C.J. Carmichael - Next of Kin

E-mail to Chief Max Zirinsky, Courage Bay Police Department

From Casey Guthrie, motorcycle patrol officer

Chief Zirinsky,

I called in last night to give the investigators a heads-up about yesterday’s pileup on the Pacific Coast Highway, but I wanted to make sure you got this in writing.

There was something really weird about that crash.

First thing that happens, a sedan in the northbound lane suddenly explodes and bursts into flames. Then the tractor-trailer rig flips trying to avoid the burning vehicle. That sets off a chain reaction and the rest you know about. Strange thing is, only moments later, a second blast of flames shoots out of the sedan. I can buy one explosion from the fuel tank, but two?

I also thought you’d like to know that Courage Bay’s emergency services were in top form. Somebody should send a note to the hospital’s chief of staff about Jackie Kellison. Kellison’s an E.R. nurse whose car was totaled in the pileup. She was amazing to watch. The minute she crawled out of her car, she started treating the other victims. I’d bet more than one person owes her for saving their life.

I’m off for the next four, but call me on my cell if any of the guys on the investigative team need more info about the explosion.

Casey

C.J. CARMICHAEL

Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, C.J. Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double-entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written more than twenty novels for Harlequin Books and strongly suggests you look elsewhere for financial planning advice.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

In cities all over North America, traffic accidents are a tragic fact of everyday life. People are injured, sometimes they die, and many lives are changed forever. But can good ever come from bad?

While writing this book, I grappled with this question, as well as with two of the most daring characters I have ever written about. Motorcycle cop Casey Guthrie and emergency-room nurse Jackie Kellison are people of strong convictions. When it comes to doing the right thing, they’re not afraid to put their careers—or their lives—on the line. When it comes to her heart, however, Jackie is much more protective.

I hope you enjoy Next of Kin and the entire exciting CODE RED series. I’d love to hear what you think about this or any of my other books. Please contact me through my Web site. Or mail me a letter through my publisher. Either way works!

Sincerely,

C.J. Carmichael

www.cjcarmichael.com

It was an honor to be asked to work on the Code Red project. I appreciate all the hard work that went into this exciting series at Harlequin—in particular the discerning eyes and good judgment of Marsha Zinberg and Margaret Learn. To all the Code Red authors, who answer e-mail so promptly and with such good nature, it’s been a great experience!

Thanks to Sergeant W. R. Martin for answering all my questions (and questions, and questions!) so thoroughly and patiently.

Linda Prenioslo—always the best, the warmest of neighbors—thanks for sharing your medical expertise.

To my friend and fellow author Eileen Coughlan, who helped me wrestle with this plot—I appreciate so much the times we get together and share our passion for writing.

And finally, to my husband, Mike, who brainstormed this book with me for the entire car trip from Calgary to Edmonton—this one’s for you!

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

HIDDEN IN THE SHADOW of a stucco pillar outside the Super Value Mall on the southeastern outskirts of Courage Bay, a diminutive blonde clutched a baby to her chest and scrutinized the passing cars. A minivan wheeled by, but she couldn’t see in the tinted windows. Next, a two-seater Jeep zipped by, then a convertible.

The baby was getting heavy in her arms and the diaper bag kept sliding off her narrow shoulder. She eyed the vehicles with increasing desperation. This hadn’t been part of the plan. Could she pull it off? The only answer she could come up with was that she had to. He’d slashed her tires, taken the money. What else could she do?

Finally she spotted a silver-gray Taurus wagon with an infant car seat in the back. The driver was an elderly woman—a grandma, maybe? The vehicle nosed into a parking place an aisle over from where the blonde was standing.

Impatiently she waited as the driver turned off her car and carefully stowed her sunglasses in a leather case on the dashboard. Finally the driver’s door opened and the lady emerged. She opened the cargo door and pulled out a slick, fold-up stroller.

Hey, I should get one of those. As soon as the blonde had the thought, she gave herself a mental kick. As if. What was she thinking? She was not keeping this baby, no way…though at two months, it was awfully cute.

With the stroller set up beside her, the lady reached into the rear seat and pulled out a bundle in several blue blankets. She fussed some more, returned one of the blankets to the car, then finally closed the door and locked it, slipping the keys into the front pocket of her lightweight jacket.

It was October in Southern California. The jacket and the blankets weren’t exactly necessary. The day was sunny and warm, with a gentle breeze coming off the ocean. Fortunately it wasn’t raining, which it could easily do at this time of year. Still waiting, she shifted the baby to her other hip. Her heart pounded so loudly now, it was all she could hear.

The moment the lady pushed the stroller into the mall, the blonde stepped out from behind the pillar and followed. Through the heavy glass doors, past a small shoe-repair shop, a chain drugstore, a beauty salon. The lady with the stroller turned left at a kiosk selling hemp jewelry and soon reached her destination: Baby Gap.

She went straight to the sales rack, flipping through the tiny items and selecting a few. Observing from a safe distance, the blonde had to force herself not to think about baby outfits herself.

Ten minutes later, with a dark blue plastic bag looped over one of the stroller handles, the lady emerged from the store. This time she stopped at a women’s wear shop and again headed directly for the discount racks. Spotting a sweater she liked, she shrugged out of her jacket and threw it over the back of the stroller.

The blonde stiffened, spotting her chance. Trying to appear nonchalant, she strolled into the lady’s line of vision and pretended to be interested in a row of T-shirts next to the stroller. She slid in as close as she dared, then brushed a hand over the jacket. The first pocket held nothing but a folded tissue.

Frantically she searched the second pocket. In front of her, the lady was admiring herself in a mirror. She swiveled, then smiled at the baby in the stroller. “What do you think, darling? Should Grandma buy this sweater?”

The blonde froze, certain that she was about to be busted. But a saleswoman walked between them at that moment.

“Oh, yes!” the saleswoman exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. “That pink really brings out the color in your cheeks.”