Sharon Dunn - Dead Ringer

Lucy opened her mouth to protest, but Eli held up a hand. “I know you don’t like people interfering. But I grew up with two sisters and I had, like, a ninety percent success rate with predicting when a guy was bad news.” Her expression hardened, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. “Please, Lucy, I am just asking you to trust me. I can’t explain why, but please just trust me.”

She studied him for a moment. “You barely know me. I don’t understand why you would even care.”

“It’s in my cop DNA. Though, my partner says I have an overdeveloped need to protect people.”

“Your partner might be right.” The resolve he saw in her eyes was unwavering.

He let go of her arm. “I had a good time this afternoon helping you. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” It was the truest thing he could say to her.

has always loved writing but didn’t decide to write for publication until she was expecting her first baby. Pregnancy makes you do crazy things. Three kids, many articles and two mystery series later, she still hasn’t found her sanity. Her books have won awards including a Book of the Year award from American Christian Fiction Writers, and she was a finalist for an RT Book Reviews’ Inspirational Book of the Year award.

Sharon has performed in theater and church productions, gotten degrees in film production and history and worked for many years as a college tutor and instructor. Despite the fact that her résumé looks like she couldn’t decide what she wanted to be when she grew up, all the education and experience has played a part in helping her write good stories.

When she isn’t writing or taking her kids to activities, she reads, plays board games and contemplates organizing her closet. In addition to her three kids, Sharon lives with her husband of twenty-two years, three cats and lots of dust bunnies. You can reach Sharon through her Web site at www.sharondunnbooks.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

—Isaiah 41:10

For the Ladies’ Aid Society and my July brainstorming buddies. Thanks for making me laugh until my sides hurt, supporting me in all matters personal and professional and for praying.

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

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

Someone was in the house.

Lucy Kimbol pushed her chair back from her work-table. The noise had come from downstairs.

Tuning in the sounds around her, she held her breath. Outside, the rain tapped the roof in a muffled whisper. The view through the window was black. A fan whirred about four feet from her. She leaned forward in her chair. Downstairs, it was silent.

Yet her skin tingled. Her stomach clenched. The same physical responses she had when she was camping and a wild animal was close. Even if she couldn’t see or hear the animal, she could sense it. And now she sensed…something in her house. She released a slow stream of air and remained as still as possible.

A sudden thud from downstairs caused her to jump up from her chair and dart to the edge of her loft. She gripped the wooden railing, scanning the living room and kitchen below. No sign of movement. She had definitely heard something this time, though. Her heart rate accelerated as adrenaline shot through her muscles.

Her house was not that big; most of it was visible from the loft. That meant something or someone had to be downstairs in her bedroom.

Lucy tiptoed down the spiral staircase and crept toward the bedroom door. Another sound, like the brush of a broom or gust of wind came from within the bedroom. She froze. Her hands curled into fists. She locked her knees.

Maybe she should just call the police. No, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to anyone on the Mountain Springs police force. Past experience told her that the police did more harm than good. She could handle this herself.

She took a step forward; her bare feet brushed across polished wood. Her hand grazed the bedroom door. No light penetrated the slit between door and frame.

This could be nothing. A raccoon had probably snuck in through the open window again.

After a deep breath, she pushed hard on the door, burst into the room and flipped on the light in one smooth movement. Something was crawling out of the window, but it wasn’t a wild animal.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Her words came out in a staccato burst, like gunfire.

The man in a hoodie slipped through the window and disappeared. Lucy raced to the window. Sheets of rain made the glowing circle of a flashlight murky as it bobbed across the field. He was headed toward the forest and beyond that the road. A quick survey of the room revealed open drawers and boxes pulled out of the closet. Lucy put a palm on her hammering heart. The man had been holding something as he’d escaped. She’d been robbed!

Outrage fueled by adrenaline caused her to dash out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. She yanked open the back door, covering the length of the porch in two huge steps. Focused on the light, her bare feet pounded across hard dirt and rocks. Rain soaked through her shirt and yoga pants before the pain in her feet registered.

She stopped, gasping for air. What had she been thinking? Even if she caught the thief, she couldn’t subdue him. Anger over the theft had pushed her off the porch, but rationality made her quit the pursuit.

Along the edge of the forest, the bobbing light became a distant pinhole before winking out altogether.

Lucy bent over, resting her palms on her knees. Rain slashed against her skin and dripped from her long hair.

Now she was going to have to call the police whether she liked it or not. Her hand was shaking when she picked up the phone. Would this time be different from every other time she had gone to the police for help? As she changed out of her wet clothing, a sense of dread filled her. She doubted that the police would be able to find the thief, if they would even make the effort.

Detective Eli Hawkins saw only a partial view of the woman who had called in a robbery, but he liked what he saw—mainly long dark hair and a slender build. She had opened the door but left the chain lock on. Even with such a narrow view of her, heat flashed across his face. Very attractive.

“Ma’am, did you report a robbery? I’m Officer Eli Hawkins.”

She lifted her chin. “I know all the cops on the force. You don’t look familiar.”

“I’m new.” He’d only been in town for six hours. Now he wondered why all the other officers had been so eager to send him out on a call right away. None of the Mountain Springs officers had said anything directly, but the implication was that no one wanted to handle a call from Lucy Kimbol. Maybe she was one of those people who constantly called the police.

She rubbed her shirt collar. “Can I see your badge?”

Her voice had a soft melodic quality that quickened his heartbeat. He pulled his ID from his back pocket and held it up so she could look at it.