by Lyz Kelley
BLINDED
An Elkridge Series Novel
Lyz Kelley
Contents
Blurb: Blinded
Praise for Lyz Kelley’s writing and a special gift just for you.
Prologue
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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Author Notes
Also by Lyz Kelley
Spurned: Book 2: Chapter One
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading: BLINDED
More Books By Lyz Kelley
Copyright
Blurb: Blinded
A small town murder.
A coincidental meeting.
A second chance at love?
A florist who refuses love…Mara dreams died the night a drunk driver killed her parents and sister, and left her permanently wounded. After months of therapy, she’s finally adjusting to her new reality while working to save her mother’s floral business. When the first boy she ever had a crush on walks back into her life, she wonders if she’s getting a second chance to find happiness.
A detective who wants to protect…somebody killed Joey’s brother. After a ten-year absence, the big city detective returns home to Colorado for the funeral knowing he will be pressured to find Sheriff Sam’s killer. Joey’s instincts say whoever murdered his brother is part of something more sinister than the Elkridge deputies can handle. And, Mara is being stalked. Is the mystery man the killer?
But, will they learn to compromise?
Joey’s boss is pressuring him to return to Seattle. Mara refuses to leave Elkridge. Neither wants to be apart…but will they take the risk and make the necessary sacrifices to be with each other?
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The Molly: Award for Excellence
“A writer who will go the distance.”
“Masterful dialog.”
“I look forward to seeing this book on the bookshelves.”
The Sheila: Finalist
“The story has great bones! The plot is interesting, the characters are unique…there are so many things to love about this story.”
“H & H are both very appealing and certainly not cookie cutter characters.”
“Your opening is a grabber.”
“This is one of the best books I’ve read in a good long while. CONGRATULATIONS.”
“Prose is sleek, polished and smooth, a near frictionless read.”
The Marlene: Finalist
“You have a lovely writing style with dialogue and scene setting.”
“The sensory details are rich, and I was able to visualize the scenes. I chuckled several times at your turn of phrase and thought they were very sassy and smart.”
“The plot seems to have it all: conflict, a mystery and a romance. So kudos for creating an interesting story.”
The Golden Network: Finalist
“The setting is painted well and the characters are engaging with very different voices.”
“The manuscript is clean and tightly written.”
“The manuscript reflects beautiful writing.”
Prologue
Elkridge, Colorado
Current Day
“Oh, God. Joey…bro. What have I done?”
Sheriff Sam Gaccione scraped a fist full of gravel and ice into his hand that was going numb. His mind pleaded with his body to feel something. Anything. Attempting to roll to his side, he fought for a shallow breath and spit a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the ground, watching as the splatter slowly absorbed into the snow.
Think. You have to think.
Wrapping his fingers around a jagged rock, he used every ounce of energy to write something short and significant. Joey would catch his meaning. His brother knew him better than anyone.
“You just wouldn’t back off, would you?” A familiar voice resonated from somewhere behind him. Sam’s body jerked and rolled when a booted foot drilled into his gut. Excruciating pain turned the world black for a moment or two.
Sight returned slowly, and Sam squinted against the sun, mesmerized by the vibrant blues and greens above and around him. The cold from the ground beneath his back seeped into his bones. He tried to lift his arms, but his left would no longer move, and his right was pinned beneath his back. A face suddenly came into focus.
“You,” Sam said. “But why?” He tasted the tang of blood pooling in his mouth—a confirmation his time was running out.
“We all have skeletons in our closet.” The man enunciated each word, every one a crossbow bolt of disgust aimed directly at Sam. The man looming over him drew in a long breath and then slowly exhaled a sickly-sweet smell of marijuana.
“Why?” Sam managed again.
“You know about protecting family,” the man sneered. “Isn’t that what you’re doing? Trying to protect this town?”
“This is…big.” Sam fought to stay alert.
“Granted, it’s gotten out of hand.” The man paused to scan the old logging road and surrounding woods, then glanced up to see a hawk fly overhead. His gaze returned to Sam. “Too many people are involved now. The more people, the more mistakes—the more mistakes the more people like you who windup dead. Moving that quantity of drugs was hard enough, but now with the…”
“Women?” Sam prompted.
Suddenly, hands began patting his body, searching pockets until the man found what Sam hoped he wouldn’t. “Nice try, Sheriff, but no one will hear this recording. Our nice little visit has come to an end.”
Blood pumped from the single bullet hole in his chest and pooled onto the ground. “Wait…” he choked, trying and failing to lift his head. “Your…word. Leave…sisters…alone.”
“You’re not in a position to make demands. In a few minutes nothing will matter to you anymore.”
