скачать книгу бесплатно
Chasing Shadows
Terri Reed
When senior citizens start mysteriously disappearing from a Boston retirement home, heiress Kristina Worthington is suspicious.Especially since she fears her beloved grandmother is next. Without solid evidence, she's forced to turn to the one police officer who might listen–her former love, Gabe Burke. Now a seasoned cop, Gabe still sees her as the rich girl whose family thought he wasn't good enough.And though he takes on the case, Gabe seems convinced he's chasing shadows. Until they start dodging threats, bullets…and their own rekindled feelings.
“You can’t go around sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Gabe said.
“No one else will believe Grams,” Kristina asserted defensively.
“It’s difficult to believe such accusations without concrete proof.” He eased the car out of the parking lot and back onto the road leading to Boston.
“Well that’s what I’m trying to do, find proof,” she shot back.
“But you could get hurt.”
“I didn’t.”
Gabe sighed. She touched his arm, drawing his gaze. There was no mistaking the sincerity in her eyes. “God sent you to protect me.”
Gabe’s stomach sank. “That kind of thinking can get you killed.”
TERRI REED
At an early age Terri Reed discovered the wonderful world of fiction and declared she would one day write a book. Now she is fulfilling that dream and enjoys writing for Steeple Hill. Her second book, A Sheltering Love, was a 2006 RITA
Award Finalist and a 2005 National Readers’ Choice Award Finalist. Her book Strictly Confidential, book five of the Faith at the Crossroads continuity series, took third place in the 2007 American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award, and Her Christmas Protector took third place in 2008. She is an active member of both Romance Writers of America and American Christian Fiction Writers. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her college-sweetheart husband, two wonderful children and an array of critters. When not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and friends, gardening and playing with her dogs.
You can write to Terri at P.O. Box 19555, Portland, OR 97280. Visit her on the Web at www.loveinspiredauthors.com, leave comments on her blog at ladiesofsuspense.blogspot.com or e-mail her at terrireed@sterling.net.
Terri Reed
Chasing Shadows
Fear not, for I am with you;
Be not dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you,
Yes, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
—Isaiah 41:10
In loving memory of my grandmother Vida
and my grandfather William.
Thank you to Sherry Mundt, Marketing Representative for SpringRidge at Charbonneau Campus, for answering all my questions and taking me on a tour. Any mistakes or liberties taken in this story are purely mine.
Also, thank you to my editor, Emily Rodmell, for her patience with me. I really appreciate you.
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
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
“People are disappearing!”
Kris Worth barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Her maternal grandmother had a flair for the dramatic, something that Kris had inherited, according to her parents. “Grams, what are you talking about?”
Sadie Arnold shut the door of her studio apartment in Miller’s Rest Retirement Center and shuffled across the carpeted floor in her soft leather shoes to point one thin, shaky finger at her granddaughter. “I’m telling you, people are vanishing in the dark of the night.”
Colored lights glowing from the small decorated Christmas tree in the corner cast a garish glow over Sadie, emphasizing the pallor of her complexion and making the elderly woman seem infinitely older than she had just two days ago.
Today was Sunday when they normally headed to the small community church at the nearby high school, but Sadie wasn’t dressed for an outing. And there was no disguising that Sadie’s shoulders hunched slightly more than normal beneath her powder-blue fuzzy sweater.
Her degenerative discs must be bothering her today. Kris made a mental note to talk with the duty nurse about her grandmother’s care. “You read too many murder mysteries.”
Sadie waved away the comment. “First there was Lena Street. One night we’re playing board games and the next day she’s gone. And then night before last, Carl Remming was here with us, having some of Mrs. Tipple’s delicious tea, and in the morning, he was gone, too.”
Kris remembered Carl pretty well. He was a big man with a big laugh, who had done some time in prison when he was young. Gangster stuff, Sadie had whispered.
A tidbit Kris had kept to herself, lest her mother find out and then insist that Sadie move into a more “selective” retirement community. Something Sadie had fought against because she had no intention of rubbing elbows with “uppity people.” Still, Miller’s Rest wasn’t exactly cheap.
As for Lena, Kris didn’t have a mental image of the woman. “Maybe they passed on?”
Sadie shook her head and frowned. “No. They didn’t die. They just disappeared.” Sadie fumbled with the pocket of her sweater before producing a man’s black wallet. “Carl wouldn’t go anywhere without this.”
“Grams, where did you get that?”
“I found it on the janitor’s cart, hidden beneath some towels.”
Kris couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What were you doing searching through the janitor’s stuff?”
“Looking for clues,” Sadie stated, as if it were obvious. “That janitor did something with my friends.”
“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation,” Kris said in a soothing tone, hoping to calm her grandmother’s growing agitation. “Maybe he found the wallet on the ground somewhere.”
Sadie pursed her lips for a moment. “I know what I know. Don’t patronize me, dearie.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Kris’s mouth. Her grandmother had always been a pistol. While growing up, Kris had loved spending as much time with her as her parents would allow. “I wouldn’t dream of patronizing you, Grams. I love you.”
To prove the point, Kris rose from the edge of Sadie’s bed and went to hug the only relative whose love she had never questioned. Sadie let Kris be herself. Kris thanked God every day for having blessed her with the best grandmother.
