New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Darynda Jones won a Golden Heart and a RITA for her manuscript First Grave on the Right. A born storyteller, she grew up spinning tales of dashing damsels and heroes in distress for any unfortunate soul who happened by, annoying man and beast alike. Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband and two beautiful sons, the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys.
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Praise for A Bad Day for Sunshine:
‘A Bad Day for Sunshine is a great day for the rest of us – captivating characters, great writing, pace, humour and suspense’
Lee Child, New York Times bestselling author
‘A Bad Day for Sunshine is everything you want from Darynda Jones . . . and more! Laugh-out-loud funny, intensely suspenseful, page-turning fun with a sassy new heroine you will love. Prepare to be hooked by this witty, sexy, and thrilling new series from one of my favourite authors!’ Allison Brennan, New York Times bestselling author
‘Swoon-worthy heroes, quirky characters, and a page turning mystery. Move over Stephanie Plum, Sunshine Vicram has arrived. Prepare yourself. This book is a keeper!’ Christie Craig, New York Times bestselling author
‘Darynda Jones has done it again. With trademark humour, eccentric yet relatable characters, and masterful storytelling, she takes us on a journey we don’t want to end. A Bad Day for Sunshine is a great day for readers!’ Tracy Brogan, bestselling author
BY DARYNDA JONES
Charley Davidson Series
First Grave on the Right
For I Have Sinned*
Second Grave on the Left
Third Grave Dead Ahead
Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet
Fifth Grave Past the Light
Sixth Grave on the Edge
Seventh Grave and No Body
Eighth Grave After Dark
Brighter Than the Sun*
The Dirt on Ninth Grave
The Curse of Tenth Grave
Eleventh Grave in Moonlight
The Trouble with Twelfth Grave
Summoned to Thirteenth Grave
Sunshine Vicram Series
A Bad Day for Sunshine
*ebook only
PIATKUS
First published in the US in 2020 by St Martin’s Press, New York, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Piatkus
Copyright © 2020 Darynda Jones
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-0-349-42716-4
Piatkus
An imprint of
Little, Brown Book Group
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
www.hachette.co.uk
www.littlebrown.co.uk
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
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
For my agent, Alexandra Machinist, because she is jet-fueled awesome and she loved this book from the moment I uttered my bizarre, seven-word pitch.
She gets me.
She really gets me.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you, dear reader, for picking up this book! I’m so excited to share Sunshine’s story with you. And Auri’s. And the lovely, lovely Levi’s. Le sigh . . .
This book owes a lot of thanks to a lot of people, first and foremost those who believed in this book even before I did: my wonderful agent, Alexandra Machinist, and my incredible editors, Jennifer Enderlin and Alexandra Sehulster. Alex, let’s be honest, this book would have sucked without your incredible insight and genius-level storytelling abilities. I thank you. My family thanks you. My readers thank you. Because sucky books suck. Nobody needs sucky books in their lives.
Thank you to everyone at St. Martin’s Press, Macmillan Audio, and ICM Partners for all the work you do, even when a manuscript shows up a few days (ahem) late. A special shout-out to Marissa, Mara, Brandt, and Anne-Marie, who are like my gang if gangs drank wine and talked books.
But I also had a ton of help from professionals in law enforcement who made it look like I knew what I was doing (insert maniacal laughter), and I am forever grateful for their willingness to answer all my stupid questions because, yes, for the record, there are such things as stupid questions. But thanks guys, for not caring and answering them anyway. Ursula and Malin Parker, Donna Mowrer, Keith Thomas, and Wendy Johnson, I hope I done you proud. Thank you especially, to Uschi and Wendy for reading the book and giving me invaluable feedback.
And, as always, thank you to my ace-in-the-hole, the crazy-talented Trayce Layne, who puts the lime in the coconut and laughs inappropriately with me, because inappropriate laughter is the very best kind.
And thank you to the lurves of my life, Netters and Dana and Quentin, whose identities I stole for a little while to make this book that much more fun.
Last but not least, thank you to my family. You make every breath worthwhile.
1
Welcome to Del Sol,
a town full of sunshine,
fresh air, and friendly faces.
(Barring three or four old grouches.)
Sunshine Vicram pushed down the dread and sticky knot of angst in her chest and wondered, yet again, if she were ready to be sheriff of a town even the locals called the Psych Ward. Del Sol, New Mexico. The town she grew up in. The town she’d abandoned. The town that held more secrets than a politician’s wife.
Was she having second thoughts? Now? After all the hubbub and hoopla of winning an election she hadn’t even entered?
Hell yes, she was.