Fear clogged his throat. The silence tick, tick, ticked by like a bomb on a countdown to detonation. But there was no bomb, only a critically wounded body. Knowing he had only seconds left, Sam fought against the blackness closing in.
The tall man nudged his right shoulder with his boot yanking him back to consciousness. “It’s unfortunate you got in the way. I’ll do what I can,” the man promised.
Footsteps barely audible against the crisp winter breeze disappeared altogether.
He fought for air. Still clutching the rock, he made one last effort to scratch out a message for his brother. He focused every bit of energy into his now-useless hand.
Come on.
The feelings in his legs and arms had faded. In fact, cold, bitter cold, was the only sensation remaining. That, and regret.
Life wasn’t about a job or politics or old family quarrels. No, it was about the small moments…like playing video games with his nephews, or teaching his nieces how to fly fish, or famil
y dinners.
Joey. Oh, God.
Protect them.
Chapter One
Elkridge, Colorado
Three days later
Joey Gaccione glared at the window display of heart-shaped Mylar balloons, pink and white teddy bears, and an assortment of floral arrangements. If the obligation to get his mom flowers didn’t sit across his shoulders like a three-hundred-pound weight, he’d have climbed right back in his rental car and left.
He’d forgotten today was Valentine’s Day. He’d forgotten a lot of things lately. Maybe because he just didn’t want to remember.
Reaching for the flower shop’s door, Joey forced his feet to move forward, like he’d forced himself to board a plane in Seattle, forced himself to rent a car in Denver, then forced himself to drive to the little town of Elkridge, Colorado. His home. A place he’d avoided for more than ten years.
Entering Elkridge Blooms, he took a shallow breath. The pungent smell of the floral shop’s pollens triggered an urgent need to sneeze, and wreaked havoc with his dutiful determination to buy something for his mother. Before he could exhale, a flash of gold captured his attention and he turned, instantly recognizing the woman behind the counter.
“Be with you in a minute,” Mara called out, a sweet melody that briefly eased the turmoil plaguing him for the past several days. She gently presented a bouquet to her customer. “Here you go, Mr. Walters. Thank you for coming in today. Tell Mrs. Walters I hope she feels better soon.”
A stirring of first-crush memories helped his lungs expand, providing a much-needed pump of fresh oxygen.
Mara Dijocomo hadn’t changed much. In fact, the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the way her chin thrust forward when she wanted to make a point, and her dancing eyebrows with a multitude of expressions could still make him forget what he was thinking. At eighteen, he could sit for hours listening to the lyrical tone of her voice, or watching her gentle, yet sometimes determined movements.
She swatted at a tendril of midnight-black hair that gently curved around the edge of her chin, one of many long strands falling from the haphazardly tied knot at the base of her neck. Peaceful contentment mellowed her memorable face. Her sunflower-strewn apron furnished the splash of color that had caught his eye. Like a feather, she floated through her daily routine.
Seeing the youngest family member behind the counter made sense.
Joey idly inspected the older man, tallying the visual clues—retired military. He traded nods with the older man before he turned back to his high school buddy’s younger sister.
Mara rotated slightly. “May I help you?”
Help sounded great, especially hers, but highly unlikely. Her beautiful smile greeted him, while her ice-blue eyes stared past him, oddly off-target, just enough to notice. Her body swayed while she shifted from foot to foot, giving him the impression she had a very long list of to-dos that contradicted her serene expression.
He watched. He measured.
A pure yet raw understanding and quiet respect formed. The car accident had taken more than her family. The tragedy had also left her less than whole—a damn shame. He’d thought about her over the years, a little less often after he heard she was engaged.
“May I help you with something?” she asked again, this time with anxiousness fraying the edges of her question.
“Mara, it’s me, Joey. Joey Gaccione.”
“Joey?”
The instant joy reflecting in her face made his ears buzz. “You remember me?” Energy zinged up and down his spine, and sizzled out to his fingers and toes.
“Of course I remember you. How could I forget? You spent an entire year tutoring me, helping me ace my math and science classes.” She clutched the counter. “I heard about your brother. Do they know who did it? I heard someone say it was a poacher.”
“That’s what I’ve been told,” he choked out, while at the same time working to damper his grief. He efficiently compartmentalized the surge of emotion and put his brother’s death neatly in an imaginary box. He’d deal with his feelings another time, when he was alone, just not now.
Mara’s facial expression softened. “The town feels your loss.” Her expression and voice brimmed with compassion. “Sam was well respected. Especially since he grew up here…” Mara bit her lip, and the contemplating emotion crossing her face drew his attention.
“How come I get the feeling there’s something else you want to add?
“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing, it’s just…”
“Mara?”
