Tracey V. Bateman - Suspicion Of Guilt

Detective Reece Corrigan scowled. “That’s what I’m here for, and I have to tell you-”

Denni raised her hand to stop him. “What possible motive could any of my girls have to sabotage their own home? Where would they go?”

Leaving him to mull that over, she marched to the top of the stairs. He followed her into the kitchen.

“That’s the one thing I can’t put my finger on. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but maybe the person we’re dealing with here doesn’t think along rational lines.”

“All my girls are rational,” Denni snapped.

His amusement was more than apparent in the upward curve of his lips. “Then I guess they must take after you,” he drawled.

The Mahoney Sisters: Fighting for justice and love.

REASONABLE DOUBT

SUSPICION OF GUILT

BETRAYAL OF TRUST

TRACEY V. BATEMAN

lives in Missouri with her husband and their four children. She writes full-time and is active in various roles in her home church. She has won several awards for her writing, and credits God’s grace and a limited number of entries for each win. To relax, she enjoys long talks with her husband, reading and music and hanging out with her kids, who can finally enjoy movies she likes. Tracey loves to encourage everyone to dream big. She believes she is living proof that, with God, nothing is impossible.

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You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

—Psalms 139:15–16

This book is dedicated to my precious friend Nancy Scott, who believes in the mandate for older (though she is not old) women to teach the younger women. God used you to teach me that I was somebody in His eyes. Thank you for sharing the theme scripture of this book with me when I was a teenager.

Special thanks to my faithful critique partners as always—especially Chris Lynxwiler and Pamela Griffin; both of you stayed by your computers to get chapters from me to critique on the spur of the moment so that I wouldn’t miss my deadline. Only God could have given me such loyal friends.

Also, thanks to my mother, Frances Devine, and to my mother-in-law, Vivian Bateman. Thank you both for believing in my dreams enough to sacrifice your time so that I can put mine to the best use during the days of deadline mania. May God bless you both abundantly above all you could ever ask or think.

Thank you, Jesus. It’s all about You.

Dear Reader,

Reece and Denni came from very different backgrounds, but both had to learn that they were crafted by design. Their lives were not just lucky or unlucky coincidences, but rather God, sticking to the plan. His plan.

It is my prayer that as you read through this story, God whispered, “Do you know how excited I was when you were being formed inside of your mother? From the moment of your conception, I dreamed about the day you would learn your first Bible verse; sing ‘Jesus Loves Me, This I Know’ the day you would hold your first wiggling worm in your chubby little fingers, or chase a beautiful butterfly; the first time you would fold your hands and say a prayer all by yourself; the day you would let Jesus become your Lord.”

Or if you’ve never taken that step, God has waited, in anticipation, just for you to come to that decision as Reece did.

I welcome e-mail from my readers at tvbateman@aol.com or visit my Web site, www.traceybateman.com.

May God bless you as you live, move and have your being in Him.

Prologue

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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

The night swirled around her. Black, stabbing darkness conjured terrible shadows from childhood nightmares. Leaves hovered like a vampire’s cape, suffocating. Fear gripped her. Branches tossed in the breeze—razor-sharp fingers ready to slice her to shreds.

Hurry, hurry, hurry.

A low half growl, half whine came from the Doberman behind the fence next door. She jerked her head at the sound, heart pounding in her ears like the thrum of a thousand drums.

Shh. “It’s okay,” she whispered. Don’t give me away. I’m so close to accomplishing my goal. The dog obeyed and sat—watching but silent.

Relief flooded her as she turned back to her task. Denni Mahoney, with all of her sweetness and light…

Shards of rage pierced her heart at the thought of Denni getting what she wanted. She didn’t deserve it. A mastermind of deception. Denni had fooled them all.

Everyone but me. The thought made her smile with grim determination.

With a shaky hand, she reached for the outside faucet. Hesitated. One twist and the broken pipe would send water rushing inside the house instead of flowing to the ground. The basement would flood.

She grasped the faucet tightly and gave it a quick turn.

Water spewed.

The Doberman barked.

Her heart rate escalated. She pushed to her feet, gulping down the fear and crept across the yard. Exultation shoved away the terror of night as she found safety.

Shock, disbelief, horror…all vied for first place in Denni Mahoney’s chest as she stared at the foot of water standing in her basement. Water. Just…standing there where water was never meant to be. She shook her head, pressing her palm to her forehead.

What next?

“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Behind her, Detective Reece Corrigan’s tone was hard-edged, resolute, but the warmth of his hand on her shoulder evoked a strange sense of comfort.

“You have to admit it definitely could be one of them. Why do you insist that all five of the girls are innocent?”

The warm, comforting fuzzies turned to cold stone. She didn’t have to admit any such thing, and she was sick of his suspicions being centered on the girls. Anger shoved down the tears clogging her throat, and she shook off his hand.

Standing on the fourth step from the bottom of the basement stairs, Denni watched a hardback book float across the water covering the concrete floor. A Tale of Two Cities. A birthday gift from her mom when she’d turned fifteen. Little by little her memories of Mom were being destroyed. It had been ten years since her death, and only photos provided a clear picture of her face anymore.