Lynette Eason - Too Close to Home

WOMEN OF JUSTICEBOOK ONE

Too Close
to Home

A NOVEL

LYNETTE EASON

2010 by Lynette Eason

Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com

E-book edition created 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansfor example, electronic, photocopy, recordingwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

ISBN 978-1-4412-0745-6

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

Scripture used in this book, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, is taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION . NIV . Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

Published in association with Tamela Hancock Murray of the Hartline Literary Agency.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Dedicated to Jack, Lauryn, and Will Eason

I love you to pieces.

Contents

Wake up, partner, the voice rumbled in his ear as Connor Wolfes sleep-drugged mind struggled to keep up. Weve found another body. In a dumpster behind the BI-LO off East Main.

He shifted the phone and glanced at the clock.

The number 2:08 glared at him. Great. Just the way he wanted to start his Monday morning.

Be right there. He hung up and closed his eyes for a brief moment before gathering the energy to swing his feet to the floor. Two hours of sleep. Well, hed gone with less. However, at the age of forty-two, he seemed to feel the lack a lot more than he did ten years ago. Shaking his head to fling off the fog of interrupted sleep, he headed for the shower, wondering if he should wake up Jenna, his sixteen-year-old daughter, or just hope she slept through the rest of the night.

He settled on leaving her a note. Fifteen minutes later, hair still damp, he directed his unmarked Ford toward the crime scene. His partner, Andrew West, would meet him there.

First a cop, then a homicide detective with SLED, the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division, Connor had seen a lot in relation to crime, but this case had him by the throat and wouldnt let go. Six disappearances and now three dead bodiesand very limited evidence. The first girl disappeared sixteen months ago. When the second victim disappeared two months later, speculation ran rampant. Were the vanishings related?

Then the third girl, Leslie Sanders, disappeared five weeks after that, and SLED had taken over the case. Connor had been the lead detective assigned to it, not only because it was his hometown, but because hed also requested it. He had a lot of contactsand he hoped hed be able to spend more time with Jenna if they were living in the same city for an extended period of time. Since accepting the position as a detective for SLED in Columbia a year ago, Connor had lived there and Jenna had stayed behind with her grandparents against Connors better judgment. But he had to make a living, and SLED operatives were required to live within a fifty-mile radius of the states capital. However, as long as he was working the case, he could reside in the city where the investigation took place. And be near Jenna so he could work on repairing a relationship he was afraid was beyond help.

On the plus side, hed been paired up with Andrew West, a new detective working his first case with SLED, but Connors closest friend for many years. A man he considered the brother hed never had. The match had been perfect.

Connor knew in his gut the girls deaths were connected he just couldnt prove it. The first two crime scenes didnt even connect the two girls except for one thing. Theyd both had a baby.

If this third dead girl showed evidence of giving birth, Connor would know without a doubt they had a serial killer on their hands. He hoped he was wrong.

Was pretty sure he wasnt.

It was why he and Andrew had been called in on this case. Sheriff Chesterfield usually hesitated about calling in outside help, but was professional enough to admit he needed their help and resources.

Dead girls and terrified parents. Not a pretty combination. Add gullible kids who thought bad things only happened to other people, and he had a potentially explosive situation on his hands. The attorney generals office and the governor demanded answers he didnt have, the media wouldnt let it go, and the mayor had resorted to threats.

Unfortunately, Connor had no idea what to tell them.

And very little to show. A fiber here, a hair there, but nothing that matched up with anything or anyone in the criminal database. Witnesses whose stories conflicted left them with nothing solid. And even the similarities in the witnesses stories hadnt panned out. The killer was so good it was terrifying.

And then there was Jenna.

Connors angry sixteen-year-old daughter defied him at every opportunity. When her mother died four years ago in a car wreck, it turned his little familys world upside downand dropped him and his daughter into the midst of a battle of the wills.

Flashing lights and a yellow tape barrier ahead demanded his attention. Right now, he had another murder to solveand at least three more missing girls to find.

Connor wheeled to a stop and hopped out of the vehicle. Even in the wee hours of the morning, a small crowd had formed to gawk at the sight of a crime scene. Quiet murmurs and speculation filled the air as yellow crime scene tape flapped in the occasional gust.

He pushed his way through and flashed his badge to the uniformed officer on the other side of the tape. Detective Connor Wolfe.

The man handed Connor a paper suit and booties for Connor to don in order to protect the crime scene, then wrote Connors name, badge number, and time of arrival down in the logbook. Connor ducked under and paused for a moment to get a feel for the place. A light breeze held the smells from the various fast-food restaurants, cigarette smokeand the unmistakable odor of a dead body.

Crime scene investigators worked the area. Serena Hopkins, the medical examiner, hunched awkwardly over the side of the dumpster. She looked up and saluted Connor when he approached, then went back to her scrutiny of the body that lay very near the top. She spoke with her back to him. Hey there, Connor. Good thing she was discovered when she was. The truck comes first thing in the morning to empty this particular bin. Ill be finished in a minute and you can come up and have a look.

Thanks, Serena. He shook his head as he did every time he saw the woman in action. Tall, willowy, with straight as a stick, raven-colored hair and ice blue eyes, she was runway model perfectwith a mind so quick Connor finally quit trying to match wits with her.

Never in a million years would he have picked this job for her, but after getting to know her and working with her over the past year, he couldnt see her doing anything else.

Connor walked closer. The stench in the air grew stronger.

Jake Hollister, thirty-five years old with gray-streaked blond hair, efficiently led the crime scene unit. He knelt easily, examining the asphalt about six feet away from the dumpster. Connor had worked with him in the past. From their first case together, hed quickly grown to respect and appreciate Jake as a professional who took his job seriously. They often met at the gym for a game of one-on-one basketball.