Crime Scene Connection

  “Did you hear me?”

  She jumped, startled from the past, his deep voice bringing momentary panic. “I’m sorry.”

  He frowned at her.

  She forced a smile, grimace, whatever. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “We’re going to have to figure out what to do. If you don’t go talk to the police—”

  She shot to her feet. “I already told y—”

  “I know.” He held up his hands, butter knife gripped in one, in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not saying you should, I’m just saying we have to figure out what we’re going to do if you don’t.”

  She lifted a brow and kept her expression serious, suppressing the genuine smile tugging at her. “We?”

  He grinned. “Whatever.”

  Jace obviously planned on sticking around. She ignored the flutter that brought.

  Phoenix jumped to his feet, hackles raised, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

  Jace turned off the stove and slid the saucepan off the burner. Eyeing the big dog with its teeth bared, he hit the button to turn off the oven. “Get down.”

  Deena Alexander grew up in a small town on eastern Long Island where she lived until last year when she relocated to Clermont, Florida, with her husband, three children, son-in-law and four dogs. Now she enjoys long walks in nature all year long, despite the occasional alligator or snake she sometimes encounters. Her love for writing developed when her youngest son was born and didn’t sleep through the night.

  Books by Deena Alexander

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Crime Scene Connection

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  Crime Scene Connection

  Deena Alexander

  Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.

  —Luke 6:37

  To my husband and my children, you are my world. Thank you for always being there for me. With all my love, forever and always.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Desert Rescue by Lisa Phillips

  ONE

  “No. Oh no.” Addison Keller scrolled past picture after picture, fear choking her. Oh, God, please don’t let this be happening again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She jumped at her agent’s voice and fumbled the phone. “Uh...”

  No way could she tell Ron about the email. He was already freaked out enough about the death threats she’d received. “Nothing. Just upset about all of this.”

  “Stay where you are. I’ll be there within the hour.”

  “No, Ron...wait. I—”

  “Listen to me, Addison. This isn’t a joke. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but a news reporter has already made the connection to you, and the police can’t be far behind. They’ve already questioned you once about the last murder. Do you really want to deal with them again?” The pitch of Ron’s voice increased with the volume.

  She scrolled back up to the first image. The email contained twelve photos. In the first two, the victim—if Addison allowed herself to think of the victim as a woman, she’d lose her battle against nausea—was still alive. The other ten had been taken after she was killed, the crime scene all too familiar, since Addison had created it in her novel.

  “Ron, I don’t—”

  “I’m already in the car, but even in the middle of the night, with no traffic, it’ll still take me an hour to get there.” His heavy breathing faded in and out over the spotty cell phone connection. He muttered something unintelligible. “I’ll never understand why you insist on living all the way out on Long Island.”

  She ran a shaky fingertip over the woman’s hair on the computer screen. The same long dark hair as the rest of the victims Addison had conjured up. Guilt hammered her. If she hadn’t written that book, the killer might never have chosen these victims.

  “Throw some stuff together. We’ll put you in a hotel somewhere if you don’t want to stay with me.” He ended the call without waiting for a response.

  “No, no, no.” Without taking her eyes from the laptop screen, she tossed the phone onto the bed, wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over, tears stinging her eyes. She blinked them back. Crying wouldn’t help. She had to calm down, had to think. Had to remember what had happened when—No. She slammed the door on the memories trying to surface. Remembering her past wouldn’t help. It would only make this nightmare real.

  She squinted and pulled the laptop closer. The attention to detail in the photos laid out the crime scene exactly as she’d imagined it. She had no doubt the murder weapon, a small handgun, would be found under the overturned kitchen chair. Right where she had placed it in her book.

  Unable to tear her gaze from the screen, she fumbled a hand across the nightstand, knocking over her tea in search of the remote. When her fingers closed around it, she pulled it back and turned on the TV. Breaking News jumped off the screen, slamming into her. She turned up the volume.

  “Details are just starting to emerge on the murder that took place earlier tonight in the exclusive suburb...” Yellow crime scene tape stretched across a lawn, and cops moved in and out of the house, creating a beehive of activity.

  She tuned out the rest and hit the button to turn off the TV. It didn’t matter. She could, no doubt, describe the exact layout of the kitchen in the house pictured on the screen—even what wasn’t visible in the photographs included with the email.

  It was only a matter of time before the police knocked on her door. Again. Only this time, that arrogant detective might do more than just glare at her with suspicion darkening his eyes. This time, he’d most likely arrest her.

  A creak tore her attention from the computer screen. It was a sound she knew all too well. The third step had always creaked like that.

  And the killer had already made it clear he was coming for her in his previous email. No way was she waiting around to give him a target.

