Stolen (A Diana Hunter Mystery Book 3)

by Alison Golden

  More than once he had caught her placing herself between him and a potential threat. She was like a hawk. She noticed the minutest signs of danger and made corresponding tiny movements to deflect them. She would angle herself so she stood between him and the threat. He watched her closely and saw that she did it every damn time.

  He called her out on it. He didn’t need her to protect him. He was Ex-Special Operations Forces with more than a hundred missions under his belt. Diana had exploded. He could shove his sexist, macho views where the sun didn’t shine. Apparently, he was imagining things. She hadn’t put herself in front of him. Why should she? He was a big boy and could take care of himself. Especially when he was often the one antagonizing suspects in the first place. It had been quite an ear-bashing.

  Then it became clear. Her instinct to protect was subconscious. She had no idea what she was doing. And he warmed to her even more for it, but it also infuriated him. This stupid habit of hers would get her killed one day.

  In a short space of time, they had become friends. They still fought like cat and dog, and most of the cops knew to hide when they started in on each other. It was a lot safer not to get caught in their crossfire. Even Superintendent Donaldson made himself scarce when they were having one of their monumental arguments. He had told them they were his best team, but they were as volatile as a nuclear bomb. He loved their results, but he didn’t want to get caught in the blast area.

  That was another thing Peter didn’t understand. Diana refused to join VPD full time. She kept saying she didn’t do well with authority, and she wanted to be able to come and go as she pleased. However, she worked almost as many hours as he did, and he knew she was paid a pittance as a part-time consultant to the department.

  “Diana?” he called.

  “Coming,” she answered. A few moments later, she appeared, looking more like her usual self. “What is it?”

  “How do you eat?” he asked. That sounded a little moronic. Her raised eyebrows and skeptical look confirmed it.

  “I put food in my mouth, I chew, and then I swallow. You know, like most living creatures,” she responded. She opened the fridge and grabbed a strawberry. “Like this.” She slowly took a bite out of the strawberry, chewed and swallowed, gazing at him the whole time before turning back to the fridge.

  Peter cleared his throat. “You know I don’t mean that,” he said. “I mean you spend so much time working for VPD, you’ve seriously cut down on your magazine time, and I know how little they pay you, so how can you afford to eat?”

  She shifted her attention from the contents of her fridge back to him. When she hesitated, he hoped he hadn’t crossed a line. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to pry.”

  She shrugged. “No problem. You just caught me off guard. I never worked at the magazine for the paycheck. It was just a nice change of pace from CSIS.” Diana had worked for the Canadian Security Intelligence Service for ten years, after which she became the editor for Crime & Punishment magazine. She had wanted a little peace and quiet, but that hadn’t lasted long. It took less than a year for her frustration with her much-too-calm life to build up to boiling point. She solved the problem by joining VPD as a consultant, which now took up the bulk of her time.

  “Oh?”

  “When I left CSIS, they gave me a nice bonus for all my hard work. I had a hefty sum of money, and I wanted to get the most out of it. So, I did my research, and I learned everything I could about the stock market and currency trading. I took some of the money and put it into long-term investments, while the rest of it I traded on the currency market, multiplying it exponentially.”

  Peter stared at her wide-eyed. He shouldn’t be surprised. The woman had a genius-level IQ, after all. “So, you’re rich?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t say rich, exactly. Let’s just say that if I never receive another paycheck again, I can still afford to live comfortably and take a nice vacation a few times a year,” she said with a small smile.

  “You have to teach me,” he declared. “I’d enjoy having that kind of freedom. To be able to do whatever I wanted without money being an issue.”

  “Sure. Why not? It’s no big deal. You’re already good at spotting patterns, so I don’t see why you wouldn’t do well.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  She looked at him.

  “I mean it,” he said seriously.

  “So do I,” she replied. There was a pause. “So, do you want something to eat?” she asked. She returned her attention to the fridge.

  “I wouldn’t say no to a quick sandwich, thanks,” he replied. She pulled out everything she needed.

  “Ham and cheese, coming right up,” she said. Diana’s ham and cheese sandwiches were never as simple as they sounded. Just like her. Out came the tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, mayo, prosciutto, and Gouda cheese. She grabbed some crusty French bread and got to work.

  When he bit into his sandwich, he moaned in delight. “I swear, you’re even better in the kitchen than you are at interrogating people.”

  “Why, thank you, detective,” she said with a smile. “So, what’s this case?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know much. Dunway was first on the scene. The victim is male. He’s been decapitated.”

  Diana’s eyebrows climbed into her scalp. “Decapitated?”

  “Thing is that when I last spoke to him, they hadn’t found the head. Since he hasn’t called yet, I’m assuming it’s still missing.”

  Diana’s eyes twinkled. “Sounds interesting.”

  “You are the weirdest woman I’ve ever met. You get excited over dead bodies and missing heads and have no problem talking about decapitation over breakfast at 4AM.”

  She snorted. “Further proof I spend way too much time with you.” Peter looked slighted. “I know, I know, you’re absolutely perfect. You complain that I’m a little out of sorts on certain mornings? You put me to shame. You’re surly and unpleasant all the time,” she pointed out.

