Carla Cassidy - Scene of the Crime - Mystic Lake

There was no way to second-guess a killer who changed the rules in the middle of a game

When FBI profiler Amberly Nightsong is sent to Mystic Lake to consult with local cops about three ritualistic murders, the last thing she expects is to be a piece in a madman’s sick puzzle. Luckily, she has a sexy lawman on her side. Sheriff Cole Caldwell offers his protection—and stirs an awareness that leaves her breathless.

Cole, a widower, had shut himself off from the possibility of loving again. But as he works side by side with the single mom, he’s drawn to Amberly and will do anything to erase the fear in her eyes. And as the danger intensifies in the form of a killer’s twisted calling card, his vow to keep her and her young son safe will be put to the ultimate test....

“This shook you up pretty badly,” Cole said softly.

Her gaze met his. “I’d be lying if I said anything else.” She sank down on the edge of the bed and set her bag next to her. “Seeing it right here, in the place where I live, in the place where my son sleeps and eats. I don’t think I’ve really processed it until now, while I’m packing up to leave everything.”

“It’s going to be all right,” he said as he shifted from one foot to the other. “We’re going to get this guy.”

She nodded, her head still down. She looked momentarily broken and he ached for her. Since the moment he’d met her, she’d radiated an inner strength, a wealth of spirit that had drawn him to her. But he found himself equally as drawn to the woman seated on the bed who looked like she needed nothing more than a pair of strong arms around her.

He walked over to stand directly in front of her. “Amberly,” he said softly.

She looked up at him then and her beautiful brown eyes were filled with tears. He opened his arms and she shot off the bed and into them as if she’d just been waiting for him to make the offer.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels for Harlequin Books. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.

Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Cole Caldwell—Sheriff of Mystic Lake and not thrilled to be working with the beautiful Amberly Nightsong.

Amberly Nightsong—A Native American FBI agent who comes to Mystic Lake to help solve three murders with ritualistic overtones.

Max Nightsong—Amberly’s bright and loving six-year-old son.

John Merriweather—Amberly’s ex-husband and a successful Western painter, who is having difficulty letting go of the Indian princess he’d considered his muse.

Jeff Maynard—A bartender who dated the first victim. He’s a hothead with a nasty reputation.

Raymond Ross—A ladies’ man and friend of Jeff’s, who provided his friend an alibi for the night of the murder. Is it possible he not only lied, but also participated in the murders?

Jimmy Tanner—It’s rumored his marriage is on the rocks and he had a brief affair with one of the victims. Did he kill her to save his marriage?

To Jackie, who gave me two beautiful grandchildren and, for the last four months, has kept my coffee cup full while I work. Thanks and I love 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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Amberly Nightsong watched the children pouring out of the grade school, the variety of shapes and sizes and colors decorating the last of the summer grass as they raced to awaiting school buses and parked cars.

As always, her heart swelled as she saw the small, slender dark-haired boy running toward her, his face lit with a beatific smile. Max. At six years old, he owned her heart in a way no other male ever had before.

He opened up the passenger door, threw his bright blue backpack onto the backseat and then got into the car. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Max, how was your day?” she asked as she waited for him to buckle in and then pulled away from the curb.

“Good, except for at recess Billy Stamford called me a sissy boy because I wear a necklace.”

Amberly glanced over at her son and the necklace she’d placed around his neck when he was three years old. It was the same necklace Amberly’s grandmother had placed around her neck when she’d been three years old.

The silver owl had been hand pounded and crafted by her grandfather and was a talisman against evil. The rawhide string that it hung from had been replaced many times over the years, and even though Amberly didn’t live the Cherokee way of her ancestors, when she’d draped it around Max’s neck, she’d figured a lucky charm from her grandfather, intended for protection, couldn’t hurt.

“Did you tell him it isn’t just any necklace but a very special protection necklace? Did you explain to him that the owl and the cougar were the only creatures that stayed awake for the entire seven days of Creation?” she asked.

“Nah, I just told him he was a poo-head, and then we played baseball.”

Amberly bit back a smile, wishing all conflicts could be resolved so easily. But as an FBI profiler, she knew that wasn’t the way life worked. Conflicts got messy and people could be twisted, and by the time she was called to work a case, somebody was almost always dead.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Max said, a touch of eagerness in his voice.

“Okay.” Amberly slowed the car a bit as they drove by a coffee shop where several people were seated outside, enjoying the early-September sun. “The man in the red shirt,” she said. Their car drove slowly past the shop, and then she stepped on the gas. “Go.”

Max frowned thoughtfully and then began. “His shirt was red and he had on blue jeans. One knee was ripped out and he had on blue-and-white sneakers. He had blond hair and a mustache.”

“Excellent, Max,” Amberly said proudly. “You’re going to be the best FBI agent in the whole world when you get old enough.”

It was a game they played every day on the way home from school, honing his powers of observation. He loved it, especially when he noticed something about somebody or someplace that she hadn’t noticed at all.

They were almost home when her cell phone beeped to indicate a text message. She dug it out of her purse and frowned.

“Looks like I’ll be going to Dad’s,” Max said as he saw her expression.

“Looks like,” she agreed and hit one on her speed dial. Her ex-husband, John, answered on the second ring. “What’s up?” His deep voice, as always, whispered an edge of guilt through her.