Deadly Desire, Sarah Spillman Police Procedurals: Book 11

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

She never meant to do it.

It was one of those things that just happened, something she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t been looking for it, but there was an opportunity, and she’d taken it. And she’d paid dearly for that decision.

She downed the last of her drink, feeling the burning of the alcohol in her throat that made her cough. Then she drew in a breath, hoping she’d relax soon. She put the glass in the dishwasher, then gripped the edge of the sink as she stared out the kitchen window. Past the expensive deck furniture on the back patio, the grass was green and lush. It needed mowing. The flower beds were in full bloom, a cascade of color. Tall evergreen trees blocked the late July sun, leaving the back yard in shadows. She’d worked hard to make a beautiful, peaceful area, but she saw none of that now.

Only darkness blurring her vision, no calm.

Ever since she’d made that fateful choice. Oh, if only she could go back and redo things. She’d walk away; better yet, she’d run. That one mistake had cost her so much. She snorted. Admittedly, more than that one mistake. She shook her head. It had been months of hell. The arguments, the fighting. And the fog enveloping her.

Her knuckles went white as she squeezed her hands harder.

She’d known what she’d done was wrong, knew it the second she got into that mess. But sometimes your desires overrode everything else, took over your common sense, and led you down a path you never could’ve imagined. She’d tried to extricate herself from the situation, but that had only made it worse. More fighting, more drama.

She cocked her head, thinking she’d heard something. She strained to listen, but there was only silence in the room and a roaring in her ears. She’d been hearing things lately, things she couldn’t explain. Her nerves tingled, her heart beat faster, and the anxiety built like a tornado within her.

“Stop,” she chided herself. “It’s nothing. It’s always been nothing.”

Her words rang hollow in the quiet kitchen. There was a term for what she’d been experiencing. Auditory hallucinations. But she was sure they weren’t hallucinations, that everything she’d heard was real.

Right?

She blinked. Along with the noises, there was that fog that seemed to get darker by the day. How that could happen, she didn’t know, but it was true. That she was sure of.

Another sound filtered into her brain. A clicking sound, a steady beat that mocked her, telling her she was crazy.

“I’m not nuts,” she said.

The beat continued, and she suddenly realized what it was. The old-fashioned clock hanging on the wall behind her, with its second-hand that ticked off the seconds. The movement of the second-hand was almost inaudible, but she heard it. Right now, it was driving her mad.

Just like everything else.

She gritted her teeth. Everything had been worked out, or so she’d thought. Turned out that had been a fantasy, something she’d built up in her own mind. Nothing has been resolved. She snickered to herself. And the darkness was pressing down on her. She swore. Everything had to stop; all of it had to stop. She couldn’t go on living like this. Then she nodded. She would do something to make it end. Things would be fixed once and for all.

She stared out the window, then jumped. Had something moved out there? And was that another noise behind her? She whirled around and peered into the living room. No one was there, only the empty street outside the front window. She turned to the back yard again.

There was movement, a figure creeping along the side of the detached garage. Her back stiffened and she leaned forward for a better look. Then recognition flashed across her face, and she seethed with anger.

“Not now,” she muttered to herself. She leaned back and let go of the edge of the sink, then walked toward the back door. “We’re going to take care of this once and for all.”

She swore again as she opened the back door.

CHAPTER TWO

“I can't believe she's finally gone.”

My brother, Hunter, closed his front door and leaned against it. He ran both hands down his face, wincing as his fingers brushed a black eye.

She was Cassandra Ziegler, his now ex-girlfriend. Hunter and Cassandra had been dating for several months, but my older sister, Diane, and I had only found out about it after my wedding last June. While Harry and I had mostly enjoyed our wedded bliss for the last few months, Hunter and Cassandra had been in the midst of a tumultuous relationship. Turns out, she’d been physically abusing my brother, and I’d just recently found out. The woman had even thrown a frying pan at him, cutting his forehead, which needed several stitches.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him.

He blew out a long breath and shrugged. “At the moment, relieved. We’ll see how I feel in a day or two. You know, I did love her, as crazy as that sounds.” His usually upbeat voice was flat and dull.

Diane and I had been worried about our brother, concerned that he wasn’t seeing the truth about Cassandra. I’d even recently gone out to dinner with him, taking the time to try to get him to see what was really happening. It wasn’t until just last night, after he’d had a fight with Cassandra and she’d hit him, that he finally started realizing what Diane and I’d been saying. Ironically, it was Hunter’s co-worker who had talked to him, helping him to understand that if the situation were reversed, and he had hit Cassandra, no one would’ve thought twice if she’d called the police. But domestic violence toward men is shrouded in double standards and misconceptions. If a man hits a woman, it’s a horrible thing. If a woman hits a man and he reports it, he’s weak or insecure. Not manly. I’d seen that behavior when I ‘d been a patrol officer, and I still occasionally see it now that I’m a homicide detective. Not a lot has changed, unfortunately. It was heartbreaking to see my brother go through it with his ex-girlfriend.

