Memory of Murder
Is my father a murderer?Caring for a mother with Alzheimer’s was heartbreaking enough for Lindsey Merrill. But when her mother made bizarre but adamant claims that Lindsey’s loving father was a killer, it was too much to bear. So she turned to detective Alan Cameron for guidance. Before long, the single dad’s soothing reassurances morphed into a smoldering attraction….Evidence quickly mounted that all was not as it seemed in the Merrill family. As a professional, Alan was obliged to pursue the case—as a man, he had to shield this special woman from pain. Would his shocking discovery break her heart just as he was making it his very own?The Taken: Taken as children, reunited as adults…
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THE SECRETS OF HER PAST COULD IMPERIL HER FUTURE
Lindsey Presley certainly canât imagine why anyone would want her deadâthough she knows she wouldnât be alive today if not for the local cop who saved her from two murder attempts. Deputy Jeff Gage has worked difficult cases, but with only Lindseyâs fractured memories of a broken past to guide him, this is by far his most challenging. For Lindsey, fleeing the town she has come to call home is unthinkable. Separately, they are vulnerable, but together, Jeff and Lindsey just may stand a chance of catching a ruthless killer.
âWhy is this happening?â
Jeff touched Lindseyâs shoulder. âGet some rest. Ray will run me home, then heâll be out here till youâre ready to go. Iâll relieve him and take you to the restaurant. You shouldnât walkââ
âYou really donât have toââ
âLindsey.â He interrupted her, then paused and let out a slow breath. âI know I didnât take care of you tonightââ
Without thinking, she cupped his cheek with her free hand, stopping his words. âYou did all anyone could do.â The doubt in his eyes made Lindsey ache in a way she didnât quite understand, but she knew neither of them could deal with it tonight. Slowly she eased her hand away. âIâll see you at four.â Straightening and pulling open the screen door, Lindsey unlocked her home and reached in to turn on the light.
Then she screamed.
RAMONA RICHARDS
A writer and editor since 1975, Ramona Richards has worked on staff with a number of publishers. Ramona has also freelanced with more than twenty magazine and book publishers and has won awards for both her fiction and nonfiction. Sheâs written everything from sales-training video scripts to book reviews, and her latest articles have appeared in Todayâs Christian Woman, College Bound and Special Ed Today. She sold a story about her daughter to Chicken Soup for the Caregiverâs Soul, and Secrets of Confidence, a book of devotionals, is available from Barbour Publishing.
In 2004 the God Allows U-Turns Foundation, in conjunction with the Advanced Writers and Speakers Association (AWSA), chose Ramona for their âStrength of Choiceâ award, and in 2003 AWSA nominated Ramona for Best Fiction Editor of the Year. The Evangelical Press Association presented her with an award for reporting in 2003, and in 1989 she won the Bronze Award for Best Original Dramatic Screenplay at the Houston International Film Festival. A member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and the Romance Writers of America, she has five other novels complete or in development.
He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day.
âPsalms 91:1â5
To Sharon, who has learned to live Psalm 91:5, growing stronger every day.
Contents
ONE
Her every nerve suddenly on edge, Lindsey Presley stared at the blond man confronting Deputy Jeff Gage.
Reaching behind her, Lindsey double-checked the lock on the front door of her restaurant, then hugged the night-deposit bag more tightly. She prayed she was wrong about the stranger. After all, he didnât look all that different from other young people in the area. Clean-shaven, short hair, T-shirt, jeans. Barely more than a kid. Average.
Except for that vintage orange 1968 Pontiac GTO that waited behind him, blocking Jeffâs patrol cruiser. The GTOâs front door stood open, waiting. Its motor idled with the distinctive rumble of a pampered muscle car.
The top step of the Cape Codâstyle building gave Lindsey a view of the entire parking lot. Empty, except for the three of them and the two cars. She blinked hard, distracted as the kid shook his left hand out to one side, as if trying to fling a bug from it. His right hand remained hidden behind his hip.
Go back inside. This isnât right. A streetwise instinct honed in her childhood urged Lindsey to flee behind closed doors. There a kitchen bristled with knives she could use for defense. But that instinct fought with her reluctance to leave the sheriffâs deputy who stood between her and the young man. Jeff had promised to protect her on the nightly deposit runs to the bank and had done just that since sheâd opened the diner six months ago. During those short rides to the bank, theyâd become close friends. She didnât want to abandon him. She wouldnât.