Sadie inspired a loyalty Kris didn’t feel for her own mother and father, who wanted her to be a cookie-cutter, clichéd socialite. But Kris wanted more out of life. She wanted to use her talent as a photographer to glorify God, not climb the social ladder of Boston society.
Sadie patted Kris’s back. “Don’t get mushy on me, Krissy. It isn’t polite.”
Kris chuckled as she released Sadie. “You sound like Grandmother Worthington.”
“Bah! Don’t be rude,” Sadie muttered with a grin.
Kris returned the grin. It was no secret that Emmeline Worthington and Sadie didn’t mesh well. Emmeline thought her son had married beneath him and Sadie had thought Meredith married a stuffed shirt. The only thing the two older women had in common was their love for their one and only grandchild.
Sadie took Kris’s arm and let Kris guide her to the oak rocker beside the window overlooking the lavish gardens, now dusted with a fresh coat of December snow, and spread across the back ten acres of the facility grounds. Trees lined the property, separating the retirement center from the Boston skyline. The township of Miller was a twenty-minute ride from Kris’s downtown loft and another ten from her parents’ Beacon Hill residence.
Charles and Meredith Worthington rarely visited, preferring that Kris bring Sadie to their home for occasional family dinners. Which, thankfully, were few and far between. Dinners with the Worthingtons were a case study in upper-crust dysfunction. Dress for dinner, no elbows on the table and certainly no talking about anything that even remotely resembled emotions. Something Kris had rebelled against most of her life.
After settling Sadie in the rocker, Kris resumed her spot on the bed, tucking her feet beneath her and gathering her long blond hair into one hand to lift the heavy mass off her neck. “What did Ms. Faust say about Carl and Lena disappearing?”
“Hmm?”
“You did ask Ms. Faust about them, didn’t you?”
For a moment Sadie looked confused. “Them?”
Kris frowned. “Carl and Lena?”
Sadie’s expression cleared and she scoffed with a gentle shake of her head. “That woman doesn’t know her knee from her elbow.”
“Grams,” she admonished lightly. Admittedly, Ms. Faust, the center director, wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type. But she seemed well organized and competent.
Sadie rocked. “Carl would not go on vacation with his rheumatoid arthritis acting up the way it has been or without his wallet, and Lena hates going outside for anything, let alone a cruise. And for them both to go on vacation at the same time without saying a word to anyone is ludicrous.”
The social butterfly of Miller’s Rest, Sadie made knowing everyone’s business her business. Kris didn’t want to point out that neither Carl nor Lena needed Sadie’s permission to leave the center, so instead she said, “I’m sure they’ll return soon with plenty of stories to tell and Christmas gifts for everyone. And maybe Carl just lost his wallet.”
Sadie’s sparkling, dark blue eyes regarded Kris intently. “Is that what you’ll be saying after I disappear?”
Kris blinked. Way, way too many mystery novels. “Grams, you are not going to disappear.”
Shaking a finger at her, Sadie remarked, “Well if I do, don’t be believing I went on vacation.”
“Of course not, Grams. You wouldn’t go on vacation without me,” Kris quipped.
“Too true,” Sadie replied. Then her brow furrowed. “I just think something has happened to Carl and Lena. Something bad.”
“What can I do to ease your mind about them?” Seeing her grandmother so upset burned Kris’s chest.
Sadie slapped her palm on the rocker’s arm. “Call the police! Call the FBI! Find my friends!”
Kris could only think of one person who might be willing to humor her by looking into the matter on the strength of Sadie’s suspicions.
Gabriel Burke.
The man who’d broken her heart.
Homicide detective Gabe Burke hated the paperwork associated with closing a case. He wished the department would spring for a secretary to fill out the required stack of forms. And he made the suggestion every time he got a complaint about his illegible handwriting.
This particular pile of papers related to the murder of a prostitute by a john, who happened to be a married grade school teacher. Man, he hated cases like this. Just proved every human was capable of evil. With a grunt of disgust, Gabe gathered the forms and jammed them into the file folder.
His partner, Detective Angie Carlucci, stopped by his desk and regarded him with concern-filled dark eyes. “You okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s Christmastime,” he shot back, immediately regretting his harsh tone.
It wasn’t Angie’s fault he was on the brink of burnout. She was a good partner and friend. Though in those almond-shaped eyes he could see evidence of the signals she’d been giving off lately that she’d be open to taking their “partnership” to a new level.
No way. He didn’t date fellow cops. He only dated uncomplicated women who didn’t need anything but a good time. It was less emotionally taxing.
She shrugged and held up her strong, capable hands. “Just asking, Grinch.”
“Sorry.” He sighed. “This last case left a bitter taste.”
“Yeah, I hear that.” She took a seat at her desk across from him.
“Hey, Burke! Lady here to see you.”
He turned his attention to the front of the station where Sergeant Sean O’Grady had called from, but was instantly distracted by an attractive blonde gliding toward him. His senses went on alert. She was stunning. Her long flowered skirt flirting around her knee-high leather boots and a ruffled blouse were more appropriate for an outdoor party than a police station in the dead of winter. A more suitable, cold-weather wool coat and colorful handbag hung over her arm.
Kristina Worthington.
What was she doing here? They hadn’t talked in over eight years. He’d caught a glimpse of her at a friend’s wedding a while ago, but he’d done a good job of avoiding her. Now she was in his place of work.
