Critical Exposure

For a moment Rand thought she would cry. Instead, she raised her chin and sat up straight, as if forcing all her willpower into her spine.

Echo was some kind of woman. He hated to think how he’d react to losing a child. One reason he’d never entertained having one.

“What are the chances?” she finally asked.

He opened his mouth to give her an answer, then closed it without saying a word. He didn’t know the chances. He didn’t know what they were up against.

He laid a hand on hers, tracing her soft skin with a fingertip. He shouldn’t be touching her now. He was coming dangerously close to getting personally involved. But somehow he couldn’t stop himself.

She needed him. He couldn’t turn his back. Even though turning his back was exactly what he should do. For her sake. And for his own.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my mom, Carol Voss.

Ever since she was a little girl making her own books out of construction paper, Ann Voss Peterson wanted to write. So when it came time to choose a major at the University of Wisconsin, creative writing was her only choice. Of course, writing wasn’t a practical choice—one needs to earn a living. So Ann found jobs ranging from proofreading legal transcripts to working with quarter horses to washing windows. But no matter how she earned her paycheck, she continued to write the type of stories that captured her heart and imagination—romantic suspense. Ann lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, her two young sons, her Border collie and her quarter horse mare. Ann loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at [email protected] or visit her Web site at annvosspeterson.com.

Randall “Rand” McClellan— A police detective who believes strictly in the evidence, Rand can solve this case only by using his heart.

Echo Sloane—Echo has never found a man she could trust—except for her brother, Bray. So how can she rely on a detective who wants to put her brother in prison? A detective who doesn’t even trust his own heart?

Brayden “Bray” Sloane—Echo’s brother disappeared after a chemical explosion and hasn’t been seen since. Does his vanishing act mean he’s in trouble? Or is he to blame?

Wesley Vanderhoven—A victim of the chemical explosion, Wes Vanderhoven has been locked in a psychiatric hospital. But is he there to recover, or is the experimentation continuing?

Dr. Frederick Morton—The man in charge of the Beech Grove psychiatric clinic, Dr. Morton has a lot to hide.

Nurse Dumont—Believing knowledge is power, Nurse Dumont keeps an eye on everything that happens at the Beech Grove clinic.

Ashley Kromm—The nurse is in love with her patient. How far will she go to protect him?

Dr. Martin Kelso—The acting director of Cranesbrook Associates, Kelso is well connected. But is he using those connections for good or evil?

Dr. Nelson Ulrich—The research director cares only about his work. To what lengths is he willing to go to protect it?

Hank Riddell—The research fellow seems to have all the answers at just the right moments.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixeen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Officer Maxine Wallace rested her fingers on her weapon’s grip. A muscle twitched deep in her throat, steady as a clock’s tick. Her nerves trilled with the sense of approaching danger.

Ridiculous.

There was no reason for her to feel so uneasy. As far as the job’s duties went, this was a simple task; assist the Maryland State Police by executing a search warrant; gather evidence of whatever crimes the president of chemical-research company Cranesbrook Associates had committed that had caused him to kill people to cover them up.

Not just people, a state police detective.

Determination hardening in her gut, Maxie peered through the office door. She focused on the stain in the anteroom near the glass doors. The cream carpet was still rusty red where Cranesbrook president, Sid Edmonston’s, blood had seeped into the fibers and saturated the pad. She could smell it, too. That coppery, fleshy odor only came with blood and death.

She was glad the scumbag himself was in the morgue. She was glad Rand McClellan, Detective Richard Francis’s partner, had been the one to fire the shots. It was only right that Rand had delivered justice for his partner’s murder. It was right Sid Edmonston would never see a trial. The bastard didn’t deserve to live after all he’d done.

The whole mess had started with some kind of lab accident, sending two men to the Beech Grove Clinic mental hospital and leaving one man missing. A lab accident that Sid Edmonston had been desperate to cover up. And if any of Edmonston’s files and personal papers contained clues as to what he was trying so hard to hide, it was important Maxie get them to the state police barracks as soon as possible.