Save me, p.16
Save Me, page 16
LAINIE PICKED OUT the best picture from the wedding and once again posted it on social media with the heading...
GATOR AND LAINIE GRAY
WEDDING FINALLY HAPPENED!
UNTIL DEATH DO US PART.
HOOYAH!
This time it was T-Bone who saw the post first, and quickly shared it to the team with a caption. This is how you do happy-ever-after.
* * *
WHEN LOCAL MEDIA in New Orleans picked up the final chapter to their story, both sets of parents saw it.
Greg and Tina were in the throes of a divorce, so the news only added to the bitterness between them. The acrimony within their lives had destroyed their marriage, destroyed their family, and coming from old money wasn’t enough to save their name. And the worst blow of all was that in spite of everything they’d destroyed, they’d never been able to change their daughter’s heart.
Lainie loved with a passion far stronger than their hate.
* * *
CHUCK AND BRENDA hadn’t changed their spots. He was driving a forklift at a warehouse down by the river, and Brenda was waiting tables four days a week. They came home angry and went to bed drunk, still following the path of least resistance. Knowing Hunt and Lainie were married was what they’d expected to happen. There was no coming back from their part in any of it. They’d lost his love when they broke his trust, but if their son was happy, then it was enough.
* * *
IT WAS STILL dark when Hunt kissed Lainie goodbye.
“Happy first day back at work,” he whispered, and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.
“What time is it?” she mumbled.
“You still have a couple of hours before your alarm goes off. Love you, darlin’. I’ll be late coming home.”
“Doesn’t matter, as long as you do. Love you forever. Fly safe.”
“Always,” he said, and then he was gone.
She listened until she heard his Jeep starting up, and then rolled over and closed her eyes.
* * *
WHEN SHE WOKE up again, the house was quiet. She rolled over and stretched, then threw back the covers and headed for the shower. The rat race was on.
When she got into the car and backed out of the garage, it felt strange to be back behind the wheel, but that sensation quickly faded. By the time she got to the hospital and parked, she could have almost convinced herself it had all been a horrible nightmare, but for Hunt’s presence in her life and the ring on her finger.
From the time she entered the building, all the way to the staff lockers, she was greeted with big smiles and warm hugs. When she got to her office, there were flowers on her desk.
She pulled the card and smiled: Love you, Hunt
After that, the morning flew by. When it came time for lunch, she headed to the cafeteria.
Charis saw her coming and waved, indicating she’d saved her a chair.
The moment Lainie sat down with her tray, Charis squealed. “Girl...you’re all over social media, and you beat me to the altar. Let me see that ring!”
Lainie lifted her hand, eyeing the circlet of diamonds glittering on her finger.
“It’s so you,” Charis said. “Gorgeous, elegant and understated. I was kind of hoping Hunt would drop by with you.”
“He left for work before I did. He sent flowers. They’re on my desk.”
“Oh, wow! What’s he doing?”
“Flying helicopters for the National Park Service here in Denver.”
Charis leaned in and lowered her voice. “Can we talk about Randall for a sec?”
Lainie frowned. “Only if it’s bad news for him.”
“He got ten years with no possibility of parole, and there are other women who’ve come forward to file similar charges against him.”
Lainie picked up her fork and jammed it into the slice of meat loaf on her plate. “Shame they don’t still hang people,” she said, and popped the bite into her mouth.
Their lunch was quick, and they both headed off in separate directions—Charis back to the fourth floor, and Lainie to set up for an MRI. After that, time passed quickly.
Lainie clocked out and headed for her car. Winter hours made for short days of daylight, and she still needed to go by a supermarket before she went home. Even the simple act of shopping for Hunt was a joy. She had a husband she loved to take care of.
He liked Snickers bars and Pepsi, and big salads with everything in them. He didn’t like anything to do with peppermint, and loved her soaking tub, and Creole blackened fish, fried a little on the crisp side.