But after her night of debauchery—a.k.a. her last hurrah before the town became her responsibility—she thought she’d conquered her fears. Eviscerated them. Beaten and buried them in the dirt of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.
Either Jose Cuervo had lied to her last night and given her a false sense of security, or her morning cup of joe was affecting her more than she thought possible.
She eyed the cup suspiciously and took another sip before looking out the kitchen window toward the trees in the distance. The snow had stopped last night, but it had restarted with the first rays of dawn. Snowstorms wer
en’t uncommon in New Mexico, especially in the more mountainous regions, but Sun had been hoping for, well, sun her first day on the job. Still, snow or no snow, nothing could stop the brilliance that awaited her along the horizon.
Thick clouds soaked up the vibrant colors of daybreak and splashed them across the heavens like a manic artist who’d scored a new bottle of Adderall. Orange Crush and cotton candy collided and dovetailed, making the sky look like a watercolor that had been left out in the rain. The vibrant hues reflected off the fat flakes drifting down and powdering the landscape.
Sun was home. After almost fifteen years, she was home.
But for how long?
No. That wasn’t the right question. Somewhere between her karaoke rendition of “Who Let the Dogs Out?”—which bordered on genius—and her fifth shot of tequila, she and Jose had figured that out the night before as well.
This was the opportunity she’d been both anticipating and dreading. Since she had a job handed to her on a silver platter, she would stay until she found the man who’d abducted her when she was seventeen. She would stay until he was prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. She would stay until she could shed light on the darkest event of her life, and then she would put the town in her rearview for good.
The right question was not how long she would stay but how long it would take her to bring her worst nightmare—literally—to justice.
She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear and appraised the guesthouse her parents had built, studying it for the umpteenth time that morning. The Tuscan two-bedroom felt bigger than it was thanks to the vaulted ceilings and large windows.
All things considered, it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. It was shiny and new and warm. And the fact that it sat on her parents’ property, barely fifty feet from their back door, was surprisingly reassuring.
She’d worked some long hours as a detective. Surely, as a sheriff, that wouldn’t change. It might even get worse. It would be good to know that Auri, the effervescent fruit of her loins, would be safe.
The kid felt as much at home in the small tourist town as Sun did, having spent every summer in Del Sol with her grandparents since she was two. The fact that she’d twirled through the apartment when they first saw it like a drunken ballerina? Also a strong indicator she would be okay.
Auri loved it, just like Cyrus and Elaine Freyr knew she would. Sun’s parents were nothing if not determined.
And that brought her back to the malfeasance at hand. They were living in an apartment her parents had built. An apartment her parents had built specifically for Sun and Auri despite their insistence it was simply a guesthouse. They didn’t have guests. At least, not guests that stayed overnight. The apartment was just one more clue they’d been planning this ambush for a very long time.
They’d wanted her back in Del Sol. Sun had known that since the day she’d left with baby in hand and resentment in heart. Not toward her parents. What happened had not been their fault. The resentment that had been eating away at her for years stemmed from a tiff with life in general. Sometimes the hand you’re dealt sucks.
But if she were honest with herself—and she liked to think she was—the agonizing torment of unrequited love may have played a teensy-tiny part.
So, she ran, much like an addled schoolgirl, though she didn’t go far. Also, much like an addled schoolgirl.
She’d originally fled to Albuquerque, only an hour and a half from Del Sol. But she’d moved to Santa Fe a few years ago, first as an officer, then as a detective for SFPD. She’d only been thirty minutes from her parents, and she’d hoped the proximity would make her abandonment of all things Del Sol easier on them.
It hadn’t. And now Sun would pay the price for their audacity, their desperate attempt to pull her back into the fold. As would Auri. The fact that they didn’t take Auri’s future into consideration when coming up with their scheme irked. Just enough to cause tiny bouts of hyperventilation every time Sun thought about it.
Auri’s voice drifted toward her, lyrical and airy like the bubbles in champagne. “It looks good on you.”
Sun turned. Her daughter, short and yet somehow taller than she had a right to be at fourteen, stood in the doorway to her room, tucking a T-shirt into a pair of jeans and gesturing to Sun’s uniform.
Instead of acknowledging the compliment, Sun took a moment to admire the girl who’d stolen her heart about three seconds after she was born. Which happened to be about two seconds before Sun had declared the newborn the most beautiful thing this world had ever seen.
Then again, Sunshine had just given birth to a six-pound velociraptor. Her judgment could’ve been skewed.
Though not likely. The girl had inherited the ability to stop a train in its tracks by the time she was two. Her looks were unusual enough to be considered surreal. Sadly, she owed none of her features to Sunshine. Or her grandparents, for that matter.