A yellow lab followed her from behind the counter and leaned in for a scratch behind the ears. Her fingers grazed the top of the dog’s head, threading through the thick fur. The bliss on the pooch’s face made Joey pause, while her inquisitive, off-center gaze gave his lungs a high-voltage kick-start.
“Last week, Sam stopped me while I was walking home from the grocery store and asked if I wanted a ride home.”
A ping of jealousy whacked him on the chest. After all this time and she could still get his heart to beat a bit faster. “That was nice of him. You’re a beautiful woman, Mara, and I can see why he made the offer.”
She reached for the counter. “No. You misunderstand me. It wasn’t like that.” Her grip tightened to the point her knuckles turned white.
“Okay…then why did he stop?”
“That’s just it. I’m not sure. Sam knows Buddy’s afraid of riding in cars, and I only had a few more blocks to go until I was home, but he insisted. In fact, he was very insistent, and almost forced Buddy and me into his SUV. Even after I was inside the store, I heard him recheck the front and back doors to make sure the store was locked up tight. I remember thinking at the time the extra security measures were odd.”
He rested his fist on his hip, feeling the absence of the service revolver that usually tugged at his waist. “Did you ask him why he was so insistent?”
“No. But I kept running into him—more than usual—and now I get the feeling I’m being watched. Maybe, I’m just being paranoid, but I keep wondering if that night didn’t have something to do with his death.”
A murder? Now a stalker?
Anger, trepidation, and frustration all combined to create a nasty knot in his gut. He took a deep swallow and listened to his boss’s voice of reason. Don’t get caught up in the anger. Let the deputies do their jobs. Trust in the system. They’ll catch the shooter. Just be there for your family. Attend the funeral. Nothing more. He’d promised his boss he’d be back in Seattle in a week, or less. Serial killers don’t wait for detectives to attend funerals, his boss’s last words resonated through his thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” Mara said, a light pink staining her cheeks. “I’m sure you didn’t come in here to talk about your brother. I bet you came in to buy some flowers. Am I right?”
“Nice change of subject.” The warmth returning to her eyes created a similar feeling in his heart. “And, you’re right, I need a thing of flowers for my mom.”
“For Valentine’s Day?”
“No, just something to cheer her up. And, maybe a couple of roses for my sisters and niece.”
Do you know what kind of flowers or plants your mom likes?”
He scanned the thirty- by forty-foot store. Plants in decorative containers surrounded tables crammed with small flowering pots. Flowers delicately arranged in heart-shaped jars and glass vases lined every shelf of the refrigerated case, and cards, candles, and specialty gifts occupied the remaining crevices. The cozy store might have created a sense of well-being if not for the fact he didn’t have a clue what type of flowers his mom liked.
Frustration and that old sense of not living up to expectations crept back in. “Sorry. I don’t have a clue.”
“No worries. We’ll figure something out.” The oh-how-sweet way she made him feel created the urgency to pick her up and sweep her out the door.
Instead of spending the next several hours hearing about his failure as a son, brother
and uncle, he’d rather be taking a girl like Mara to his favorite Seattle restaurant overlooking the Sound, ordering up some fresh Pacific Coast halibut, maybe grilled asparagus, and finishing off with a dark chocolate mousse for two. If he got lucky, she would invite him to her place or accompany him home. Then again, who was he kidding? The case he’d been trying to solve for the past eight months took every waking hour. He hadn’t had time to even think about women, dating or sex.
He wished now he’d taken the time to text his sister for his mother’s favorite flower, but he hadn’t. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Taking flowers to a woman is always a good idea. Don’t give up yet. We’ll figure this out.” Mara dropped her chin in concentration. The cute crinkling of her forehead and scrunched nose made him smile. “How about some red carnations with purple iris?”
Red? The image of blood pooling on the ground flashed through his mind. “I’m thinking red might remind Ma of Sam’s death, so I’m not sure that will work.”
“Right. That won’t do. Hmmm.” Mara doodled small, complex circles and curves on the counter with her delicate fingers. He tried imagining what the picture would look like if she used a pencil. The intricate pattern swirled left, then right into a tight curl, then spun out like a ballerina.
“I put an arrangement together this morning that might work,” she said, interrupting his contemplations. “It’s bright and cheerful, with pink carnations, green hydrangea, stargazer lilies, and alstroemeria to make the arrangement kind of fun. It’s over here in the case.”
The description didn’t help, since carnations, roses, and daisies nearly exceeded the upper limits of his flower knowledge. She moved to the refrigerated cabinet and pulled the cellophane-wrapped arrangement from a bucket of water. “What do you think? I can put the flowers in a pretty vase, or tie a soft green ribbon around the bouquet if you prefer.”
