Arlene James - The Detective's Dilemma

Dear Diary,

Sometimes it seems that crisis follows crisis for this family. I shouldn’t complain. I’m so proud of my children, and I’m delighted that at least some of them seem to be finding love. But the Maitland troubles don’t seem to be over yet….

I still can’t believe it. My little Beth is being accused of murder. How could anyone think that bright, carefree, loving Beth would commit such an act? My maternal instincts tell me to exert every ounce of Maitland influence to protect her, but Beth feels that this would make her look more guilty than the circumstances already do. She believes her innocence is the only protection she needs. And she seems to think that the two detectives assigned to her case are fair, competent and open-minded.

What a night it’s been. I’m sure the police will soon see they have the wrong suspect. Nobody can truly believe our Beth guilty of such a crime.

This, too, will pass. It must.

Dear Reader,

There’s never a dull moment at Maitland Maternity! This unique and now world-renowned clinic was founded twenty-five years ago by Megan Maitland, widow of William Maitland, of the prominent Austin, Texas, Maitlands. Megan is also matriarch of an impressive family of seven children, many of whom are active participants in the everyday miracles that bring children into the world.

When our series began, the family was stunned by the unexpected arrival of an unidentified baby at the clinic—unidentified, except for the claim that the child is a Maitland. Who are the parents of this child? Is the claim legitimate? Will the media’s tenacious grip on this news damage the clinic’s reputation? Suddenly rumors and counterclaims abound. Women claiming to be the child’s mother materialize out of the woodwork! How will Megan get at the truth? And how will the media circus affect the lives and loves of the Maitland children—Abby, the head of gynecology, Ellie, the hospital administrator, her twin sister, Beth, who runs the day-care center, Mitchell, the fertility specialist, R.J., the vice president of operations, even Anna, who has nothing to do with the clinic, and Jake, the black sheep of the family?

Please join us each month over the next year as the mystery of the Maitland baby unravels, bit by enticing bit, and book by captivating book!

Marsha Zinberg,

Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator, Special Projects

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Arlene James has been writing for twenty-one years and considers herself truly blessed. Not only has she been able to pursue a career she loves, but she was also able to enjoy the luxury of being home with her children as they grew. Now that her kids are happily married, she’s approaching her writing with new ardor.

Arlene’s marriage, always a source of inspiration, also seems to be getting better as time goes by. She and her husband grew up, met and married in Oklahoma—years after attending the same school unaware of each other’s existence. She was a young widow, and he was smooth enough to convince her to marry him after their first date! Is it any wonder she writes romance?

I’m a most fortunate mother. I have two truly wonderful sons, and now I have two truly wonderful daughters-in-law. Both are bright and beautiful (inside and out), women who actually deserve such fine men. I thank God and my husband for such dear sons. I thank my sons and their in-laws for such dear daughters.

So this is for Ross and Monica, and Joseph and Heather. You have made me very proud. Again.

I love you all. Mom.

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

BETH’S HANDS curled into fists. Immediately she relaxed them and tamped down her impatience. She looked at the serious mien of the tall, dark detective lounging on the corner of the table at which she sat and felt the sudden urge to laugh. It was all so utterly preposterous. Murder. How could anyone suspect her, Beth Maitland, of murder—even if the unfortunate victim was her ex-fiancé’s wife? She’d much rather have flirted outrageously with the handsome detective than committed murder to assuage a broken heart, had she ever had one. What she would do, however, was answer these silly, repetitive questions.

“I went to the children’s garden in the courtyard of the day-care center to be certain that the bulbs planted that day were properly covered. No, we weren’t expecting a freeze,” she said flippantly, “but it is February, and as you well know, in Texas the weather is never certain. I didn’t go back to my office. I never saw Brianne. I certainly didn’t kill her.”

“Yet we know she was going to see you,” the detective persisted, looming close enough for Beth to catch a whiff of the sandalwood in his cologne.

Despite his stern, almost menacing demeanor, he was a devastatingly attractive man. Standing at least a couple inches over six feet and whipcord lean beneath a well-tailored suit of black sharkskin, Ty Redstone was definitely of Native American descent. Ink black hair, swept straight back and chopped bluntly at the nape, had been tucked behind his perfectly formed ears, calling attention to his squarely sculpted jaws and chin. His cheekbones were high and prominent, with slight hollows beneath, his lips wide and mobile. A long, thin nose and straight, slightly jutting brows lent a hawkish appearance to his almond-shaped brown-black eyes. A high, wide forehead bespoke intelligence, and his coppery skin was as smooth as a child’s, with the exception of a pair of tiny crow’s feet, one at the outer corner of each eye. Had he not been convinced that she had murdered Brianne Dumont by strangling the night before, Beth could have formed quite an amazing crush on the man. As it was, she could merely sigh and repeat what she’d been saying for the past two hours.

“I didn’t see her. I had no idea she was even in the building.”

“But her husband says—”

“I don’t care what Brandon says,” Beth snapped, momentarily losing her composure, “I didn’t see her!” She constantly wavered between humor at the ridiculousness of being accused of murder and anger at the seriousness of it.

Her attorney, a handsome, middle-aged man named Hugh Blake, intervened. “My client has answered this question repeatedly. Either move on, Detective, or we will.”

“It’s all right,” Beth answered him, drawing another deep breath. “I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. I did not ask Brianne to meet me at the Maitland Maternity day-care center or anywhere else. If Brandon says I did, then he’s lying or mistaken.”

“You weren’t jealous of her for breaking up your romance with Brandon Dumont?”

“No.”

“And there was no feud between the two of you?”