Auri’s hair hung in thick, coppery waves down her back. Sunshine’s hair hung in a tangled mess of blond with mousy brown undertones when it wasn’t French braided, as it was now.
Auri’s hazel eyes glistened like a penny, a freshly minted one around the depths of her pupils and an aged one that had green patina around the edges. Sun’s were a murky cobalt blue, much like her grandmother’s collection of vintage Milk of Magnesia bottles.
Auri’s skin had been infused with the natural glow of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. Sunshine was about as tan as notebook paper.
The girl seemed to have inherited everything from her father. A fact that chafed.
“Mom,” Auri said, pursing her pouty lips, “you’re doing it again.”
Sun snapped out of her musings and gave her daughter a sheepish grin from behind the cup. “Sorry.”
She dropped her gaze to the spiffy new uniform she’d donned that morning. As the newest sheriff of Del Sol County, Sun got to choose the colors she and her deputies would wear. For both their tactical and dress uniforms, she chose black. Sharp. Mysterious. Slightly menacing.
And because she wanted to look her best first day on the job, she’d opted for the Class A. Her dress uniform. She ran her fingertips over the badge pinned above the front pocket of her button-down. Inspected the embroidered sheriff’s patch on her shoulder. Marveled at how slimming black trousers really were.
“I do look rather badass, don’t I?”
Auri adjusted the waist of her jeans and offered a patient smile. “All that matters is that you think you look badass.”
“Yeah, well, it’s still crazy. And if I’m not mistaken, illegal on several levels.” How her parents got her elected as sheriff when she’d had no idea she was even running was only one of many mysteries the peculiar town of Del Sol had to offer. “Your grandparents are definitely going to prison for this. And so am I, most likely, so enjoy my badassery while it lasts.”
“Mom!” Auri threw her hands over her ears. “I can’t hear that.”
“Badassery?” she asked, confused. “You’ve heard so much worse. Remember when that guy pulled out in front of me on Cerrillos? Heavy flow day.” She pointed to herself. “Not to be messed with.”
“Grandma and Grandpa won’t go to prison. They’re too old.”
Unfortunately, they were not too old. Not by a long shot. “Election tampering is a serious offense.”
“They didn’t tamper. They just, you know, wriggled.”
Sun’s expression flatlined. “I’ll be sure to tell the judge that. Hopefully before I’m sentenced.”
Auri had been about to grab her sweater when she threw her hands over her ears again. “Mom!” she said, her chastising glare the stuff of legend. The stuff that could melt the faces off a death squad at fifty yards. Because there were so many of those nowadays. “You can’t go to prison, either. You’ll never survive. They’ll smell cop all over you and force you to be Big Betty’s bitch before they shank you in the showers.”
She’d put a lot of thought into this.
Sun
set down the cup, walked to her daughter, and placed her hands on the teen’s shoulders, her expression set to one of sympathy and understanding. “You need to hear this, hon. You’re going to have to fend for yourself soon. Just remember, you gave at the office, never wear a thong on a first date, and when in doubt, throw it out.”
Auri paused before asking, “What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s just always worked for me.” She walked back to her coffee, took a sip, grimaced, and stuck the cup into the microwave.
“Grandma and Grandpa can’t go to jail.”
Sun turned back to her fiery offspring and crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to acknowledge the apprehension gnawing at her gut. “It would serve them right.”
“No, Mom,” she said as she pulled a sweater over her head. “It wouldn’t.”
Sun dropped her gaze. “Well, then, it would serve me right, I suppose.” The microwave beeped. She took out her cup and blew softly, having left it in long enough to scald several layers off her tongue, as usual. “But first I have to check out my new office.”
While she’d been sworn in and taken office on January 1, she had yet to step foot inside the station that would be her home away from home until the next election in four years. Barring coerced resignation.
She and Auri had taken an extra week to get moved in after the holidays. To prepare for their new lives. To gird their loins, so to speak.
“I need to decorate it,” she continued, losing herself in thought. “You know, make the new digs my own. Do you think I should put up my Hello Kitty clock? Would it send the wrong message?”
“Yes. Well?” Auri stood up straight to give her mother an unimpeded view. She wore a rust-colored sweater, stretchy denim jeans, and a pair of brown boots that buckled up the sides. The colors looked stunning against her coppery hair and sun-kissed skin.
She did a 360 so Sun could get a better look.
Sun lowered her cup. “You look amazing.”
Auri gave a half-hearted grin, walked to her, and took the coffee out of her mother’s hands. That kid drank more coffee than she did. Warning her it would stunt her growth had done nothing to assuage the girl’s enthusiasm over the years. Sun was so proud.
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