She drove home in the dark, and was grateful when the garage light came on as she was pulling in. Once the door was down, she carried in the groceries, then paused to flip on the wall switch to the gas fireplace as she headed to her room to change. Within seconds, flames were dancing behind the glass.
It was habit that made her look toward the end of the hearth. Little bear had always been there to greet her, but no more. She sighed, then put her hand over her heart.
“It’s okay, baby...you’re in here now,” she whispered, then went down the hall to change clothes.
She wasn’t sure when Hunt would get home, but when he did, she’d be waiting. This was their new normal, and it was good. As soon as she changed, she hurried back to the kitchen and started making a roux. It would take a good thirty minutes to get the dark, rich flavors she was looking for. She’d bought shrimp that had already been cleaned, and had all of the other components on the shelf, or in the freezer. This was the perfect night for some Creole gumbo and rice.
A couple of hours later, gumbo thick with shrimp, okra and andouille sausage was simmering on the back burner, rice was in the steamer and a pitcher of sweet tea was in the fridge. She’d already had a shower and changed into warm sweats and fuzzy socks, and was sitting in the recliner with a glass of tea when she saw headlights flash through the curtains.
Her heart skipped. He was home.
*
HUNT CAME RUSHING into the house, trying to outrun the cold before it snuck in behind him. Even as he was closing the door, she was coming to meet him.
“Louisiana in the house!” he said, then kissed her soundly. “Thank you, Lord, for the woman I come home to,” he said. “What is that heavenly smell?”
Lainie grinned. “You mean besides me? It could be the gumbo simmering on the stove.”
All the teasing ended. The smile slid off his face, and then he hugged her.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“In Iraq... I dreamed of gumbo and rice, and endless glasses of sweet tea.”
She shivered. “Talk about being on the same wavelength. That’s our dinner tonight.”
He hugged her again. “Is it done...ready to eat?”
“Yep.”
“Lord, have mercy...give me a few,” he said, and bolted down the hall.
“I’ll just be in the kitchen,” she said, to no one listening, and went to get the pot of gumbo off the burner.
She had dishes at the ready, glasses filled and rice in the bowls when he came back.
He leaned over to smell the gumbo and closed his eyes. “It smells as good as you look,” he said, then kissed the back of her neck. “You worked all day, and then it’s obvious you’ve been working ever since you came home. You sit. I can ladle gumbo over rice without making a mess.”
“Deal,” she said, and carried their glasses to the table, then watched the play of muscles on his back as he dipped and poured.
He carried the bowls to the table, then sat down beside her. “I gotta taste this before we start talking,” he said.
“It’s hot. Don’t burn your mouth.”
He winked. “Yes, ma’am.”
Since he’d been warned, the first taste was tentative, but from the look on his face when he chewed and then swallowed, Lainie knew she’d hit a home run.
“Darlin’, I’m not just blowing smoke here. This might be the best gumbo I’ve ever had. Thank you for making this. You brought us home.”
“You are most welcome, love. Enjoy. We can talk later.”
He nodded, and took another bite, scooping rice and gumbo, and going through two glasses of tea before his bowl was empty.
“I’m gonna want seconds, but I gotta sit a minute to let it settle.”
She grinned. “So, what was your day like? Do you think you’re going to like it?”
“Yeah, what’s not to like? I’m in the air. No one’s giving me orders. No one’s shooting at me. I flew some people from the Department of the Interior in DC back and forth over a specific area they wanted to see. Something to do with new growth from an old burn zone. What about you? Did you make it okay? Did your feet bother you?”
“I was fine, and some sweet man sent me flowers. They were on my desk when I arrived. Thank you, honey. You are the best. Oh... Charis thinks my ring is beautiful, and she thinks you are, too.”
Hunt sat, watching the way her expressions changed with what she was saying, and how green her eyes looked when she wore blue, and how soft her hair was against his skin when they made love. She was all soft and southern sweet until threatened or crossed. Unleashing the wild in a redheaded woman was a dangerous thing, but she was everything he wanted.
He ate that second bowl of gumbo before they cleaned up the kitchen. They made love on a rug in the firelight before taking themselves to bed. Even as she was curling herself against him, he wanted her again, but it was late, and there was always tomorrow.
