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Prime Suspect (Falsely Accused) - Softcover

Smith, Virginia

 
9780373445332: Prime Suspect (Falsely Accused)

Inhaltsangabe

Under suspicion

Discovering a dead body on her first day of work throws Darcie Wiley's "fresh start" into a tailspin. Things get worse when the police make Darcie their prime suspect. She's surrounded by distrust and suspicion—and the eerie sense that someone's been in her apartment, going through her things. Terrified and alone, she turns to Caleb Buchanan, who promises to help her find the truth. But their digging leads to more danger—and another suspicious death—as a ruthless killer fights to keep secrets buried.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Virginia Smith wrote her 1st story in her mid-twenties and discovered that writing well is harder than it looks; it took many years to produce a book worthy of publication.During the daylight hours, she steadily climbed the corporate ladder and stole time to write late at night after the kids were in bed.With the publication of her 1st novel, she left her twenty-year corporate profession to devote her energy to writing stories that honor God and bring a smile to the faces of her readers.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Almost two dozen windows in the rear facade of the sprawling antebellum mansion looked out over the pool deck, any one of them potentially concealing a hidden watcher. Darcie Wiley suppressed a shudder at the idea of a pair of eyes spying on her from behind one of those spotless panes of glass. Mrs. Byler may very well be in one of those rooms, watching. From the moment Darcie had arrived at Fairmont Estate that morning, the housekeeper had made no attempt to mask her dislike of Mr. Fairmont's newest employee.

What do I care? This job is only temporary anyway. As soon as I can find something better, I'll get out of her way.

But beneath the brave mask she kept in place, Darcie did care. Mrs. Byler's dislike rubbed at feelings raw from grief, and more than once today tears had blurred Darcie's vision. Like now.

Blinking furiously, she deposited the kitchen trash bag into the garbage bin and then latched the lid. Between her and the mansion's rear patio lay an elaborately landscaped pool deck, bright June sunlight glittering off the crystal water. Lovely but somehow out of place in the backyard of a pre-Civil War era mansion. Behind her, on the other side of the pool deck, stood a long one-story building. The pool house, at least, matched the setting. Care had been taken with the architecture to ensure that regardless of its modern purpose, the building looked like part of the original estate.

A familiar noise sounded in the distance. The high-pitched yap of a dog. Darcie's ears pricked to attention. Within seconds, dozens of other canine voices joined the first. A smile stole across her lips. They sounded exactly like her darling Percy. The famous Fairmont Kennel must be somewhere nearby. Judging by the direction of the barking, perhaps even just behind the pool house.

She glanced at the mansion's windows. Mrs. Byler would accuse her of shirking her duties if she didn't return to the kitchen immediately and put away the silver she'd spent hours polishing that morning. But surely she deserved a short break. And suddenly she really wanted to see the birthplace of the animal that had given Mama so much joy in the last torturous months of her life.

With another glance toward the windows, she headed around the side of the pool house with a quick step. When she rounded the corner, she stopped in surprise. A man was stooped on the ground, his broad back turned her way. She must have made a sound, for he turned. When he caught sight of her, he rose to his feet. For an instant Darcie fought an instinct to run. His muscular build, massive shoulders and intimidating height would give anyone pause, even without the colorful array of tattoos decorating his forearms. But the friendly smile that lit his face halted her.

He spoke in a pleasant baritone as warm as his smile. "Hello."

"Uh, hi." She gave a nervous laugh. "You startled me. I wasn't expecting to find anyone here."

"Another minute and you wouldn't have. I just finished cleaning up." He held up a paintbrush, and she saw that he had been kneeling by a faucet. The grass beneath the spigot was wet and whitewashed, and a paint tray lay upside down within arm's reach. The dogs began barking again, much closer this time. The man cocked his head in that direction. "I've been hearing those yappers all day. Sure sounds like a bunch of 'em."

"I thought so, too," Darcie said. "I was on my way to see them."

She headed toward the corner, making an arc around him. When she drew even with him, he tossed the paintbrush on the pan and fell in beside her.

"Might as well take a look, too. My name's Caleb, by the way."

Suddenly uncomfortable, she avoided his friendly gaze by looking straight ahead. She'd never been entirely comfortable around unknown men. Or ones she knew, either, for that matter. But she couldn't be rude, could she? "I'm Darcie."

When they rounded the corner, she saw immediately why the barking sounded so loud. The kennel, a long single-story building, ran perpendicular to the pool house. On the far side stood a barn-shaped building with garage doors. In a fenced area that ran the length of the kennel, at least a dozen balls of white, fluffy fur frolicked in the grass. A pair of larger dogs dozed in the shade nearby.

Darcie's heart melted at the sight of the puppies that looked so much like her own Percy. "Oh, look at them! How adorable." She hurried over to the fence, delighted when the puppies ran and tumbled toward her. She stuck her fingers through the chain links and was rewarded by a dozen wet tongues vying to greet her with doggy kisses.

"They look like overgrown, furry rats with no tails."

She glanced up to find Caleb staring down at the darlings with something that resembled a perplexed scowl.

"Trust me," she told him, "they're not rats. They're very expensive dogs."

"Hmm." He didn't sound convinced. "Well, at least they're not like that one."

She looked where he pointed. In the fenced yard at the far end of the kennel stood a much larger animal, its eyes fixed on them. A rottweiler.

"This morning Mrs. Byler mentioned something about a guard dog who roamed the estate grounds at night. That must be him." She laughed. "These little babies wouldn't be much use as protection."

With a final caress of soft puppy fur, she rose and looked toward the narrow breezeway that connected the kennel to the pool house, where a door stood cracked open. Maybe an office of some sort? "I wonder if we'd be allowed to hold one." She headed toward the door.

Caleb shook his head as he walked beside her. "You mean people actually pay money to buy a dog the size of a guinea pig?"

Darcie couldn't hold back a chuckle. "They do grow bigger than that."

Once at the door, she knocked softly. Complete silence emanated from inside. No one there. Disappointed, she knocked again, this time a bit harder. Maybe someone deeper inside the pool house would hear her and answer. When her knuckles struck the wood, the door creaked open wider, giving her a glimpse of one corner of the office inside. A pair of shoes and a pile of clothes had been tossed haphazardy on the floor just inside the door. Certainly unlike the tidy interior of the mansion.

And then she noticed that the shoes weren't empty. A man's ankles showed between them and the tan cuffs of a pair of pants. That was a person on the floor inside. Was he hurt?

Breath caught in her chest, Darcie grabbed the door handle and pushed it open farther. The sight that greeted her drove the air from her lungs. A man lay on the floor inside, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Unseeing eyes stared toward the ceiling. She knew without checking that he was dead.

"What is it?" Caleb asked from behind her. "Is something wrong?"

She turned to fix a horrified gaze on him. Call an ambulance. Call the police! That's what she wanted to say. Instead, the only sound she could force from a throat as dry as the Sahara was a scream.

In Caleb's opinion, Detective Samuels looked far too young to hold a position of such authority with the Georgia State Police. Most of the investigating officers combing the area around the pool house were at least ten years his senior, maybe twenty. But they all treated the young man with obvious respect as they approached the poolside patio table to report various findings. Samuels acknowledged each report with a nod but never took his eyes from the object of his questioning.

Not that Caleb blamed him. Darcie was an attractive woman, petite, with short,...

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