3 The Chain of Lies

by Debra Burroughs

  THE CHAIN OF LIES

  A Paradise Valley Mystery: Book Three

  By Debra Burroughs

  “Oh, what a tangled web we weave

  when first we practice to deceive.”

  ~ Sir Walter Scott

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Preview The Scent of Lies, A Paradise Valley Mystery: Book One

  Preview The Heart of Lies, A Paradise Valley Mystery: Book Two

  Preview Three Days in Seattle

  Dedication

  Contact Information

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  Undeniably, the first lie is the easiest to tell. After that, one finds himself having to tell the next and the next in a desperate attempt to cover the first, until he finds he has told a chain of lies and is praying none of the links pull apart under the pressure.

  ~*~

  At twilight, a young redheaded woman stood pensively on the bank of the flowing Boise River, pulling her black jacket tighter around her chest against the crisp autumn air. Maybe she should cut her losses and get out, before it was too late. She looked to the water, wishing for a sign. Something caught her eye and she began to scream wildly, her arms flailing about.

  From the walking path, her lover dashed to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  She continued to shriek, pointing frenetically toward something large and dark bobbing in the river, caught in the thick branches of a low-hanging tree.

  “It’s probably nothing, someone ignoring the no-dumping sign, just a black trash bag. Stay here.” The man zipped his leather jacket shut and cautiously crept toward it, gingerly nearing the river’s edge to discover what it was.

  The woman’s clenched hand was pressed hard against her lips, fighting to stifle her cries, watching him with rapt attention as he inched closer, closer.

  Once he was near enough to identify the floating mass, all composure was lost. His feet stumbled and slipped in the mud as he desperately scrambled to back away—this was not mere rubbish caught in the brush. It was a woman’s lifeless, half-naked body.

  “What is it?”

  “A body,” he huffed, straining to catch his breath.

  “I’ll call the police,” she said, frantically digging her phone out of her jeans pocket.

  “No, let me,” he argued, reaching for his own cell phone. “I’ll stay and wait for the cops.”

  “Then I’ll wait with you.”

  “No! You have to go,” he snapped, dialing nine one one. “No one can see us together.”

  “Afraid your wife will find out?”

  CHAPTER 1

  “Evan! No!”

  Emily Parker shot up straight in her bed, her eyes clamped tight.

  “No!” she screamed, both arms outstretched, hysterically reaching for him. Her eyes flew open and she sat frozen in the dark for a moment, her arms still extended in desperation.

  She dropped them. It was all a bad dream—the same horrifying dream she had been having night after night. The anniversary of her husband’s murder was right around the corner, and the nightmares were plaguing her more often, and with growing intensity.

  She buried her face in her hands as she sat sobbing, drenched in perspiration. Her damp nightgown clung to her slender body and her honey-blonde curls stuck to her sweaty neck and forehead.

  Having convinced herself that she was finally recovering from her loss, she had begun to date again, but these terrifying visions were evidence she was not as over Evan’s death as she had tried to believe.

  It was nearly a year ago now since Emily’s husband had been shot, close range, in the back of the head. He was found dead, in a pool of blood, lying next to the steel file cabinet in the corner of his office. The police detective that had investigated postulated that Evan had gone to retrieve something from the cabinet.

  Something vital enough to be killed over.

  Evan Parker had been a private investigator in the small, affluent town of Paradise Valley, not far from the state capitol of Boise. He’d had a great track record for unraveling mysteries—ironically his own case was never solved.

  In her recurring nightmare, Emily is standing in the corner, observing Evan’s interaction with a vague, shadowy figure, but she can never make out who the person is, not even their gender. She can see her husband sitting at his desk speaking amiably with someone dressed in dark clothing, seated across the desk from him.

  Evan is smiling his engaging, crooked smile, running his hand through his sandy-blonde hair as he leans back in his chair, casual, as if the person across from him is someone he knows—or perhaps a new client he is getting acquainted with.

  In the dream, Emily watches helplessly as Evan rises from his chair and steps to the file cabinet. She sees the muzzle of the gun rising as he turns away from his visitor and reaches for the drawer handle. She is screaming, warning him, but he never hears her, never turns around—never survives.

  The crack of gunfire, a blinding flash, and Evan drops to the floor, hard. Blood begins to stream from the back of her husband’s head.

  “Evan! No!”

  And Emily wakes up, drenched in sweat and shaking. Every time. When she does, it doesn’t matter how hard she tries to discern who was in the office with him, the shooter remains a dark nebulous mirage.

  The nightmares in themselves were bad enough, but add to that, six months after Evan’s murder Emily learned that her late husband had kept a whole tapestry of secrets from her—including his real identity.

  Now, over the past few months, she had unraveled some of the secrets, but there were so many more yet to uncover.

