Dark Whispers

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)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_90e8eaaf-d88b-53a8-9c0c-4d285fbe8631)

4th Avenue North

Birmingham, Alabama

Monday, September 19, 3:30 p.m.

Former Deputy Chief Jess Harris Burnett repositioned the nameplate on the new old desk in the center of her small office. A matching credenza stood against the wall beneath the window. She had a nice view of the street, unlike her partner whose office window overlooked the not-so-attractive alley at the back of their downtown historic building. She’d offered to toss a coin, but he’d insisted she take the nicer view. Buddy Corlew, her old friend turned business partner, actually preferred the office with the potential backdoor escape route. He boasted that he’d worked sufficient cheating spouse cases to appreciate the option of a hasty retreat.

Jess sighed as she surveyed her new office space. A couple of bookcases lined the wall to the right of her desk, while framed accomplishments and accolades dotted the left. Her new office didn’t look half bad now that everything was in place. The lingering doubt about the big career change was gone for the most part as were the rumors in the media and even in the department. The people she cared about understood and supported her reasons for change. Though she missed her major crimes team and, to some degree, working in the field, family and friends were what mattered most to her now.

Her closest friends, Detective Lori Wells and Dr. Sylvia Baron, had helped Jess with the decorating as well as the furnishing of the offices. Since the building was one of Birmingham’s oldest, they had chosen to go with a casual vintage decor. Jess arranged the two mismatched chairs in front of her desk and stood back to have a look. “Not bad at all.”

The baby kicked hard and she jumped. Smiling, Jess rubbed her belly. Her husband Dan insisted this child would play football at the University of Alabama just like his grandfather had back in the day. Jess shook her head. She had no desire to plan her unborn child’s college career just yet, much less whether or not he would participate in such a brutal sport. But then, this was Alabama—football was practically a religion. She supposed the idea was no different than her mother-in-law, Katherine, already having Bea, their eighteen-month-old daughter, enrolled in ballet class and baby yoga.

Jess sighed. Her sister, Lily, had warned her that motherhood came with a whole host of new obligations, expectations and no shortage of worries. “And here you are going for round two, Jessie Lee.” She rested a hand on her heavy belly. As frustrating and terrifying as being a parent could be, she wouldn’t trade it for anything. She wondered if their baby boy would have dark hair and blue eyes like his father? Their little girl had Jess’s blond hair and brown eyes.

A bell tinkled in the lobby and Jess wandered out of her office and toward the sound. The private investigation agency she and her old high school friend Buddy Corlew had decided to establish opened on Wednesday with an open house scheduled for next Monday. Had Buddy decided to drop back by or had she left the front door unlocked? Her pulse rate climbed with every step she took toward the entry. She’d spent too many years analyzing and helping to apprehend serial killers to ignore the potential for trouble. Memories of last spring’s ordeal with Ted Holmes attempted to emerge but she suppressed them. That nightmare was over. Don’t look back.

Buddy stood in the lobby appraising the work Jess and her friends had done. She relaxed. “I didn’t think you were coming back today.”

“Sylvia told me you were still here.” Buddy glanced around the lobby and nodded his approval. “Looks great, kid.”

Buddy was the only person in the world who had ever called her kid. The fact that he still did reminded her that in many ways he would forever be living in the past. His music taste was pre-1990, his long hair was fastened in a ponytail, and he still strutted around in worn denim and scarred leather the same way he had in high school. Enough said.

“Great might be an overstatement,” Jess surveyed the lobby, “but at least we won’t be scaring off clients.” The exposed brick walls and concrete floors looked less like a dungeon with a few carefully placed upholstered chairs and a couple of tasteful pieces of secondhand art purchased at the most recent fundraiser Dan’s mother hosted.

“Did you get your office squared away?”

“I did.” Jess braced a hand on her hip and ignored the ache that had started in her lower back. She’d certainly overdone it today. “I was about to call it a day.”

Buddy glanced at her round belly and smiled. “I can’t wait until Sylvia actually looks pregnant.” As hard as it was to believe, Buddy and Sylvia, Jefferson County’s medical examiner and the daughter of one of Birmingham’s old money families, had married and were now expecting a child.

Jess and Buddy had grown up on the not-so-appealing side of Birmingham and somehow they’d both managed to do okay. Jess had spent most of her law enforcement career with the FBI, first as a field agent and then as a profiler. Just over two years ago she had returned to Birmingham and started a new career with Birmingham PD as deputy chief of Major Crimes. After twenty years separated by their careers and geography, she’d married her high school sweetheart, Daniel Burnett, the chief of police.

