Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Mitzi Pool Bridges
Catch Me If You Can
Copyright
Dedication
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
A word about the author...
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Her eyes stopped on a tall, dark-haired man striding through the crowd with a confidence she remembered all too well. Her heart stopped. When he got to the rope, he lifted it, then looked at her as he came her way. Her deputy tried to stop him. When the man held up an ID, Luther stepped back.
She took a ragged breath. Her fists clenched at her side as he headed straight at her.
He couldn’t be here. Not now. Not ever. He was part of her past. He’d made sure of that.
It took him a minute to get to her. She spent every second willing her heart to still, her anger to subside. His ID was still in his hand. He was working out of the New York office, but she didn’t want him to know she knew that. Or that she looked him up at odd hours of the night when she couldn’t sleep.
“How did you manage to get this case?” she asked when he came within hearing distance.
“Lucky, I guess.”
If her heart had hammered before it was nothing compared to what it was doing now. It thundered in her chest until she could barely take a breath.
Of all the people in the world, the one she never wanted to see again stood in front of her, a polite smile frozen on his lips, questions in his deep blue eyes. He was bigger than when she knew him. Except for the few lines around his eyes, fifteen-plus years looked good on him.
She took a long silent breath. Jake Mackenzie had broken her heart years ago. How would she get through this without him uncovering more than a killer?
She broke out in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the corpse at her feet.
Praise for Mitzi Pool Bridges
FIND MY BABY
Loved the plot and characters, loved the mystery. Mitzi Pool Bridges is now one of my new favorites.
~Manic Readers
~*~
This book is an awesome mystery with surprising twists and turns and deaths that leave you wondering who is doing it all and why.
~Cozy Reader
~*~
This is a riveting romantic suspense at its best with an emotional subject that will touch any heart. The pace only grows stronger as the book continues.
~Lightning Bolt Review
~*~
PROMISE BROKEN
This story started out with a bang, grabbing my attention and holding onto it tightly throughout the entire story. The plot constantly had me wondering the famous ‘What Happens Next’ question.
~Night Owl Reviews
~*~
PROMISE HER
I would recommend this book to those romance readers who love a strong heroine and a hero who would do anything to protect her.
~The Romance Studio
Catch Me
If You Can
by
Mitzi Pool Bridges
Lobster Cove Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Catch Me If You Can
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Mitzi Pool Bridges
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Kim Mendoza
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Crimson Rose Edition, 2014
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-507-4
Lobster Cove Series
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For all those who love a good romance
combined with a good mystery.
Chapter One
“Is there a friggin’ ghost around here doin’ this?”
Deputy Roy Webb’s voice came from a distance. They’d just uncovered the nightmare of every law-enforcement officer in the country right here in the scrubby Maine trees and rocks she’d played in as a kid. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard against the urge to run to the nearest bush and throw up. But the first female sheriff of Hancock County couldn’t be seen as weak, so she took a deep breath, and looked closer at the wax-like corpse at her feet. Two others lay only a few feet away.
Nothing like this had ever happened in Lobster Cove. Nor anywhere close by. In the distance, the fifty-acre lake formed years ago by a deep gully that had been enlarged by a Free Dirt sign the citizens had been only too glad to oblige, glittered a bright blue under the mid-day sun. The sign had been taken down now for years, the lake stocked with fish. The town called it Grant Lake. Old man Grant had wanted a lake so he’d put out the sign. Since he’d died leaving no one to inherit the lake or the property around it, the town had taken it over, posted no swimming signs, which were ignored, and kept the area around the lake mowed. A few boats sat still. Fishermen. Others drifted over the smooth surface chasing nothing but a day of relaxation.
Sheriff Lynn Lawton forced her glance back to the corpse. When she could speak without her voice trembling she said, “Wasn’t a ghost that put these bodies in their graves.”
Shaking his head, Roy went off to do his own calculations. They’d prove invaluable when they compared notes. She didn’t know how she’d make it without him and the clear-headed way he could bring a case down to its core.
Lynn knelt. With gloved hands, she brushed matted hair off the face of the last victim uncovered in shallow graves in the middle of the woods a few miles from town. Smart. The distance from here to the road and the lakefront was large enough to keep the killer hidden from view.
“Oh, my God.” She staggered to her feet when she saw the victim’s face.
“What is it, Sheriff? You look like you just saw one of those ghosts.”
She walked a few feet away, trying to control emotions bouncing all over the place, fear being the most prevalent. Her gaze swept the area. Once, the lake, as well as the solitude, had given her peace. Now it looked dark and foreboding.
