“Lucas Warner, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Aiden Butler,” Agent Boon announced loudly as he came up and around Zoe. Aiden stepped out from one of the cars and jogged to Zoe, holding his arms out for her to step into.
“Bitch!” Lucas yelled at her as he was being cuffed.
Still holding Aiden’s hand, she turned back to Lucas. “Your mother does want to see you,” she said. “But she wants to be sure she’s safe. If you know where your father is and tell the FBI, she’s said she’ll come see you.”
“You’re lying,” Lucas spat at Zoe as he was walked past her towards the back of one of the police cars. “She doesn’t care about me. She turned me in. She’s—…”
“I’m right here,” Diane said as she stepped out of the car they were about to put him in. “I know you know where your father is, Lucas. I know you were able to find him when no one else knew where to look. Please…please tell them where he is.”
“You’re gonna go to jail too,” he sneered. “You’ve been hiding too. You knew who he was and that the cops wanted him and you protected him. See you in court, Mom.”
“Lucas, honey. Your father doesn’t deserve your loyalty,” she said stepping closer. His hands were cuffed behind his back and he had an officer holding each arm to guide him through the parking lot. She reached out and hugged him. “I know, I don’t deserve it either. I’m not asking for it. I just want you to be safe. If you tell them where he is, you can work out some sort of deal. I’ll get you a lawyer. We’ll figure this out together.” Lucas didn’t appear convinced but Diane insisted on climbing into the back seat with him as the cops drove him away.
Zoe felt Aiden’s arm come up around her as they watched them take Lucas and Diane away. “If he gives his dad up, he’ll probably get out on probation or something,” she told him quietly.
“I’m not worried about Lucas. I don’t think he’ll pull anything like that again. At least, not with me,” Aiden said confidently, tightening his hold on Zoe’s shoulders.
Chapter 42
Agent Boon had sand in his shoes and sweat seeping into the collar of his shirt. There was no way Allan Peters was getting out of this one. The beach house was surrounded and he could see the man drying himself off with his towel.
“Move in now,” he said into the radio, giving the signal. He stood back and watched as the men moved in with their weapons drawn. Their shouts for Peters to get down on his knees and put his hands up surprised the resourceful man. He still held the towel as his options began disappearing. He looked over his shoulder back at the waves rolling in and threw the towel in the face of the nearest operative before sprinting back to the ocean. Several shots rang out and Agent Boon watched as blood began trickling down Peters’s arm and one of his legs. The man collapsed with a scream.
“Hold your fire!” Agent Boon yelled as he ran forward to circle the wounded man. The other officers already had Peters cuffed and the one he’d thrown the towel at had wrapped the cloth around the leg wound, applying pressure. “We thought you might try to run, Mr. Peters, so we thought we’d have an ambulance ready just in case. Don’t want you dying on us before we can get you back stateside for your trial.”
“How?” Peters fumed as he grit his teeth against the pain. “How’d you find me?”
“Lucas gave you up,” Agent Boon said with a sneer. He was still more than a little resentful they hadn’t been able to crack the case and find Peters on their own but after more than twenty years of chasing this man, he no longer cared too greatly about how they’d caught him. “Don’t worry. You’d be proud of him. He’s more like you than you think. Didn’t turn on you until he could use it to his advantage. Cut a deal to get his own jail time reduced on a different charge. Looks like he’s finally learning how to take care of himself.”
Epilogue
“Are you sure you don’t mind that I put Mrs. Henry in charge of—…”
“I’m fine with my promotion to head of Accounts here,” Aiden told her again with a chuckle. “I know you don’t want anyone thinking you’re giving me preferential treatment and I am perfectly content where I am.”
Zoe looked at him dubiously. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said reaching out and pulling her to him for a quick kiss. She held onto the lapels of his jacket and deepened the kiss, leaving him breathless.
“As long as you’re sure,” she said. She crossed to the suitcase and pulled out her heels. She’d finally invested in a pair of forest green suede heels to match her favorite dress. “Now come on or they’ll wonder what’s taking us so long.”
“You and I both know exactly what they’ll think is taking us so long,” he said placing his hands on her hips and pulling her back against him. The tiny bed was right there and it wouldn’t take long to bend her over it and…
She smacked at his hands. “Behave,” she warned with a smile before shifting carefully around him and out of the yacht’s small cabin. “There’ll be time for that later,” she winked.
Amelia was waiting up on deck with a bottle of wine on ice. Mason was at the helm double-checking everything as usual. Aiden joined him and laughed off his worries. They were still in sight of the coast and the anchor was secure. They weren’t going anywhere. It had taken a lot of time and no small amount of money to have the boat entirely refurnished. They’d rechristened the yacht as well: The Charm.
As the sun sank on the horizon and set the surface of the water on fire, the four friends gathered together to raise their glasses in a toast to the finally completed merger of Dunmore Corp and Hamilton Group. Mason had his arm around Amelia’s waist and she blushed, her cheeks as deep a pink as the sky overhead.
