Patricia Davids - A Cloud of Suspicion

Shelby turned away to open the book-drop bin beneath the window. As she raised the lid, a long, black shape slithered onto the floor and coiled in front of her. A scream tore from her throat.

Raising its head, the cottonmouth snake reared back and opened its jaws, revealing its needle, sharp fangs.

Patrick vaulted over the counter and swept Shelby into his arms. The snake struck his boot, twisting its head to drive its fangs and venom deep. Patrick knew this was no accident, but why would anyone want to harm someone as sweet as Shelby?

WITHOUT A TRACE: Will a young mother’s disappearance bring a bayou town together…or tear it apart?

What Sarah Saw—Margaret Daley, January 2009

Framed!—Robin Caroll, February 2009

Cold Case Murder—Shirlee McCoy, March 2009

A Cloud of Suspicion—Patricia Davids, April 2009

Deadly Competition—Roxanne Rustand, May 2009

Her Last Chance—Terri Reed, June 2009

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continues to work as a part-time nurse in the NICU while writing full-time. She enjoys researching new stories, traveling to new locations and meeting fans along the way. She and her husband of thirty-two years live in Wichita, Kansas, along with the newest addition to the household, a stray cat named Spooky. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can contact her by mail at P.O. Box 16714, Wichita, Kansas 67216, or visit her on the Web at www.patriciadavids.com.

Special thanks and acknowledgment to Patricia Davids

for her contribution to the Without a Trace miniseries.

In the day of my trouble I will call upon thee:

for thou wilt answer me.

—Psalms 86:7

This book is dedicated with great love and deep

respect to my father, Clarence. Thanks for the

swing, the collie puppy, my first horse, your used

car and the occasional loan. But most of all—

thanks, Daddy, for the gift of your endless love.

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

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

Shelby Mason sat bolt upright in the darkness, her heart pounding in her chest. The next shrill ring of the phone dimmed her nightmare-induced panic, pulling her back into reality.

She glanced at the glowing numbers on her clock. 3:14 a.m. Who would be calling now? Who else had died?

A third ring prodded her to pick up the handset. “Hello?”

“Shelby, it’s Clint Herald. Is Leah there?” His voice vibrated with anxiety.

Shelby pushed her long red hair out of her face. “Clint, do you know what time it is?”

“I know it’s late, but Leah hasn’t come back to pick up Sarah and she hasn’t called. I’m worried sick.”

Pressing a hand to her forehead, Shelby tried to make her sleep-soaked brain work better. The dregs of her fading nightmare made it hard to focus. “I haven’t seen your sister since yesterday morning. Have you tried her cell phone?”

“Dozens of times. It goes straight to voice mail. She dropped Sarah off with me this evening and said she had a meeting, but it wouldn’t take long. Do you have any idea where she might be or who she was seeing?”

His concern was contagious. Shelby scooted back to lean against the headboard. “No, but I’m sure there’s a rational explanation. Maybe she needed some time alone. The past few days have been really rough for her.”

“I thought of that, but she wouldn’t leave Sarah for this long without letting me know. Something’s wrong.”

He was right. Leah always put her three-year-old daughter first. “Have you called the police?”

“They say they can’t do anything until she’s been missing for twenty-four hours.”

“What? Her husband just committed suicide, and the police won’t start a search for her? That’s crazy.”

“I told them that, but it didn’t do any good. Did she seem okay when you were with her? Did you see her talking to anyone out of the ordinary?”

Shelby racked her mind. “No. She did seem preoccupied, but I assumed it was still the shock of Earl’s death.”

“All right,” he conceded, resignation heavy in his words. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Call me as soon as you hear from her. I don’t care what time it is. Can I do anything?”

“At this point, just pray.”

“Of course.”

After hanging up, Shelby swung her legs over the side of the bed. Sleep was usually impossible after the recurring nightmare she could never fully recall. Tonight, worry for Leah pushed her dream into the background.

Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, Shelby tried to convince herself that Leah was fine. It would turn out to be a simple misunderstanding. It had to be. Leah had been through so much already.

The frantic barking of a neighbor’s dog abruptly shattered the stillness.

Shelby searched the cool wooden floor with her toes until she found her slippers. Sliding into them, she rose and crossed to the tall, narrow second-story window that overlooked the street outside. Pulling back the lace curtains, she pressed her forehead against the chilly glass.

The dog stopped barking. Silence blanketed the night once more.

Outside, Loomis, Louisiana, slumbered in a cold dense January mist that rose from the swamps south of town. The streetlight at the corner was only a faint white orb that did little to penetrate the darkness. Tiny pellets of sleet occasionally hit the window, melting into drizzle.

It had been years since Loomis had seen such freak winter weather. She shivered at the thought of her friend out in it. Where was Leah?

Unanswered questions crowded Shelby’s mind. What if she’d been overcome with grief and done something foolish? Leah and Earl had been having problems before his death. Could there be another man? Was she with someone else?

No! Shelby dismissed the ideas as soon as they formed. Leah knew right from wrong. The love of her family and her faith were keeping her strong.

After slipping into her pale-green cotton robe, Shelby sat in the bentwood rocker in the corner of her room and turned on her reading lamp. The burst of light did nothing to dispel her worry.

Rocking back and forth, she let the creaking of the chair keep her company as she waited for Clint’s call and watched the numbers on the clock tick past. Silently, she prayed for her friend.

Hours later, when the early-morning sunlight spilling through her window finally overpowered the lamp, she turned it off.

The storm had passed, but Clint hadn’t called. That meant only one thing.