Memory of Murder by Kathleen Creighton

Author:Kathleen Creighton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction, Family secrets, Man-woman relationships, Police, Contemporary, Crime, Romance, Family Life, Suspense, Single fathers, General, Love stories
ISBN: 9780373276776
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2010-05-01T00:37:20+00:00

Alan stared down at the square of unfinished wood, not wanting to believe, not wanting to accept what lay there before him.

"I don't understand." Lindsey spoke in the voice of a bewildered child, and he refused to hear the pain in it. Frustration vibrated through his insides and fury burned behind his eyes.

Too late, dammit. Too late!

"It was here," he said flatly. "You can see it yourself." He pointed to the dark rectangle of glue residue about half an inch wide, framing a space the exact size of a standard manila envelope. He gave the brush in his hand another twitch, and a few more grains of fine black powder sifted down onto the bare wood surface. "Something was taped to the bottom of this drawer--with masking tape, probably. But it's gone now." He exhaled slowly through his nose and reeled in his disappointment, allowing himself only a whispered, "Damn."

"It could have been anything," Lindsey said, her voice now unsteady but defiant. She was hugging herself, he saw when he glanced at her. Had the shakes, probably.

"Yes, it could. Anything at all. And whatever it was, your father couldn't take even the remotest chance that a police homicide detective might get his hands on it."

"You don't know that!" It was a cry of pain, as if he'd wounded her. "You can't possibly know when--" She froze.

An instant later, so did he. They'd both heard it--the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. The creaking of a garage door rising.

"I thought you said--"

"It's too early! Something must have--it's not even noon!" Her eyes were huge above the hands clamped across her mouth. She moved them long enough to whisper hoarsely, "Oh, God--what am I going to do?"

"Go--now. Stall him. I'll get this cleaned up. Tell him--hell, never mind. Tell him anything. Just stall him."

She nodded and went, leaving the office door partly open. He had to admire her for that presence of mind, since the sound of the door closing and then reopening would have given him away for sure.

He moved quickly, sliding the drawer back into place with as little noise as possible, then putting everything back in it, careful to put things exactly as he'd found them. Knowing that, if Merrill was as knowledgeable as he appeared to be, he'd have left some kind of "tell" that would let him know instantly that someone had violated his secret hiding place. Couldn't be helped.

As he worked, he followed Lindsey's progress with his ears, listening to the sound of the kitchen door opening, a brief snatch of conversation:

"Dad--you're home early! What happened--"

"Lindsey? What are you doing here at this time of day, honey? Is that Alan's--"

Before the door closed, cutting off the rest.

God help us, he thought. I just hope she can stall him long enough.

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