* * *
THERE WAS SNOW on the ground, and Christmas was in the air.
Hunt and Lainie had just put up their first tree together, and had two different Christmas parties on the calendar to attend. Their world was expanding—their lives growing richer—and fuller, in more ways than one.
* * *
LAINIE WAS SITTING on the edge of their bathtub, staring down at the test stick she was holding—waiting. The sensation of déjà vu was so strong she couldn’t breathe without wanting to cry.
She kept muttering, “Please, God, please. Let it be. Let it be.”
She kept glancing at the time, and was so scared at one point that she thought she was going to faint, and put her head between her knees. Afraid to look. Afraid not to. Then the feeling passed, and when she looked up, she had an answer.
“Oh, my God,” she mumbled, and started to cry, then headed for the living room.
* * *
HUNT WAS KICKED back in the recliner with his feet to the fire, half-listening to the music Lainie had playing in the kitchen. The weekend was always the best, because that’s when they had time off together, even though he’d been grounded for two days because of a blizzard, and it was still snowing. He was watching snow fall outside the windows when he heard Lainie coming up the hall. He glanced up as she walked in, saw the tears on her face, and was on his feet and moving toward her.
“Darlin’, what’s wrong? Are you hurt. Are you sick?”
She held out the test stick. “No, I’m just pregnant. We’re going to have a baby, Hunt. Merry Christmas, love. You’re going to be a daddy.”
Hunt froze, then an explosion joy rolled through him. Seconds later, she was in his arms.
“Oh, my God, Lainie, this is wonderful! Are you happy? Please be happy.”
She was laughing through tears. “Yes, I’m happy. I still dream of a little version of you.”
He smiled. “Or a little version of you,” he said softly.
She put her hand on his chest, feeling the steady hammer of his heartbeat against her palm. “It doesn’t matter. All I know is you gave me another baby to love. You’re my lifeline to joy. Merry Christmas, Gator.”
“Merry Christmas, darlin’,” he murmured, then lowered his head and kissed her.
* * *
A Q&A with Sharon Sala
What or who inspired you to write?
I had always thought of writing the stories in my head, but I never acted on it until the death of my father and sister within two months of each other. Their loss was a heartbreaking shock, as well as the realization that my tomorrow wasn’t promised. It was the wake-up call I needed to act upon my dream.
What is your daily writing routine?
The first thing I do every morning is read my local paper and work the crossword puzzle. It’s like turning on my brain to the need for words. After that I read and answer email and messages. Within an hour of being up, I’m at my laptop, pulling up the work in progress, rereading and editing the previous chapter from the day before, and by the time I get to the place where I’d ended, I am completely into the story and the characters and what has to happen next. I write for as long as the words come, and when I come to a pause, I take it. Diet Dr Pepper and the excitement of telling what comes next keeps me focused and writing until I choose to stop.
Who are your favorite authors?
When I was young, it was Zane Grey and anything and everything about Edgar Cayce. As I grew up, I read everything and had no particular favorites. Today, I would say Robert Crais and John Hart.
Where do your story ideas come from?
I dream most of them. They’re like movies in my sleep. All I have to do is wake up and write what I saw. Once in a while, something I see triggers the story.
Do you have a favorite travel destination?
I don’t particularly like to travel. Going on vacations was never a part of my childhood or my adult life. I was a farmer’s daughter, and then a farmer’s wife. When everyone else was going on vacation, we were either planting, or harvesting, or tending to the animals we raised.
What is your most treasured possession?
My family. Always.
What is your favorite movie?
Avatar, and a movie called Stolen Women: Captured Hearts, based on a true story.
When did you read your first Harlequin romance? Do you remember its title?
I honestly don’t remember, nor do I remember the title, but my sister gave me my first one to read.
How did you meet your current love?
I don’t have a current love. He passed away in 2005. But we met when I was nine and he was ten. We were childhood sweethearts and then lost each other, only to reconnect in later years when I was single again.
