Conard County--Traces of Murder by Rachel Lee

Author:Rachel Lee [Lee, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-03-09T17:27:50+00:00

* * *

TRACE WENT TO check on the fire. Hillary wondered if he would add more fuel or if this period of rest was over. He must be feeling the pressure to get back to their task. She was beginning to feel it as well.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the memory of her sex with Trace. Swift. Hot. So satisfying. How good it had felt when he held her. Upon occasion she liked to feel soft. Womanly. Those desires hadn’t been scrubbed out of her.

She wanted more. A lot more. A chance to admire him, to explore him. A chance for him to explore her. Long, lazy, slow.

But not now. Clearly not now. They faced something so enormous that neither of them could let go, not unless they could find nothing useful at all. Then they would have no choice.

Her thoughts drifted back to that man who seemed to have been watching them. Probably nothing, but along the back of her neck, she felt a prickle of apprehension. A sense she had learned ages ago not to ignore.

But one man? After they had begun to wonder about the scope of what Brigid may have discovered? One man seemed like a small response that resulted in two killings. Were there more that they hadn’t noticed yet?

Their respite was over. She felt it in her bones. Time to get back to it.

She thought of Brigid. Of the bright light that had been snuffed out. Of the fact that it may not have been an accident of war at all. Of Trace’s conviction that Allan had not killed himself.

Her own growing conviction that the two deaths were linked.

Trace returned and went to the sink to wash his hands. “Time to get back to it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He pulled two small plates from the cupboard and put large squares of the brownies on them. “Coffee?”

“Of course. Need you ask?”

His smile reached only half-mast as he started another pot. “We’ll take this into the office. I need to find some paper napkins or we’ll get too sticky.”

Hillary knew where they were, having seen them during her hunt for cooking utensils. She pulled out a drawer and helped herself to a few of them.

Minutes later, coffee and brownies in hand, they returned to the office. There had to be an answer of some kind in there. Even Brigid and Allan couldn’t read each other’s minds.

As they sat and bit into brownies, Trace spoke. “If this is as ugly as it’s beginning to appear, we might be next on the killer’s list.”

“It’s possible.” The idea didn’t disturb her. She’d been in situations where dozens of people had wanted to kill her. She wanted to live, but she didn’t fear death. It often came swiftly and easily. She feared only surviving such an attack with her life in ruins.

“However,” she said as she finished her brownie and wiped her hands thoroughly, “I cannot imagine that anyone is watching Allan’s computer. Can you?”

Trace paused, then reached around and pulled a cable.

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