Fatal Accusation

by Marie Force

  Ginger came in with Noah, who’d been changed into the light blue dress shirt and tiny khaki pants Shelby had laid out for him to wear to his parents’ wedding. He let out a happy squeak at the sight of his mother.

  Shelby took him from her sister and kissed his chubby cheek. “Are you ready, buddy?”

  He replied with the baby chatter she loved so much.

  She handed Noah back to her sister and tucked her hand into her father’s arm. “Shall we?”

  “By all means,” Davis said.

  * * *

  AVERY HAD BEEN on pins and needles all day, hoping their surprise wedding would go off without a hitch so Shelby would have the best birthday ever. All he needed to be happy was for her and Noah to be happy. And to know their little threesome would soon become a foursome was like the sweetest pink frosting on his beloved’s birthday cake. He’d ordered two cakes—one for her birthday and one for their wedding—both done in tasteful shades of pink.

  He’d like to think he could be trained, and by now, he understood that the color pink would play a big role in his life with Shelby.

  That was fine with him. In her he’d found a woman who loved with all her heart and soul, who gave everything she had to the people she cared about, and he knew he was so damned lucky that she loved him—that she still loved him, even after everything he’d put her through.

  She’d made him a better man. She’d made him want to be a better man. She’d made him a father by allowing him to play such an important role in her son’s life, and he’d never again take her or what they’d found together for granted.

  As he watched her start down the stairs on the arm of her father, heading toward the living room where their families and closest friends had gathered, he switched the music from the classic rock he’d had playing to the traditional wedding march that let everyone in the room know this wasn’t going to be your average birthday party.

  Avery tuned out everyone who wasn’t his Shelby so he wouldn’t miss a second of this life-changing moment in which she came toward him, her gaze fixed on his. Around them, he could hear the startled gasps of their guests and their excited whispers. Cell phone camera flashes flickered all around them, but he didn’t so much as blink while she took the final steps to join him.

  When she smiled, his heart gave a happy lurch.

  Her sister Ginger handed Noah to him, as they’d planned ahead of time.

  He and Shelby wanted their son with them when they pledged their hearts and lives to each other.

  The judge he’d asked to perform the ceremony came into the room from Avery’s home office where he’d asked the man to wait until they were ready. With everyone else in position, he tipped his head toward his brother Josh, asking him to come to the front of the room.

  Josh smiled and moved to stand beside Avery and Noah.

  In the group, he found his onetime crush, Sam Holland Cappuano, standing next to her husband the vice president, both of them now his close friends. The madness of his attraction to Sam seemed like a lifetime ago since he’d put it behind him to focus exclusively on the woman who would soon be his wife.

  He would be forever thankful to Sam and Nick for bringing Shelby into his life.

  Davis escorted his daughter to the spot they’d chosen in front of the fireplace that cast a warm, cozy glow over the room full of the people they loved the best. Davis hugged and kissed his daughter and shook Avery’s hand.

  “Take good care of my little girl.”

  “Always.”

  Davis nodded and turned to join his wife and the rest of their family.

  Avery’s parents were close by too, and with all the most important people in place, Avery turned his full attention to Shelby.

  “You’re exquisite,” he whispered.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  Noah tried to grab his mother’s hair, and Avery averted disaster by shifting the little guy to the opposite hip. Then he offered his free hand to Shelby and nodded for the justice of the peace to do his thing.

  They’d decided on simple, traditional vows that were exchanged efficiently. When it came time for the rings, Avery handed Noah to his uncle Josh and found the rings in his pocket. He handed his to Shelby and then slid the one they’d chosen for her onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

  Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she put his ring on. She looked up at him. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Avery, you may kiss your bride.”

  Since there was nothing he’d rather do than kiss his bride, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her until Noah squeaked in protest at being ignored by his parents.

  They broke apart laughing, and Avery took Noah from his brother.

  As planned, the judge once again asked for everyone’s attention. “It is also my honor today to certify the adoption of Noah Faircloth Hill by his daddy, Avery. I declare Shelby, Avery and Noah an official family. May the Hill family live together in peace and love for the rest of their lives.”

  Everyone in the room was in tears as they cheered for the family he and Shelby had created together.

  And as she smiled up at him with tears in her eyes, he had everything he’d ever dreamed of and more than he’d ever dared to wish for.

  * * *

  Do you want MORE Sam and Nick?

  Go to Marie’s website at marieforce.com/fatal to read a bonus short story and some frequently asked questions and answers about the series!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  THANK YOU FOR reading Fatal Accusation! I hope you enjoyed being back with Sam, Nick and their crew for book 15. I want to also thank you for the amazing comments, posts and messages about Fatal Reckoning. I was so touched by the outpouring of love for Skip, Sam and me after that book, which touched so close to home. I never imagined Sam and I would go through losing our dads together, but that’s what happened and my lovely readers were there for me—and for Sam. Thanks for that.

