While growing up, going to libraries felt like an adventure filled with mystery and wonder to Debra. The hushed tones invoked secrets, and the dusty, sometimes moldy scent of paper smelled like perfume. Leaving the library with just a single book never happened. Years later, her love of reading turned to passion for writing. Debra’s an award-winning artist who lives in southern Arizona where the average summer temperatures are truly hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk.
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One widow,
one killer--who will die first?
Gutsy,
grieving Anna is determined to find who murdered her husband. Hampered by
agonizing loneliness, her obsessive-compulsive mother, and her over-controlling
father, she defies convention and the law to investigate on her own. When she
runs up against a handsome police detective who’s determined to save Anna from
herself, she has to step up her rogue search for the killer before time, and
dwindling leads, runs out.
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Excerpt
“Which way?”
She let out a heavy
sigh. “I live in Scottsdale.”
He nodded and turned
north. He knew the way to the affluent city, and truthfully, he wasn’t
surprised she lived there. Lee remembered what had happened to City of Phoenix
Assistant Prosecutor Greg Eddington a year ago. He’d seen pictures of the
prosecutor and his wife in the online newspaper shortly after his car crash.
He’d had a promising career ahead of him. The crash was suspicious, but the
highway patrol had no leads. There was an investigation, although he didn’t
hear where it went—if anywhere.
Lee looked over at
Greg’s widow. She kept her head turned away from him, staring out into the
darkness. He wondered what she was doing tonight on a dangerous street normally
occupied by prostitutes and strung-out losers. She said she wanted information.
Now Lee was curious about what she would’ve asked that crackhead if she hadn’t
been arrested. She was right. She probably wouldn’t have another chance to ask
him any questions, but maybe Lee could for her.
“What’s your
address?”
“East Gainey Ranch
Road.” She finally turned to look at him. “Do you know where that is?”
“I do.” Lee glanced
at her. “I started out as a patrol officer in Scottsdale about ten years ago.”
She nodded, then fell
back into the quietness she’d been in for the past twenty minutes, resuming her
staring out the window as if she would miss something important if she stopped
looking. He headed east. Another fifteen minutes later, he pulled onto her wide
street. He’d forgotten how huge the houses were on her cul-de-sac—and
expensive.
“Second house on the
right,” she said, just above a whisper.
The single-story,
sprawling ranch-style house had stacked stone accents along the lower half of
its exterior and sat back a good distance from the street. Lee stopped at the
sidewalk in front of the curved driveway and killed the engine. Just as he
reached for his door handle, she spoke up.
“The porch light is
off.”
“Do you remember
turning it on before you left?” he asked.
“I’m sure I did.” She
turned and stared at him.
“The light bulb
could’ve burned out.”
“I suppose.”
“I’ll walk up with
you.” He got out and went around to her door, but she’d already opened it and
was starting to get out. He followed her only a few steps up the driveway
before she stopped.
“I’m positive I
closed the courtyard gate,” she told him.
Lee could see the
short wrought-iron gate standing ajar. Putting that together with the missing
light, his internal alarm rang loudly. He took Mrs. Eddington’s elbow and moved
her back to his car. Once inside, he backed up far enough that they weren’t in
view of the front window any longer in case a perp heard his car drive up. He
took out his cell phone.
“I’m calling this in,
Mrs. Eddington.” Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t argue with him. He touched
911 and waited for only a moment before hearing a woman’s voice.
“Scottsdale police,
fire, what is your emergency?”
“This is Phoenix
Police Detective Lee Adams. I need officers at 3546 East Gainey Ranch Road for
a possible burglary in progress. I have the homeowner safe in my private car—a
2010 black Buick, parked next door.”
“Yes, Detective.
Right away. Do you want to stay on the line?”
“No, it’s not
necessary. Thank you.” Lee pressed End but held on to the phone.
“You think I have a
burglar?”
“I don’t know, but
telling that to the dispatcher will get help faster than saying we have
suspicious circumstances.”
Mrs. Eddington
relaxed and sat back. “Oh, you don’t really think this is all that serious?”
Lee leaned over the
steering wheel, keeping his eyes on the dark house. “I don’t like to take
chances.”
“But sometimes taking
chances is a necessary evil,” she said quietly.
“Like what you did
tonight?”
She didn’t respond.
It took another
couple of minutes before Lee saw two cars with their headlights off slowly roll
around the corner. When the streetlight hit them, he could see that they were
patrol units. They stopped parallel but across the street from him.
“Stay here,” Lee told
her. “I’ll explain what’s happened.” He paused before getting out. “Do you have
dogs in the backyard?”
“No, no dogs. I’m
alone.”
He gazed at the woman
for several moments after that admission. His heart tugged knowing she didn’t
have someone to go home to. He knew what that felt like.
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