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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Synopsis

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Other Books by Gerri Hill

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Bella Books

  Synopsis

  Finley Knight, ex-cop turned private investigator, lives a lonely, solitary life. She uses her downtime to reflect on the past and wonders what could have been.

  Detective Dee Woodard transferred to Corpus Christi nine years ago to put distance between herself and her ex…an ex she was still in love with. A murder investigation leads her to Moonlight Avenue and Finley Knight.

  Rylee Moore left the windy plains of Amarillo in her rearview mirror, hoping to start over in this city by the bay, only to find employment hard to come by. Finley Knight wasn’t hiring either, but Rylee’s begging and pleading—and not taking “no” for an answer—finally lands her a job. Not as an apprentice, as she wanted, but as the lone employee at Moonlight Avenue Investigations—receptionist.

  When another murder hits close to home, Finn ignores the police directive to stay out of it and goes on a search for the killer…reluctantly taking Rylee along for the ride.

  After a gruesome third murder, Dee is booted from the case. She joins Finn’s team…the chase bringing them closer and closer to a vicious drug dealer.

  Amongst the chaos, crime, and cover-up…love pokes its head above the water. But can they stay alive long enough to explore it?

  Copyright © 2019 by Gerri Hill

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  First Bella Books Edition 2019

  eBook released 2019

  Editor: Medora MacDougall

  Cover Designer: Sandy Knowles

  ISBN: 978-1-64247-027-7

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Other Bella Books by Gerri Hill

  Angel Fire

  Artist’s Dream

  At Seventeen

  Behind the Pine Curtain

  Chasing a Brighter Blue

  The Cottage

  Coyote Sky

  Dawn of Change

  Devil’s Rock

  Gulf Breeze

  Hell’s Highway

  Hunter’s Way

  In the Name of the Father

  Keepers of the Cave

  The Killing Room

  The Locket

  Love Waits

  The Midnight Moon

  The Neighbor

  No Strings

  One Summer Night

  Paradox Valley

  Partners

  Pelican’s Landing

  The Rainbow Cedar

  The Roundabout

  The Secret Pond

  Sawmill Springs

  The Scorpion

  Sierra City

  Snow Falls

  Storms

  The Target

  Weeping Walls

  About the Author

  Gerri Hill has thirty-five published works, including the 2017 GCLS winner Paradox Valley, 2014 GCLS winner The Midnight Moon, 2011, 2012 and 2013 winners Devil’s Rock, Hell’s Highway and Snow Falls, and the 2009 GCLS winner Partners, the last book in the popular Hunter Series, as well as the 2013 Lambda finalist At Seventeen.

  Gerri lives in south-central Texas, only a few hours from the Gulf Coast, a place that has inspired many of her books. With her partner, Diane, they share their life with two Australian shepherds—Casey and Cooper—and a couple of furry felines.

  For more, visit her website at gerrihill.com.

  Chapter One

  The office was dark and shadowy. She shifted in her chair, only now noticing the blackness that surrounded her. Without much thought, she reached over and flicked on the lamp that sat on the corner of the desk. She looked away from the light for a moment, blinking several times before reaching for the whiskey glass. It had been her father’s. There really wasn’t anything unique about it, other than it was his. The single malt scotch inside, however, made it special.

  She heard shuffling upstairs and she looked overhead, knowing that Sa
mmy would be down in a few minutes. She let out a heavy breath, then finished off the scotch. She should have left hours ago, but the splatter of rain against the windows had lulled her into a sense of peacefulness that was rare. She hadn’t wanted to disturb it.

  A few moments later, the door to her office opened, and Sammy stared at her. His wrinkled black face was hidden by the shadows, but his snow-white hair seemed to glow around him.

  “Why, Finn…you still here?” he asked in his gravelly voice.

  She pushed the chair back from her desk and stood. “Just about to leave.”

  “That means you missed dinner again,” he said disapprovingly. “I had me some fried flounder. You should have come on up.”

  “Fried food’s gonna kill you, Sammy.”

