Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing. Rita HerronЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Send her in.”
Nothing Jaxon had read in the file prepared him for the beautiful woman who stepped inside. Avery Tierney had been a skinny, homely looking kid with scraggly, dirty brown hair and freckles, wearing hand-me-downs. She’d looked lost, alone and frightened.
This Avery was petite with chocolate-brown eyes that would melt a man’s heart and curves that twisted his gut into a knot.
Although fear still lingered in those eyes. The kind of fear that made a man want to drag her in his arms and promise her everything would be all right.
“You have to help me stop the execution and get my brother released from prison,” Avery said, her voice urgent.
“Why would I do that, Miss Tierney?”
A pained sound ripped from Avery Tierney’s throat. “Because he’s innocent.”
Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing
Rita Herron
Award-winning author RITA HERRON wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling to kids for writing romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at PO Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, USA, or visit her website, www.ritaherron.com.
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To my beautiful daughters who, as counselors, are the real heroes.
Love you,
Mom
Contents
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
Blood splattered the wood floor and walls. So much blood.
A scream lodged in nine-year-old Avery Tierney’s throat. Her foster father, Wade Mulligan, lay on the floor. Limp. Helpless. Bleeding.
His eyes were bulging. The whites milky looking. His lips blue. His shirt torn from dozens of knife wounds.
The room was cold. The wind whistled through the old house like a ghost. Windowpanes rattled. The floor squeaked.
Horror made her shake all over.
Then relief.
That mean old bully could never hurt her again. Never come into her bedroom. Never whisper vile things in her ear.
Never make her do those things....
A noise sounded. She dragged her eyes from the bloody mess, then looked up. Her brother, Hank, stood beside the body.
A knife in his hand.
He grunted, raised the knife and stabbed Wade again. Wade’s body jerked. Hank did it again. Over and over.
Blood dripped from the handle and blade. More soaked his shirt. His hands were covered....
His eyes looked wild. Excited. Full of rage.
She opened her mouth to scream again, but Hank lifted his finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh.”
Avery nodded, although she thought she might get sick. She wanted him to stop.
She wanted him to stab Wade again. To make sure he was dead.
A siren wailed outside. Blue lights suddenly twirled, shining through the front window.
Hank jerked his head around, eyes flashing with fear.
Then the door crashed open and two policemen stormed in.
Hank dropped the knife to the floor