This time Noah whispered her nameâas if their shared past drew his breath from depths she hadnât known sheâd reached. His gaze washed her with the same insatiable need she felt. A yearning that had nothing to do with sex.
They were two people whoâd lost everything. Seeing him brought it all back. The joy as well as the pain. Joy scared Tessa more. She didnât want to remember that much happiness now that sheâd lost it.
âI donât want you here.â What she meant was she never wanted to need him again.
His grimace acknowledged what she couldnât say. âWho did this to David? Are you all right?â
âIâm fine.â She wasnât. She wanted to cryâfor David, for his daughter, for herself and maybe a little for this empty-eyed shadow of Noah.
Dear Reader,
Imagine that the loss of your beloved baby girl has broken your marriage. Youâve taken refuge in a small Maine town, working with your best friend in a law practice that drags you back into life. But then you find your friend murdered, leaving you as his daughterâs guardianâand somehow as the prime suspect.
Only the threat of losing another child would make you call your ex-husband for help. Thatâs what happens to Tessa Gabriel when she becomes Maggieâs guardian. She calls the best homicide detective sheâs ever known, her former husband, Noahâand he comes because he believes clearing her of the charge might make up for letting her down in the past.
I hope youâll enjoy finding out what Maggie has to teach Noah and Tessa as they discover the killer whoâs still threatening Tessa and their future.
Iâd love to hear what you think. You can reach me at [email protected].
Best wishes,
Anna Adams
ICY RAINDROPS PLUMMETED out of the gray sky to pound on homicide detective Noah Gabrielâs head. He planted one foot in front of the other, hoping to reach District C6âs station door before he dropped to his knees. Heâd stayed out too late, drunk too much and recounted each second of his broken marriage too thoroughly last night. His ritual for the past eighteen months.
He kept meaning to put Tessa and their lost baby girl out of his mind, just as Tessa had turned her back on him. But he never drank quite enough. And the next day, he always battled a hangover that felt like an anvil player composing inside his head.
He reached the sidewalk in front of the station just as two female patrol officers burst through the glass doors. Their high-pitched voices sliced through his scalp, excising the last functioning sections of his brain. Ducking around the women, he skidded on an empty soda can and rammed his shoulder into the buildingâs dirty brick wall.
Laughter at his expense actually raised the womenâs voices to a more lethal tone. Noah dragged the door shut behind him to escape the pain, but once he was inside, the disgruntled swearing and shouts that grew louder as the afternoon progressed battered him.
Suck it up, he told himself, taking the stairs two at a time. By the top, he considered passing out. Fighting dizziness and unfamiliar pangs he faintly recognized as hunger, he followed the squares of grayâonce whiteâtile floor that led him to his desk.
âGabriel,â his commander, Captain Larry Baxton, barked.
Noah concentrated on not looking as if he wanted to kill someone before he let himself focus on the other man. Baxton brandished a fistful of pink telephone message slips.
âGlad you could make itâwhy donât you let these people know Iâm not your secretary?â He slammed the messages on Noahâs desk. âWe have two from your ex-wife, and Iâve lost count of the restâfrom some police chief in Maine. I especially donât want to talk to that Podunk crossing guard again. Got it?â
Baxton pivoted toward his own office. From their respective desks, Noahâs fellow detectives eyed him. They werenât idiots, and they couldnât know heâd made sure his vices hadnât begun to compromise a gift for catching bad guys. They seemed to think heâd forgotten this group of men and women were a homicide team.
With their stares like stilettos in his back, he dropped into his torn leather chair. His body weight butted it into a stanchion that bounced him forward again. He ignored the knowing snickers that insinuated heâd come to work under the influence. Why try to prove he was sober?
He scooped up the scattered messages. From the top slip, Tessaâs name leaped off the âwho calledâ line.
His mouth tightened, a painful, involuntary response. As âTessaâ whispered inside his mind, angry grief stirred to a boil. Not content to raise hell in his off-duty head, she had to sabotage his working hours, too?