“What kind of surprise?” Charlotte asked.
Bubbles and Savannah gave her matching looks—faked confusion, furrowed brows.
“Surprise?” Bubbles said. “Who said anything about a surprise?”
“Savannah did, and you obviously know exactly what she’s talking about.”
“Maybe I do.” Bubbles stood, planting her hands on her narrow hips. “And maybe I’m too good at keeping secrets to spill the beans. If Adam wants to plan something like this without consulting you—”
“Bubbles,” Savannah shouted, jumping to her feet. “You’re going to ruin everything.”
“I most certainly am not,” Bubbles huffed. “And mind your tone when you’re talking to me. I am your elder, after all.”
“And I’m your favorite girl, remember?” Savannah retorted. “Because I keep you out of trouble and make sure you don’t knit ugly sweaters for Christmas presents.”
“Well!” Bubbles huffed.
“Ladies, how about we all just calm down?” Charlotte tried to intervene, but the two were on a roll, and she’d learned from a month of experience that they liked it that way.
“Calm down?” Savannah growled. “Calm down? She’s going to ruin all the planning we’ve been doing. And I am not going to stand around here watching it happen. Come on, Clover,” she snapped. “Let’s go for a walk.”
She stalked to the door and probably would have walked inside, but Adam appeared in the doorway, his hair mussed, his eyes shadowed, his gaze sweeping over the little group and landing on Charlotte.
He smiled, and everything in her smiled back.
“Adam,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I didn’t think you’d be back in town until the morning.”
“My schedule opened up, so I thought I’d come early,” he said. “I knocked, but no one answered.”
“You know you don’t have to knock. The door is always opened to you.”
Savannah snorted. “You two get cornier every time I see you,” she said, but there was a touch of wistfulness in her voice and in her eyes.
“They’re not corny. They’re in love,” Bubbles responded.
“We’re also not opposed to having time alone,” Charlotte said. Neither of her housemates got the hint. They stayed right where they were, looking on as she took Adam’s hand and led him across the deck.
“You look tired. How about we go for a walk, and you tell me about your day?” she suggested, and he smiled, that easy gentle smile that she loved so much.
“Actually, I had other plans.”
“Do they include chocolate?” Savannah asked. “Because I have a hankering for some, and the snack cupboard is currently empty.”
Adam ignored her, his focus on Charlotte.
Something in his eyes, in the somberness of his expression, made her pulse race.
“What’s wrong, Adam?” she asked, and he shook his head, touched her cheek, letting his finger trail down to the pulse point in the hollow of her throat.
“Nothing. When I’m with you, everything is right,” he responded. “I’ve missed you, Charlotte.”
“I’ve missed you, too. The weeks are long without you around, but at least we get to have the weekends together.” She kissed him, just a gentle touch of lips, and he smiled.
“I guess I’m not making myself clear.”
“You’re not,” Savannah cut in. “A kindergartener could do it better.”
“Hush,” Bubbles chided. “He’s a grown man. He can handle this without your help.”
“Hopefully,” Adam murmured, his gaze steady and unwavering.
“I really don’t know what’s going on,” Charlotte said. “But it might be easier to figure out without the peanut gallery around.”
“We can leave,” Bubbles said, grabbing Savannah’s hand.
“Stay,” Adam responded, still staring into Charlotte’s eyes.
“What I’m trying to say is that I miss what we had, Charlotte,” he said quietly. “The late-night talks in front of the fire. I miss waking up with you beside me. I miss reaching out for you in the middle of the night and knowing you’ll be there. I miss that feeling of contentment I used to get, knowing that you were in the house with me, that we shared the same space, the same world.”
“We do share the same space and the same world.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “We always have.”
He covered her hand with his, pressing it closer. “I should never have walked away from you.”
“Daniel’s death was hard on both of us,” she said, her voice tight, her chest aching. “We were young.”
“No. We were scared. We were both too afraid to let the other know how deeply we were mourning, how dark our lives had become.”
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m still afraid. I don’t want to ever feel that kind of hurt again.”
“I can’t guarantee you won’t, but I can guarantee that I’ll stand beside you through whatever comes. I love you, Charlotte. Will you marry me again?” he said, and she could only nod, tears streaming down her face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring set with a yellow-green stone.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, touching the square-cut gem.
“It’s Daniel’s birthstone,” he said, and her breath caught, her heart aching with joy and with sorrow.
He pulled her into his arms, kissing her gently and passionately, promising without words that he’d do exactly what he’d said—stand beside her. Always and forever.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “And I can’t wait to marry you again.”
“That’s good to know,” he said, taking her hand and leading her across the deck. “Because we’ve already set the date.”
“We?”
