by V. B. Tenery
DOWNFALL
A Matt Foley/Sara Bradford series
Book Three
V. B. Tenery
DEDICATION
To my Savior Jesus Christ.
May all I do honor You.
And
To my beloved grandsons,
Chase, Brandt, and Cole:
You have been the delight of my autumn years.
Copyright
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The town of Twin Falls, Texas exists only in the imagination of the author.
DOWNFALL
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by V. B. TENERY
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording—or in any other manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
Contact Information:
Website: www.vbtenery.com
Blog: www.agatharemembered.blogspot.com
Twitter: @teneryherrin
FB Author Page: www.facebook.com/VBTenery
Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated are taken from the King James translation, public domain.
Cover Art by Sharon A. Lavy
Edited by Kathy McKinsey
Publishing History
First Edition CBC Press, A division of CBC Services April 2015
Published in the United States of America.
CHAPTER 1
The Connelly Home
Twin Falls, Texas
Shannon Connelly stepped out of the shower and slipped into a warm, woolly robe. Toes digging into the carpet’s thick pile, she walked across to the bedroom window and opened the drapes. Sleet pinged against the windows and she shivered. Mid-January had arrived with a rare winter storm, the worst in years. She gazed into the distance as large, white flakes almost obscured the second-floor view of the neighborhood.
Almost
Across the street, movement in the near white-out caught her attention. Human or animal? Too tall to be an animal.
Odd.
Most likely her overactive imagination at work. She was nearsighted and her contact lenses still lay in the case on the nightstand. She turned away from the view and punched her feet into furry house slippers.
With a dismissive shrug, she put the scene out of her mind and trailed downstairs.
No work today, thank Heaven. After hearing the weather forecast yesterday, she’d made an executive decision to close the country club. Sundays were usually slow in the winter months anyway. No need to put her staff in danger for the few folks who might show up. As the club’s manager, one of her many responsibilities was also the safety of the members. They didn’t need to be out on the bad roads.
Spending a rare day off with her husband was an opportunity she intended to take full advantage of. Unlike her, Colin never worked weekends; one of the perks of being president of Twin Falls Bank and Trust.
The aroma of fresh brewed coffee welcomed her into the kitchen. She slid onto a seat at the bar, and Colin handed her a steaming cup of dark French Roast. He leaned over and kissed her brow. “Morning, Love. How about eggs Benedict for breakfast, in honor of my having you all to myself today?”
She sniffed the coffee like a fine wine before taking a sip, and observed her husband. At forty-five, Colin Connelly was twelve years older than she, and two inches taller than her own five-foot-nine-inch height; a little overweight, but firm bodied and very sexy with his shaved head. Not only was he brilliant and an attentive mate, he was also an amazing cook. She took a seat at the bar. “Sounds wonderful. You spoil me.”
A scratching sound on the kitchen door drew her attention. “What on earth…” She set her cup on the counter, shuffled her furry slippers across the tile floor, and hoped it wasn’t another raccoon. Last summer, when she’d heard a noise outside and opened the door, the masked animal sprinted into the house. It had taken her and a neighbor half a day to trap that sucker.
She peered through the window panel in the door and blinked. A white bulldog whined on the doorstep, almost invisible in the snow except for two pleading obsidian eyes.
“It’s Sugar, from across the street,” Shannon said and cast a quizzical glance at her husband. “Why would she be outside? The Davenports have a doggie-door.”
Sugar’s chubby little body hurtled inside when the portal opened. The muscular mutt was too heavy to lift, so Shannon enticed her further into the kitchen with a slice of maple-flavored ham.
Colin removed his oven mitt and knelt to scratch behind the dog’s ear. He glanced up at Shannon, his brow wrinkled into a frown. “I think she’s hurt. She has blood on her mouth and paws.”
“I wonder what she’s been into.” Shannon said more to herself than to Colin. She stepped into the bathroom off the kitchen and came back with a warm washcloth. With little cooperation from Sugar, she scrubbed the dog’s paws and mouth.
“You’re just a great big ol’ baby, Sugar.” Shannon smiled and gave her another treat. Sugar wasted no time making the ham disappear, and then settled on a rug in the living room in front of the fireplace.
“I’ll call Kathy and let her know we have Sugar, so she won’t worry.” Shannon picked up the cordless phone on the breakfast bar and dialed Kathy’s number. No answer.
“Guess they’re not at home. Maybe at church. After breakfast, while you shower, I’ll take Sugar home.”
Collin turned from the stove to face his wife. “Maybe Taylor can come and pick up Sugar, or I’ll take her after I get dressed,” Colin said.
“Taylor isn’t at home this weekend. She went on a church retreat with her Sunday school class. Won’t be home until tonight. I’ll take Sugar. It’s not a problem.”
Venturing out into the snowstorm wasn’t something Shannon looked forward to, but Art and Kathy would be concerned about their pet. They doted on the spoiled mutt.
