by Sylvie Kurtz
Tears itched the back of her eyes. Her throat tightened. Her fingers rolled into fists. “But I don’t know anything about Angela’s murder. Don’t you think I’d tell you if I did?”
The officer rose and dragged his chair around the desk. After he’d turned her chair around to face the mirror, he sat until their knees almost touched. The tip of his black cowboy boots rested a fragment of an inch away from her bare toes. She curled them protectively away.
A shaft of panic invaded her. He was too close, much too close. She was aware of the heat emanating from him, of the fresh scent of soap carried on those heated waves, and of him, and how much his physical presence disturbed her already shaky balance—of how much she needed to be held right now.
“I know how frustrating it must be for you not knowing who you are.” A measure of warmth crept into his voice. “But it’s important you give remembering a real good try. A young woman died, and you might have witnessed her murder.”
“Witnessed?” She jerked in surprise. “You don’t think I murdered her anymore?”
“Let’s just say for the sake of argument that you didn’t.” He reached forward and placed a sheltering hand over hers. The warmth of his skin felt good on her iced fingers. The directness of his gaze, unnerving as it was, also reflected a clarity of character she wanted desperately to trust.
“I want to go home,” she said. It was getting harder to breathe in the thickening air. She had to get out. But who could she call? Did she even have anyone who cared about her?
“Where is home?”
She lowered her lashes and sighed. “I don’t know, but anywhere has to be less claustrophobic than this room.”
He leaned farther forward. Anxiety snapped and crackled along her overloaded nerves, tightening her chest. “You don’t like closed-in places,” he said. “Is that why you were wandering outside in the middle of the night?”
Once more she allowed her gaze to meet his. She held it steady this time, not letting the piercing quality of it trouble her. “You could irritate a saint.”
He shifted back again, his mouth curling into half a grin. “I’ve spent hours developing that quality. But I have a hunch you’re no saint, so why don’t you just make it easy on yourself and cooperate with me. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to find Angela Petersen’s murderer.”
She removed her hands from the protective cover of his and crossed her arms below her chest, scrunching back as far as she could in the chair. “I don’t know anything.”
“I can protect you,” he promised. Something deep inside knew she needed protection, but from what? Or from whom? “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Nothing to be afraid of. But there always had been something to be afraid of. A fear like a monster in the closet that banged to get out, that haunted her days and nights, year after year. What did it want? She didn’t know, and wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. But this fear had nothing to do with Lieutenant Sloan’s investigation. This fear was far too old to be part of this fresh nightmare. It was a private one. One she’d have to deal with on her own. She lifted her shoulders and shook her head. “Why would I need your protection?”
A trace of irritation flickered in his eyes. His jaw flinched once before he spoke again. “Listen, it’s very important that you—”
A knock on the door interrupted him. He got up to answer. Someone out of her line of sight offered him a piece of paper.
“Melinda Amery!” He said the name with such hatred she recoiled in her chair from the booming concussion of his voice. “Is she related to Ely?”
She couldn’t hear the muffled reply. He skewered her with his narrowed gaze, and as he left, he slammed the door. Why did that name bring such hatred and anger out of him? What had this Melinda Amery done to him? Her heart thudded hard once. Was she Melinda Amery?
Melinda Amery. She turned the name over and over in her mind, but it struck no chords of recognition. With a sigh, she rested an elbow on the desk and propped her head on her uplifted hand. Her free hand traveled over the dried mud on her leg, tucking her feet beneath her.
She wanted to get out of here. She wanted a shower and a good long nap. She wanted to forget this episode. Tomorrow things would start falling back into place and she could resume her normal life as if nothing had happened.
Except that “normal” wouldn’t be the same. Angela was dead. Angela who had been her neighbor. The image of moss roses, the sound of laughter flicked like wet paint onto the opaque canvas of her mind. The quiet companionship they’d shared was gone forever. And like dominoes, when one thing fell, others were bound to follow.
She knew without being told she had a lot of questions left to answer. And none of them would bring out Lieutenant Sloan’s charming dimples.
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One Texas Night
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Meet the Author
Flying an eight-hour solo cross-country in a Piper Arrow with only the airplane’s crackling radio and a large bag of M&Ms for company, Sylvie Kurtz realized a pilot’s life wasn’t for her. The stories zooming in and out of her mind proved more entertaining than the flight. Not a quitter, she finished her pilot’s course and earned her commercial license and instrument rating.
Since then, she’s traded in her pilot’s license for a keyboard, where she lets her imagination soar to create fictional adventures that explore the power of love and the thrill of suspense.
Her first Harlequin Intrigue, One Texas Night, was a 1999 Romantic Times nominee for Best First Category Romance and a finalist for a Booksellers Best Award. Her Silhouette Special Edition, A Little Christmas Magic was a 2001 Readers’ Choice Award Finalist and a Waldenbooks bestseller. Remembering Red Thunder was a 2002 Romantic Times Nominee for Best Intrigue. She was a 2005, 2007 and 2008 Romantic Times nominee for Lifetime Achievement for Series Romantic Adventure. Twin Star Entertainment optioned Ms. Longshot as a possible TV movie. She has written twenty novels. For more details, visit www.sylviekurtz.com.
Books by Sylvie Kurtz
Now Available in eBook Format
Personal Enemy
Silver Shadows
Broken Wings
A Little Christmas Magic (2001 Readers Choice Finalist)
One Texas Night (1999 Romantic Times nominee for Best First Category Romance and a finalist for a Booksellers Best Award)
Also available in Print
The Seekers Series
Book 1: Heart of a Hunter
Book 2: Mask of a Hunter
Book 3: Eye of a Hunter
Book 4: Pride of a Hunter
Book 5: Spirit of a Hunter
Book 6: Honor of a Hunter
Flesh & Blood Duo
Book 1: Remembering Red Thunder (2002 Romantic Times Nominee for Best Intrigue)
Book 2: Red Thunder Reckoning
Stand Alone Works
Pull of the Moon
Detour
Ms. Longshot (optioned for TV Movie)
A Rose at Midnight
Under Lock and Key
Alyssa Again
Blackmailed Bride
Table of Contents
Cover
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Ella’s Banana Scuffins – Recipe
Excerpt from ONE TE
XAS NIGHT by Sylvie Kurtz
Meet Sylvie Kurtz
More by Sylvie Kurtz