The stone house secret, p.1
The Stone House Secret, page 1
part #2 of Jenessa Jones Series
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Debra Burroughs, topping the charts in Cozy Mysteries, Romantic Suspense, and Women Sleuths, comes The Stone House Secret.
Praise for Debra Burroughs’ romantic mystery novels…
“Love it, love it, love it! Can't get enough of Debra Burroughs. I have always loved mysteries and Debra delivers.”
~ Ann Cross
Amazon Reviewer
“Ms. Burroughs writes her mysteries with so many twists and turns, she keeps you on the edge of your seat. Just when you think you have it figured out, you discover you don't have a clue! Ms. Burroughs has a gift — each of her books gets even better than the last — and they are all excellent!”
~ Cathy-J’s Gram
Amazon Reviewer
“Once again, this author hits upon the perfect combination of great writing, well-paced plot, interesting, endearing, compelling and sometimes quirky characters, a touch of romance and the suspense of a good mystery to solve.”
~ K.C. Quinn
Amazon Reviewer
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Afterword
Other Works by Debra Burroughs
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
“The councilman apologized for the scandal,” Jenessa muttered under her breath, “and any embarrassment he caused his family and the town.” Her lithe fingers flew over her computer keyboard as she finished up another story for the Hidden Valley Herald. She hit the period key with a flourish. “The end.”
Sitting in her tiny cubicle at the small-town newspaper, with her article finally done, she rolled her shoulders to work out a kink, then scrubbed her fingers through her long hair. With a wisp of a sigh, she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and let her mind happily drift to visions of the tall, dark, and delicious Detective Michael Baxter. Dreamy thoughts of their impending date floated in and out of her mind, anticipation building at the pleasure of it. At six o’clock, he would be whisking her away for a romantic night out.
After peeking down at her watch one more time, she closed her eyes again and leaned her head back. Michael’s face filled her imagination—his strong angular jaw, his warm brown eyes, and that enticing mouth that smiled at her like she was the only woman he ever wanted. Only two more hours and he’d be standing on her doorstep, all six feet four inches of his heart-fluttering manliness.
“Jenessa!” her editor bellowed as he stepped into her workspace.
The sharpness of his voice startled her, making her eyes fly open as she almost fell out of her chair. She grabbed for her desk and regained her balance, and composure—hopefully, before he detected any sign of embarrassment. “Yes, Charles,” she turned toward him and forced a little smile on her face, “what can I do for you?”
“I just received a tip on a breaking story and I need you to get out to Whitfield College. There’s been a shooting.”
“At the college? How bad is it?” Horrific thoughts of the tragic massacre at Virginia Tech and other schools around the country popped into her mind. “Any casualties?”
“That’s why I’m sending you out there—to find out what’s happened. Now get me something I can run in the morning paper.”
“Sure thing, Charles.” There goes my date with Michael. She’d have to phone him on the way to Whitfield and reschedule. On second thought, he’d probably be at the crime scene as well. Being one of only two detectives on the small Hidden Valley police force, he and his partner would certainly have been called out to investigate.
Ah, the small town life.
Her return to Hidden Valley was taking some getting used to, even though she had been back in town for a few months already. Before her return, Jenessa had been an investigative reporter on a large Sacramento newspaper, where she was used to a high crime-rate and people working at the newspaper until all hours of the night to get breaking news out in the morning edition—not to mention dealing with a large police force and numerous different detectives.
At times she missed the adrenalin rush of covering a compelling, hard-hitting story and having her byline on the front page of a major newspaper, but since her parents died and she inherited their upscale home in Hidden Valley, she had decided to move back and reconnect with her family and friends.
Jenessa fumbled around in her purse for her car keys but came up empty handed. She thought for a moment. Where could they be? “Shoot! I forgot my car is in the shop, Charles,” Jenessa lamented, glancing down at her watch again. “They said it wouldn’t be done until five o’clock. I guess I could call a cab or—”
“No need.” Logan Alexander poked his head over Charles’s shoulder.
“Logan.” She did her best to hide her surprise and the rush of warmth that heated her cheeks. Funny what an ex-boyfriend could still do to you.
Although, Jenessa had to admit to herself, he was more than just any ex-boyfriend. Logan Alexander was a gorgeous specimen of a man, over six feet tall with wavy blond hair and deep blue eyes the color of the Aegean Sea. She had fallen madly, deeply, in love with him—in high school. Now, at twenty-nine, the sight of him still brought back a flood of memories.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He flashed his charming, confident smile at her, every pearly white in perfect alignment. “Just meeting with Charles and checking on one of our businesses.”
Logan’s father, Grey Alexander, owned the newspaper, a bank, and a real estate office, among other enterprises in Hidden Valley. Logan had been temporarily put in charge of the family empire while his father was away and unable to oversee things for a while. “I’m happy to give you a ride over to the college.” A mischievous gleam shone in his azure eyes.
That was the last thing she needed. Since her return to Hidden Valley, Logan had made repeated ovations to her, trying to rekindle what they’d once had. But, to his dismay, she had begun to date Detective Michael Baxter, an old friend from their high school days, and things were moving along quite well with him.