“Yeah.” He gestured to Savannah and Bubbles. “We discussed it last weekend, and we decided that sooner is better.”
“I agree,” she said, patting Clover’s head as he nudged between them.
“Great!” Savannah said, wiping something that looked suspiciously like a tear from her cheek. “I went to that little boutique in town and bought you the prettiest white dress. Lots of lace and eyelet. It’s really flowy. You’re going to love it.”
“And I chose the shoes,” Bubbles cut in.
“I returned them. You’ll like my choice better, Charlotte. You have an appointment to get your nails done tomorrow, and the cake is going to be delivered to the church right after service on Sunday.”
“Sunday?” Charlotte repeated, her head spinning as she tried to understand what they were saying.
“Your wedding day,” Savannah said, glancing at her watch and whistling softly. “And we’ve got a ton to do before then. You got your suit, right, Adam?”
“Right.”
“And I need to get the bow tie for Clover. The pastor is all for having him at the church. We’re going to have a potluck after the ceremony. Nothing fancy, but I think it will be fun.” Savannah tore off her apron and grabbed Bubbles’s hand. “Now that I’m thinking about it, we should probably get the flowers now. And the bow tie. And maybe a few other things.”
“We’ll have time tomorrow,” Bubbles said.
“Sure we will, but they want time alone now,” Savannah hissed, dragging her into the house.
“Wow,” Adam breathed. “I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I asked them to help.”
“The three of you planned a wedding in a week?” Charlotte said, still not certain she understood.
“We had a little help. Wren and Honor made the invitations and had them hand-delivered to everyone at your church.”
“But...you planned it in a week?”
“We did, but it can be changed if you’d rather wait. We can have the wedding in a month or a year. Whenever you’re ready, I will be,” he said.
“I’m ready,” she said, her heart leaping as he smiled.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss. “Because as far as I’m concerned, Sunday can’t get here soon enough.”
She laughed, taking his hand and calling to Clover.
They walked down to the beach, the moon rising above the distant mountains, the water that Charlotte had hated for so long lapping at the shore. She didn’t notice the inky blackness now, though. She didn’t think about the darkness or the depth or the danger of it. She focused on the lights that twinkled on its surface, a sweet reminder that she had never been alone. God had been there through the darkest days, and He would be there through the brightest.
She squeezed Adam’s hand, but she didn’t speak. Her heart was too full for words.
He seemed to understand.
He pulled her closer, his arm around her waist, his steps matching hers, every part of them in sync as they turned back toward the cottage and walked into their future together.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, look for these
other exciting books by Shirlee McCoy:
PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS
HER CHRISTMAS GUARDIAN
EXIT STRATEGY
DEADLY CHRISTMAS SECRETS
MYSTERY CHILD
THE CHRISTMAS TARGET
MISTAKEN IDENTITY
CHRISTMAS ON THE RUN
Available now from Love Inspired Suspense!
Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from TRACKING DANGER by Terri Reed.
Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
Dear Reader,
Last year, my ten-year-old niece was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of sarcoma. As you can imagine, this was devastating for our family. I have watched my sister travel this very difficult road, and I have been reminded of how short life is. More than that, I have been reminded that bad things often happen to good people. None of us are exempt from heartache and none of us are immune to doubts and struggles. He is here, though. In the darkest times and in the brightest ones. If you doubt it, look at the moonlight dancing on an ocean wave, watch the goldfinches flit from branch to branch and listen for the sound of His love whispering through the leaves of the tallest oak tree. You will find Him there.
In the FBI: Special Crimes Unit series, I explore the darker side of human nature. The men and women who work for this elite team each have unique backstories and traumas that have made them determined to protect the most vulnerable citizens. Like us, they sometimes wonder if God dwells in the toughest places. I hope you’ll journey with them as they find their answers and learn the truth of His extraordinary grace and love.
Blessings to you, my friend.
Shirlee McCoy
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.
You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.
Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired Suspense every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS of your choice
OR
EXCLUSIVE GIFTS from your favorite authors or series.
Click here to join for FREE
Or visit us online to register at
www.HarlequinMyRewards.com
Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or obligations.
Tracking Danger
by Terri Reed
ONE
“Wait!” Dill, Texas, Deputy Sheriff Serena Evans called to her fellow sheriff’s deputy standing on the porch of the one-story cottage. He placed the red rose and white sheet of paper, which no doubt had the words I’m coming for you scrawled in black script, into an evidence bag.
Serena and her K-9 partner, a red-and-white-speckled English springer spaniel named Ginger, hurried up the walkway of the home of the latest target of the serial killer known as the Red Rose Killer. The perpetrator had already claimed five victims.