  Emily peeked over at the digital clock glowing on the nightstand. Two thirteen a.m. She expelled a long sigh of frustration then dragged herself out of her sweat-soaked bed. Emily stumbled to the dry bed in the guest room to try for a few more hours of sleep before the sun came up, hoping the nightmares would not return.

  ~*~

  As the sun began to peek through the bedroom window, Emily pulled her hand up to shade her eyes from the glaring light. Disoriented, she glanced around the room and realized she was in her guest room. She didn’t remember getting up and coming in here through the night.

  She reclined in the bed with one arm draped across her eyes, trying to remember the night before. She recalled the going-away party she’d attended at her friends Alex and Isabel’s house. The party had given her boyfriend Colin a festive send off back to San Francisco for a time.

  “Colin,” she muttered softly, her eyes still closed, seeing a vision of his strong and handsome image in her mind—his thick, deep brown hair, his smoky hazel eyes with a fringe of dark lashes, his strong angular jaw.

  Her heart fluttered as she recalled the promise he had made to her the night before, vowing that he would move heaven and earth to come back to her after he’d scooped her off her feet into his well-muscled arms. Emily relished the profoundly romantic gesture.

  The mere thought of him caused a gentle heat to spread over her body and she shivered at the light ripple of goose bumps that followed closely behind. She softl
y touched her finger to her mouth as she laid there and reminisced about his soft warm lips on hers.

  Then she bolted upright.

  What time is it?

  There was no clock in the guest room, so she tore the covers back and dashed to her bedroom. Halting at the door, she noticed the clock on her nightstand read seven sixteen a.m.

  “Shoot!” Colin was coming to pick her up at seven thirty to take her to breakfast before heading out on the road back to San Francisco. The oversized t-shirt she had slept in went flying over her head and onto the floor as she ran to the bathroom and hopped in the shower.

  ~*~

  A sharp rap at the front door brought Emily running from the bathroom, still tugging her deep purple t-shirt over her head. She fluffed her honey-blonde curls before opening the door and greeting Colin with a bright smile.

  “Looks like someone had a good night’s sleep,” Colin said as he stepped into her bungalow. He swept her into his arms and kissed her softly.

  Pushing the door shut with her bare foot, she laced her arms around his torso. She knew they only had a little time left together and he would be gone again for who knows how long. She laid her head against his chest and clung to him, enjoying the nearness of his body.

  “No.” She closed her eyes, inhaling his masculine scent of fresh soap and a mild aftershave. “I woke up in the night, thinking of you, wishing you didn’t have to leave again.”

  He had declared his love for her the night before, at the party, saying those three little words she’d longed to hear, and she had returned his sentiments.

  “I’ll be back before you know it, Emily.” He kissed her temple as he held her tight.

  “You’d better be, or I’ll have to come looking for you,” she teased in an attempt to cover her sadness.

  She and Colin had dated for a few short months before he was unexpectedly called back to San Francisco, where he had moved from not long before they’d met. It was there that he had been dealing with an extended family emergency for the past couple of months, but he had recently been able to steal away from his obligations for a few days.

  He had surprised Emily early one morning, showing up on her doorstep with her favorite mocha cappuccino and slices of lemon poppy seed bread. But inevitably, now the time had come for him to return to California and it was breaking her heart.

  “I’ll be back, I promise. Now let’s go and get some breakfast before I have to hit the road. I’m starved.”

  “All right.” She reluctantly let go of him. “Just let me grab my shoes.”

  ~*~

  They claimed a booth at The Griddle—it was upholstered in cheery yellow and had a great view of the river. They placed their orders with a friendly middle-aged waitress.

  After she left them, Colin reached across the dark wood table and gently took Emily’s hand.

  “I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Emily said for the umpteenth time. “I was just getting used to having you back.” She forced a weak smile, holding back her tears. That wasn’t how she wanted him to remember her while he was in California, but the thought of his leaving again made her heart heavy, knowing she’d have to fight the loneliness once more.

  “I know and I’m sorry.” He tightened his hold on her hand.

  Emily recognized his departure was painful for him, too—she could see it in his misty eyes. She drew in a calming breath and offered him a genuine smile this time, not wanting to make his leaving any more difficult.

  His eyes brightened in response. “You know, it’s kind of funny when I look back to when we first met,” he said with a slight grin. “I never thought we’d wind up together.”

  “Me either.”

  There had been fireworks, all right, but not the good kind.

  Emily shook her head at the thought. “I was more than a little irritated at Isabel for trying to set us up.”

  Isabel Martínez, one of Emily’s tight-knit circle of friends, along with her husband Alex, had thrown a barbecue at their upscale home about six months before. They’d deliberately invited Colin so Emily could meet the handsome new police detective in Paradise Valley.

