by Rita Herron
Table of Contents
Unnamed
ALSO BY RITA HERRON Romantic Suspense Graveyard Falls All the Beautiful Brides All the Pretty Faces All the Dead Girls Slaughter Creek Series Dying to Tell Her Dying Breath Worth Dying For Dying for Love Contemporary Romance Going to the Chapel
Unnamed
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2018 by Rita Herron All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781542049849 ISBN-10: 1542049849 Cover design by Damon Freeman
CONTENTS PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CHAPTER FORTY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CHAPTER FORTY-THREE CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FORTY-NINE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Unnamed
PROLOGUE Five-year-old Korine Davenport climbed into her father’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was big and sweet and wonderful. “Tell me I’m pretty, Daddy.” Her daddy lifted the lid of the music box he’d just given her, and a soft melody began to play. It was the same song from the movie they’d watched last night. The ballerina with the fluffy tutu danced and twirled on the pink satin as her father sang, “You’re so pretty, oh, so pretty, so pretty and witty and bright . . .” Korine planted a big wet, juicy kiss on her daddy’s cheek. Then he helped her onto his feet, and they began to dance. This was the best day ever! Tonight, Santa would come. But she’d already gotten what she wanted—the music box and a new doll. The porcelain doll she’d seen in the store the other day that had red hair like hers and blue eyes that looked like the violets her mother grew in the garden. She was going to name her Ruby. “Look at me and Daddy dancing, Ruby,” she said as they danced through
CHAPTER ONE Twenty-five years later Korine Davenport would never stop looking for her father’s killer. She traced her fingers over her FBI badge as she glanced around the office of her Savannah row house. It was a fixer-upper in a transitional neighborhood, but she’d gotten a good deal on rent. She didn’t care about fancy furniture or expensive things. This house was just a place to hang her hat—no, her gun—at night, not a home. And she was determined to live on her salary, not her inheritance. Money left for her in a trust fund from her father’s will. Money she didn’t want to touch because it would mean she’d profited from his death. His unsolved case was one reason she’d gone into law enforcement. Night was falling, gray clouds adding a creepiness to the property. The real estate agent had hinted that the place was haunted. Ghost stories didn’t frighten her. Not when there were real live monsters out there, predators who hunted both day and night. Notes on unsolved cases were stacked
CHAPTER TWO Korine flipped on the radio as she drove to her mother’s house, her nerves on edge. Visiting her mother was painful, but she couldn’t desert her. Her mother needed her, even if she didn’t act like it. The newscaster from the local public radio station broke into her thoughts. “The safety app, thought to be a lifesaver to some by alerting people of crimes in their area, has come under serious scrutiny. Yesterday three people in the Savannah airport jumped a man they believed to be the mugger targeting tourists in Savannah’s City Market. The man turned out to be an undercover officer. He suffered a broken arm and dislocated shoulder in the assault.” Korine shook her head at the irony. The designer of that app had good intentions. Korine had thought of a dozen ways she could use it. Women, college coeds, and teens could be alerted of a crime being committed and avoid that area. People near a crime scene would know to watch out for a perpetrator and help the police by reporting
CHAPTER THREE The Keeper raised her hands and stared at the blood dotting her palms and fingernails. His blood. She hadn’t meant to get it on her. To taint herself with his evil. But she hadn’t been able to resist. His blood meant he was dying. Suffering. As he should. She tossed the gavel into her bag. She’d take it to her secret place later. Hands shaking, she turned on the hot water and shoved her hands beneath the spray. For some reason, she didn’t want to wash off the blood. But she had to. The police had found his body. They’d investigate. Hunt down his enemies as if they needed to get justice for his killer. Bitterness swelled in her chest. He deserved what he’d gotten. No one on this earth would mourn his loss. Except maybe his wife. And she was just as bad as him. She should have stood up to the man and convinced him it was criminal to allow so many predators to walk free. The crimson blood mingled with the warm water and swirled around and around like a river in the sink befo
CHAPTER FOUR “What do you think that bloody SS means?” Officer Leeks asked. Hatcher didn’t want to freak the young guy out, but a mark like this was symbolic and suggested premeditation. It also suggested that this crime was not an isolated murder. That there would be others. “Agent McGee?” “It’s the justice symbol,” Hatcher said. A car engine rumbled from the street. Hopefully, the FBI evidence response team—ERT—and medical examiner. He turned and spotted a black sedan rolling into the cul-de-sac where he’d parked. Damn, not them. Probably Korine Davenport. Knowing he had to play nice and ignore the fact that they’d slept together—and that despite his wife’s death, he’d fantasized about having her again—he walked toward the vehicle. If this wasn’t his new partner and someone had gotten wind of the murder and come to gawk, he’d make sure they didn’t contaminate the crime scene or take pictures and blast them all over social media before the police informed the family. Moonlight shimmer