Hunter looked around his living room, decorated in muted tones, with a matching brown leather couch and loveseat, and abstract paintings on the walls. There were touches of Cassandra, a vase of flowers on an end table, some glass figurines on the coffee table. Hunter noticed her things.

“She won’t be coming back for a few days. When she does come by, I’ll pack up her stuff and have it ready for her.”

I nodded. “Good idea. Have it by the door, so she can take it and leave.”

Hunter had called me that afternoon and told me about the conversation with his co-worker, and how after that, he’d decided it was time for Cassandra to leave. He didn’t need to put up with her behavior anymore, he’d said. I’d offered to help him before, and finally he took me up on it, asking me to come over to be with him when he told Cassandra she had to leave. He’d handled the situation well. When Cassandra came home from work, he explained that even though he loved her, it wasn’t okay for her to hit him, or for her to treat him the way she had. He didn’t mention all the ways he’d bent to her will, but I thought about them as he talked to her. They’d typically done only what she’d wanted to do, and he had slowly pulled into himself, it was obvious, not hiking or camping, not doing any of the outdoor things he loved. It had been all about her. I listened as he told her their relationship wasn’t healthy, and that it wasn’t what he wanted for his life.

At first she apologized and then told him that she would change. He pointed out that she’d said that in the past, and that nothing had happened. He also said she hadn’t seen a counselor as she promised him after the frying pan incident, and that he didn’t believe she would see one. I don’t know what Cassandra would’ve done if I hadn’t been there, but to her credit, she hadn’t lost her temper or exploded. Anger had briefly flashed across her face, and then she looked at me. I’d had one confrontation with her recently, when she’d shown up at my house to tell me to stay out of her affairs. She hadn’t hidden her anger then. This time, though, she furrowed her brow, but she seemed to realize that arguing would be futile. She simply stared at my brother, then at me, finally announcing that if that’s what Hunter wanted, she wouldn’t try to change his mind. She asked him to let her pack a suitcase and said she’d stay with a friend, and that she would pick up her things later. He’d agreed, and I’d given them some privacy while they went to the bedroom. I stood down the hallway, and I didn’t hear their voices as she packed. I think she was too stunned to speak, and he was too afraid to say anything and risk her blowing up.

Now that she was gone, I felt all the tension I’d been holding release in an instant. I smiled at him.

“You’re going to be okay,” I said.

A small smile broke across his face. Hunter is three years younger than I am. He’s a good-looking man—tall, with short blond hair and the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Successful. I was proud of him at that moment. He motioned to me.

“How about something to eat, and maybe a beer? I’ve got leftover Thai food in the fridge.”

Earlier, I’d called Harry to tell him about Hunter’s phone call and not to expect me for dinner. I hadn’t known how long things would take with Cassandra, or what would happen. And now it seemed that Hunter needed the company, so I didn’t want to rush out.

“That sounds good,” I said.

We went into the kitchen and while he rummaged in the refrigerator, I got two plates from the cupboard. He spooned pad Thai onto our dishes, and while he put a plate in the microwave, he pulled two Negro Modelos from the fridge.

“That’s a great beer on a hot summer night,” I said.

He pointed to the refrigerator. “I’ve got limes.”

While he warmed up the second plate, I cut up limes and poured two glasses of beer. We went to the covered back deck, which had a stunning view of the mountains. We talked while we ate, first idle chitchat, and then as he finished his pad Thai, he sat back and sipped his beer.

“I can’t believe I fell for someone like Cassandra.”

I finished my bite and looked at him. “Diana and I wondered the same thing.”

He arced his eyebrows. “What did you conclude?”

What went through my mind first was how I’d tried to tell him that Cassandra was bad news, and he hadn’t believed me. But I quickly realized there would be no point in shaming him. He had finally realized the situation, and that was the important thing. I sipped some beer as a ceiling fan stirred the warm evening air.

“There are a lot of reasons why you might’ve fallen for her. I also wonder about when you were bullied when you were a kid. Remember that?”

He grimaced. “Oh yeah. What was her name? Laura. And her brother Rick.” Acid laced his voice.

“She picked on you, told you that you were ugly, and that you weren’t good at math. That got under your skin, and it left some kind of a void, some insecurity in you.” He didn’t say anything, just listened to the sounds of some kids playing down the street. I went on. “You know those kids were wrong. You’re a handsome man, and you deserve the best.” I pointed to his house. “You’re successful, with a great job, and a brighter future.”

All that was true. Hunter had been a software developer but had recently accepted a role in middle management. Several years ago, he’d bought this house in Highlands Ranch. It was a beautiful home, in a great neighborhood. On top of all that, he was kind and had a good heart.

He blinked a few times as he looked into the yard. “I appreciate your saying that. Cassandra never seemed to notice.”

“It’s her loss. Hopefully she’ll get some help. How she treated you was not healthy.”

“I see that now.”