Buddy’s life had taken a somewhat less direct route to where they were now. A womanizing rebel in high school, he’d ended up spending a tour of duty in the military right out of high school to avoid trouble with the law. Later, several years as a BPD cop and then a detective had ended on a bit of a sour note. Buddy, however, being Buddy, had bounced back. He’d opened a small private investigation shop and done well. Falling for and marrying Sylvia had changed the man as nothing else could have. He could not wait to be a daddy. The change left a large portion of Birmingham’s female population bemoaning the loss.

“Don’t worry,” Jess assured him, “that will happen soon enough.” She suspected her old friend didn’t have a clue what he was in for. Sylvia would ensure Buddy suffered every moment of discomfort she endured for the next several months.

The bell over the door tinkled again. Jess turned as Clint Hayes strolled in, a box under one arm and a briefcase in his hand. Clint had been a member of Jess’s BPD major crimes team. He’d asked if he might come onboard at B&C Investigations when Jess first announced she was leaving the department. She hadn’t been able to deny that having an investigator with a law degree as well as several years as a detective under his belt was attractive. No matter, she had discussed the idea with Dan before acting on Clint’s request. He had a right to know one of his detectives was considering making the move with her. Dan had been so glad Jess was leaving police work behind, he’d been only too happy to see Clint go with her. That he was handsome and dressed impeccably wouldn’t hurt, either.

“I cleaned out my desk at the department,” Clint announced in greeting. “I thought I’d get settled here.”

Buddy clapped him on the back. “Glad to have you, Hayes.”

“We’ve set up several desks in the large office at the end of the hall,” Jess explained. She and Buddy had taken the two smaller offices. The larger one would allow for several investigators to share the space. A third smaller office would serve as a conference space for meeting with clients. Closer to the lobby was a tiny kitchenette with a narrow hall to the only bathroom and a rear exit. “Take your pick.”

“Just like old times.” Clint flashed Jess a grin and headed that way. Buddy followed, filling him in on the open house planned for a week from today.

For now, Clint was their only investigator. Buddy was working on recruiting. They had interviewed three others so far. Their secretary, Rebecca Scott, who would also serve as a receptionist and occasionally as a babysitter when Lily and Katherine were tied up, was scheduled to start tomorrow. Jess was immensely grateful to find someone willing to wear so many hats and whom she trusted with her child while she met with clients and assigned investigators.

Assessing cases and determining the best way to proceed wouldn’t be that different from her profiler days—other than the fact that they wouldn’t likely be tracking serial killers and hunting murderers. Then again, throughout her career she always seemed to have a penchant for attracting the faces of evil.

The bell over the door jingled again, drawing Jess from the memory of one serial killer in particular. Four and a half months ago Ted Holmes had done all within his power to reach the highest level of evil by resurrecting the persona of Eric Spears and reenacting his obsession with Jess.

Banishing the memories once more, Jess produced a smile for the woman, thirty or so, who stood just inside the door as if she couldn’t decide what to do next. She was petite, around Jess’s height of five-four. Her black hair was long and lush; she was attractive. Her manner of dress, a soft beige pencil skirt with matching jacket and heels, suggested a career woman. Her gaze moved around the lobby, eventually landing on Jess. The fear and hesitation in her expression gave Jess pause.

“I need a private investigator,” she said, her voice trembling the slightest bit.

Jess was on the verge of telling her they didn’t open until the day after tomorrow when the woman added, “I shot a man.”

When she swayed, Jess hurried to usher her into the nearest chair. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get you a bottle of water.”

Their first potential client shook her head. “No. Please.” She put her hand on Jess’s arm. “I need help.”

“Let’s start with your name.” Jess settled into a seat on the opposite side of the reclaimed factory cart that served as a coffee table.

“Natalie Drummond.”

“Well, Ms. Drummond, it sounds as if you might need the police rather than our services. I’ll be happy to call someone for you.” Jess’s first thought was to call Lori. Detective Lori Wells now worked in the Crimes Against Persons division. Jess considered her a dear friend and she was one of the best detectives in the department. It didn’t hurt that Lori’s husband, Chet Harper, was the ranking detective in the BPD’s major crimes team—as well as a good friend.

Drummond shook her head. “You don’t understand. I did call the police, but they can’t help me.”