What characteristic do you most value in your friends?
Honesty.
How did you celebrate or treat yourself when you got your first book deal?
I called everyone I knew, and then I cried, and went to the kitchen to cook supper.
Will you share your favorite reader response?
I was at the book signing at a Romantic Times Booklovers convention in Nashville years ago when a young woman came running toward me, clutching a copy of my first Silhouette romance, a book called Annie and the Outlaw. Before I knew what was happening, she was crying and hugging me and telling me that reading that book had taken away her fear of dying, and she wanted to thank me. (I learned as she was telling me the story that she had an inoperable brain tumor.) She wanted a picture of us together, and asked me to sign the book. I was stunned, hardly knowing what to say, and then she hugged me again and was gone. I laid my head down on the table and cried. I learned later she was a bookseller who worked for Waldenbooks. Her name was Steffie Walker, the person for whom the RWA National Bookseller of the Year Award is named.
What are your favorite character names?
Charlie Dodge and Jade Wyrick, the couple from the Jigsaw Files, which was the last series I wrote for MIRA.
Other than author, what job would you like to have?
An artist. I used to paint (in oils) and sell a lot of my work in the ’70s and ’80s before I began writing.
Silenced Witness
K.D. Richards
K.D. Richards is a native of the Washington, DC, area, who now lives outside Toronto with her husband and two sons. You can find her at kdrichardsbooks.com.
Also by K.D. Richards
Harlequin Intrigue
West Investigations
Pursuit of the Truth
Missing at Christmas
Christmas Data Breach
Shielding Her Son
Dark Water Disappearance
Catching the Carling Lake Killer
Under the Cover of Darkness
A Stalker’s Prey
Silenced Witness
Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
To Allison Lyons, an amazing editor.
Thank you for believing in me and
making me a better writer.
Contents
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
A Q&A with K.D. Richards
Chapter One
Alexis Douglas awoke with a start and listened. She’d heard something, or she thought she had, but all was still in her darkened bedroom and there was no sound in the house. She closed her eyes and settled deeper into her soft mattress.
GATOR AND LAINIE GRAY
WEDDING FINALLY HAPPENED!
UNTIL DEATH DO US PART.
HOOYAH!
This time it was T-Bone who saw the post first, and quickly shared it to the team with a caption. This is how you do happy-ever-after.
* * *
WHEN LOCAL MEDIA in New Orleans picked up the final chapter to their story, both sets of parents saw it.
Greg and Tina were in the throes of a divorce, so the news only added to the bitterness between them. The acrimony within their lives had destroyed their marriage, destroyed their family, and coming from old money wasn’t enough to save their name. And the worst blow of all was that in spite of everything they’d destroyed, they’d never been able to change their daughter’s heart.
Lainie loved with a passion far stronger than their hate.
* * *
CHUCK AND BRENDA hadn’t changed their spots. He was driving a forklift at a warehouse down by the river, and Brenda was waiting tables four days a week. They came home angry and went to bed drunk, still following the path of least resistance. Knowing Hunt and Lainie were married was what they’d expected to happen. There was no coming back from their part in any of it. They’d lost his love when they broke his trust, but if their son was happy, then it was enough.
* * *
IT WAS STILL dark when Hunt kissed Lainie goodbye.
“Happy first day back at work,” he whispered, and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.
“What time is it?” she mumbled.
“You still have a couple of hours before your alarm goes off. Love you, darlin’. I’ll be late coming home.”
“Doesn’t matter, as long as you do. Love you forever. Fly safe.”
“Always,” he said, and then he was gone.
She listened until she heard his Jeep starting up, and then rolled over and closed her eyes.
* * *
WHEN SHE WOKE up again, the house was quiet. She rolled over and stretched, then threw back the covers and headed for the shower. The rat race was on.
When she got into the car and backed out of the garage, it felt strange to be back behind the wheel, but that sensation quickly faded. By the time she got to the hospital and parked, she could have almost convinced herself it had all been a horrible nightmare, but for Hunt’s presence in her life and the ring on her finger.