  Join the Fatal Accusation Reader Group at Facebook.com/groups/FatalAccusation/ to discuss this new book with spoilers allowed and encouraged. And join the Fatal Series Reader Group (no spoilers please) at Facebook.com/groups/FatalSeries/ to be among the first to hear the latest series news.

  A huge thank-you to all the people who make it possible for me to do what I love: my husband, Dan, and my HTJB team: Julie Cupp, Lisa Cafferty, Holly Sullivan and Nikki Colquhoun, as well as my amazing publicist, Jessica Estep. Thank you to my HQN editors Allison Carroll and Alissa Davis, and my longtime beta readers Anne Woodall and Kara Conrad. As always, my appreciation goes to Newport Police Captain Russell Hayes (retired), for his input into each of the Fatal books. Special thanks to my fantastic “last line of defense” Fatal beta readers: Jennifer, Sarah, Julianne, Betty, Gina, Sheri, Marianne, Jenny, Viki, Mona, Maricar, Irene, Tiffany, Kelley, Martha, Isabel, Karina and Phuong.

  And to the readers who love Sam and Nick so much... My profound gratitude for embracing this series over the last nine and a half years and making it so fun to write. Much more to come!

  xoxo

  Marie

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Stalked in Conard County by Rachel Lee.

  Stalked in Conard County

  by Rachel Lee

  Chapter 1

  The full moon glowed almost as bright as an icy sun. It poured through the window in Haley McKinsey’s bedroom, reaching through her eyelids and gently prompting her to wake.

  As her eyes fluttered open, she stared with amazement at the brilliance of the silvery orb. A small smile curved her lips as she drank in the rare beauty. She’d never seen this from her apartment in Baltimore. Just another thing to make her think more seriously about moving to Wyoming. Inheriting her grandmother’s house in Conard City had initially seemed like a generous gift. She could sell it and use the money for a grea
t many things. Nurses weren’t exactly overpaid.

  But since arriving two days ago, she’d begun to remember the occasional summer visits here, and as the memories came back to her, the house began to feel like it might be her new home.

  Seeing the moon now, enjoying the magic of being awakened by its silvery light, she found another reason to want to remain. There hadn’t been very many vacations here, but there had been enough to give her a stack of good memories.

  Such a beautiful place!

  Lying there in a drowsy, pleasant place, the worries of the world and the past seemed far away.

  Until the face appeared at the lower ledge of her window. She couldn’t see it clearly because of the moon’s brightness behind it, but her heart slammed into high gear and she sat up immediately, trying to think of what she could use for a weapon.

  Even as she had the thought, the face dropped from view. Had someone really been there? Had she imagined it in the hinterland between waking and sleeping?

  With her heart in her throat, her mouth as dry as sand, she wondered if she should even move. Should she go out and look? Should she call the police?

  A Peeping Tom. Maybe only a nuisance and not a threat.

  It didn’t matter. She jumped up like a child scared of the monster under the bed or in the closet. The window was open a crack to let in the cool night air, and she slammed it and locked it. Then she pulled the heavy insulated curtains closed, shutting out the moonlight.

  Resentment filled her. Hard on its heels came anger and fear. Resentment because she so much enjoyed sleeping in her grandmother’s room. As a child, when she’d visited, she had often shared the bed with her grandmother. It was a sacred place.

  Anger because her privacy had been invaded. Lying in the moonlight, she must have been easily visible to the voyeur.

  Fear because as a five-year-old child she had been kidnapped through her bedroom window by a faceless man who had just two days later deposited her on a deserted road outside Gillette, where she had eventually been discovered by a roughneck on the way to work.

  She hurried through the house, checking every window and door to ensure it was locked. Even on the second floor, she drew the curtains against the moon’s beauty. Feeling chilled, she pulled on her red velour robe. Then she sat curled up on the living room sofa, trying to deal with the emotional storm that had been unleashed within her.

  With her knees tucked under her chin, she practiced the breathing exercises her childhood therapist had taught her, at least as well as she could when curled up. Her mind bounced around between calling the sheriff, who wouldn’t be able to do anything because the guy was gone, an urgent but unsuccessful desire to believe it had been a trick of her sleepy mind, and waiting for morning to release her from her dark cave.

  Because, suddenly, this beloved house felt like a cave and she felt trapped in it.

  Don’t be silly, she argued with herself. Just because something bad happened to you over twenty years ago doesn’t mean it will happen again.

  But memories she had buried long ago bubbled up like a hot tar pit, black and ugly. She’d been lucky, she reminded herself. Lucky that her kidnapper had released her unharmed after only two days. Lucky that she had grown up with a protective father and mother, and a grandmother who had given her magical experiences.

  Reminded herself of how the therapist had insisted that she had done nothing wrong, that she had nothing to feel guilty about.

  That she wasn’t a bad girl.

  She thought she’d moved past that. Believed she had moved past that. Then in one split second some jerk had brought it all back.

  She couldn’t allow this. But she still sat in the dark with all the curtains drawn, straining to hear any untoward sound. The prized clock, a genuine Regulator, kept ticking as normal from the dining room wall, a familiar sound from happy times. The scent of her grandmother’s beloved lavender sachets filled the house. No unfamiliar odors, no unusual sounds, crept through the darkened house. It was so quiet, in fact, that her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears.

  She supposed someone else would have the nerve to go outside to see if the guy was still there. She couldn’t bring herself to do that. It wasn’t that she was a coward; it was that his appearance at her bedroom window had cast her back to her abduction as a child.

  Somewhere inside her, that little girl still resided.

  But as her fear began to ease, her ire began to rise. She’d been enjoying a beautiful gift from nature, the biggest, brightest full moon she’d ever seen. That invader had ruined it.

  Hell, he’d ruined more than that, she thought grimly. Would she ever again feel comfortable with sleeping in this house when a window was cracked open as she had tonight? Would she feel she needed to keep the heavy curtains drawn all the time now? That she had to sell this house or live in a cave as long as she stayed?

  Finding that her strength had returned, she rose from the sofa and made her way to the kitchen. Grandma had believed in insulated curtains to save on heat, and she certainly hadn’t shorted the kitchen windows. As Haley turned on the light, she looked at a line of navy-blue curtains that skimmed the top of the backsplash over the sink and completely sealed out the night. She put the battered whistling teakettle on the stove and began to heat water. The ginger jar, a delightful blue-and-white copy of some original, still held Grandma’s favorite green tea. A cup of that ought to return the night to normal familiarity.

  She decided against calling the police before the day completely dawned because the guy was gone, and a bunch of strobing blue, white and red lights on the street might disturb her neighbors. Morning was soon enough.

  She was safe. Of course she was safe. She’d just arrived in this town and there was no reason for anyone to want to disturb her in any way. So what if some guy had looked in her window, probably out of curiosity. If he was interested in something else, he was in for a surprise. The self-defense classes she’d been taking for years, to deal with the sense of helplessness her abduction had given her, were at the ready.

  Next time, if there was a next time, she wouldn’t allow fear to overwhelm her before she could react. She’d be ready.

  The teakettle shrieked its tuneless note as steam poured out the spout. She rose, spooned some tea leaves into a china cup and filled it with hot water. That brought back memories, too, of how her grandmother would finish a cup of tea and turn the cup upside down on the saucer, spinning it three times. Then Grandma would enchant her by “reading” the leaves that adhered inside the bottom of the teacup. As Haley grew older, she understood it was just a game, but one she’d always enjoyed.

  She wondered if she could read the leaves for herself. That might distract her until the sun replaced the moon in the sky.

  She was beginning to feel foolish for the strength of her reaction to the Peeping Tom. She was safe and snug in a house full of good memories, and she shouldn’t allow anyone to ruin that.

  Determination mostly replaced her instinctive fear, and the soothing ritual of making tea helped considerably. The fragrance of the green tea filled her with warm memories. Memories of her grandma telling her how all tea came from one kind of plant in Southeast China. Of how the difference in flavors was made by how the tea was cured. Of course, Grandma had told her scrupulously, all teas started from the same plant but over centuries the transplanting of those plants had resulted in a few different varietals. But still, she said firmly, tea all goes back to the same plant.

  When they went to the store to buy more tea, young Haley had stared in fascination at all the boxes announcing different names and tried to imagine the old times when tea had to cross perilous mountain routes to reach the rest of the world.

  She could understand, even at a young age, why tea had been so important to so many. Like spices, she thought. The harder it was to get them, the more valued they became.

  The tea tasted
a bit on the old side, and she promised herself she’d get a fresh box in the morning. Grandma must not have been drinking it often toward the end. But then, she’d never let anyone in the family know she was failing until the day before she died.

  The trip down memory lane was relaxing her, as was the comforting tea and thoughts of her grandmother. Then, rising from the mists of childhood, she remembered Roger McLeod. He’d been a few years older than her, but it hadn’t seemed to trouble him. He spent some of his free time with her, playing games or regaling her with local history. “Even grandmothers need a break,” he’d joked once.

  She wondered if he still lived down the street. When she’d met him, he’d been his father’s apprentice, making custom saddles for the horse owners hereabouts. Once she’d been allowed into the workshop and had been amazed how many layers of leather were used, each one treated and stretched and cut to fit some part of the saddle precisely.

  “It has to be comfortable,” he’d explained once. “People who spend long hours riding can’t afford to get sore because the saddle just doesn’t fit right. And there’s the horse, of course. It needs customization as much as the rider.”

  She smiled now, remembering that day so long ago. She’d been what, thirteen? And he’d been graduating from high school. Hadn’t Grandma mentioned him occasionally in her letters?

  He must still be around here. Maybe still in his father’s house two doors down. She smiled at last and decided she’d overreacted to a Peeping Tom. She’d tell the cops in the morning, and they’d check it out. That alone would probably be enough to keep the guy from coming near here again.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall over the freestanding stove and saw that it was shortly past four. She should try to get some more sleep, if she could.

  She climbed back into her grandmother’s bed, feeling its familiarity surround her like a hug. She didn’t crack the window, though, or open the curtains.