Shannon swallowed the last delicious bite of breakfast and went upstairs to don Eskimo gear for the trek across the street: a warm, fashionable ski outfit, and boots she’d worn on their last trip to Vail. The belt from her bathrobe made a serviceable leash for the canine house guest.
With a reluctant Sugar in tow, Shannon trudged across the street to the Davenports’ front door and rang the bell.
No response.
She rang again. Still nothing.
She looked through the garage window. Both cars were inside.
Funny.
Lights blazed in the entryway. Perhaps the Davenports were ill. Flu season had hit Twin Falls hard. News reports claimed local hospitals were full. She made her way around to the back, admiring the beauty of the white landscape. Cedars, heavy with snow, and bare oak limbs hung with shiny icicles, looked like a scene from a Christmas card.
Sugar’s earlier paw prints leading away from the house became a darker red the closer she came to the back door. When Shannon knocked and tried to push Sugar through the doggie-door, the dog whined and balked, staying close to Shannon’s side.
Again, the knock went unanswered.
She exhaled an exasperated breath and moved to the back windows, which presented an unobstructed view into the living room.
The sight turned her feet to stone on the hard-packed snow. Bile burned the back of her throat and tears welled in her eyes.
/> Panic suddenly released her stupor.
She scurried across the street, burst through the front door, and crashed into Colin. He reached out to prevent her falling face-first onto the tile floor.
“Colin, oh, Colin.” She took deep gulps of air to slow her heart and quell her trembling hands. “Something terrible has happened to the Davenports.”
CHAPTER 2
The Foley Residence,
Twin Falls, Texas
The faint rush of heat surging through the vents woke Matt from a sound sleep. Sara lay curled close against his side. He resisted the urge to disturb her peaceful slumber with a kiss, choosing instead just to watch her sleep.
Looking down at the lovely face of his wife of two weeks, he was filled with tenderness; something he thought he’d never feel again after the death of his first wife three years earlier.
His relationship with Sara had gotten off to a rocky beginning. Although he’d known her for years as his wife’s best friend, when Sara’s husband had been killed by a hit-and-run driver, she was his number-one suspect. Only after Sara’s life had been repeatedly threatened did he learn the truth and come to know the real Sara Bradford.
Fading embers in the bedroom fireplace beckoned. He slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe. He quietly coaxed two logs onto the iron cradle, and then ignited the gas burners underneath. Mission accomplished, he went downstairs for a cup of fresh-roasted caffeine.
He and Sara had cut their honeymoon short by a day to get home before the worst of the snow and ice hit. They’d arrived late last night, just ahead of the storm. He’d dumped the luggage in the foyer, and headed into the kitchen to program the automatic coffeemaker.
He poured an extra cup of steaming black coffee and carried it upstairs. Rowdy, his Yorkie, padded along at his heels. Moving silently across the thick carpet, he set Sara’s on the nightstand and watched her face in the flickering glow from the hearth. He sat on the bedside, leaned over, and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Good morning, Mrs. Foley. I brought you something to help you wake up.”
Her eyelashes fluttered. She smiled and pushed up to a sitting position against the pillows. “This is cozy. I love your wake-up service. It’s much better than a noisy old alarm clock. What time is it?”
“Nine o’clock.” He handed her the mug.
“Smells wonderful. This is a habit I could learn to like.” She took a tentative sip. “Is it terrible outside?”
“You’re really going to miss Hawaii,” he said with a laugh. “It’s twenty degrees and snowing.” He took the last gulp of coffee. “I’m going to jump in the shower then I’ll bring up some bagels and more coffee.”
One of his brighter ideas when drawing up the plans for this house had been the addition of a small breakfast nook off the bedroom, with a mini-bar and a table for two. Double-paned windows looked out over tall pines. On clear mornings, he could see the lake in the distance.
Sara yawned and stretched. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll join you.”
“For the bagels or the shower?”
“I meant for the bagels, but I could be enticed into the shower.”
“You’re much too distracting, and I want to go into the station this morning,” he said with a grin. “Finish your coffee. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
She pushed the covers back, got out of bed, and stepped close to him, slipping both arms around his neck. “Am I distracting?”
He pulled her closer. “You are indeed.”
She released a breath, long and slow, then patted his chest and stepped away. “You’ve been chomping at the bit to get back to work ever since we boarded the plane for home.”
He pulled her back into his arms. “We still have one day left of our honeymoon. It wouldn’t take a lot of encouragement to get me to stay home.”
“Me neither, but I need to check on Danny and Poppy. I’ve missed them. Maybe we can all build a snowman later.” Sara’s two adopted kids had stayed with her aunt while she and Matt were on their honeymoon.
“Sounds like a plan.” He made his way into the bathroom and called over his shoulder, “You take the Jeep today. It has four-wheel drive and snow tires. The keys are on the hook by the garage door.”