  “No, I’m not. I’m just impatient—”

  “And surly. And unpleasant. And bossy. And even obnoxious on occasion.” She enumerated a few of his more endearing traits.

  “I’m not like that with you,” he replied.

  She looked at him from under her eyebrows, her long eyelashes splayed wide.

  He ignored her little dig and polished off his sandwich. He would get her for it later. He always did. He took his plate to the sink, washed it, and put it in the rack to dry. “Come on, madam, let’s get going. There’s a dead body waiting for us, and Doc won’t hold off for ever.”

  He was right. They couldn’t keep everyone waiting. Her phone showed it was half past four. She would make sure she got back in a few hours to take Max out for a walk and feed him.

  “Okay, let’s go.” She locked the door behind them. While they waited for the elevator, she held out her hand. “Keys.”

  “No,” he snapped.

  She leveled a glare at him. “I’m driving.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s my car.”

  “You drive like a little old lady.”

  “Just because I choose to drive safely and make sure we get there in one piece doesn’t mean I drive like an old lady.”

  She got onto the elevator. “When you drive, scooters overtake us.”

  “And when you drive, they put out a nationwide alert.”

  “At least I don’t watch horses trot by when I’m driving,” she muttered. “Hand the keys over.”

  “You don’t know where we’re going.” He had lost this argument more than once, and if he didn’t tie it up now, she would make a run for the car and post herself in front of the driver’s side door until he gave up the keys.

  She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort but changed her mind. “And you’re not going to tell me until you’re driving, are you?” she asked after a moment’s hesitation.

  He shook his head.

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you still drive like a little old
lady,” she sniped. He just smirked.

  A few minutes later, they were driving through a very quiet Vancouver. “So, where was the body found?” she asked.

  Since he was safely behind the wheel, Peter saw no reason to keep it a secret any longer. “Downtown Eastside,” he replied, naming one of the worst areas in the city. It was a den for drug dealers, drug addicts, sex workers, and many other people dancing with the darker side of life. No one in their right mind would want to be hanging around Downtown Eastside in the dead of night. Not unless they carried a gun, and even then, it was best to keep one’s head down.

  “You take me to the nicest places,” she said sweetly.

  “I know. Thoughtful, aren’t I?”

  She shook her head. “The best,” she replied.

  To get your copy of Chopped visit the link below:

  http://cozymysteries.com/chopped

  Thank you for taking the time to read Stolen. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and very much appreciated.

  Thank you,

  ALSO BY ALISON GOLDEN

  Hunted (Prequel)

  Snatched

  Chopped

  BOOKS BY ALISON GOLDEN

  FEATURING REVEREND ANNABELLE DIXON

  Death at the Café (Prequel)

  Murder at the Mansion

  Body in the Woods

  Grave in the Garage

  FEATURING INSPECTOR DAVID GRAHAM

  The Case of the Screaming Beauty (Prequel)

  The Case of the Hidden Flame

  The Case of the Fallen Hero

  The Case of the Broken Doll

  The Case of the Missing Letter

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Alison Golden was born and raised in Bedfordshire, England. She writes cozy mysteries and suspense novels, along with the occasional witty blog post, all of which are designed to entertain, amuse, and calm. Her approach is to combine creative ideas with excellent writing and edit, edit, edit.

  Alison is the creator of The Reverend Annabelle Dixon cozy mysteries, a charming, fun series featuring a female vicar ministering in the beautiful county of Cornwall, England. She also produces a Jersey-based detective series featuring Inspector David Graham and the Diana Hunter series, set in Vancouver.

  Her books’ themes range from the humorous and sweet to harder hitting suspense. They are recommended for readers who like to relax and unwind with their books, who enjoy getting to know the characters, and who prefer the tougher side of life implied.

  Alison is based in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and twin sons. She splits her time traveling between London and San Francisco.

  For up-to-date promotions and release dates of upcoming books, sign up for the latest news here: http://cozymysteries.com/diana.

  STOLEN

  A Diana Hunter Mystery

  When Charlene Evans surveys the scene at the Annual Crystal Ball, she feels an overwhelming sense of pride and achievement. The wealthy élite of Vancouver have turned out en masse to support her cause. She anticipates some large donations for the British Columbia Children’s Hospital.

  But as the evening wears on and the champagne flows, Charlene suddenly discovers that the diamond necklace she is wearing, loaned to her by a prominent jeweler, has been stolen.

  Not only that, but the jewelry, wallets, and other valuables of all three hundred of her guests are also gone; stolen in the blink of an eye without a single person noticing anything amiss.

  Now, with the Vancouver Police Department in total disarray and their investigation stalling, Superintendent Bill Donaldson turns to someone he really didn’t want to involve.

  Diana Hunter might be his only hope of solving this case, but is she someone he can work with? And will his best detective get on board?

  With another gala on the horizon, the stakes become higher than any of them thought possible. Failure is not an option.

  “I can’t imagine a man really enjoying a book and reading it only once.”

  C.S. Lewis

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2016 Alison Golden

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Mesa Verde Publishing

  P.O. Box 1002

  San Carlos, CA 94070

  Edited by

  Marjorie Kramer