Drawing Fire: A Gritty Romantic Suspense Novel Featuring a Cold Case Mystery and a Relentless Cop (Cold Case Justice, 1, Band 1) - Softcover

Cantore, Janice

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1414396686 ISBN 13: 9781414396682

Verlag: TYNDALE HOUSE PUBL, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

One case from her past defines homicide detective Abby Hart.

With a possible serial killer stalking elderly women in Long Beach, California, Abby’s best lead is Luke Murphy, an irritating private investigator who saw a suspect flee the scene of the latest homicide. When Abby discovers that the most recent victim is related to the governor, she’s anxious to talk to him about a cold case that’s personal to her—one Luke is interested in as well.

As she learns more about the restaurant fire that took her parents’ lives years ago, Abby discovers why Luke is so invested in finding the ones responsible. The more they uncover, though, the more questions they have. Can Abby find peace without having all the answers?

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With a possible serial killer stalking elderly women in Long Beach, California, homicide detective Abby Hart’s best lead is Luke Murphy, an irritating private investigator who saw a suspect flee the scene of the latest homicide. But as she works with the handsome PI to unravel the serial killer case, she must also confront the spark between them. When Abby discovers that the most recent victim is related to the governor, she’s anxious to talk to him about a cold case that’s personal to her, one Luke is interested in as well.

As she learns more about the restaurant fire that took her parents’ lives years ago, Abby discovers why Luke is so invested in finding the ones responsible. With everyone else telling her to walk away from this case, Abby and Luke search for evidence buried beneath years of deceit . . . and soon realize that someone will do anything to make sure this case remains cold.

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Drawing Fire

Cold Case Justice

By Janice Cantore, Erin E. Smith

Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

Copyright © 2015 Janice Cantore
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4143-9668-2

CHAPTER 1

TWO OPEN CASES, two dead ends.

Two faces stared back at Abby Hart as she studied the chart she'd made chronicling the progress in her open homicide investigations.

Or lack of progress.

I won't let them go cold.

Turning from the chart to her desk and swallowing a bitter taste in her mouth, she closed the Dan Jenkins murder book and placed it on top of Mavis Snyder's. She'd been working these homicides hard without any leads—or suspects, for that matter—shaking loose. Snyder had been on the board for a month, Jenkins two weeks.

What am I missing?

She stood and walked to the coffee counter and drained the last bit of the pot into her mug. The Long Beach homicide office was empty; day shift had ended two hours ago. Homicide didn't field a night shift. Instead, there was always someone on call after hours. This week was Abby's turn in the "guaranteed to be awoken in the middle of the night" slot. A sip of the stale, acrid coffee finally convinced her she needed to surrender and go home as well.

After ditching the nasty dregs and rinsing her mug, she gathered her things and headed out, turning off the lights and locking the door behind her. Her thinking had been clouded lately, and it didn't help that she was exhausted. For the last two nights the same nightmare had sent her sleep screaming into the abyss, leaving her tired and sluggish. The dream was always about fire. Abby hated fire. Fire, and murder, had stolen her parents from her when she was only six, and the disturbing nightmare dredged up old, painful shadows of memories.

Abby calling for her daddy and getting no answer.

Smoke burning her eyes, her throat.

Blistered hands holding her, saving her, then melting away.

A treasured stuffed animal consumed by angry, red tongues of fire.

Worst of all, the dream reminded her of how frozen cold the case of her parents' murders was and threatened to remain. For twenty-seven years investigators had come up empty.

Abby's single-minded interest in solving the case had propelled her to homicide investigator status after eight years on the police force. But once there, other influences had kept her away from the very personal case. She vaguely wondered if the dream was telling her she should sit on the sidelines no longer.

No homicide case should go unsolved—not her parents', not any case currently on her desk.

Not on my watch, she vowed as she started her car and drove home.