  She flung the blanket back, toppling the computer to the side, and launched herself from the bed. No time to get changed. She stuffed her feet into the UGG boots she’d toed off when she came upstairs. Where’d her cell phone go? No idea. Forget it.

  She shoved the second-story window open, praying fervently it wouldn’t squeak, swung her legs over, gripped the ledge, then dropped to the ground. Ten feet. That was all the ground she had to cover before the thick woods would swallow her up. She ran. The pounding of her heart and the blood rushing through her head merged together, the thunderous noise drowning out any sounds of possible pursuit.

  When she reached the woods, she slid as quietly as possible into the darkness, trying not to disturb the dense underbrush. Leaves crunched beneath her feet, and she fought desperately against the urge to flee. Bumbling through the woods in the dark on the carpet of fallen leaves would only draw the intruder’s attention. Instead, she slipped into the deepest shadows with a desperate prayer the darkness would conceal her presence and the stranger would leave.

  She pressed her back against a huge oak tree, then bent at the waist a
nd braced her hands on her knees. Her chest ached, and she finally dared to take a breath. The salty scent of the sea, usually comforting, only fueled her nausea. She slapped a hand over her nose and mouth. Vomiting now would be a death sentence.

  When she’d regained some semblance of control, Addison turned to face the tree. She pressed her forehead against the cool, damp bark. This can’t be happening. Except, it was happening. And if she couldn’t find a way to stop it, she was going to be the final victim of a deranged killer. Heaving in one more deep breath and holding it, Addison peeked around the tree, scraping her forehead on the rough trunk. She winced at the sting.

  She couldn’t say for sure the shape silhouetted in her bedroom window was a man, but the broad shoulders gave a distinctly masculine appearance. A shiver crawled up her spine. Whoever it was didn’t seem to be in any hurry to follow her, ignoring the open window she’d obviously escaped through to focus on something in the room.

  If it was the police in the house, she should probably go back and talk to them. And say what, that she was responsible for the murder of the woman who had died earlier? Just like she was responsible for the woman who was killed last week. And the woman who’d be killed next week and every week thereafter until...

  No. She couldn’t go back. Police officers were probably not in the habit of sneaking into people’s houses unannounced, in the wee hours of the morning. And there was a distinct possibility the killer was a cop—or, at the very least, someone close to the investigation. Someone who could be framing her right now while she cowered behind a tree watching him. Oh, please, Lord, help me get out of here alive.

  She turned to flee and barreled straight into a broad chest. Her heart stopped and a vise gripped her lungs and squeezed hard.

  A large hand covered her mouth before she could let loose the scream welling in her lungs. The man’s hot breath bathed her neck when he whispered, “Please, don’t scream. I’m here to help.”

  She nodded, giving up any hope of escaping his grasp.

  “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  At least that was something they could agree on.

  “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth and release you. Please, don’t scream.”

  Heaving in a deep, shaky breath through her nose, she held his gaze and nodded again. Shadows concealed his eyes. Who was he? Cop? Accomplice? Murderer? Maybe he was just a good citizen who’d seen her climb out the window while he was prowling the neighborhood dressed all in black, had guessed she was in trouble and come to her rescue. Yeah, right. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the tree.

  He released his hold.

  The instant his hand left her, she whirled to flee.

  He caught her arm and leaned close. “You’re going to get us both killed.”

  She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder. The dim light filling her bedroom window was gone, leaving the room in complete darkness. Panic gripped her. Where’d the intruder go?

  Her stranger guided her against the tree, angling his body between her and anyone who might enter the woods from the direction of the house. “Connor Bynes sent me.”

  Connor? She didn’t know her sister’s husband, but she thought he was in the military or something. Not a cop. That she knew for sure. It didn’t make sense. “Why?”

  “I’ll explain later. Somewhere safer.” He surveyed the yard and the house and glanced over his shoulder at the route through the woods her mind begged him to take. Returning his gaze to the yard, he backed away and pulled a handgun from the small of his back, then pressed a finger to his lips.

  Like she’d really talk right now.

  Keeping the gun aimed past the tree toward the yard, he backed a few steps deeper into the woods and gestured her toward him.

  Trust him or not? Was he the answer to her desperate plea for help, or was he a threat? None of this made sense, but neither did standing there waiting for a killer to find her.

  A crash broke the unnatural silence of the night, followed by the barking of the neighbor’s rottweiler.

  Addison dropped to a crouch and studied the yard. Moonlight spilled through the trees, the soft sea breeze rippling the leaves and sending shadows skittering across the small patch of back lawn. Hopefully, the motion would be enough to cover their movements as they fled. A deepening shadow at the back of the house caught her attention. Someone?

  She only hesitated another second, her gaze focused on the man standing before her, perfectly still, as if he had all night. This wasn’t the time for life-and-death decisions. Once she was somewhere safer, where she could think more clearly, she’d decide what to do. She stood and crept toward him, careful to tread lightly on the dead leaves, every crunch spearing her with a new pang of fear.

  He turned and led her deeper into the woods. How on earth did he walk so quietly?

  She struggled to keep him in sight and still watch where she was going. A twig beneath her foot snapped, the crack echoing through the night. She froze.

  “Go.” With the need for stealth blown, he gestured her ahead of him. “Run.”

  A blast of gunfire split the night, the thud of bullets tearing through the brush way too close.

  She ran.

  A grunt at her back made her pause, a barely perceptible hesitation, but her stranger propelled her forward as he returned fire.

  Branches clutched her pajama sleeves, tore the thin fabric, scratched her arms and back and caught in her hair. Still, she ran, the sound of her stranger’s harsh breaths keeping pace just behind her oddly comforting. The next shot brought a sharp sting as a piece of bark ricocheted into her cheek.

  * * *

  Jace Montana ducked to avoid getting slapped in the face by a branch Addison swung behind her as she ran. The thick stand of pine trees offered decent cover, but the branches were murder to dodge. No matter. A few cuts and scratches were nothing compared to the bullet wound in his left side. Hopefully, it was minor, even though it hurt like mad, but no way was he slowing down and holstering his weapon to check. He’d examine it later, once they were safe.

  The peal of sirens tore through the night. Great. Cops. Just what he needed. This mission just went from bad to infinitely worse. He collided with an oncoming branch, which gouged his face, narrowly missing his right eye. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

  Oh. Right. Connor Bynes. He’d have to remember to punch him in the mouth later. If they ever got out of this.

  The sirens grew louder, coming closer. Someone must have reported the gunshots. Maybe the neighbor with the barking dog. He prayed whoever was chasing them would turn tail and run, but with the way the night was going so far, well...

  Connor’s warning to be discreet, not to get caught watching her—by her, the person stalking her, or by the police—rang in his head. He’d already blown the first part by having to come to her aid. He had no intention of running into anyone else. At least, not until after he’d spoken to Connor and found out more about what was going on.

  “I...need a...second. Can’t...breathe.” Addison stopped abruptly and bent at the waist, and he plowed into her, knocking her to the ground, barely catching himself against a tree as he tripped over her sprawled form.

  “Shhh...” He tried to block out the screaming of the sirens and concentrate on the sounds of the night. No use. The throbbing in his side wouldn’t allow him to focus on anything else.

  Tilting her head, Addison remained quiet, studying him in the moonlight.

  Wait a minute. Why was the moonlight suddenly so bright? He looked around. They’d made it to the edge of the woods. He holstered his gun and pressed his fingers tentatively to his side. They came away wet with blood. Ignoring the pain, he wiped his hand on the leg of his black jeans, then crouched and crept closer to Addison. He pressed his lips to her ear. “My car’s parked at the edge of a dirt road a little ways down. Do you
know it?”

  She nodded, her breathing ragged, then opened her mouth as if to speak.

  Something heavy crunched in the dead leaves. Close. Too close.

  Moving as silently as possible, he put a finger to his lips and guided her into the shadows of the brush along the side of the narrow road. Her eyes widened in fear, and he hated himself for causing it. He needed a moment to explain why he was there, to reassure her he wouldn’t hurt her, to gain her trust.

  But not with a killer on their heels.

  He inhaled deeply, desperate for even a second or two to catch his breath. His heart thundered against his ribs.

  A tear tipped over her lower lashes and tracked down her cheek. Tremors tore through her.

  He had to shove the compassion aside, needed to think clearly, without heightened emotions or pain clouding his judgment. He’d do well to remember who this woman was. That should make it easy enough to keep any sympathy at bay. He pressed his lips against her ear, his voice so low she’d have to strain to hear it. “Please trust me. He’s too close. If you run, we probably won’t get out of this. Understand?”

  Her back straightened, and she turned her sharp gaze on him, their noses a fraction of an inch apart.

  “Will you stay quiet and follow me?” Urgency beat at him. The need to remain as silent as possible warred with his desire to get her to relax and trust him. If the fierce determination in her eyes was any indication, this woman didn’t trust easily. And they were about out of time. Still, he froze, allowing her a moment to decide. He’d promised Connor he’d keep her safe, and one way or another, that was exactly what he intended to do.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, took a deep breath, then opened them and nodded.

  They’d already wasted enough time. He eased away from the bushes, pulling his gun and crouching low, careful to keep hidden in the shadows. Taking her hand in his, he started along the grass bordering the woods. They didn’t have far to go, less than a quarter of a mile if his estimate was accurate. Of course, his thinking was becoming a little muddled, so he could possibly be a little—or completely—off.