Midnight Caller. Diane Burke

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      “What have we here?”

      Tony took out a handkerchief, bent and gingerly lifted a small pile of photographs. He brought them out into the light of the foyer and laid them on the hall table. The grim expression on his face and furious glint in his eyes made a chill race up her spine.

      “Tony? What is it?” Erin asked.

      Tony turned to one of the police officers. “Call it in. This is a crime scene. We need forensics here stat.”

      Erin stepped closer for a look at the photographs splayed across the tabletop. Her stomach twisted in knots and her legs threatened to collapse. They were photographs of her.

      At the grocery store. Coming out of work. Sitting on the porch. Playing with Jack in the yard. There were even pictures of her at the Easter picnic fundraiser.

      And every picture had a black X over her face.

      DIANE BURKE

      is the mother of two grown sons and the grandmother of three wonderful growing-like-weeds grandsons. She has two daughters-in-law that have blessed her by their addition to her family. She lives in Florida, nestled somewhere between the Daytona Beach speedway and the St. Augustine fort, with Cocoa, her golden Lab, and Thea, her border collie. Thea and Cocoa don’t know they are dogs, because no one has ever told them. Shhhh.

      When she was growing up, her siblings always believed she could “exaggerate” her way through any story and often waited with bated breath to see how events turned out, even though they had been present at most of them. Now she brings those stories to life on the written page.

      Her writing has earned her numerous awards, including a Daphne du Maurier Award of Excellence.

      She would love to hear from her readers. You can contact her at [email protected].

      Midnight Caller

      Diane Burke

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me…

      —Psalms 23:4

      To my siblings, Thomas Donahue, Michael Donahue, Cathy Joki, Brian Donahue, Brendan Donahue and Lori Hoskins—each one in their own unique way helped shape me into the person I am today.

      To Dan, Claudia, Jeptha, Jesse, Luke, Dave and Esther—the keepers of my heart.

      To Sarah McDaniel and Tina James for their encouragement, patience and wisdom—you made this story the best it could be.

      To Sergeant Eric Dietrich and retired detective John Foxjohn—who gave generously of their time and wisdom.

      To Connie Neumann, author, mentor, friend—at my side from beginning to end. Thanks so much.

      To the KOD lethaladies critique groups—both groups helped me shape and grow this story. Thanks doesn’t seem good enough.

      To Bill Burke—you believed this day would happen long before I dared to hope. I wish you had lived long enough to see it. But somehow I believe you already know. I miss you so very much.

      And most of all, to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ—my shelter, my strength, my joy. All praise and honor is yours.

      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

      QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

      ONE

      Friday, 3:30 p.m., Florida

      His fingers tapped an angry rhythm against the handle of the scalpel hidden in his pocket. Where was she? He checked his wristwatch for the third time in as many minutes. Her shift had ended thirty minutes ago. She should be standing in that doorway by now.

      Alone.

      Vulnerable.

      A boom of thunder, like cannon fire, shook the ground. A stinging stream of water hit his face, but still he didn’t move from beneath the tree. He simply raised his umbrella and continued to stare at the entrance to the hospital.

      Finally!

      A petite woman in her early thirties paused in the doorway of Florida Memorial and frowned at the weather.

      What kept you, sweetheart? What’s the matter? Afraid a little rain might hurt you? He chuckled at the irony of his thoughts. He shoved his hand back into his pocket, grasping and releasing the weapon. His pulse quickened. His skin quivered in anticipation.

      From a distance, he watched as she rummaged through her tote bag and pulled out a magazine. A grin СКАЧАТЬ