“Sarah’s father was found back there,”
Clint whispered.
“I keep the door locked now.”
“Aren’t there any suspects at all?” Mandy asked.
He shook his head. “There were, but none have panned out. Can you imagine? In a town this size, there’s a killer out there—someone who probably committed all three murders—and he’s walking amongst us as free as can be.”
“Daddy?” Sarah’s voice trembled.
A rustling sound came from the back corner of the shop. Silence—then something heavy crashed to the floor with a sound of breaking glass.
Sarah screamed.
MILLS & BOON
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WITHOUT A TRACE: Will a young mother’s disappearance bring a bayou town together…or tear it apart?
What Sarah Saw—Margaret Daley, January 2009
Framed!—Robin Caroll, February 2009
Cold Case Murder—Shirlee McCoy, March 2009
A Cloud of Suspicion—Patricia Davids, April 2009
Deadly Competition—Roxanne Rustand, May 2009
Her Last Chance—Terri Reed, June 2009
ROXANNE RUSTAND
is an award-winning author of eighteen books, and is truly delighted to have this opportunity to write for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired Suspense line.
Her first manuscript won a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award for Best Long Contemporary of 1995. She was a Romantic Times BOOKreviews Career Achievement Award nominee in 2005, and won the magazine’s award for Best Superromance of 2006. She has presented workshops at writers’ conferences from coast to coast, and is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers Association, the Faith, Hope and Love Chapter of RWA, Authors Guild and Novelists Inc.
Roxanne and her husband live on an acreage in the Midwest and have three children, two semi-retired horses, a couple of goofy border collies named Elmo and Harold, and a number of very demanding cats. She loves to hear from readers, and can be reached through www.shoutlife.com/roxannerustand and www.roxannerustand.com, or by snail mail at P.O. Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52406.
Deadly Competition
Roxanne Rustand
Special thanks and acknowledgment to
Roxanne Rustand for her contribution to the
Without a Trace miniseries.
The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know Your name will trust in You, for You, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek You.
—Psalms 9:9–10
Writing is usually a solitary business, but every now and then, an opportunity comes along to work on a series with other writers. It has been a sheer joy, as well as an honor, to participate in the Without a Trace continuity with wonderfully talented authors Margaret Daly, Robin Caroll, Shirlee McCoy, Patricia Davids and Terri Reed. Thanks so much to all of you!
And thanks also to Diane Palmer, Pamela Nissen and Jacquie Greenfield. I treasure our friendships more than words can express.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
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
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
PROLOGUE
At the sound of his sister Leah’s old Mustang pulling to a stop in the driveway, Clint Herald opened his front door to the damp, gray January evening, his heart heavy.
Could his three-year-old niece even grasp the concept of death? Did Sarah still think her daddy would be coming back?
There’d been no forewarning of her father’s apparent suicide four days ago, and it still made no sense. And now the troubles were just beginning for Clint’s sister and his young niece.
Clint leaned down to scoop Sarah up for their customary hug but did a double take when he saw the stark expression on his sister’s face.
“Keep her safe,” Leah whispered, casting a swift glance over her shoulder. She leaned forward to give Sarah a hug. Then thrust her daughter forward into Clint’s arms and backed away. “Please.”
Surprised at the tension in her voice, Clint reached for Leah’s hand, but she took another step back. “What’s going on?”
“N-nothing. I just have to go.”
Leah had asked Clint to keep Sarah for the evening while she talked to her lawyer about the tangled legal situation at her late husband’s pawnshop. Earl had died without ever getting around to adding Leah’s name to the property or his will. Yesterday’s modest funeral had almost wiped out their joint savings—just the start of the financial worries she would be facing.
But from the desperate look of yearning on Leah’s face as she turned away from Sarah and hurried to her car, Clint feared that his sister must be in even deeper trouble than she’d revealed.
“Leah, wait a minute!” Clint called out. But his sister didn’t look back.
She climbed into her car, shut the door and rammed the stick shift into reverse, grinding the gears—something she never, ever did to her beloved old car.
“Leah?” He felt his pulse quicken. “Leah!”
Taking the porch steps two at a time, he started after her with Sarah still in his arms, but the car shot down the gravel drive toward the highway in a cloud of dust.
Sobbing, Sarah twisted in his embrace, her favorite doll clutched to her chest. She reached toward the car with one outstretched hand. “Momma!” She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Momma!”