  He laughed. “Oh, hell…I’m eighty-two. Been eatin’ fried fish my whole damn life. And most of it, I caught right out there in the bay.”

  She went over to him and touched his shoulder. “I’ve been out most of the day. I don’t think there’s any need for you to clean up tonight.”

  “Oh, I’ll check the trash and run a vacuum, like always. Mr. Simon gets a little irritated if I don’t tidy up over there on his side,” he said, referring to the accountant who rented the other office. He tilted his head, eyeing her. “You got anything interesting going on? I was sitting by my window before the rain came. You had some man in here for quite a while.”

  “The usual. The guy thinks his wife is having an affair.”

  “You hate those,” he said with a nod of his head. “Bad memories.”

  “Yeah. But they pay the bills.” He followed her out into the reception area, and he helped her slip on her coat. She smiled at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sammy.”

  “The good Lord willing,” he murmured quietly on cue.

  The rain wasn’t much more than a light mist now and she stood beside her car, looking up into the sky. There was a half-moon peeking out from behind a cloud, then it disappeared again. It was a cool, chilly night by Corpus Christi standards, especially for November. She unlocked her car with the push of a button. When the interior light came on, out of habit, she glanced in the back. She wasn’t sure why, but she wouldn’t be surprised to find someone hiding back there one day. She’d pissed off enough people in her line of work.

  She drove down the dark street, aptly named Moonlight Avenue. There were no streetlights near her office. It was a dead-end road, and yes, moonlight was the only thing illuminating it. It was only four blocks from the bay and from the small cottage she called home. The cottage her father had left her. The cottage her mother never even knew existed.

  Maybe it was the new client she’d taken on, but memories of that time in her life had come flooding back with distinct clarity. Eighteen years ago—it could have been only yesterday instead.

  She had just graduated from college and was about to start law school. To this day, she still didn’t know if her father’s murder was what caused her to change her mind or not. They had it all planned. Law school, then she’d join her father’s firm. They’d work side-by-side. Knight and Knight. Her father had been so proud of her. But after…well, after his death, she decided law school wasn’t for her.

  She shook her head as she pulled into her driveway, stopping as she waited for the gate to open. No, not law school. Would her father have been proud that she’d become a cop?

  Chapter Two

  Mrs. Frazier disappeared into Kathy’s Hair Salon and Finn noted the time, scribbling notes on the legal pad she used. She’d tried working on her laptop in the car but found her attention wavered too much. She preferred to make notes and records this way and transcribe everything later.

  She put her camera down and picked up the small binoculars instead. Posters in the windows—pretty smiling women with chic haircuts—blocked her view, however, and she tossed them down as well.

  She’d been thirty when she quit the force…only two years after making detective. At the time, becoming a private investigator hadn’t crossed her mind. At least not consciously. But six months after working as a security guard, she’d quit that job too.

  She leaned her head back, letting in old memories. They were memories she’d just as soon stay buried, but at times like this, when she sat idly in her car—waiting for the cheating wife or husband to show their hand—they crept in anyway.

  She remembered the call, her mother’s voice sounding almost calm, businesslike. “Finley, your father’s been shot. They found him in his car. It apparently happened last night.”

  It all came out into the open then. Suspecting an affair all along, her father had hired a private investigator. Finn had been shocked. An affair? Her mother?

  “It was your fault! You left home. Your father worked all the time. I was alone…all the time!”

  “So maybe you should have gotten a job instead of a lover!” she’d shot back at her.

  She shook her head. A job? Her mother? No. A lover? Yes. A man stupid enough to fall in love with her…a man stupid enough to kill when she wouldn’t file for divorce.

  Her mother still lived in Corpus. Still lived in the same house Finn had grown up in. A new man shared it with her now. Finn couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her. Fifteen years or more, she supposed.

  The door to the hair salon opened and Mrs. Frazier came out. The woman paused to run a hand over her slightly shorter hair and Finn snapped two photos, then quickly lowered the camera when Mrs. Frazier’s gaze drifted out over the parking lot. She shielded her eyes from the sun, as if looking for someone. Instead of getting into her metallic gray SUV, Mrs. Frazier walked down the sidewalk of the strip center. Once again she paused to glance around the parking lot. Finn knew the woman hadn’t seen her. She was parked far enough away and her tinted windows provided the necessary cover that she needed. No…Mrs. Frazier was looking for someone.

