Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (104 page)

Ellen sighed, and with tears threatening to fall, she turned to look at him. “I know. I just wish the outcome could have been better. What a bummer!”

“There is one consolation that you need to hang on to. If it wasn’t for your tenacity, we wouldn’t have found the other two girls or these bodies.”

“You’re so sweet, Brian, but you did this.” Ellen swept the area with her arm. “If you hadn’t had the foresight to tap into Fallon’s GPS history, none of this would have been possible.”

“It’s teamwork. We’ll go on to future cases knowing that our foundation is one that most firms would envy.”

In spite of their gruesome surroundings, Ellen smiled. He was right. Teamwork was the very foundation that their working partnership was built on, and it would, in the end, help their business to grow and succeed. If this case had shown her anything, it was that her determination for a better outcome would be paramount going forward.

Thank you for reading
Sole Intention
; I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.

If you liked it, please consider posting a short review as it’s wonderful to get feedback from readers.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

M. A. Comley is a
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling British author who settled in France around eleven years ago, turning her hobby into a career. When she’s not tapping away at the keyboard creating her latest thriller, she enjoys gardening and has recently carried out several renovations on the farmhouse she bought last year.

Keep in touch with the author at:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mel-Comley/264745836884860

http://melcomley.blogspot.com

http://melcomleyromances.blogspot.com

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NIGHT PREY:

A NIGHT SERIES NOVEL

CAROL DAVIS LUCE

Copyright © 1992 by Carol Davis Luce

Sudalu Media publication: 2010

1st Printing: Kensington Publishing Corp: 1992
2nd Printing: Kensington Publishing Corp: 1993

Audio book ACX 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

With love and kisses to Alex, Cody, and Cory…
little bits of heaven on earth.

PROLOGUE

Gigantic pines, white fir, and quaking aspen passed along each side of him, casting deeper shadows across his boots and the deer trail he followed. The creature sounds in this shadowy stretch of the woods seemed more guttural. Birds shrieked. Predators growled low in their throats. Prey screamed in the throes of death.

The large man moved stealthily through the thickets of chokeberry and manzanita. He bent his head to avoid the low-hanging boughs, hunched his shoulders, his arms swaying apelike as he lumbered down the worn path.

In the heat of the afternoon, when the air smelled of roasted pine nuts, baked earth, and granite, he would find her in the cool waters of the pond. His pond.

He slowed. He was close. Once he spied the pond he would have to move more cautiously. This was the hardest part. For at this point he always wanted to rush ahead and join her in the sweet, cool water. But he must not reveal himself. Not yet.

At the edge of the darkness, through a tunnel of brush, he saw sunlight glitter off the water’s surface.

From tree to tree he advanced furtively to the fringe of the woods. Still deep in the concealing shadows he became a watcher.

Her horse was tethered to a clump of dry brush. Her clothes lay scattered over a large flat rock. He scanned the pond for her, seeing only distorted reflections of the tall trees lining the western shoreline.

He waited. Watched.

The girl shot out of the water in an explosion of droplets, shimmering like precious metal, in the afternoon sun. He heard the sharp intake of her breath. He felt her energy.

Like a water nymph she stood waist-deep in the shallows, her skin golden in the sunlight. Her breasts were at last beginning to swell with weight and size.

He felt the silence of the forest, the denseness of the air, the cool shadows. The presence of the girl in the warm light made his pulse quicken. So alone, so vulnerable.

Forbidden.

He wanted her. A primal hunger stirred within him. His need was like an electrical charge passing through his body. The others paled in comparison to this perfect creature of the woods.

The others…

Oblivious to the sweat that flowed from his pores, he touched his trembling fingers to the coarse mat of his beard.

Ripples died away in the pond as the girl stood quietly, wringing water from her long blond hair. Pure. Innocent. Maddening. He thought his heart would burst.

Celia—no,
not Celia, he told himself sharply. Celia was from long ago, from another lifetime almost. Celia was dead.

The girl in the pond was Tobie. Lovely woman-child of this quiet place, this remote, secluded temple.
Forbidden.
But this, too, could change.

She dove under the water with a graceful arching of her body, legs straight, toes pointed. She surfaced and, surrounded by light, totally uninhibited in her naked state, she made her way lithely to shore.

His legs trembled as he watched. His breathing became hoarse, ragged in his own ears.

She stopped abruptly, staring directly at him. He was deep enough into the shadows of the forest to be invisible to her, yet, like a wary buck, he froze. Could she feel him watching her?

When a slow smile appeared on her radiant face, he thought his heart would seize. Was the smile for him? Had she known all along he was there?

She crouched, picked up something from the ground and tossed it several feet. A tree squirrel scampered forward, snatched the bit of food, then stood on its hind legs, eating the morsel. When it finished, it chattered as if talking to the girl.

The sound of her soft laughter carried to the watcher in the woods. With a swing of her arm she sprayed the ground with trail mix from a plastic bag, peppering squirrels and chipmunks that had appeared out of nowhere to feed.

Secure in her belief that she was alone and unobserved, the girl lay down on the flat, sun-warmed rock. After fanning her wet hair out, she stretched her arms above her head and closed her eyes.

Holding his breath, the big man crept forward.

CHAPTER ONE

Roberta Paxton smiled into the camera, her nervousness gradually dissipating. She glanced into the monitor and saw herself; an attractive woman with light chestnut hair, more red than brown under the bright studio lights, looking confident and self-assured.
Don’t get too confident, Robbi, he’s poised and ready to pounce.

The host of
Public Events,
Bradley Stevens, was on a roll. A notorious flirt on and off the camera, Brad had a special knack for lacing every conversation with sexual innuendos and double entendres. As a frequent guest on his show, Roberta could now hold her own. He no longer had her stammering and blushing like a giddy ingénue, though it didn’t stop him from trying.

“Let’s see… here’s an event I personally look forward to every August,” Brad said. “The tenth annual Discover Dinner Dance sponsored by the Silver State Women’s Center. Now, there’s a dance anyone can attend, socially incompetent or not. Right, Roberta?”

“You’re always welcome. Brad.”

He mouthed the word “ouch”.

“I’ve been talking with Roberta Paxton, assistant director of the SSWC, a local organization to aid abused women.” Brad casually laid a hand on her knee. She shifted smoothly out of his reach. “Thanks, Roberta, for coming today. It’s always a pleasure to have you”—he paused a beat, then—“on my show.”

They broke for a commercial.

Roberta breathed a sigh of relief as she worked to remove the microphone clipped to the lapel of her blouse.

“Here, allow me.” Brad leaned over, took hold of the clip. His cool fingers fumbled intimately against her skin.

“I can do it.”

“Just about got it.” His tone was serious, but she caught a mischievous glint in his eye before he lowered his head again. “Your boyfriend still in New York?”

“Umm.” Robbi saw a bald spot at the top of his head, the flesh stained a dark brown to match his hair. Shoe polish? She quickly looked away before the urge to laugh got the best of her.

Under his breath he said, “Stick around, we’ll go to lunch afterward.”

“Can’t.”

“A drink?”

“Can’t.”

He gazed into her eyes. “A little clinching in the elevator, then?”

“Your wife should hear you,” she admonished him lightly.

“Phyllis and I are separated.”

“Yeah, sure.” Roberta brushed his hands away and unclipped the microphone herself.

“Really. Would I shit you?”

“In a minute.” She stood. “Gotta go. Thanks again for the airtime.”