Confessions
Whiskey River is a quiet Arizona mountain town - until it's rocked by murder. The death of Laura Swann Fletcher, the beautiful wife of charismatic senator Alan Fletcher, makes headlines across the nation. Trace Callaghan's job is to solve Laura's murder, and solve it quickly. As the sheriff of Whiskey River, he has a reputation for unwavering logic and deliberate action. But this case is unlike any he's ever handled before - because Laura's sister, Mariah, insists on being fully involved, an involvement that extends beyond seeing her sister's killer unmasked. In this twisted case packed with illicit desires and dark secrets, everyone is a suspect. And nothing is what it seems…
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Whiskey River is a quiet Arizona mountain town—until it’s rocked by murder. The death of Laura Swann Fletcher, the beautiful wife of charismatic senator Alan Fletcher, makes headlines across the nation.
Trace Callaghan’s job is to solve Laura’s murder, and solve it quickly. As the sheriff of Whiskey River, he has a reputation for unwavering logic and deliberate action. But this case is unlike any he’s ever handled before—because Laura’s sister, Mariah, insists on being fully involved, an involvement that extends beyond seeing her sister’s killer unmasked.
In this twisted case packed with illicit desires and dark secrets, everyone is a suspect. And nothing is what it seems.…
Praise for Confessions by
“Masterfully weaves a tale of momentum and curves. Between the intrigue and the steamy romance, you’ll be left breathless.”
—RT Book Reviews
“JoAnn Ross takes her audience on a thrilling roller coaster ride that leaves them breathless.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Touches of humor nicely relieve the suspenseful nature of the intriguing and intricately plotted tale. Bravo!”
—The Paperback Forum
“A hot, steamy mystery sure to keep the reader guessing right up to the final climax. A page turner.”
—A Little Romance
To Jay
Dear Reader,
Although I’ve since moved back home to the Pacific Northwest, in 1996, while my husband and I were living in Arizona, I wrote much of Confessions at our mountain cabin set in the middle of an old growth forest high on the Mogollon Rim where this story is set. Although Whiskey River is a fictional town, the local history and landscape are very real.
One of the themes in all my stories is family. Of course, not all families are formed by common ancestry, but by bonds of the heart, born from friendship, loyalty and love. As Mariah Swann knows all too well, tangled blood ties can often complicate family issues—exaggerating wounds and leading to resentment and regret.
What begins as a trip home to make amends
becomes an unexpected journey of self-discovery. I hope you’ll enjoy, as I did while writing Mariah and Sheriff Trace Callihan’s story, following along as the Emmy-winning television crime show writer struggles to find not only her sister’s killer, but acceptance, healing and ultimately, her own true-life happy ending.
JoAnn
Contents
Chapter One
Laura Swann Fletcher had never realized how long five minutes could be. Especially when you were holding your breath.
She scowled at the vial atop the cultured marble countertop, as if intimidation could speed up whatever mysterious chemical reactions were taking place inside it.
Heat lightning flashed outside the bathroom window, hinting of the storm to come. A distant taste of rain rode on the sultry air. Normally, summer storms in Arizona’s high country never bothered Laura.
But tonight was different. Tonight she felt as if the electricity had gotten into her blood, making her edgy.
“Dammit, hurry up,” she begged. As if she didn’t have enough to deal with. “Please, hurry up.”
She took a deep breath that should have calmed, but didn’t. “It’s only stress,” she insisted, as if saying the words could make them true.
Perhaps she should have taken Fredericka Palmer up on that offer of Valium. Only last week her longtime best friend had professed concern about her. If only Freddi knew the whole story.
“Dammit, get hold of yourself.” Laura hardly recognized the high, nervous voice. She pressed her palms against her rib cage and, taking several more deep breaths, willed herself to relax.
But her mind continued to churn restlessly, tossing up the myriad problems that had been plaguing her. Problems without end. Dilemmas without solutions. Nerves humming, Laura decided to see if one all-important call she’d been waiting for had come while she’d been out buying the home pregnancy kit.
The answering machine was downstairs, in the den. The red light was blinking, signaling four calls. She pushed the Rewind button. Then, Play.
Unbearably restless, she prowled the plank floor.
Beep. “Laura. It’s your father.” His recorded voice was as gruff as always, but she thought perhaps it was only her imagination. His next words confirmed that it wasn’t. “I heard a story today that damn well better not be true. If you’re there, pick up.”
There was a slight pause as he waited for her to do as instructed. As she always had. “Hell.” Another frustrated pause. “When I get back from Santa Fe, you and I are going to have a talk. Because you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, girl.”
So, he’d found out. Even as Laura reminded herself that she’d been going to tell him herself, painful memories, buried but never forgotten, snaked through her.
