Scene Of The Crime: The Deputy's Proof

Scene Of The Crime: The Deputy's Proof
Carla Cassidy

This deputy was looking for redemption from a mysterious beauty…Ever since Savannah Sinclair’s sister was killed, her ghost has become part of local lore. But deputy Josh Griffin knows the truth behind this charade. And when Savannah is attacked, Josh vows to keep the grieving beauty safe. He soon finds that even though he’s protecting Savannah, it's his heart that's under fire…Savannah only posed as her sister’s spirit to keep her sibling alive—not to put herself in harm’s way. But as Josh, her "bodyguard," stirs up feelings she thought long dead, Savannah can’t help but wonder: Can her lone protector keep yet another Sinclair sister from being murdered?

Every muscle in his body stiffened as he thought he heard a faint cry coming from the hole in the ground.

He turned on his flashlight and shone it down, seeing nothing but earth.

Had he heard her crying? Weeping because she knew this was the end of her walks? Should he go down and console her? Or let her cry in private? He had a feeling that if she was crying, she wouldn’t welcome his presence.

He heard her again, only this time instead of weeping, it sounded like a scream of terror. With his gun in one hand, his flashlight in the other and adrenaline pumping through his body, he dropped down into the hole.

The first thing he saw was the penlight beam, shining at him from the floor in the distance. What he didn’t see was any sign of Savannah.

“Savannah!” He yelled her name, and it echoed in the air.

He quickly walked forward, his gun leading the way and his heart pounding a million beats a minute. Where was Savannah? Why was her flashlight on the ground? What in the hell was happening?

He didn’t know, but he wouldn’t give up until he found her.

Scene of the Crime: The Deputy’s Proof

Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CARLA CASSIDY is a New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred books for Mills & Boon. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

Contents

Cover (#u44fd52e0-80d0-5b71-9253-fc79fbb6dd0e)

Introduction (#u0d7248c0-7470-5bb0-a739-6330a989f9c8)

Title Page (#u3f888bdb-b009-5ff4-bba5-b8f4fcf8233d)

About the Author (#ucf8b12fb-f159-51d0-918b-f37c410192ce)

Chapter One (#u11f1353d-bba2-5e0d-9094-94cf6524c8f0)

Chapter Two (#u126b3556-6e70-50a1-bea2-c9daf376f089)

Chapter Three (#u67fd5c5a-04ca-53b0-b5d4-2f39c488c660)

Chapter Four (#u0d6ffc9d-01b0-5366-bcb9-804e14a88854)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_0b58ed92-cea8-5582-9560-1cfdf9d3584b)

It was a perfect night for a ghost walk. The Mississippi moon was nearly hidden from view by the low-lying fog that seeped across the land and invaded the streets of the small town of Lost Lagoon.

Savannah Sinclair retied the double-beamed flashlight that hung at her waist beneath a white, gauzy, floor-length gown. She used talcum powder to lighten her face and knew that most people would think her actions were more than a little crazy.

Maybe she’d been a little crazy for the past two years, since the night her older sister, her best friend, Shelly, had been murdered and found floating in the lagoon.

From that night forward, Savannah’s life had been forever changed. She had been forever changed, and what she planned to do at midnight tonight just proved that Shelly’s death still haunted her in a profound way she couldn’t get past.

She stared at her ghostly countenance in the bathroom mirror and wondered, if Shelly’s murder had been solved and her killer arrested, would things be different?

She whirled away from the mirror and left the bathroom. The clock on the nightstand in the bedroom indicated that it was eleven thirty. Time to move.

She turned off all the lights in the four-bedroom house that had once been home to her family, grabbed a palm-sized penlight and then slipped out the back door.

The dark night closed in around her, and she glanced at her nearest neighbor’s house, satisfied that all the lights were off and her neighbor, Jeffrey Allen, was surely in bed. She used the penlight in her hand to guide her toward a large bush at the back of the yard.

Shoving several of the leafy branches aside, she revealed a hole big enough for a person to drop into. She knew there were earthen steps to aid in the three-foot drop, and she easily accomplished it, finding herself at the beginning of a narrow earthen tunnel.

She’d discovered the tunnel last summer when she’d been working in the yard. Initially she had to crouch for several feet before the tunnel descended deep enough that she could stand in an upright position and walk.

Half the town already thought she was crazy, gone around the bend because of her parents’ abandonment, her brother’s rages and the murder of her sister.

If they only knew what she did on moonless nights when she wasn’t working the night shift at the Pirate’s Inn, they’d probably have her locked up in an insane asylum for the rest of her life. But there was a rhyme and reason to her madness.

The tunnel system was like a spider web running under the town, although Savannah had only explored one corridor, the one that would take her directly to the place where her sister had been murdered.