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Silent Night Suspect
Sharee Stover
Suspected of a crime she knows she didn’t commit…All she wants for Christmas is to remember Blood on her blouse. A gun in her hand. A cartel leader’s dead body in front of her. Widow Asia Stratton can’t remember what happened—just that she’s been framed. The only way to prove her innocence is to work with her ex-sweetheart, Nebraska state trooper Slade Jackson. But can they clear her name before this Christmas turns even deadlier?
Suspected of a crime she knows she didn’t commit...
All she wants for Christmas is to remember.
Blood on her blouse. A gun in her hand. A cartel leader’s dead body in front of her. Widow Asia Stratton can’t remember what happened—just that she’s been framed. The only way to prove her innocence is to work with her ex-sweetheart, Nebraska state trooper Slade Jackson. But can they clear her name before this Christmas turns even deadlier?
SHAREE STOVER is a Colorado native transplanted to Nebraska, where she lives with her husband, three children and two dogs. Her mother instilled in her the love of books before Sharee could read, along with the promise “If you can read, you can do anything.” When she’s not writing, she enjoys time with her family, long walks with her obnoxiously lovable German shepherd and crocheting. Find her at shareestover.com (http://www.shareestover.com) or on Twitter, @shareestover (https://twitter.com/shareestover).
Also By Sharee Stover (#ubcf0055a-4f18-5bb4-9cab-219d893d6837)
Secret Past
Silent Night Suspect
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Silent Night Suspect
Sharee Stover
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-000-8-90080-9
SILENT NIGHT SUSPECT
© 2019 Sharee Stover
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#ubcf0055a-4f18-5bb4-9cab-219d893d6837)
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Text to speech
“If they run us off the road, we’re dead!”
Slade accelerated, hoping to outrun the pursuers, but the truck stayed close behind.
Another slam propelled them sideways.
Slade jerked the wheel, and his response had the car deviating through the ice-covered median as he battled the velocity forcing them out of control.
Heart jackhammering against his ribs, Slade pumped the brakes, but the car seemed to have a mind of its own and continued to speed up.
Asia screamed, and he jerked the wheel, avoiding a mile-marker pole by inches.
“I don’t have brakes!” He slammed his foot repeatedly against the pedal, but it was useless.
“Slade, do something!”
But he couldn’t stop.
Desperate, Slade yanked the wheel. The overcorrection sent the car careening into the ditch. “Hang on!”
They slammed on the driver’s side, went airborne, then smashed down again. The impact shook every part of his body.
Each horrific recurring tug of gravity imprisoned them on a nightmare amusement park ride...
What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.
—Psalm 56:3
Dear Reader (#ubcf0055a-4f18-5bb4-9cab-219d893d6837),
I hope you’ve enjoyed Asia and Slade’s adventures in Silent Night Suspect.
These characters are especially dear to me because they’ve carried such heavy burdens for so long. Asia’s perceptions have tainted the way she sees everyone, even God. Slade realizes extending a tiny olive branch leads to his own healing.
If you’re carrying a heavy burden or feeling like the storm is never going to pass, I hope you find encouragement in Asia and Slade’s story. Rest assured, you’re never alone in the Lord and good can come from even the worst circumstances.
I love hearing from readers, so please find me on my webpage at www.shareestover.com (http://www.shareestover.com), or email me at authorshareestover@gmail.com.
May the source of all our hope bless you,
Sharee Stover
To my Lord and Savior, Jesus. All glory and honor belong to You. And for Jim, Tawny, Cody and Andi because you see the best in me, even when I can’t.
Acknowledgments
I’ve heard it said it takes a village to raise a child, and I think that’s applicable to writing a book, as well. I am beyond grateful for the incredible group of people who support and encourage me through every sentence.
Many thanks to:
My editor, Emily Rodmell, for sticking with me as this story evolved and for your wisdom in its development.
Tina Radcliffe for seeing past the dry bones and helping me to revive and breathe life back into this book.
Connie, Jackie, Rhonda, Sherrinda and all of the Writing Sisters. You all are precious.
Contents
Cover (#ufda7a899-437e-50a2-9220-0c2c41798031)
Back Cover Text (#uc580f543-5a3f-55fe-b95c-b66bdc897861)
About the Author (#ufe2b373b-d26f-559e-8bfc-f6850a6363a1)
Booklist (#u5cb189b4-4a28-5e13-bb80-8c60d5a68b28)
Title Page (#ua55ad474-a1c7-5ac7-8c22-ca9d3f5d57d2)
Copyright (#u3818fc71-6866-5f31-ac87-855270b73fe4)
Note to Readers
Introduction (#uf05266b8-4f57-5055-80aa-41e127fc23bf)
Bible Verse (#u4a78e68d-9b6d-54db-a010-38a70517aee3)
Dear Reader (#u72bc54ec-627c-5e9e-b010-eab175db8e5e)
Dedication (#u2afbcfec-7b6d-5ee1-bde1-809ba70bd83d)
Acknowledgments (#u288c3a76-70d7-5ec1-9b9e-3bc6c88909e6)
ONE (#u53da8a33-9406-5dd0-8245-a4edbfd829c4)
TWO (#u20da1d62-d3f3-5696-882a-851fb2c83bc8)
THREE (#ufdc79b5b-5f21-537f-bb3b-9dadafcba674)
FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ubcf0055a-4f18-5bb4-9cab-219d893d6837)
Asia Stratton’s gaze remained transfixed on the lifeless eyes staring back at her. Dark pools—so black they appeared to be bottomless holes—silently demanded an explanation for the single bullet wound to the center of the man’s forehead.
An explanation she couldn’t provide.
“Asia, drop the gun. Put your hands up,” a male voice ordered.
She jerked at the mention of her name and squinted against the blinding light veiling the stranger in the doorway. Darkness had fallen, and Nebraska’s icy winter wind blasted through the unfamiliar living room.
The dead man’s silent inquisition beckoned, and Asia reverted her attention to him.
“I said, drop the gun,” the intruder repeated.
His words trickled through the fog in her brain and she gasped at the Glock gripped in her palm. Asia released her hold, and the weapon toppled from her shaking hands onto the dirty carpet. She lifted her arms in obedience, sending a jolt of pain radiating up her shoulder. She cried out, then caught sight of the crimson stain marring her white blouse.
“Keep your hands up! Don’t make any sudden moves.” In her peripheral, she saw the man enter, taking cautious, steady steps, gun trained on her. His familiar uniform publicized his law enforcement authority. “Don’t move,” he repeated, then kicked the door closed behind him, sending another wave of cold air her way.
She winced and shivered, keeping her arms raised as high as she could tolerate. The flickering glow from the muted television, combined with the officer’s flashlight beam bouncing off the walls, rivaled the intense headache pounding in Asia’s skull. Dizziness swirled, and nausea overwhelmed her senses.
The trooper stepped between her and the dead stranger opposite her. “Whose blood is on your blouse? Yours or his?” He turned off the flashlight, then used it to gesture at her.
Asia swallowed. “Mine. I think?”
“Lower your hands slowly, keeping them where I can see them.”
Her gaze traveled up the barrel of the officer’s gun until she focused on his face. Fear morphed into confusion, only to be replaced by annoyance. Of all the cops in the world, it had to be him. Nebraska state trooper Slade Jackson. Her deceased husband’s ex-partner—and her backstabbing former high school boyfriend.
“Very slowly, extend your hands toward me.”