From the time she entered the building, all the way to the staff lockers, she was greeted with big smiles and warm hugs. When she got to her office, there were flowers on her desk.
She pulled the card and smiled: Love you, Hunt
After that, the morning flew by. When it came time for lunch, she headed to the cafeteria.
Charis saw her coming and waved, indicating she’d saved her a chair.
The moment Lainie sat down with her tray, Charis squealed. “Girl...you’re all over social media, and you beat me to the altar. Let me see that ring!”
Lainie lifted her hand, eyeing the circlet of diamonds glittering on her finger.
“It’s so you,” Charis said. “Gorgeous, elegant and understated. I was kind of hoping Hunt would drop by with you.”
“He left for work before I did. He sent flowers. They’re on my desk.”
“Oh, wow! What’s he doing?”
“Flying helicopters for the National Park Service here in Denver.”
Charis leaned in and lowered her voice. “Can we talk about Randall for a sec?”
Lainie frowned. “Only if it’s bad news for him.”
“He got ten years with no possibility of parole, and there are other women who’ve come forward to file similar charges against him.”
Lainie picked up her fork and jammed it into the slice of meat loaf on her plate. “Shame they don’t still hang people,” she said, and popped the bite into her mouth.
Their lunch was quick, and they both headed off in separate directions—Charis back to the fourth floor, and Lainie to set up for an MRI. After that, time passed quickly.
Lainie clocked out and headed for her car. Winter hours made for short days of daylight, and she still needed to go by a supermarket before she went home. Even the simple act of shopping for Hunt was a joy. She had a husband she loved to take care of.
He liked Snickers bars and Pepsi, and big salads with everything in them. He didn’t like anything to do with peppermint, and loved her soaking tub, and Creole blackened fish, fried a little on the crisp side.
She drove home in the dark, and was grateful when the garage light came on as she was pulling in. Once the door was down, she carried in the groceries, then paused to flip on the wall switch to the gas fireplace as she headed to her room to change. Within seconds, flames were dancing behind the glass.
It was habit that made her look toward the end of the hearth. Little bear had always been there to greet her, but no more. She sighed, then put her hand over her heart.
“It’s okay, baby...you’re in here now,” she whispered, then went down the hall to change clothes.
She wasn’t sure when Hunt would get home, but when he did, she’d be waiting. This was their new normal, and it was good. As soon as she changed, she hurried back to the kitchen and started making a roux. It would take a good thirty minutes to get the dark, rich flavors she was looking for. She’d bought shrimp that had already been cleaned, and had all of the other components on the shelf, or in the freezer. This was the perfect night for some Creole gumbo and rice.
A couple of hours later, gumbo thick with shrimp, okra and andouille sausage was simmering on the back burner, rice was in the steamer and a pitcher of sweet tea was in the fridge. She’d already had a shower and changed into warm sweats and fuzzy socks, and was sitting in the recliner with a glass of tea when she saw headlights flash through the curtains.
Her heart skipped. He was home.
*
HUNT CAME RUSHING into the house, trying to outrun the cold before it snuck in behind him. Even as he was closing the door, she was coming to meet him.
“Louisiana in the house!” he said, then kissed her soundly. “Thank you, Lord, for the woman I come home to,” he said. “What is that heavenly smell?”
Lainie grinned. “You mean besides me? It could be the gumbo simmering on the stove.”
All the teasing ended. The smile slid off his face, and then he hugged her.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“In Iraq... I dreamed of gumbo and rice, and endless glasses of sweet tea.”
She shivered. “Talk about being on the same wavelength. That’s our dinner tonight.”
He hugged her again. “Is it done...ready to eat?”
“Yep.”
“Lord, have mercy...give me a few,” he said, and bolted down the hall.
“I’ll just be in the kitchen,” she said, to no one listening, and went to get the pot of gumbo off the burner.
She had dishes at the ready, glasses filled and rice in the bowls when he came back.