  Though Emily’s husband had died over six months before that, she’d had a hard time letting go of the grief and moving on. She and Evan had been deliriously happy, or so she’d thought. He had been her knight in shining armor, handsome and strong, decisive and fearless, yet he had loved her with such tenderness and passion that she trembled with longing at his memory.

  Over time, her closest friends encouraged her to think about dating again, to get on with her life, but she didn’t know how she could. So, she would respond to their promptings by putting up her defenses and maintaining that she wasn’t ready.

  Isabel’s husband was a trial lawyer and he had met the new detective at a weekly basketball game he played with his buddies at the local Y. Alex had immediately told his wife about the young man.

  Another of Emily’s best friends, Maggie, was teaching an aerobics class at the Y, and the new man in town did not escape her notice either.

  So between Isabel, Maggie, and their friend Camille, Emily didn’t have a chance if she wanted to avoid meeting Detective Colin Andrews.

  Camille was a caterer and event planner, and she had planned the whole get-together at the Martínez home, along with Isabel’s and Maggie’s help. However, all of the elaborate planning, staged introductions, and purposely seating them together could not guarantee smooth sailing. Almost from the start there were sparks and conflict.

  “You really didn’t like me, did you?” Colin asked.

  “Well, I couldn’t help but notice how good-looking you were, I mean I’m not blind, but after we chatted for a while about my career choices, well…you were so condescending. I just couldn’t stand it.”

  “You have to admit, though, going from selling real estate to becoming a private investigator is a bit of a leap. Who could blame me for questioning it?”

  “I could. But don’t worry, I’ve already forgiven you for being so irritating that day.” She smirked at him. He couldn’t have known at the time that it wasn’t that big of a leap, that she had helped her husband on a few of his cases.

  “Thanks,” he replied sarcastically.

  “But even though we had kind of a rocky start, I’m glad you didn’t give up and you asked me out anyway.” She cast him a playful smile, grateful she had not chased him off back then by her stubbornness and sass.

  “You certainly made me work for it, though, but I guess part of the fun is in the chase.” The corner of Colin’s lips turned up into a mischievous grin.

  “Yeah, the chase was definitely fun.”

  “Here we are,” the waitress said as she set their plates down on the table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  “We’re good.” Colin looked over at Emily and she nodded her agreement.

  “Okie dokie.” The waitress grabbed a nearby glass coffee pot, refilled Colin’s coffee cup, and moved on to another table.

  “I still can’t believe that Delia McCall hired you with practically no experience.” Colin took another drink of his black coffee. “What was she thinking?”

  “Oh, come on now, it wasn’t that big of a stretch.” She buttered her french toast and licked her finger. “I wasn’t a complete newbie, I did have some experience. Evan just didn’t like it known around town, for my own protection.”

  “Okay, okay,” he surrendered, briefly raising both his hands slightly. “You’re right, but I didn’t know that then.”

  Emily picked up the small metal pitcher to drench her french toast in maple syrup.

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this and give you a big head, but I was really impressed with how you handled Delia’s murder case.”

  “You were?” Emily arched an eyebrow, wondering what he meant by her getting a big head.

  “I was. But I have to say, what totally hooked me was that thing you did in New York City.”

  “What thing was that?�
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  “When I flew to New York City to interrogate that suspect in Delia’s case—you know, that Russian mobster—and you showed up there, too, going all Charlie’s Angels on me.”

  Charlie’s Angels? Emily wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that either. The title conjured up visions of beautiful women with kick-ass moves and guns blazing. “That hooked you? Why?” As she recalled, he’d looked none too pleased with her at the time.

  “Well, I wasn’t very happy with you at first, because I specifically told you to stay in Paradise Valley,” he replied, then took another gulp of coffee, “but you didn’t listen.”

  “Get to the good part.”

  “Well, that day you showed me you were the kind of woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer, you wouldn’t give up, and I kinda liked that.”

  “You did?” She was surprised, yet pleased, at his comments. She smiled to herself as she stuck another bite of french toast in her mouth.

  “It was actually pretty hot the way you marched into the detective’s area at the station, with your wild mane of blonde hair and your tight jeans, demanding to be in on the questioning.”

  “I didn’t realize I came across that way.” She grimaced. “My hair’s not usually wild. It must have been from sleeping on the plane.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she visualized what she must have looked like. “Is that why your New York detective friend dubbed me the smokin’ hot lady PI?”

  Colin laughed at the description. “Could be, but I had to agree with him.” He grinned and nodded at her as he cut into his omelet and took a bite. “You did look pretty hot.”

  Emily looked down and blushed, taking a sip of her water. She hadn’t realized she appeared in such a brash way. When she looked up, she caught Colin still grinning at her.