* * *

"I don't need you to protect me by keeping the harsher aspects of your job from me." Ethan frowned and his displeasure vibrated across the miles as Abby rested her chin in her palm. They'd been chatting on Skype—Abby in her home in Long Beach, California, and her fiancé, Ethan Carver, in Western Africa on a mission trip.

"I'm not doing that. You've said you didn't care to hear the details of my cases."

"That doesn't mean you can't tell me what's wrong when you're having a bad day."

Abby rubbed her brow, hating this fine line she suddenly had to walk with Ethan. She'd looked forward to a happy talk about their approaching wedding, the first discussion in two weeks, and he'd turned it into an argument.

Or was it something I said?

She didn't even know how this had started. "You think my job weighs on me—it doesn't. It's what I do. Chasing killers is as much my mission field as building homes in third world countries is yours.

"Stop. Don't compare the two. I bring hope. You deal with depravity. Your world is dark and dangerous, and I don't want it to destroy you, Abby."

His complete dismissal of her work left her speechless for a moment. This resistance to her career was new and growing: the closer their wedding date, the more he voiced his thoughts along those lines. Abby was sure she loved Ethan and just as sure she was not going to quit being a cop now or when they were married.

"Ethan, I—"

She could hear the music begin, the haunting strains of Cher's classic "Bang Bang," the song that served as her ringtone for homicide callouts.

"I can't believe it," she said, chest tightening as she reached for the phone. It was three thirty in the morning her time—the Skype session had been arranged for Ethan's schedule. Abby had prayed she'd be spared an early morning callout this once. Guess not.

Ethan's frown deepened and further increased Abby's discomfort. This uneasiness with her job assignment was burgeoning from a pimple to an abscess.

"I do bring hope to people," she said while Cher sang. "The hope of justice for their loved ones."

He shook his head. "I think it's more about you and one case that you let define you."

She bit her lower lip, not believing he went there when she couldn't respond. "I have to answer."

"I know." The frustration faded from his features, replaced by resignation. "Be safe. We'll finish this later."

Oh, good, Abby thought as she answered the call.

"We have another elderly victim. Similar to last month."

Wide-awake, Abby cleared her throat. The watch commander was on the line, and he'd called her himself; he hadn't left it to dispatch. She knew why: this was bad. A cat burglar had murdered octogenarian Mavis Snyder. If this homicide showed the same MO, then they had a monster in the city on the prowl for defenseless old women. The definition of serial killer echoed in her mind— "the unlawful killing of two or more victims by the same offender."

"We could have a serial killer on the loose." He voiced her thoughts.

Abby had been trained not to jump to conclusions, but two similar killings a month apart was not a good sign.

"I'll have to take a look before saying for sure."

"Confirm as soon as you can."

Abby promised she would and sped to the address she'd been given, though the exigency was long past. She was struck by how close the address was to the west police substation as well as being close to the address of the Snyder murder. Her stomach tightened as the ticks began to mount up that this had been committed by the same offender—a very bold offender.

To the WC, it was an important line on his incident log. To Abby, it was a slap in the face, a taunt that she was not doing her job. The Snyder case had attracted the nickname the "granny murder" in the homicide office. A priority, it occupied the lightest murder book because up to now she had nothing to go on in the way of evidence.

Until tonight. The upside of this callout—if there was ever an upside to murder—was that the watch commander indicated there was a witness on scene who could provide the first lead.

She arrived at the small bungalow, thankful for the early morning hour and that the place was not crowded with press and curious neighbors.

Abby reclipped her hair to keep it out of her face and briefly checked her appearance in the rearview mirror before climbing out of the car. The department allowed casual dress for early morning callouts, which for Abby meant pressed black jeans, a belt with a holster for her Sig Sauer .45 auto and cuff case, a homicide polo shirt, and a dark-blue police Windbreaker. She stuffed her handheld radio into a back pocket and grabbed her kit. A tepid, early summer breeze rippled the Windbreaker as she closed the car door. An immediate observation set her...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: TYNDALE HOUSE PUBL
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2015
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1414396686
• ISBN 13: 9781414396682
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 416
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar