Silent Storm. Amanda Stevens

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      The actions made no sense to those who had known the victims best, but local law enforcement officials maintained that forensic evidence at both crime scenes was consistent with suicide. There was no reason to suspect foul play. After all, some of the highest suicide rates in the country were among the elderly and it was the third leading cause of death in teenagers.

      So maybe Deacon was wrong about a connection. About a motive. About everything. He prayed that he was wrong.

      But he didn’t think that he was.

      He’d known the moment he crossed the city limits three days ago that something dark and sinister was at work here. A killer was on the prowl, a murderer so cunning that no one in town yet had a clue what they were up against.

      But Deacon knew. He knew only too well.

      And that was why he was here. The road to redemption led through Mission Creek—and straight to the killer.

      “I’m coming for you,” he muttered into the silence.

      As he made the turn into Buena Vista, a clap of thunder rumbled in the distance, deepening the chill inside his soul.

      THE HAND TIGHTENED ON MARLEY’S shoulder, and she whipped around so fast, the person behind her jumped back. The woman lost her footing on the wet porch and would have tumbled down the steps if Marly hadn’t grabbed her in the nick of time.

      Nona Ferris glared at her accusingly. “What the hell, Marly? You almost knocked me down those steps, girl.”

      “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come up.” Marly reached around Nona and rescued the woman’s dripping umbrella from the steps, then propped it against the porch wall.

      “You sure took your sweet time getting out here,” Nona complained. “I called the cops two hours ago.”

      Marly lifted a brow in surprise. “You’re the one who called the station?”

      “Yeah, but I never expected them to send you out here alone.” Nona carried a pack of cigarettes and lighter in one hand, and now she took a moment to light up. “I thought maybe Navarro would come out here himself.”

      Was that why she’d called? Marly wondered. It wouldn’t be the first time a female citizen of Mission Creek had made a bogus call to the station hoping that Tony Navarro, the chief of police, would put in a personal appearance. He was tall, dark and ruggedly handsome with an enigmatic personality and a mysterious past that had, along with his looks, propelled his reputation to almost mythic proportions in Durango County.

      Stifling a sigh, Marly got out her notebook and tried to appear professional. “Well, you know, being the chief of police and all, Navarro has a lot on his plate. I guess he thought I could handle this call myself.”

      “The least he could do was send one of his deputies,” Nona grumbled.

      “I am a deputy. See? I have a badge and everything.”

      Nona cut her a glance. “Not that you don’t look real cute in your little Barney Fife uniform, honey, but you know what I mean.”

      Marly knew what she meant all right. And strangely enough, she wasn’t offended by the woman’s attitude, probably because she’d known Nona forever. They’d gone to high school together, but in the years since graduation, poor Nona had gotten an advanced degree from the school of hard knocks. She’d once been a pretty girl, but now, dressed in faded yellow sweatpants that sagged in all the wrong places, she was a walking advertisement for too much hooch, sun and cheap hair bleach.

      “When you called the station, you told Patty Fuentes that Ricky’s been missing for three days,” Marly said. “That right?”

      “I wouldn’t say missing exactly. But something’s not right.”

      “What do you mean?”

      Nona gestured with her cigarette. “His truck’s been sitting in the carport for three solid days. Now you know Ricky. Even back in high school, he was always a real good worker. Never takes a day off unless he’s bad sick.”

      “Maybe he is sick,” Marly suggested. “The flu’s going around.”

      “Too sick to answer his phone? I even went over and hollered through the window at him. Didn’t hear a peep out of him.”

      “Did you try the door?”

      “No, but it’s not locked,” Nona said. “He broke the cheap-ass bolt they put on these houses a long time ago and never did get around to fixing it.”

      “But you didn’t go in and check on him even though you knew the door was unlocked?”

      Nona glanced away. “I didn’t think that’d be such a hot idea.”

      “Why not?” Marly asked in surprise. “You and Ricky are still pretty close, aren’t you?”

      Nona scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “Come on, Nona. You two have been together off and on since high school.”

      “Yeah, well, now we’re just off, okay?” she said bitterly. “You understand how it is, don’t you? Times change. People move on.” She gave Marly a knowing look. “Kind of like you and Joshua Rush, I guess.”

      Marly felt her stomach tighten at the mention of her ex-fiancé. They’d been through for months, but he continued to be a sore subject. She’d never told anyone the details of their breakup, even though people in town were openly curious. They were amazed, Marly suspected, that she’d let a catch like Joshua Rush slip through her fingers. “We were talking about you and Ricky,” she reminded Nona.

      The woman shrugged. “Not much to tell. We had a falling out not too long ago. A real knock-down drag-out. Ricky warned me not to come around anymore, and considering how he likes to play around with that damn pistol of his, I was afraid the dumb sumbitch might shoot me if I did.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. “So that’s why I called the cops. Even Ricky’d think twice before plugging the law.”

      That was some comfort, Marly supposed. She turned back to the door. “I guess I’d better go in and have a look around.”

      “By yourself?” Nona asked uneasily. “Maybe you ought to call for backup or something.”

      “It’s a little premature for that. Ricky’s probably just feeling under the weather—”

      “But what if he isn’t? What if something bad has happened to him? What if he’s—” Nona broke off and glanced away.

      Marly narrowed her gaze. “What if he’s what? You don’t know something you’re not telling me, do you?”

      “’Course not.” Nona gnawed on her thumbnail. “But after what happened to those kids and old lady Abbott last week, a body can’t help being a little nervous.”

      “I’m sure it’s nothing like that.” Marly prayed it was nothing like that. She knocked on the door again and called out Ricky’s name.

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