Scene of the Crime: Bridgewater, Texas. Carla Cassidy
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“You might want to get somebody over to Miranda’s house to fingerprint the windows,” Jenna said.
“Why?”
“I think somebody came to visit while I was there today.”
“What?” He looked at her in alarm.
As she explained what had happened, a new uneasiness swept through Matt. Had the killer returned to the scene of the crime?
“I just got the sensation that I wasn’t alone in the house, but it may have been my imagination working overtime.” She picked up her water glass and took a sip.
“Do you suffer from an overactive imagination normally?” he asked.
She smiled wryly. “Never.”
Matt frowned and stared at her. “Both of the victims were brunettes with blue eyes—just like you.”
Scene of the Crime:
Bridgewater, Texas
Carla Cassidy
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels for Harlequin Books. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.
Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
Contents
Cast of Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Jenna Taylor—The FBI agent wants to solve her best friend’s murder but instead finds herself the next target.
Sheriff Matt Buchanan—A killer walks his streets. Is he smart enough to save the women who live in his town and the beautiful FBI agent who is under his skin?
Miranda Harris—The first victim of a serial killer.
Carolyn Cox—The second victim of a serial killer.
Leroy Banks—Did the busboy hide a killing rage?
Dr. Patrick Harris—The town’s veterinarian and a man with a secret past. Would he kill to keep his secrets?
Bud Carlson—Did Miranda reject his bad-boy advances, and did that rejection result in her murder?
Chapter One
Special Agent Jenna Taylor looked up the quiet residential street, then down the other way. Seeing nobody around, she carefully pulled aside the crime scene tape that was stretched across the front door of the small ranch house.
It was wrong, she knew what she was doing was wrong, but she didn’t intend to touch anything, wouldn’t do anything to compromise the crime scene.
She was surprised to find the door unlocked. She frowned, marveling at the sloppy work of whoever was in charge.
The faint smell of death lingered in the foyer even though she knew the body of the victim had been removed forty-eight hours earlier.
The first thing she saw as she stepped into the foyer was the horrendous painting of a rustic old red barn with a pond in front of it.
The sight of it threatened to unravel the tight control she’d kept on her emotions since she’d heard about the murder.
She’d painted the picture years ago in the very first art class she’d taken. It held all the flaws of an amateur; the water was too blue, the trees a single shade of green. Jenna had been going to trash it, but Miranda had insisted she loved it and wanted to keep it.
Over the years it had become a running joke between them. No matter where Miranda moved, no matter what her circumstances, the painting was always the one thing constant in her life.
Jenna steeled herself as she stepped into the living room. The essence of Miranda filled the room, from the colorful throw pillows on the red sofa to the plethora of flourishing plants in front of the windows.
Miranda had loved color and life. She made friends easily and trusted in the goodness of people. She and Jenna had been polar opposites, and yet they had been as close as blood sisters.
Jenna had been told very little about the crime, only that Miranda had been murdered and her body had been found in the bedroom. Jenna hadn’t spoken to any of the local officials yet. She’d wanted to come here first, see the scene without anyone tainting her first impressions, without anyone giving her theories about the killer. It was how she worked best—completely alone.
She’d been surprised that there hadn’t been a patrol car out front, a guard to keep looky-loos away. That, coupled with the unlocked front door made her slightly ill. The local law in this po-dunk Texas town probably didn’t know the first thing about conducting a murder investigation.