After the shower, Matt put thermal underwear on under his jeans and slipped into a turtleneck sweater, then went downstairs.
When he came back with the food and a carafe of coffee, Sara had already showered and changed. She added cream cheese and jelly from the mini-fridge under the bar.
Bagels sliced and slathered with toppings, Matt sipped coffee and took in the vista outside the window. An inch of snow covered the deck, the lawn, and dusted the pine tree limbs.
Near the edge of the woods, a doe, ever diligent, raised her head and glanced around before accompanying her fawn to the corn-filled feeder he kept there. The family appeared most mornings for breakfast around this time.
“This is lovely, Mat, like a picnic in a winter wonderland.”
“I enjoy eating out here when I have time.” He chuckled. “But usually, I just grab something and run, like now.” He gave her arm a squeeze, then leaned in and placed a long kiss on her lips. “I love you, Sara Louise.”
He expelled a deep breath. It was go now or never.
Grabbing the keys, he headed for his Escalade.
Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
Snow followed Matt into the city. The windshield wipers thumped a steady beat as they removed the snow dust, whipped by strong northern winds that blew in from the Oklahoma panhandle.
He pulled into the almost-empty parking lot at eleven o’clock. Squad cars were already on the roads, taking care of accidents and helping stranded motorists. Cops didn’t call in sick because of bad weather.
Matt stomped white powder from his feet, must be two inches of snow by now. He stopped at the front desk. “Hi, Chuck, is Davis in?”
A big smile spread across the desk sergeant’s face. He stood and gave a hearty hand shake. “Hey, Chief, we weren’t expecting you back until tomorrow.” The sergeant’s uniform seemed a tad too tight. Not surprising, since the sergeant’s waistline had been slowly expanding over the years.
“Davis and Turner are upstairs. They’re about to head out. Just got a call.”
“Serious?”
“Sounded like it,” Chuck said.
Upstairs in the detective bureau, Matt ran into Miles Davis and Lucy Turner in the doorway. Miles, ever the classy dresser, was buttoning a gray cashmere overcoat. He wrapped a scarf around his neck and pulled on black leather gloves.
“Welcome back, Chief,” Davis said. “How was Hawaii?”
“Much better than here. What’s going on?”
“Dispatch received a call about a body in a residence on Glen Haven Court, over on the north side.” Davis handed Turner her hooded parka from the coat tree. “A neighbor saw a woman on the floor through a back window.”
“Has it been confirmed?” Matt asked.
Lucy shrugged into her coat and nodded. “Yeah, a black and white went by. When they rang the bell and there was no response, the officers figured it might have been a murder, with the husband holed up inside waiting for them. However, upon closer examination, the back door was unlocked. One officer went inside and found a second body, male, just inside the door. He backed out and called it in. They’re keeping things locked down until we get there.”
“McCulloch left yet?” Matt asked.
“He’s loading the mobile crime lab and getting his crew together,” Davis said. “You coming?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
In the gray morning light, Matt watched the two detectives climb into their silver unmarked Charger and leave the parking lot. He congratulated himself. Last year he’d paired Davis and Turner on a temporary basis to handle a major murder case. The switch worked so well, he’d made the change permanent.
Wind caught at the powder-fine snow and whipped it against Matt’s face as he
hurried back to his car, thankful it was still warm.
Fierce winds gusted down Main Street in front of the station, kicking up a white blizzard. He eased the Escalade onto the snow-covered roadway and past the town square. The old courthouse, now a cultural center, looked like an icy Gothic fortress in the faint light. He punched up the heat and passed under the Highway 75 overpass to the haves side of Twin Falls.
‘Mansion’ was the term most often used to describe the homes in Glen Haven Court, and he had no trouble identifying the right address. Two squad cars, blue and white lights flashing, sat on the street in front of a stately brick Georgian with a slate mansard roof and two-story windows in front; a secluded residence in an elegant neighborhood. Six-foot stone pillars stood on each side of the entrance, with a large mailbox tucked into the one on the right. A black wrought-iron fence the same height ran across the front of the property, the landscaping now covered in a silver-white blanket.
To avoid disturbing any footprints, Matt parked on the street behind the black-and-whites. Matt strode over to an officer leaning against his vehicle, a large Starbucks cup gripped in both hands. He recognized the stocky officer as a former Marine new-hire. “Any tracks in the powder when you arrived?”
The young man shook his head. “Only one set, which appear to be the neighbor’s. She checked the front door and then went to the back. That’s where she saw the female body through the window. Looks like the folks were murdered before or during the snowstorm. Any prints there might have been were buried by the storm.”
“Where’s the neighbor?”
“She went home.” The officer pointed to the house directly across the street.
“Do we have an ID on the victims yet?”
With a flip of his notebook the officer read his notes. “The house belongs to Arthur and Kathy Davenport. The neighbor’s husband made the identification. He didn’t think his wife was up to it.”