  When she ducked into the Tropical Tan and Massage, Finn looked around the parking lot too. A man emerged from a red sports car. Mid-forties, perhaps. A handsome man with dark hair, cut neat and short. Professional. Suit and tie. Shiny black shoes. She was about to dismiss him. She’d worked enough of these that she knew he didn’t fit the profile. Mrs. Frazier, while not totally unattractive, was over fifty and a little on the plump side. This man moved with an athletic grace. Tall, shoulders squared, fashionable sunglasses hiding his eyes. He walked confidently into the Tropical Tan and Massage.

  She shrugged. It hardly implicated him, but she snapped five or six shots of him before he disappeared inside. She jotted down the time—3:12—and location on her notepad, then shifted in her seat, trying to stretch her legs.

  She wondered if her mother had ever hooked up at a place like this. She couldn’t picture it, but you never know. Her mother had never offered an explanation for anything, never delved into the gory details of the affair with her. Of course she hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms with her mother after the murder.

  Her mother’s lover, Richard “Dick” Falwell, had slipped into the backseat of her father’s car, hiding on the floor behind the passenger’s seat. What her mother had said was true: her father worked insane hours and was rarely home. That particular night was no exception. Dick Falwell popped up from his hiding place and held a gun to her father’s head, making him drive to a secluded spot…a spot where Dick had stashed his car. He shot her father right there and that’s where he was found, slumped over the steering wheel, a bullet hole in his head.

  Even if the private investigator her father had hired hadn’t come forward—her father had instructed him to go to the police if anything happened to him—Dick Falwell would have still been caught. He’d been stupid enough to leave prints on the outside of the car as well as the door handle on the inside. He’d apparently tossed the gun into one of the channels leading to the bay. It had never been recovered, but no need. The stupid son of a bitch didn’t know there were security cameras at her father’s firm. He had practically posed for the camera when he’d brok
en into the car.

  Still, the trial was ugly and the defense had tried to implicate her mother, saying she’d suggested the murder. Finn would be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind as well, but her mother’s reaction convinced her that Dick Falwell had done it all on his own. The jury believed that too.

  She reached for her bottle of water and took a sip, then leaned her head back against the seat. Sleep had eluded her last night and she was feeling the effects of it now. Her stomach rumbled, letting her know that the lone piece of toast she’d had with her coffee that morning was long gone. From the backseat, she pulled the goody bag she kept with her at all times. When she unzipped it, however, she remembered she hadn’t restocked it. There were two protein bars, a bag of salted peanuts, three warm water bottles, and an orange that had moldy spots on it. She pushed the orange aside—as she’d been doing for the last two weeks—and took one of the protein bars.

  She’d only taken two bites when Mrs. Frazier came out. She had a definite smile on her face and Finn captured the dreamy look not once but three times before the woman headed toward her car. She kept the camera trained on the front door to the tanning salon, taking another photo when the guy came out only seconds later. He was adjusting his tie as he hurried toward the red sports car.

  Finn looked between the two cars, but the guy never once glanced toward Mrs. Frazier and she didn’t look his way. As the sports car pulled away, Finn zoomed in on his license plate, snapping a clear picture. She then started up her car, waiting until Mrs. Frazier got ahead of her before following. Connie Frazier retraced the same route she’d taken that morning, back to her house. Finn drove past the street, slowing enough to verify that Mrs. Frazier had indeed pulled into the driveway. It was 3:51.

  “That was a quickie,” she murmured as she drove past.

  Instead of heading back to her office, she turned toward the bay and home. She was tired and hungry. Her little cottage was at the end of Ocean Drive where Corpus Christi Bay swallowed it up. It wasn’t really all that little—twenty-two hundred square feet—but compared to her neighbors’ homes, it was tiny and dated. But it suited her fine.