Thankfully, the latest intended target was still alive. The Dill Sheriff’s Department had a chance to catch the fiend before he made good his threat. And Serena anticipated this time the sheriff would give her and Ginger a chance to prove themselves. That he’d called her in on her day off gave her hope he was finally taking them seriously.
Deputy Sheriff Mike Burnside paused with a quick glance at the open front door. “What?”
“Let Ginger take a smell before you seal the bag,” she said.
Mike frowned. “Bruno already sniffed them.” Referring to the department’s other K-9 officer: “Harry and the dog followed the scent to the road. The guy took off in a car, and they lost his scent.”
“But Ginger won’t lose the scent,” Serena told him. “She’s trained for this.” Serena didn’t add the German shepherd was great at apprehension and protection but he wasn’t a scent hound. Ginger was a hunting dog, trained in wilderness air search.
With another glance at the open door, Mike held out the opened bags. “Fine. Hurry.”
“Sniff,” she instructed Ginger. The dog stuck her brown nose in each bag and then let out a woof, clearly ready to get to work.
“Evans! Get in here,” Sheriff Dave Reinholt yelled from inside the house.
Mike jumped with a grimace even though he wasn’t the one being yelled at and quickly zipped the bags before hustling away with the evidence.
Serena braced herself and led Ginger into the house. “Yes, sir. I’m here, sir.”
The sheriff, an imposing man in his sixties with white hair and broad shoulders, ate up space in the living room. He gestured to the early twentysomething woman seated on the couch. “This is Cindy Willis.”
Serena recognized her from the Dill Main Street Diner. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, Miss Willis.”
“Thanks.” Mascara-streaked tears ran down the younger woman’s frightened face.
Empathy tightened Serena’s chest. Everyone in town was on edge.
“You’re to take Miss Willis to the airport and make sure she gets on her plane safely,” the sheriff said. “She’s going home to Minnesota.”
Serena’s stomach dropped. “But, sir. Ginger and I can trail the suspect.”
The sheriff lifted one bushy eyebrow. “Are you defying an order?”
Knowing he’d relish an opportunity to fire her because the mayor had strong-armed him into hiring her. He hadn’t wanted a female in his department. She straightened her shoulders and struggled to keep her irritation in check. “No, sir. I’ll do as ordered, sir.”
His gaze narrowed. “I thought so. Then you can go home.” He turned away dismissively and left the house.
A low, simmering anger burned within Serena, but she forced herself to rein in her emotions as she regarded Cindy. “We should go,” she said gently. “The sooner you’re out of town, the better.”
Once they were on their way to the airport, Cindy said, “I don’t know why I’m a target.”
From what Serena knew of the killings there was no pattern. He was picking his targets at random.
“I’m glad you’re here,”
Cindy confessed. “I just don’t know who to trust. I mean, the killer could be anybody.”
Cindy’s words repeated through Serena’s mind long after she saw the young woman’s plane rise in the blue spring sky.
Instead of heading home as ordered, Serena returned to the Willis house determined to plead with the sheriff to let her and Ginger work. He may not like having a female deputy, but surely he couldn’t deny them the opportunity to do what they were trained to do.
Crime scene tape fluttered in the March breeze across the front porch, but everyone was gone. It took only a moment for her to decide what to do. She climbed out of the vehicle, released Ginger and put on the dog’s soft-sided working vest, then attached a long lead.
“Let’s see if you can pick up the scent again,” Serena said to her partner.
Ginger put her nose to the ground. Patiently, Serena followed as Ginger led her around the side of the house to the flower bed beneath the bedroom window.
Two boot footprints marred the earth.
Heart racing, Serena had a feeling these belonged to the Red Rose Killer who’d obviously stood here spying on Cindy.
Though she knew the sheriff or Deputy Burnside would have already photographed and documented the prints, she snapped off a few images of the prints using her cell phone, noting the smashed Ashe juniper seeds in the tracks of the boot’s tread. She quickly glanced around. No Ashe juniper nearby.
Serena pointed to the prints in the dirt. “Sniff.”
Ginger put her nose to the earth and smelled the print and the grass all the way to the street, and then she lifted her head, nose twitching in the air. She faced east, her tail straight, one paw lifted.
Anticipation revved Serena’s blood. “Go find.”
The dog didn’t hesitate; she took off with Serena hurrying behind her, holding the end of the lead. Ginger stopped more than six miles later, panting at the fenced property line of the Double Pine Ranch. Serena hadn’t met the new owner of the ranch, Jason Hargrove, but she’d seen him around town and had heard from the townsfolk that he kept to himself.
Could he be the Red Rose Killer?
* * *
He almost had her.
Night Stalker Page 18