Kacie Underwood supposedly ran away from home a month ago. How in the world would Lynn have the strength or courage to tell Senator John Underwood his daughter was dead? Murdered. Not just murdered——the victim of a serial killer. How could she tell him his daughter would never come home? That a killer had taken her? Had she been tortured? How had she been killed? Lynn returned to the gravesite and knelt again to take a closer look at the body. A cursory inspection showed no wounds.
Once more, she knelt beside the body. Everyone thought Kacie had run away from home, even her parents who had hired private investigators to find her. Though there was no trace of her,
her parents had never entertained the idea of foul play——wouldn’t even discuss the possibility.
Kacie’s parents lived in the exclusive side of town in a large home often bragged about by her father. ‘I live in a small town. My roots run deep. I understand you and your problems’ was an oft-repeated mantra on the campaign trail. Nineteen-year-old Kacie had been their wild-child. Promiscuous, dabbled in drugs, loved fast cars. When Kacie and her car disappeared they’d thought she was on one of her wild binges and would be home soon. When Lynn spoke to her parents last week, they were still adamant their daughter would return home when she ran out of cash.
Maybe that was a parents’ way of surviving. Pick the best scenario for a missing child and stick to it.
She looked around, anywhere but at Kacie. Sun glinted down on them. The ankle high, more scrub than grass, parted with the breeze. She caught a quick whiff of the ocean and wished she was there, watching the waves lap against the shore, inhaling the wonderful salt air.
What was that? She frowned and crawled the few feet closer, brushing aside fallen leaves and scrub, only too happy snow wasn’t in the picture.
“What’s this?’ she asked.
Deputy Luther Simpson came up beside her. “What is it?”
On hands and knees, she continued to gently clear the area. “See that? Tracks. They’ve been covered up for no telling how long. Get a team in here. Get photos and see if they’re deep enough to cast.”
“Done.” And he was off.
She stood and studied the tracks again. They weren’t made by a bicycle, or motorcycle. Her frown increased. Had the killer brought the bodies here in whatever it was that had left its mark on the rough dirt floor? Some odd kind of cart, from the looks of it. She’d have to find the killer to find out.
“Keep this area clear. No walking, no vehicles of any kind,” she ordered, hoping her voice didn’t sound as weak as she felt. “See where the tracks end.” She suspected she knew. There was a one-vehicle shortcut through the rough terrain that ended at the lake.
Luther and Roy were quick to do as they were told.
Then, stiffening her spine, Lynn went to the next victim, took a deep breath, and knelt beside the body. After making sure enough photos had been taken, she wiped the dirt and grass off the victim’s face.
Then sat back so fast she almost toppled.
“Know her?” someone asked.
She didn’t look up.
“My neighbor. Jeez!”
She raised her eyes to see Deputy Roy Webb standing there with a stunned look on his face.
“Josephine Nelson. A little over a year ago, she left work and never made it home. I’m sure you remember the case. There were family problems, so for a long while we looked at her husband, Joel. He was the only viable suspect. But he had an airtight alibi. After so long a time, the case got cold.”
“They have a little girl.”
Lynn looked up to see Roy clutching the gun at his hip as if he were ready to shoot it out with the killer. Her heart sank. The girl’s mom, Jo, as they’d called her, hadn’t run away, she’d been killed by a madman.
Lynn would have to tell the husband they’d found his wife. She’d have to see the little girl’s face when she found out her mother was never coming home.
Lynn looked around. Were there more secrets hidden in this almost desolate spot??
A chill slid down her spine.
The sun that had been bright and high in the sky when she first came onto the scene was tilting toward the west. She wanted the bodies moved to the morgue before sunset.
Lynn stood on shaky legs and went to the last victim.
How many had he killed? Why? Were there more?
She shut her eyes in a moment of prayer before clearing the matted hair, dirt, and straw away. Please don’t let me know this one.
Not that she knew the other two personally. But she knew of them. Knew their families, their friends, where they went to church, bought groceries. She knew where the Underwood daughter bought her booze, where she partied. Hell, Lynn even knew who she screwed. How? Easy, their lives were an open book in fat neat folders in the file cabinet in her office. Cases she hadn’t solved. Cases that kept her awake at night because she didn’t believe the young women had just disappeared.
She’d called the state police. They’d sent a man to join in the investigation. When they came up with nothing, they’d closed the case.
Lynn Lawton never had. She carried those three women in her head wherever she went.
There was one more folder. One more name.
Instinct told her the person in the third folder lay at her feet.