CHAPTER FIVE Compassion for Tinsley filled Korine. She couldn’t imagine living every day terrified that a sadistic man like the unsub who’d held the young woman hostage might return to hurt her again. No doubt Hatcher harbored guilt over that. The fact that Hatcher’s deceased wife and this woman had been friends complicated matters more. If Tinsley knew about Korine’s night with Hatcher, she probably wouldn’t want to talk to her either. Tinsley stepped aside, and although she’d said she didn’t want to talk to Hatcher, she allowed them both entry. Korine scanned the foyer—a distressed white hutch held shoes, umbrellas, beach bags, and sun hats, all signs of home and a relaxing getaway. Apparently, though, the woman never left the house to enjoy that ocean or the sand and sun and beach. She and Hatcher followed Tinsley to a small den that looked cozy and quaint. A seashell lamp and photos of the beach, sea turtles, crabs, and the sunset added to the beach theme. A wall above her desk hel
CHAPTER SIX Fog fell like ghostly fingers across the cove, misty rain splashing onto the sand and palm trees, spreading into the mercurial water of the Atlantic as if the shadow of Tinsley’s past had followed her to Sunset Cove. She couldn’t escape it, no matter how far she’d run. And she had run, dammit. She paused by her parakeet’s cage, reached a fin
ger inside, and stroked his head gently. When she’d finally come home, she’d been relieved to know her neighbor had taken care of Mr. Jingles. But she’d churned over the fact that she was keeping the bird locked in a cage. During her abduction, she’d learned what it felt like to be trapped. That night she’d moved Mr. Jingles with her to the cottage and opened his door, giving the bird its freedom. Mr. Jingles used to talk and sing tunes from TV commercials all the time—the reason she’d given him the name. Now, he sat quietly and stared at her as if he were angry because she’d abandoned him for so long. She’d hoped allowing him to fly aro
CHAPTER SEVEN Hatcher scanned the area as he veered onto the mile-long drive to Judge Wadsworth’s house. Live oaks dripping with Spanish moss flanked the drive, the giant branches of the trees curling and bending as if linking arms across the plush acreage to protect its residents. Yet the Spanish moss looked brittle and dry, like an old woman’s scraggly hair, casting an eeriness to the area and reminding him of the legend of Skull’s Crossing, the place where he’d lost his wife. Rumors claimed that two women were murdered there years ago, their bodies dumped in the ocean for the sharks to finish off. Yet the tides had tossed pieces of their remains in the marsh, drawing the gators as well. The women’s souls were caught between land and water, in limbo between heaven and hell. They haunted both the sea and the marsh, their cries echoing at low tide. In the past months, three more skulls had been found at the same place—three that had never been identified. Three suspected to be victims
CHAPTER EIGHT Korine contemplated Mrs. Wadsworth’s reaction and her relationship to her son as she walked to her vehicle. Hatcher paused beside his SUV, his gaze pensive. “They’re hiding something,” Korine said. “I think the judge abused his wife.” Hatcher hit the key fob to unlock his vehicle. “I agree. The son is protective of her.” “I have a feeling he and his father didn’t get along. In the family photographs, they were never together. It was always the daughter with the father and the son with the mother. They must own a place on Seahawk Island, too, close to Tinsley’s. Several of the pictures were near that cove.” “I’ll get Cat to find out,” Hatcher said. “We need to speak to the daughter.” Korine raised a brow. “Tonight?” “We don’t want to give her too much time. The mother probably called her as soon as we left to give her a heads-up.” True. Family members were always primary suspects in a homicide investigation. Eliminating them was part of the job. To do that, it was helpful
CHAPTER NINE Beverly Grant hurried into her town house and made a beeline for the bathroom. She’d forced herself to attend a special counseling session her friend Liz had organized for first responders and others who worked with violent crimes, but it hadn’t helped. She was still wound up and sick to her stomach. Five years she’d worked as a court reporter. She should be used to the ugly, sordid stories of the violence and pain humans inflicted on others. She should be immune. But every now and then some of them got to her. Especially the ones that involved children. No child should suffer. And that monster in the courtroom had shown no remorse on the stand today. Instead, he’d graced the jury with a smarmy smile as if he was proud of the child-porn pictures the prosecutor had shown. Simply typing the vulgar man’s testimony had made her feel vile inside. She flipped on the hot water and scrubbed her hands, but she couldn’t scrub the images from her mind. That sick perv had to pay. So d
CHAPTER TEN Gray clouds shrouded the morning sun, adding a dismal feel to the small garden area behind Korine’s house as she jogged up the steps and let herself inside. Her five-mile morning run usually relieved stress and helped her focus for the day. She needed a shower but poured herself a cup of coffee first, then took it to the garden, a peaceful, quiet reprieve from the city. Except yesterday she had seen someone in the bushes. Senses on alert, she scanned the area but saw nothing except the shimmering mist rising above the treetops. Morning shadows almost made them appear as spirits lingering and lost. Like some homes in the area, the owner claimed this one was haunted. A house with a history always drew interest, although those afraid of ghosts tended to shy away from buying. Others bought for the history that was part of Savannah’s charm. She didn’t mind the ghost stories. The legends of Savannah added character. Star-crossed lovers had allegedly been murdered in the garden, t
