Mallory Kane - Double-Edged Detective

MALLORY KANEhas two very good reasons for loving reading and writing. Her mother was a librarian, who taught her to love and respect books as a precious resource. Her father could hold listeners spellbound for hours with his stories. He was always her biggest fan.

Mallory loves romantic suspense with dangerous heroes and dauntless heroines, and enjoys tossing in a bit of her medical knowledge for an extra dose of intrigue. Mallory lives in Mississippi with her computer-genius husband and three exceptionally intelligent cats.

She enjoys hearing from readers. You can write her at mallory@mallorykane.com

Double-Edged Detective

Mallory Kane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover

About the Author About the Author MALLORY KANE has two very good reasons for loving reading and writing. Her mother was a librarian, who taught her to love and respect books as a precious resource. Her father could hold listeners spellbound for hours with his stories. He was always her biggest fan. Mallory loves romantic suspense with dangerous heroes and dauntless heroines, and enjoys tossing in a bit of her medical knowledge for an extra dose of intrigue. Mallory lives in Mississippi with her computer-genius husband and three exceptionally intelligent cats. She enjoys hearing from readers. You can write her at mallory@mallorykane.com

Title Page Double-Edged Detective Mallory Kane www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication To my mother, who only ever wished the best for me.

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

Copyright

To my mother, who only ever wished the best for me.

Albert Moser sat in his worn easy chair with his daughters’ photo album on his lap. It bulged with photos, snapshots and small remembrances of happy times and places.

Christmas Leigh a nd Autumn Lynn, each named for the time of year they were born. Moser slid his fingers along the edge of the pages. The first half of the album was about his daughters’ lives. He’d devoted the last half of the book to something else entirely.

He looked up at the calendar he’d hung on the wall next to his TV so he could watch the months, the weeks, the days go by. And they had. Somehow, he’d made it through another year. Somehow, it was October again.

He flipped over to the back of the album, where he’d pasted newspaper clippings, notes and baby photos. Behind them, stuck between two pages, was a small stack of insurance forms. Four years ago, the stack had seemed huge. During his career, he’d sold a lot of life insurance policies to parents for their newborns. Then, when Rudolfo Gomez had retired, Albert had taken over his customers, too.

Once he’d culled out the males and the people who had moved away or died, the stack had dwindled to ten. He counted. Only six were left. Six policies taken out at birth on six baby girls. Now they were grown. Young women with their lives ahead of them, just like his Autumn.

And like his daughter, they had no idea that one of them had only a few days to live.

Albert Moser sighed. He didn’t want to do it. The weight of the women’s lives was heavy on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure he could stand under the weight of another one. It had been four years.

For a brief moment, he considered turning himself in and begging them to find his daughter’s killer. He’d tried begging. But the police had dismissed Autumn’s murder as a mugging. He knew it wasn’t. He just knew it.

The telephone rang. Albert started and almost dropped the album. He didn’t have to wonder who was calling. It was Christy. His older daughter was the only one who ever called him. He picked up the handset.

“Dad? Hi. How are you?”

“I’m okay. How’re you doing? Is it cold in Boston?”

“Always,” she said with a laugh. Her low, slightly husky voice reminded him of her mother. “So how are you doing? Are you eating? Taking care of yourself?”

“I’m doing okay.”

“Dad, you need to get out. Why don’t you call some of your buddies and play some golf?”

Albert didn’t answer. Christy had been pushing him ever since Autumn’s death to get out, get some exercise, see some of his old friends.

“Well, I just wanted to call and see how you are, and—”

“Autumn’s birthday’s in six days,” Albert interjected. “She’d be twenty-six now, you know.”

“I know.” Christy sighed. “Dad, I called tonight because I’m leaving for Germany tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a week. I’m speaking at the Children’s Health Issues Summit in Munich.”

“Okay.”

“Think about coming to Boston for Christmas, Dad. I can’t get time off. Christmas is always a busy time for pediatricians. But we could sightsee, go to some good restaurants.”

“I’ll see,” Albert said. He shuffled the insurance forms he held, looking at the birth dates on the policies. “You know, Christy, the police still aren’t doing anything about Autumn’s murder.”

“Dad—”

“She was murdered. You know how scared she was of that man she was seeing. He killed her. I’m sure of it.”

“Dad, please stop trying to figure out who it was. It’s eating you up inside.”

“You’re right there. It is.”

“Think about coming up here for Christmas.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Christy said goodbye and hung up, leaving Albert feeling more lonely than he had before she called. Her voice echoed through the empty house.

It’s eating you up inside.

Yes, it was. And there was only one thing that would stop the gnawing pain.

He had to continue his crusade. Eventually, the police would look back and know he’d been right all along. Autumn Moser was murdered. Then they’d realize that these young women wouldn’t have had to die if they’d paid attention to him. They’d be sorry they’d dismissed him.

DETECTIVE RYKER DELANCEY polished off the last bite of Coquilles St. Jacques and took a final sip of wine. He sat back and glanced at his watch. Almost eleven o’clock. Closing time. Only a few late diners were still lingering over coffee or dessert at L’Orage.

It hadn’t been easy to adapt to eating dinner so late, but with the anniversary date about to roll around, Ryker wasn’t taking any chances with his only living victim.

Speaking of—a familiar figure in a white coat emerged from the kitchen. Nicole Beckham. She smiled as she greeted a couple a few tables away. Ryker had no trouble hearing their conversation in the subdued, intimate atmosphere of the upscale continental restaurant. The two were regulars, and they always asked to speak to the chef. Nicole always responded the same way.

“I’m so happy you enjoyed it. It’s always wonderful to see you.” Nicole’s green eyes sparkled with genuine pleasure. Her pixieish face lit up when she smiled. She acted as if the couple were the only people in the room.

Ryker glanced around at the lingering diners. A woman he’d seen a few times before was reading what looked like a legal brief as she ate. As he watched, she glanced up at Nicole, then pulled out her cell phone. She spoke briefly then set it down beside her plate and went back to her reading. Three tables beyond her a young couple were feeding each other white chocolate bread pudding and kisses. Ryker knew how their evening was going to end.