“Are you two packed?” Zoe asked when she set her glass down and leaned back against Aiden.
“Not much to pack,” Mason said. “Most of my stuff is still in Virginia in the boxes you helped me pack in New York. Just need to move them to the new place,” he said, glancing down at Amelia.
“My parents are coming over with the rest of my things next spring,” she explained. “I will make do with what I have until then. It is what I have done so far. You do not mind that I will be transferring?” she asked Zoe for what felt like the thousandth time.
“It was my idea,” Zoe reminded Amelia as she felt Aiden’s chest vibrating with his silent laughter. She gave him a subtle nudge in the ribcage. “We need people on both coasts who can be trusted to implement the changes now that the merger is complete. Even if Terry hadn’t insisted on Mason…”
“I volunteered, thank you very much,” Mason interjected.
“You mean Amy finally got you to come clean to your father and offered it as consolation for some of his other requests being ignored,” Aiden laughed.
“I thought we all agreed never to speak of that matter,” Mason said with a red-faced glare at Zoe.
“Come on, Mason,” she laughed. “It was too funny not to share.”
“Just be sure you know where to draw the line,” Mason warned.
“Are you referring to that time the two of you—…” Aiden began but Zoe covered his mouth with one hand and crossed her heart with the other.
“No worries,” she assured him. She felt Aiden kiss her palm. As she loosened her hold on him, his lips traveled a few inches to her wrist and began working their way down the inside of her arm.
“Go to your room already,” Amelia teased. “We did not ask for a show.”
“See if we invite you onto our boat again,” Aiden scoffed in mock disgust. He reached down and took Zoe’s left hand in his, examining her fingers. He’d wait until they were alone in their cabin again. She’d been in too much of a rush earlier so she’d have to wait until morning to show their friends the ring he’d gotten from his grandmother for her. It had been his mother’s and he knew she’d love it.
Book 3: Only Time Will Tell
Summary
Only Time Will Tell is an absolutely grip
ping thriller about a female police detective torn between love & fear, trust & doubt and a desire for revenge. Will she make the right choice?
An unknown woman is murdered and detectives Pierce Carson, Chelsea Madden and a new recruit, Dean Weston, are assigned to the case. Their search for the killer leads to several dead ends and a suspected drug connection, as even more people are killed. In the process of helping to solve the first murder and those that follow, Chelsea realizes that she is walking a very thin line between personal revenge and professional responsibility. She too has suffered at the hands of a murderer, who brutally snuffed out the life of her parents, giving her a reason to join the police force.
To complicate matters, she finds herself attracted to Dean. She knows little about the newcomer to Homicide, only that he’d been a successful undercover agent. Normally a loner, she finds him surprisingly easy to talk to, as she unburdens herself of her past, kept secret for years. As the case becomes more complicated and passions are stirred, questions arise about a mole in the force, and Dean is on the list of possible suspects. Chelsea is torn between trust and doubt, fear and love; her desire for vengeance and belief in the system of which she is now a part.
The strands of the plot become intertwined, with unexpected twists and turns, and Chelsea finds herself caught in a life and death struggle in a most unexpected way. Only time will tell if she survives to right the wrong or decides to let it go and find a new direction for her life.
Chapter 1
The sun had yet to rise over the mountain peaks that stood off in the distance. The only light came from the lampposts and the crescent moon that clung to the starless sky. She sat in her windowsill with her knees pressed to her chest. A single tear ran down her cheek. As she wiped it away, she told herself everything was going to be alright. She had been saying this for quite some time now. However, as the days and hours ticked by, she was beginning to have doubts. From the emptiness she felt inside, she knew things were not letting up.
Opening her window, she felt a slight breeze come in. She could smell the scent of rain in the air. Monsoon season had come to the desert at last, breathing life back into this dry and desolate place. Still, a bittersweet melancholy hung in the air, causing her to shake her head. She needed to get out of this rut, but you can’t run away from your problems. That she had learned. They follow you no matter where you go. If only she could go back and change certain things, she knew she would do so without hesitation. But it was too late now. Her life had changed forever and she had yet to figure out how to deal with it.
Stepping away from the window, she peered around her bedroom. Painted a light yellow with a turquoise accent wall, it somehow seemed as if her teenage-self had been preserved in this room. It was this part of her that seemed be fading… so much so that lately she couldn’t always recognize herself in the mirror.
It had all happened very quickly and now everything in the house was silent—an eerie silence that gradually filled in every niche over the past few months. Since the sudden passing of her father, it seemed as if the entire world had frozen and time was standing still. It was not as if she hadn’t tried to break free of the darkness, she had, but was still feeling trapped. She felt suffocated by guilt, and that it was eating her alive. Her whole perspective had changed, and now the glass seemed half-empty, rather than half-full, and silence had become her new melody.