What would the handsome detective think if he saw her at the crime scene, climbing out of Logan’s snazzy, red BMW convertible?
Logan had made it clear he was not going to give up trying to win her back. He wanted her in his life again and it seemed he saw Michael as nothing more than a temporary bump in the road.
Handsome, successful, rich—what more could a girl want? Well…trustworthy, maybe? The past she shared with Logan was a huge stumbling block, at least for her, to their ever getting back together.
“I think that’s a fine idea, Logan,” Charles said, giving the young man a light clap on the back.
“Then it’s settled.” Logan grinned. “Jenessa, your chariot awaits.” He stepped aside and swept his hand toward the door.
None too pleased, she clutched her handbag to her chest and quickly slipped past him, hearing his footsteps following her down the hall.
“I’m gone for the day,” she called out to Alice, the elderly receptionist, as they stopped by her desk. “Call my cell if you need me.”
“Good-bye, Alice,” Logan said with a wink.
“Good day, Mr. Alexander,” Alice said sweetly, wearing a girlish grin, as Jenessa and Logan turned and walked to the entrance door. “You two make such an attractive couple.”
“He’s just giving me a lift,” Jenessa tossed back over her shoulder. Something told her she was probably going to regret taking it.
~*~
It was a sunny and mild September afternoon. Gold and orange leaves floated down from the trees as they drove down Broadway Avenue, toward the college. Logan attempted to make small talk. In her peripheral vision, she could see him glancing at her from time to time, but Jenessa kept her replies short and her eyes from meeting his, afraid any encouragement would give him the wrong idea.
She had loved him once and it had ended disastrously. She was determined not to make that mistake again, but, unfortunately, the sizzling spark she felt when he touched her, or whenever she looked into his devilishly alluring eyes, told her she had not totally gotten him out of her heart.
As Jenessa stared out the side window, she remembered the summer before her senior year of high school, the summer Logan was leaving for college. They’d been teenagers in love, and one evening at his family’s lake house they’d given in to their passion for each other. It was the only time they had slept together, but one time was all it took for her to become pregnant.
They’d decided to break the news to both sets of parents at the same time. They were well acquainted—Jenessa’s father was Grey Alexander’s attorney. So they gathered their folks together in the Alexanders’ living room to explain the situation. His parents were livid, Jenessa’s were humiliated.
After what seemed like hours of arguing and tears, it was decided that the best thing for all concerned was for Logan to go to college as planned, and for Jenessa to be sent away until she had the baby and gave it up for adoption. Then she could go on with her life, her father had said. Logan agreed with them—that giving up the baby was best—which had broken her heart.
She had left Hidden Valley soon after that night and did not return for twelve long years. At seventeen she had given birth to a healthy baby boy. She’d held the newborn for a few minutes, cradled him against her chest. Then, the woman from the adoption agency said it was time. With unstoppable tears and unspeakable pain shredding her heart, she kissed his tiny cheek and handed her son
Her arms had felt sadly empty, as had her heart, and no amount of time had diminished those feelings. Jenessa had longed for that child every day since.
Logan put a hand on her arm. “Jenessa.”
She flinched. “What?”
“Where did you go? You seemed like you were a million miles away.”
“Lost in thought, I guess.” She rubbed her arms at a sudden chill.
They sped down the long driveway that was the entrance to the college, flanked on each side of the roadway by majestic old maple trees that were beginning to turn gold, orange, and crimson as autumn was upon them.
Logan said something, but Jenessa couldn’t say what, for her mind was still somewhere else.
Finally his words made it through. “Looks like we’re here.”
Her gaze slid from the side window to the scene ahead. Several police cars were strategically positioned to block off traffic, their red-and-blue lights flashing, yellow crime scene tape strung between cars and trees to create a perimeter. She spotted Michael with his back to her, standing beside his silver-haired partner, Detective George Provenza.
“This is far enough, Logan,” she instructed, not wanting to draw Michael’s attention to her getting out of Logan’s car. “Just pull over and let me out.”
“I can get you up closer,” he offered as he slowed.
“No. This is good.” She opened the door while the car was still moving, hoping it would force him to halt.
“All right already, but at least wait until I come to a stop.”
The second he did, she spit out a quick thanks and bolted from the car, slamming the door harder than she’d planned. The sound from the door caused Michael to turn and her heart dropped to her stomach—this was the very thing she was trying to avoid. Even from thirty feet away, she detected Michael’s eyebrows wrinkle in irritation.
Jenessa shrugged and sheepishly approached him, but a young uniformed officer stepped in front of her. She pulled up short and stopped, recognizing the man. “Hello, Luke. Can I get through to talk to the detectives?”
“Sorry, but Detective Provenza ordered me not to let anyone through.”
Luke was Michael’s cousin. He had recently moved to Hidden Valley, having secured a job on the police force. From almost the first day he’d arrived in town, Luke and her sister, Sara, were inseparable.
Jenessa looked past him, to Michael, but he and Provenza had turned away again. “Michael!” she called out, waving her hand in the air, trying to get his attention once more, hoping to gain permission to pass.
