to get someone out here to do his yard work, but landscape people had similar issues with the signs. Not to mention the difficult task of hauling their equipment in a boat. Maybe she could help Fletch out there. As the managing partner of the Veritas Center, she had a vast array of contacts with service businesses. Surely, she could get a landscape company to come out here. If Fletch would allow it.

  She reached the door, pressed the bell, and looked up at the security camera so he could get a good look at her face and buzz her in. She waited, a soft breeze playing over the grasses that swayed in a feathery dance, but no one answered the bell.

 

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