He leaned over to smell the gumbo and closed his eyes. “It smells as good as you look,” he said, then kissed the back of her neck. “You worked all day, and then it’s obvious you’ve been working ever since you came home. You sit. I can ladle gumbo over rice without making a mess.”
“Deal,” she said, and carried their glasses to the table, then watched the play of muscles on his back as he dipped and poured.
He carried the bowls to the table, then sat down beside her. “I gotta taste this before we start talking,” he said.
“It’s hot. Don’t burn your mouth.”
He winked. “Yes, ma’am.”
Since he’d been warned, the first taste was tentative, but from the look on his face when he chewed and then swallowed, Lainie knew she’d hit a home run.
“Darlin’, I’m not just blowing smoke here. This might be the best gumbo I’ve ever had. Thank you for making this. You brought us home.”
“You are most welcome, love. Enjoy. We can talk later.”
He nodded, and took another bite, scooping rice and gumbo, and going through two glasses of tea before his bowl was empty.
“I’m gonna want seconds, but I gotta sit a minute to let it settle.”
She grinned. “So, what was your day like? Do you think you’re going to like it?”
“Yeah, what’s not to like? I’m in the air. No one’s giving me orders. No one’s shooting at me. I flew some people from the Department of the Interior in DC back and forth over a specific area they wanted to see. Something to do with new growth from an old burn zone. What about you? Did you make it okay? Did your feet bother you?”
“I was fine, and some sweet man sent me flowers. They were on my desk when I arrived. Thank you, honey. You are the best. Oh... Charis thinks my ring is beautiful, and she thinks you are, too.”
Hunt sat, watching the way her expressions changed with what she was saying, and how green her eyes looked when she wore blue, and how soft her hair was against his skin when they made love. She was all soft and southern sweet until threatened or crossed. Unleashing the wild in a redheaded woman was a dangerous thing, but she was everything he wanted.
He ate that second bowl of gumbo before they cleaned up the kitchen. They made love on a rug in the firelight before taking themselves to bed. Even as she was curling herself against him, he wanted her again, but it was late, and there was always tomorrow.
* * *
THERE WAS SNOW on the ground, and Christmas was in the air.
Hunt and Lainie had just put up their first tree together, and had two different Christmas parties on the calendar to attend. Their world was expanding—their lives growing richer—and fuller, in more ways than one.
* * *
LAINIE WAS SITTING on the edge of their bathtub, staring down at the test stick she was holding—waiting. The sensation of déjà vu was so strong she couldn’t breathe without wanting to cry.
She kept muttering, “Please, God, please. Let it be. Let it be.”
She kept glancing at the time, and was so scared at one point that she thought she was going to faint, and put her head between her knees. Afraid to look. Afraid not to. Then the feeling passed, and when she looked up, she had an answer.
“Oh, my God,” she mumbled, and started to cry, then headed for the living room.
* * *
HUNT WAS KICKED back in the recliner with his feet to the fire, half-listening to the music Lainie had playing in the kitchen. The weekend was always the best, because that’s when they had time off together, even though he’d been grounded for two days because of a blizzard, and it was still snowing. He was watching snow fall outside the windows when he heard Lainie coming up the hall. He glanced up as she walked in, saw the tears on her face, and was on his feet and moving toward her.
“Darlin’, what’s wrong? Are you hurt. Are you sick?”
She held out the test stick. “No, I’m just pregnant. We’re going to have a baby, Hunt. Merry Christmas, love. You’re going to be a daddy.”
Hunt froze, then an explosion joy rolled through him. Seconds later, she was in his arms.
“Oh, my God, Lainie, this is wonderful! Are you happy? Please be happy.”
She was laughing through tears. “Yes, I’m happy. I still dream of a little version of you.”
He smiled. “Or a little version of you,” he said softly.
She put her hand on his chest, feeling the steady hammer of his heartbeat against her palm. “It doesn’t matter. All I know is you gave me another baby to love. You’re my lifeline to joy. Merry Christmas, Gator.”
“Merry Christmas, darlin’,” he murmured, then lowered his head and kissed her.