I took another drink and set down my glass. “You should consider talking to someone, too. You don’t want to fall into another situation like this last one.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He must’ve seen the look on my face. He laughed and held up his hands. “I promise.”

I grinned. “You better, baby brother.”

We lapsed into a companionable silence, and then he looked at me.

“How do you and Harry make it work?” he asked. “You get along so well.”

I gave that some thought. Harry and I had been together for over ten years before we’d tied the knot. It had been my reluctance, not his, to step into matrimony. I’d had a lot of my own baggage to resolve, issues with my sister and an incident in our past that kept me from committing to him. Harry had put up with my reluctance and had waited on me to figure out things. It couldn’t have been easy for him.

“Harry’s a great guy.” I smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, we do fight at times, but it’s not that often. I think that’s some of the key to relationships. If you find somebody that you have a real connection with, where it’s really good, you don’t fight that much. And when you do, you can work things out without resorting to violence.”

He nodded slowly. “I hope I can find that someday.”

“You will.”

He changed the subject. “How’s your work?”

I shrugged. “It’s unfortunate, but homicide keeps me busy. Too many people don’t know how to do anything with their anger but hit somebody. Or worse.”

“Why’d you want to be a homicide detective?”

I looked toward the sun, which was low in the sky now, as I thought about that. “I used to like those crime shows on TV, and I’d wonder about the criminals, what went through their minds as they committed their crimes. I couldn’t understand that part of it, what would motivate them. I guess I wanted to know more.”

“Do you understand now?”

I shook my head. “I have to find motivation for the homicides I investigate, but I don’t necessarily understand the why. Sometimes you have crimes of passion, but a lot of times, people are just plain bad. That part, I can’t explain. I’ve seen some horrible things over the years.”

“I’ll bet you have.”

I thought about some of the crimes I’d investigated, the murders, children being abused, women being raped and killed. I wasn’t going to tell Hunter any of that. I blinked a few times, trying to erase images that popped into my head, things I would never forget.

“You make a difference. You know that,” he said.

“I hope so.”

He leaned forward. “You do. You have with me.”

“I’m glad. And thank you.”

We sat for another minute, and then I glanced at my phone. “I should be going.”

“Did you get a text? You have to go to work?”

I smiled. “No. I should get home.”

He nodded. “Good idea. Apologize to Harry for me, will you? I didn’t mean to ruin your evening.”

I stood up. “You didn’t. I’m glad you asked for the help.”

“Me, too.”

We carried our dishes and glasses inside, and he walked me to the door. He gave me a big hug.

“I’m so glad you came over.”

I squeezed his shoulders. “I am, too. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else.”

He glanced to the empty living room. “I’ll be fine. Really, I will.”

I told him I loved him, and I headed outside. It was hot, so I cranked the air conditioner in my Ford Escape as I drove home. This time of night, Santa Fe wasn’t busy as I headed north and turned east on Sixth Avenue. Harry and I have a ranch-style house on Grape Street, just southeast of downtown Denver. When I walked inside, the kitchen was quiet. I went down the hall to our home office, where Harry was working. I leaned against the doorjamb.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Hunter’s going to be okay.”

I told him what had happened, and when I finished, he raked a hand through his steel- gray hair. Hunter’s a good-looking man, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Harry. He’s a few years older than I am, and I still melt when he looks at me with his dark eyes. He stood up, came over, and gave me a long kiss.

“I’m glad you were there for Hunter, and I’m glad you’re home.”

I put my hand on his chest. “Yep.”

I was going to ask him how his day had been, but he kissed me harder.

“How about we go to bed early?” he whispered in my ear.

I was about to answer when my phone rang. Harry’s shoulders tensed, and he stepped back. He knew I was on call, and he knew what a call at this time of night could mean.

“Maybe it’s Hunter,” I said as I pulled my phone from my pocket.

It wasn’t.

“Hey, Sarah,” my partner, Ernie Moore, said in his deep voice. “I hope I’m not bothering you. Did you get a call from the station?”

I glanced at Harry. His mouth was downturned with disappointment. I wasn’t happy, either. I cleared my throat.

“No,” I said to Ernie. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got a new one, a possible suicide. But you know, we gotta check it out.”

“Sure.” I gave Harry a shrug. “Where?” Ernie gave me an address, then said he’d text it to me as well. I sighed. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“See you soon.”

I ended the call and forced a smile. I’d told Hunter that Harry and I don’t fight that often, which was true. My husband—I liked thinking of Harry that way—is generally understanding about my job and its erratic hours. But the untimely interruptions sometimes bothered him. Like now. He held up his hands.

“I know, you have to go.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll take you up on your offer another night.”

He pursed his lips. “Go. I’m fine.”

I gave him a kiss, and he was measured in his response. I told him I loved him, and I left.

 

This series is one of the best ever written! Just when you think you know who the killer is you get a huge twist, and these books are addictive and hard to put down! You must read Sarah Spillman you won't be disappointed! Please keep this series coming! ~Reader review