Mallory Kane - Under Suspicion

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll go out and check for footprints,” Zach said.

Maddy smiled as she arched her neck and massaged it. “Sure,” she said. “Why are you asking my permission?”

He snorted. “Are you kidding me? You told me in no uncertain terms that you were in charge here.”

She eyed him with a raised brow. “You’re telling me you’re ready to take charge now?”

Zach felt as though her gaze were singeing his skin. He swallowed and shifted slightly, surprised that his body was straining in reaction to her teasing words. For someone who was not his type, she could take him from zero to uh-oh in no time flat. He forced himself to speak lightly, with no trace in his voice of the struggle he was waging to keep himself in check.

“Madeleine Tierney. When I’m ready to take charge, believe me, you will know it.”

Under

Suspicion

Mallory Kane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MALLORY KANEhas two great reasons for loving to write. Her mother, a librarian, taught her to love and respect books. Her father could hold listeners spellbound for hours with his stories. His oral histories are chronicled in numerous places, including the Library of Congress Veterans’ History Project. He was always her biggest fan. To learn more about Mallory, visit her online at www.mallorykane.com.

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For Michael. Love you.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt “If it’s okay with you, I’ll go out and check for footprints,” Zach said. Maddy smiled as she arched her neck and massaged it. “Sure,” she said. “Why are you asking my permission?” He snorted. “Are you kidding me? You told me in no uncertain terms that you were in charge here.” She eyed him with a raised brow. “You’re telling me you’re ready to take charge now?” Zach felt as though her gaze were singeing his skin. He swallowed and shifted slightly, surprised that his body was straining in reaction to her teasing words. For someone who was not his type, she could take him from zero to uh-oh in no time flat. He forced himself to speak lightly, with no trace in his voice of the struggle he was waging to keep himself in check. “Madeleine Tierney. When I’m ready to take charge, believe me, you will know it.”

Title Page Under Suspicion Mallory Kane www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author MALLORY KANE has two great reasons for loving to write. Her mother, a librarian, taught her to love and respect books. Her father could hold listeners spellbound for hours with his stories. His oral histories are chronicled in numerous places, including the Library of Congress Veterans’ History Project. He was always her biggest fan. To learn more about Mallory, visit her online at www.mallorykane.com .

Dedication For Michael. Love you.

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One Contents Cover Excerpt “If it’s okay with you, I’ll go out and check for footprints,” Zach said. Maddy smiled as she arched her neck and massaged it. “Sure,” she said. “Why are you asking my permission?” He snorted. “Are you kidding me? You told me in no uncertain terms that you were in charge here.” She eyed him with a raised brow. “You’re telling me you’re ready to take charge now?” Zach felt as though her gaze were singeing his skin. He swallowed and shifted slightly, surprised that his body was straining in reaction to her teasing words. For someone who was not his type, she could take him from zero to uh-oh in no time flat. He forced himself to speak lightly, with no trace in his voice of the struggle he was waging to keep himself in check. “Madeleine Tierney. When I’m ready to take charge, believe me, you will know it.” Title Page Under Suspicion Mallory Kane www.millsandboon.co.uk About the Author MALLORY KANE has two great reasons for loving to write. Her mother, a librarian, taught her to love and respect books. Her father could hold listeners spellbound for hours with his stories. His oral histories are chronicled in numerous places, including the Library of Congress Veterans’ History Project. He was always her biggest fan. To learn more about Mallory, visit her online at www.mallorykane.com . Dedication For Michael. Love you. 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 Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Epilogue Extract Copyright

The rain had finally stopped. Zachary Winter turned off the windshield wipers of his rental car as he passed the city limits sign for Bonne Chance, Louisiana. Now that the sun had come out, steam rose like tendrils of smoke from the blacktop road and clung to the windshield like shower spray on a mirror. He put the wipers on Intermittent. Rain in south Louisiana was seldom a relief, no matter what the season. Even in April, when most of the country was experiencing spring weather, an afternoon thunderstorm might cool the heat-soaked roads enough for steam to rise, but the tepid, humid air never seemed to change.

The last time he’d been here, in his hometown of Bonne Chance, was more than a decade ago. The name Bonne Chance was French for Good Luck. His mouth twisted with irony. Had his sad little hometown ever been good luck for anybody? He’d certainly never intended to come back. And the reason he was here now was not his choice.

He drove past two national chain grocery stores and a Walmart. “Well, Bonne Chance,” he muttered, “I guess you’ve arrived if Walmart thinks you’re worthy of notice.”

As he turned onto Parish Road 1991, better known as Cemetery Road, a pang hit his chest, part anxiety, part grief and part dread. He’d intended to get into town in time for Tristan DuChaud’s funeral. Tristan had been his best friend since before first grade.

As he rounded a curve, he spotted the dark green canopy that contrasted with the dull granite of the aboveground tombs peculiar to south Louisiana. From this distance, he couldn’t read the white letters on the canopy, but he knew what they said: CARVER FUNERAL HOME, Serving Bonne Chance for Over Forty Years.

He parked on the shoulder of the road, glanced at his watch, then lowered the driver’s-side window. The air that immediately swirled around his head and filled the car was suffocatingly familiar, superheated and supersaturated from the rain.

One hundred percent humidity. Now, there was a hard concept to explain to someone who’d never been to the Deep South. How the air could be completely saturated with water and yet no rain would fall. He usually described it as similar to breathing in a sauna. But that wasn’t even close. The air down here felt heavy and thick. Within seconds, a combination of sweat and a strange, invisible mist made everything you wore and everything you touched damp. And with the sun out and drawing steam from people as well as roads and metal surfaces, it could be disturbingly hard to breathe.