Memories of Us: Hearts of the South 5 by Linda Winfree

Author:Linda Winfree
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Police
ISBN: 9781605041681
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Published: 2009-03-31T13:00:00+00:00

One hand on the wheel, Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the thoughts, the images trickling through his mind. Jessica, struggling, fighting, hurting.

Dying.

He blew out a ragged breath, thankful for Celia’s silent presence. In the passenger seat, she stared ahead. His brain clicked through the numbers, counting off months. If Jessica had a baby…

He could be the father.

His stomach cramped. God, no. He couldn’t face that again.

“You didn’t know, did you?” Celia’s soft voice washed over him, pulling him back from the abyss. “That she was pregnant.”

“No. We hadn’t talked in weeks, months.” He clutched the steering wheel with enough force that his knuckles ached. He cleared his tight throat. “That baby could be mine.”

“I figured as much.” She dropped her hand from her neck, brushed his wrist atop the gearshift with her fingers. The soothing comfort of her touch pierced the fear wrapped around him. He wanted to grab her and hold on.

He turned left, the Mercedes purring along the road fronting the emerald golf course, then slowed to pull into Jessica’s long asphalt driveway.

Her luxury Toyota sat in the drive, flanked by the GBI’s crime scene van, a bevy of cars from the Chandler County’s Sheriff’s Department and the coroner’s wagon. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the immaculate yard and a Chandler County deputy stood guard at the open oak door. Tom killed the engine and stared at the front of the fashionable brick home.

“Ready?” Celia touched his hand again, a brief smile curving her mouth, although her eyes remained serious.

He swallowed a rough laugh. Ready for what? To see Jessica’s body? To find out whether or not he’d fathered her missing baby? He nodded. “Come on.”

She walked a little ahead of him as they approached the house and he sensed her withdrawal. Despite the strain twisting his gut, a half-hearted smile twisted his mouth. Moving in cop mode already. She exchanged a quick greeting with the deputy guarding the door and waited for Tom to join her. Together, they entered the house.

Cook stood inside the door, watching a GBI crime scene technician photograph the scene. Tom’s stomach rolled. Jessica lay on the floor of the foyer, a white tunic pushed above her breasts and twisted about her torso. Black slacks tangled about her ankles. Her eyes stared upward, the irises cloudy, the pupils fixed. The rancid smell of death hung heavy in the air—blood, body fluids, early decay. Blood had pooled beneath her body, staining the cream-colored carpet, congealing into a stinking mess. A trail of dried blood led from a crusted-over cut on her cheekbone to her ear.

Her abdomen gaped like an obscene mouth.

“Christ.”

“Fancy seeing you this morning, Counselor.” Cook frowned at him before focusing on Celia.

She shrugged and glanced quickly at Tom. “Early meeting.”

Cook’s eyebrows winged upward. “On a Saturday?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you have so far?”

“Friend dropped by early this morning after Grady missed a dinner party last night. When Grady didn’t answer her phone or her cell or open the door, the friend called us.

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