CHAPTER ELEVEN Hatcher struggled to keep his anger at bay as they left Andi Rosten’s house. He understood the Rostens’ protective instincts toward their daughter. He’d felt that way toward his wife. But he’d failed her. He didn’t want to fail Andi. Although his job at the moment wasn’t to find her rapist. His job was to find Judge Wadsworth’s killer. The next stop was to see another rape victim. “Tell me about Renee Wiggins.” “Let me pull up the files to refresh my memory. Cat said she updated them with current information.” Korine accessed the information on her iPad. “Renee Wiggins is twenty-three, was studying nursing at College of Coastal Georgia.” “Did she finish?” Korine scrunched her nose as she skimmed for information. “Not yet. She took a couple of semesters off for counseling. But she’s back at school now.” “Good for her. Where does she live?” Korine recited the street address for a small house in Brunswick. “She was engaged, but she broke it off,” Korine said, a note of sadn
CHAPTER TWELVE Rachel Willis was sick to death of the liars she dealt with every day. She slammed the door to her office, frustrated that justice didn’t always prevail. News of Judge Wadsworth’s death had hit the media first thing that morning. The creep had used his authority to browbeat women into doing what he wanted and talked down to females on the job. He tended to be lenient in cases of violence against women—one of those archaic men who held the belief that the woman had incited the man’s rage by the way she dressed or talked or by her makeup. She wouldn’t be surprised if his wife had killed him. Maybe if she did, a good lawyer could get her off. The picture of her own family, her mother and father, mocked her from the credenza. At twenty-one, she’d been idealistic and certain that she could make a difference in the world. She knew firsthand that the system didn’t always work. Her father had spent ten years in jail for a crime he hadn’t committed. Ten years of his life lost bec
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Wadsworth’s personal assistant didn’t seem surprised to see Korine and Hatcher or the warrant. Two file boxes sat on a credenza behind her desk, and a clerk carried another one in and set it with the others. Gretta Breer gestured toward the boxes. “Director Bellows phoned and asked me to gather the materials you need to review. We’ve been working all morning, pulling any cases where complaints or threats were made against the judge for his ruling or his behavior during a trial. I’ve also compiled a folder containing copies of emails, hate mail, and other threats he received.” Her face looked grim. “There’s a lot to sort through.” Hatcher nodded. The suspect pool was growing fast. They needed more manpower. Wyatt had been pestering him to stop by, but he’d avoided his former partner. He couldn’t stand to see him in pain, struggling to walk, when it was his fault Wyatt had been injured. A thirtysomething ash-blonde woman wearing a dark-blue pantsuit walked by, muttering
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Korine sized up Wyatt while he and Hatcher did the man-hug thing. Wyatt was almost as tall as Hatcher, with broad shoulders and a strong jaw. Even wearing sweats, Wyatt’s muscles bunched beneath his black T-shirt and baggy pants. Shaggy dark-brown hair framed a square face, and his skin was slightly pale, probably from being inside and his injuries. He met them at the door, leaning on a cane. She offered her hand and introduced herself. “I’m working with Hatcher now.” “It’s temporary,” Hatcher said bluntly. He must be counting the days until she was reassigned. Wyatt gave her a warm smile and his partner a dry look. “Nice to meet you, Korine. You got your work cut out for you with him.” Hatcher grunted. “How’s the leg?” Wyatt lifted his cane to demonstrate that he could stand on his own, but his wince suggested he was still in pain. “You don’t have to show off because there’s a woman around,” Hatcher said, a mixture of amusement and irritation in his voice. “
I don’t wa
CHAPTER FIFTEEN As the crime scene investigators combed the yard and house, Hatcher phoned Wyatt and filled him in. Next, he called Cat at the bureau. “Pallo Whiting’s brother, Ernest, is not home. Do you have a work address or cell phone where we could trace him?” Computer keys clicked in the background. “No job. He was laid off from a construction gig because he was drugging. Oxy. No cell phone either.” Damn. “Is there another house or apartment he might go to?” Cat sighed. “Not that I have listed.” “What about his daughter and his wife?” “Wife divorced him and took the daughter away during his brother’s trial. She blamed her husband for what happened to the little girl. Denied him visitation or parental rights.” That would have been enough for motive. “Was there any evidence to support her belief that Ernest knew what the brother was doing?” A tense few seconds passed. He assumed she was skimming for information. “Ernest was called to the witness stand and testified that he had no i
CHAPTER SIXTEEN The anguish in the woman’s voice sounded real. She’d obviously loved the little girl, which meant she had good reason to hate Whiting. “Did you know that Whiting escaped prison during a bus transfer?” Hatcher asked. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, that’s why you’re here? You think he’s coming after Lottie?” “Lottie is safe from him.” Hatcher shifted. “Did you know about his escape?” The woman shook her head no. “Do you think he’s coming after me then? Two of the other little girls’ parents and I testified against him.” “You didn’t hear from the other parents after the prison escape?” She shook her head, but her eyes darted to the side table where her phone was. He sensed she was lying, that someone had given her a heads-up. “I haven’t heard from them since the sentencing. We all needed space and time to heal.” Korine cleared her throat. “Where were you last night, Lynn?” Confusion flashed on Lynn’s face. “Why do you want to know where I was?” Hatcher folded his arms. “Ple