* * *
A Q&A with Sharon Sala
What or who inspired you to write?
I had always thought of writing the stories in my head, but I never acted on it until the death of my father and sister within two months of each other. Their loss was a heartbreaking shock, as well as the realization that my tomorrow wasn’t promised. It was the wake-up call I needed to act upon my dream.
What is your daily writing routine?
The first thing I do every morning is read my local paper and work the crossword puzzle. It’s like turning on my brain to the need for words. After that I read and answer email and messages. Within an hour of being up, I’m at my laptop, pulling up the work in progress, rereading and editing the previous chapter from the day before, and by the time I get to the place where I’d ended, I am completely into the story and the characters and what has to happen next. I write for as long as the words come, and when I come to a pause, I take it. Diet Dr Pepper and the excitement of telling what comes next keeps me focused and writing until I choose to stop.
Who are your favorite authors?
When I was young, it was Zane Grey and anything and everything about Edgar Cayce. As I grew up, I read everything and had no particular favorites. Today, I would say Robert Crais and John Hart.
Where do your story ideas come from?
I dream most of them. They’re like movies in my sleep. All I have to do is wake up and write what I saw. Once in a while, something I see triggers the story.
Do you have a favorite travel destination?
I don’t particularly like to travel. Going on vacations was never a part of my childhood or my adult life. I was a farmer’s daughter, and then a farmer’s wife. When everyone else was going on vacation, we were either planting, or harvesting, or tending to the animals we raised.
What is your most treasured possession?
My family. Always.
What is your favorite movie?
Avatar, and a movie called Stolen Women: Captured Hearts, based on a true story.
When did you read your first Harlequin romance? Do you remember its title?
I honestly don’t remember, nor do I remember the title, but my sister gave me my first one to read.
How did you meet your current love?
I don’t have a current love. He passed away in 2005. But we met when I was nine and he was ten. We were childhood sweethearts and then lost each other, only to reconnect in later years when I was single again.
What characteristic do you most value in your friends?
Honesty.
How did you celebrate or treat yourself when you got your first book deal?
I called everyone I knew, and then I cried, and went to the kitchen to cook supper.
Will you share your favorite reader response?
I was at the book signing at a Romantic Times Booklovers convention in Nashville years ago when a young woman came running toward me, clutching a copy of my first Silhouette romance, a book called Annie and the Outlaw. Before I knew what was happening, she was crying and hugging me and telling me that reading that book had taken away her fear of dying, and she wanted to thank me. (I learned as she was telling me the story that she had an inoperable brain tumor.) She wanted a picture of us together, and asked me to sign the book. I was stunned, hardly knowing what to say, and then she hugged me again and was gone. I laid my head down on the table and cried. I learned later she was a bookseller who worked for Waldenbooks. Her name was Steffie Walker, the person for whom the RWA National Bookseller of the Year Award is named.
What are your favorite character names?
Charlie Dodge and Jade Wyrick, the couple from the Jigsaw Files, which was the last series I wrote for MIRA.
Other than author, what job would you like to have?
An artist. I used to paint (in oils) and sell a lot of my work in the ’70s and ’80s before I began writing.
Silenced Witness
K.D. Richards
K.D. Richards is a native of the Washington, DC, area, who now lives outside Toronto with her husband and two sons. You can find her at kdrichardsbooks.com.
Also by K.D. Richards
Harlequin Intrigue
West Investigations
Pursuit of the Truth
Missing at Christmas
Christmas Data Breach
Shielding Her Son
Dark Water Disappearance
Catching the Carling Lake Killer
Under the Cover of Darkness
A Stalker’s Prey
Silenced Witness
Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
To Allison Lyons, an amazing editor.
Thank you for believing in me and
making me a better writer.
Contents
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
A Q&A with K.D. Richards
Chapter One
Alexis Douglas awoke with a start and listened. She’d heard something, or she thought she had, but all was still in her darkened bedroom and there was no sound in the house. She closed her eyes and settled deeper into her soft mattress.
