Motive for Murder
DEADLY HOMECOMINGOnly her estranged sister’s suspicious death could bring Jessica Parker back to her hometown. Investigating Priscilla’s life leads Jess nowhere. Someone is dead set against her uncovering anything, and soon enough, she’s being anonymously threatened. Her only hope is a man who asks more questions than he’ll answer. FBI agent Shane Dalton may have the answers Jessica needs, but he can’t risk his cover, no matter his feelings for the beautiful brunette. They’ll have to rely on each other if they want the truth—and future—they never thought possible.
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DEADLY HOMECOMING
Only her estranged sisterâs suspicious death could bring Jessica Parker back to her hometown. Investigating Priscillaâs life leads Jess nowhere. Someone is dead set against her uncovering anything, and soon enough, sheâs being anonymously threatened. Her only hope is a man who asks more questions than heâll answer. FBI agent Shane Dalton may have the answers Jessica needs, but he canât risk his cover, no matter his feelings for the beautiful brunette. Theyâll have to rely on each other if they want the truthâand futureâthey never thought possible.
Jess circled around the car, where a steady drip fell from an open tube. Someone had cut her brake line.
She pushed herself to her feet, a chill sweeping over her.
Accidents can happen.
âCar trouble?â
The deep male voice behind her sent panic shooting through her. The note fluttered to the pavement as she spun and fell back into a fighting stance. Shane stood only four feet in front of her and quickly increased the distance, hands raised.
âRemind me never to sneak up on you.â
Relief cascaded over her, and she pressed a hand to her heart. âYou startled me.â
He grinned. âI noticed. Is something wrong?â
She picked up the sheet of paper. âI found this taped to the driver window. Someone cut the brake line.â
His green eyes scanned the page she held, and his strong jaw tightened. The quiet fury that passed over his features sent a funny little flutter through her stomach.
That wasnât just neighborly concern she saw there.
CAROL J. POST
From medical secretary to court reporter to property manager to owner of a special events decorating company, Carolâs résumé reads like someone who doesnât know what she wants to be when she grows up. But one thing that has remained constant through the years is her love for writing. She started as a child, writing poetry for family and friends, then graduated to articles, which actually made it into some religious and childrenâs publications. Several years ago (more than sheâs willing to admit), she penned her first novel. In 2010, she decided to get serious about writing fiction for publication and joined Romance Writers of America, Tampa Area Romance Authors and Faith, Hope & Love, RWAâs online inspirational chapter. She has placed in numerous writing contests, including RWAâs 2012 Golden Heart®.
Carol lives in sunshiny central Florida with her husband (who is her own real-life hero) and writes her stories under the shade of the oaks in her yard. She holds a bachelorâs degree in business and professional leadership, which doesnât contribute much to writing fiction but helps a whole lot in the business end of things. Besides writing, she works alongside her music minister husband singing and playing the piano. She also enjoys sailing, hiking, campingâalmost anything outdoors. Her two grown daughters and grandson live too far away for her liking, so she now pours all that nurturing into taking care of three fat and sassy cats and one highly spoiled dog.
He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds.
âPsalms 147:3
Thank you to my familyâKristi, Andrea, Kim, Jerry, Robbie, Sheri, Keith, Mom Post, Mom Roberts and Jesseâfor your unending encouragement and support. And thanks, Mom Roberts, for buying
my books for all of your friends!
To my wonderful critique partners,
Karen Fleming, Dixie Taylor and Sabrina Jerema. I donât think I could do this without you.
To my amazing editor, Rachel Burkot,
and my awesome agent, Nalini Akolekar, thank you. I am thrilled to be working with both of you.
And always, thanks to my wonderful husband, Chris. You are the love of my life.
Contents
ONE
The house stood silhouetted against a cloudless sky, the landscape frozen and still under the onslaught of one of Central Floridaâs infrequent cold fronts.
Just like the last time she had stepped foot on this property.
Jessica Parker drew in a deep breath and threw open the car door, stopping short of dinging the shiny red Lotus sitting next to her Bug. As she stepped into the frigid night air, she pulled her coat more tightly around her, the cold outside mirroring the chill within. Eight long years, and nothing had changed. The same huge oak shadowed most of the front yard. The same potted plant waited by the front door, hiding the key to the house. And as she made her way up the cracked cement drive, she was hit with the same lack of warmth that she had always associated with home.
She squatted to tilt the pot, then heaved a sigh. The key was gone. Priscilla was still messing with her, even from beyond the grave. She straightened and walked back to her car to grab a screwdriver. It had been years since she had picked a lock. But that wasnât a skill easily forgottenâlike riding a bike.