Lynn took her time. Checked out the body with careful eyes. Like the other two, there were no visible wounds. However, it was more eaten up, more disintegrated. Gathering her courage, she gave a careful and final stroke that would expose the face.
She shut her eyes.
Could she do this?
She had to.
Opening her eyes, she saw holes where there should be eyes. Though the woman’s hair was intact, the face held little skin. “Shit!”
Lynn couldn’t absolutely identify Sherry, but knew it had to be her.
She had known after seeing the second body. Missing two years. Sherry Miles had gone back to college in her brand new Ford Pickup truck her parents had given her as a birthday gift, but never arrived at school.
The search had involved several counties including this one. Not a one had come up with a trace of the beautiful young girl.
Lynn fought the sickness that roiled in her gut. Could she have stopped the killer then? Saved two other women?
Their lives were just starting.
And then they were gone.
Lynn fought to stop her gloved hands from trembling and reached for the chain around Sherry’s neck. Carefully, she unlatched it to take a closer look. It was the necklace her mother claimed she always wore. One her boyfriend had given her for her birthday a year before she disappeared.
It was all the proof she needed to confirm the body was Sherry Miles. The coroner would need more, either DNA or dental confirmation. But Lynn knew and the knowing made her sick to her stomach.
Fighting the weakness that threatened to topple her, Lynn stood, went from one body to another. Assessing. She didn’t have the manpower or the resources to handle a case this huge.
Strike one against the female sheriff.
“If you’re through, we’re ready to move the bodies,” the coroner told her. His voice was gentle. As if he knew how seeing the bodies affected her.
She held up a finger, signaling him to wait another minute. He stepped back while Lynn did her best to get a handle on this.
Each woman had the same look, she thought. They’d be able to tell more when they were cleaned up, but from what she could see now, they were all in their twenties, all had light brown hair. That wasn’t right. She looked closer.
It couldn’t be.
She checked again.
She waved the coroner over. “Does their hair look as if it’s been cut? Each one is the same length. From their photos when they disappeared, their hair was longer.” And a different color, but she’d let him find that out.
Dickenson Slade, the coroner, looked from one body to another, then back to her.
“You’re right. Each one has been given a haircut. Either that, or each one had the same hairstyle.”
Lynn pulled off her gloves and stepped back. Unconsciously, she ran a hand through her own light brown hair.
“Same color as yours.”
“Jesus!” She turned away. She couldn’t take anymore.
The victims seemed to stare at her in silent accusation.
Looking around, she realized for the first time that at least a hundred people were being held back behind ropes running from gnarled trees to rock around the crime scene. Lobster Cove was a small town, a tourist town. News traveled fast. There were probably as many tourists here as locals, or would be soon,
since it was only mid-May. The tourists would make this case more difficult. If she remembered correctly, all three women disappeared around this same time of year when tourist season was in the early stages. If one of them did this, how in the world would she find him?
She searched their faces. The lookie-loos were out in force.
Could the killer be out there now? Watching? Gloating?
Could he be laughing at her and her inability to find him after the first woman disappeared?
Her mouth hardened.
She might not have found him before, but she’d sure as hell find him now.
Turning to the rookie deputy dogging her heels, she ordered, “Make sure photos are taken of the crowd. I want to know who was here.”
“On it,” he said and strode off to the photographer.
The FBI would be involved now, she thought. They always were when a serial killer was on the loose.
As her gaze swept over the crowd once more, she saw more than one face she recognized. Clyde, who owned the B&B. Lou Davis, who worked for Jay’s Automotive, ,others she knew by name and sight.
Her eyes stopped on a tall, dark-haired man striding through the crowd with a confidence she remembered all too well. Her heart stopped. When he got to the rope, he lifted it, then looked at her as he came her way. Her deputy tried to stop him. When the man held up an ID, Luther stepped back.
She took a ragged breath. Her fists clenched at her side as he headed straight at her.
He couldn’t be here. Not now. Not ever. He was part of her past. He’d made sure of that.
It took him a minute to get to her. She spent every second willing her heart to still, her anger to subside. His ID was still in his hand. He was working out of the New York office, but she didn’t want him to know she knew that. Or that she looked him up at odd hours of the night when she couldn’t sleep.
“How did you manage to get this case?” she asked when he came within hearing distance.
“Lucky, I guess.”
If her heart had hammered before it was nothing compared to what it was doing now. It thundered in her chest until she could barely take a breath.
Of all the people in the world, the one she never wanted to see again stood in front of her, a polite smile frozen on his lips, questions in his deep blue eyes. He was bigger than when she knew him. Except for the few lines around his eyes, fifteen-plus years looked good on him.
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