As Michael and Provenza both turned at the sound of his name, they revealed a striking redheaded woman, middle aged, seated on a bench. Another woman, about the same age, with honey-blond hair, sat beside her with her arm laced around the shoulders of the first.
“Aunt Renee?” Seeing her aunt there—the second woman—threw Jenessa off a bit. “Are you all right?” she called out.
When Michael motioned for her to approach, with a stern look on his face, the young officer stepped aside. “Sorry, Jenessa, just following orders,” Luke said.
Jenessa gave him a nod and swept past him, dashing to her aunt’s side. “Are you all right? Were you involved in the shooting?”
“No, I’m fine, sweetheart,” her aunt replied. “But my friend here, she was the one shot at. She phoned me right after she called nine-one-one.”
Jenessa’s attention moved to the redheaded woman.
“This is my friend Professor Daphne Stone,” Aunt Renee introduced.
The woman rose. “Dr. Stone,” she corrected, extending a weak hand. She was tall and slim, and fairly attractive if it hadn’t been for the nervous lines around her mouth and eyes. Her dark, auburn hair was thick and hung in loosely layered waves above her shoulders, her fair skin making a striking contrast to her deep emerald eyes.
Framed by her open collar was a small, unusual birthmark in the shape of a bowtie at the base of her throat. Dr. Stone must have noticed Jenessa looking at it, for she quickly gathered her collar together with her other hand.
Jenessa lifted her gaze to meet the woman’s and shook her hand firmly but gently. “Yes, my aunt has mentioned you, Dr. Stone. My name is Jenessa Jones. I’m a reporter for the Hidden Valley Herald. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Jenessa’s eyes moved from Dr. Stone to Michael, raising her brows at him, seeking his approval.
Michael stepped beside Jenessa, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. “We’ve already taken her statement,” he said, “so, if she’s willing…”
“Another time maybe,” Daphne Stone replied flatly with a slight wave of her hand, sitting back down. “I’m too upset right now. I just want to go home.”
“I understand, but I was hoping for just a few quick questions. My editor is expecting my story for the morning paper.”
“Jenessa,” her aunt chided.
“Just a few.”
Daphne gave her a pensive look, as if she was considering the request, then turned to her friend. “It’s all right, Renee, as long as she keeps it short.” The woman raised her deep green eyes to Jenessa. “I really don’t know much. I was walking to my car and heard a loud crash, my back window exploded.” Daphne’s trembling hand fluttered to her collarbone. “Then I called nine-one-one.”
“I think that’s enough for now,” Aunt Renee interrupted. “Let’s get you home, Daphne.”
“I appreciate what time you were able to give me, Dr. Stone,” Jenessa continued. “I’ll interview the detectives to get the rest of the story.” She turned her attention toward Michael. “Right, Detective Baxter?”
“Sure. Let’s step over by my car, Miss Jones,” he gestured to the vehicle, which was only a few feet away, “and I’ll be more than happy to answer your questions.” Michael leaned in near Jenessa’s ear and whispered, “And we’ll talk about Logan later.”
As he spoke, his breath was warm on her skin and his aftershave was musky—an unexpected wave of excitement swept over her body. Her gaze met his for a moment and she gave a slight nod. “Later.”
Would he believe her when she said that being with Logan in his car meant nothing? The truth was it was Michael she wanted to be with, not Logan, yet circumstances seemed to make that unclear at times. His obvious jealousy could be endearing, but Logan’s repeated attempts to get between her and Michael were getting old, and Michael’s patience with it seemed to be wearing thin.
“That’s my wife! Daphne!” someone hollered.
Jenessa and Michael turned to see a man sprinting past the young officer, toward them. He was nice looking in a sophisticated, scholarly sort of way, neatly trimmed brown hair, maybe early forties, wearing a navy blue blazer and tan slacks. “I just heard about the shooting. Are you okay, darling?” With his arms outstretched, his hazel eyes searched the woman’s face.
Daphne rose and stepped into his embrace for a brief hug, their gaze not meeting. “I’m fine, Drew.” She took a small step back and straightened. “If, in fact, the shooter was actually aiming at me then, fortunately, he missed his target.”
Surprise flashed in Drew’s eyes for a second. He put a hand on Daphne’s arm. “You think someone was aiming at you? But why?”
“I don’t really know.” Daphne seemed to recoil a bit from her husband’s touch, then she sat back down on the bench. The atmosphere became oddly cool and uncomfortable. Was something going on between these two?
Aunt Renee glanced away. Did she know what it was?
Detective Provenza cleared his throat as he studied the man. “And you are?”
“This is my husband, Drew Stone.” Daphne gave a slight hand gesture toward him. “He’s a professor here as well.”
Michael rejoined the conversation. “The shooter took out the rear window of your wife’s car, so we have to consider the fact that she may have been his intended target.”
“But why on earth would someone—”
Provenza put his hand on Mr. Stone’s arm and cut him off. “Why don’t we step over here by the building to talk?”
“But my wife—” Drew Stone pulled his arm back, allowing the detective to escort him the few steps to the abutting brick building, while Michael followed. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