Sucking in a deep breath, she grabbed her tennis shoes and slipped them on. Being forced to take a break from her regular running routine had caused her to lose some of her motivation for a while. Her doctor didn’t want her to take the slightest run until she was fully healed. But she was headstrong and decided not to listen. Right now, she felt a compelling need to go for a run and try to clear her mind.
She remembered how her father encouraged her to take up running. He kept telling her she could do anything she set her mind to. Now that he was gone, she felt as if her confidence—her belief in herself—had died with him. Yet she still clung to a thread of hope that what he said was true, even though she could no longer compete due to the injury. Nevertheless, she wanted to keep running as a way of maintaining her fitness, releasing stress, and keeping his memory alive.
As she sat there she was struck again by the many things her father would not be able to participate in. He would never walk her down the aisle. He would not be able to share his wisdom with her children. He would not be there for her when she needed someone to confide in. He had always protected her, and now she felt very vulnerable, and alone.
Clutching at the locket that hung around her neck she remembered the day she had received it as a gift from her father. Inside he had placed a picture of the three of them—happy and smiling. Not for a moment did they believe anything bad could happen to any of them or to the ones they loved. How delusional and naïve they were in the face of the harsh reality of life. He was snatched away suddenly, shattering her world, and now she was forced to look at everything differently. Someone once said that all we endure helps us in some way, even if the results are not immediate. She could not help but wonder about the truth of this.
At this juncture, she was not sure how this applied to her life at the moment, or what good her silence would accomplish. The only person who knew and kept her secrets was gone forever, and she was one of the very few people to know the truth of why he had died so young. This, she told herself, would go with her to the grave.
Trying to force all those negative thoughts from her mind, she sprang to her feet and opened the door. Before stepping out into the corridor, she gave one last look around. In the dim shadows she could see pictures from all their family trips hanging on the wall. She remembered the laughter and the love, now replaced with silence and isolation. She did not know how to speak to her mother. She felt that by giving voice to what she knew would only make it more real. She walked quietly down the corridor, unlocked the front door and slipped outside into the pre-dawn silence.
The morning air was chilly as the rain clouds hung in the sky. She expected lightning to rip through the atmosphere any minute now, followed by a blast of thunder, then rain pouring down. As she approached the edge of the driveway, she put on her headphones. The music was soothing. She began to jog in the hopes that it would wash away the numbness and leave her feeling refreshed.
She liked the quiet of the early morning hour. This was her usual time, when very few people were about and she had the track to herself. She never felt particularly unsafe going jogging at this time. But recently, after what had happened, she had begun to experience a bit of paranoia. This had her looking over her shoulder and jumping at every sound she heard. She did this a few times, and after seeing no one continued along the path.
She was making good time when her injured ankle started acting up so she slowed down. The pain got worse so she stopped to rest it. As she sat there rubbing her ankle, she had the strange feeling that someone was watching her. Her blood went ice cold as a chill ran up her spine. Slowly, she turned her head around and a person was only a few feet from her. For a split second she was paralyzed with fear, but the next moment she was up and running.
She could hear the heavy footsteps cushioned by the grass as he chased her. She knew she should scream because there were houses nearby, but she could not find her voice. Her screams were trapped behind her trembling lips.
She heard him growing closer and closer, and her throbbing ankle was slowing her down. She tripped and fell, then before she knew it, he was on top of her.
She tried to shake him off, but he was much heavier and stronger. She managed to flip over on her back and that was when she saw the flash of a knife in his hand, gleaming eerily in the pale moonlight. She was helpless in his grasp as he brought it down and plunged in into her breast. For a brief moment she felt a searing pain.
She did not want to die. Not like this. She felt the world around her fading and her breath was coming in gasps. She could no longer feel the pain. The last thing she
saw was his eyes. They were blank… dead. Then the darkness swallowed her up.
Chapter 2
Tossing and turning, Detective Chelsea Madden couldn’t find a comfortable position. Sleep had eluded her once again, and she began to wonder how many more nights were going to be like this one. The next appointment with her therapist was weeks away, and honestly, even after several sessions, she wasn’t even sure it was helping.
She had tried talking about the deep things that troubled her in the hope it would bring some sort of relief, but it wasn’t working. She felt trapped by the old memories that haunted her, especially at night. Sighing heavily, she concluded that she would have to deal with what troubled her all by herself. There seemed to be no other option.
The clock on the side table said it was nearly five in the morning which meant she had been lying awake for seven hours, since ten o’clock the night before. She gave up on trying to will herself to sleep. Her fingers searched the nightstand until she felt her phone. It had been silent since she came home last night. This meant that nothing horrid had happened during the night. While she was glad about that, she still wished it would ring so she could talk to someone. Yet in a personal sense, within herself, she really didn’t want to speak with anyone at all.
This was one of her biggest problems—she did not know how to be intimately connected to anyone. She found it hard to share her deepest feelings, even though she had a desire to communicate. Her therapist attributed it to an inability to trust anyone, and she hated to admit it, but maybe she was right.
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