body. Her world would never be the same. Yet, life held a false sense of normalcy, the busy routine of day-to-day living dulling the horror and pain.
Another disturbing anomaly was her attraction to Sullivan Sauvage. The man wasn’t just a cop. More like steel-edged, sexy-as-sin with a dash of choir-boy compassion thrown in.
His mouth hinted of sensuous possibilities. His scruffy, bad-boy appearance screamed GQ cover. Breeana knew in the depths of her soul that he was a man women chased and thought they could tame.
Nuh-uh, not me, I’m nobody’s fool.
She hadn’t wanted to be touched since her husband’s death, yet this man threatened her resolve. Surviving these last two years on fading memories and the love of her child; those were the things giving her strength. Not her sense of abandonment and the physical needs buried deep within the recesses of her heart.
Sully was the embodiment of an alpha male who would take full advantage of a woman like her, if she let him. No. Tom was her mate for life, the only man to ever share her bed, or her body.He was the father of her child, a very pleasant and secure memory. She wanted her life to continue to be safe and uncomplicated, like it was right now.
****
“Lieutenant, you got a minute?”
Sully glanced up from reading the Dubé file to find Sergeant Jacques Millette loitering in his doorway. Millette’s short, compact body and hesitant gait suggested weakness where there was none. The bald patch spotlighting his comb-over of stringy brown hair added to the misconception.
Early forties, the man was about as lethal as an RPG sailing through an open window. An ace detective, Millette had an arrest record Sully admired and a mind as sharp as a stiletto. He had also raised the red flag on Rainey Dubé’s murder, while the MBPD had passed it off as an accident.
Sully closed the folder to focus instead on the man entering his office. “Come in, Sergeant. What have you got for me?”
“You might want to take a look at these.” Millette crossed the room and dropped several thick file folders on his desk.
Pushing his coffee mug aside, Sully cleared some space on his blotter and reached for the folders. “What are they?”
“Cold cases for the Mallard Bay area, beginning thirteen years ago. I’ve found four deaths raising a lot of questions. They have marked similarities to both Rainey Dubé’s murder and Miranda Greene’s death, although I know we’re still waiting for the findings on Greene.
“These are the dossiers of four other women who died under questionable circumstances, the findings on their deaths listed by the coroner as being inconclusive. Three appeared to have drowned and the fourth died in a fire of mysterious origin. While the fire is a different type of death, I included it because there still might be a connection to the other cases.”
Sully thumbed through the folders and processed their contents. This old information supported his serial killer theory. If these deaths were murders, there could be a psychopath on the loose who had been killing for the past thirteen years, at least, and getting away with it.
“How did you find these, Millette? Some of these aren’t just cold cases—they’re cold as ice.”
The other man shrugged. “I’ve had them for a while. I like to review old cases whenever I have a chance between my active files. It seems a shame these women died and nothing was ever done about it.”
“Nice work.” Sully flipped the last folder closed and handed them back. “I want you as the primary on Dubé’s investigation. Word just came down the woman was strangled. Apparently being in the water delayed the bruising pattern around her neck.
“Hand off everything else you’re working on to Chartrand and Brown. You’re taking the lead on this, and also on Greene’s suspected homicide. But, I’ll be working with you every step of the way and I expect to be kept fully informed.”
Millette nodded while shuffling
Another disturbing anomaly was her attraction to Sullivan Sauvage. The man wasn’t just a cop. More like steel-edged, sexy-as-sin with a dash of choir-boy compassion thrown in.
His mouth hinted of sensuous possibilities. His scruffy, bad-boy appearance screamed GQ cover. Breeana knew in the depths of her soul that he was a man women chased and thought they could tame.
Nuh-uh, not me, I’m nobody’s fool.
She hadn’t wanted to be touched since her husband’s death, yet this man threatened her resolve. Surviving these last two years on fading memories and the love of her child; those were the things giving her strength. Not her sense of abandonment and the physical needs buried deep within the recesses of her heart.
Sully was the embodiment of an alpha male who would take full advantage of a woman like her, if she let him. No. Tom was her mate for life, the only man to ever share her bed, or her body.He was the father of her child, a very pleasant and secure memory. She wanted her life to continue to be safe and uncomplicated, like it was right now.
****
“Lieutenant, you got a minute?”
Sully glanced up from reading the Dubé file to find Sergeant Jacques Millette loitering in his doorway. Millette’s short, compact body and hesitant gait suggested weakness where there was none. The bald patch spotlighting his comb-over of stringy brown hair added to the misconception.
Early forties, the man was about as lethal as an RPG sailing through an open window. An ace detective, Millette had an arrest record Sully admired and a mind as sharp as a stiletto. He had also raised the red flag on Rainey Dubé’s murder, while the MBPD had passed it off as an accident.
Sully closed the folder to focus instead on the man entering his office. “Come in, Sergeant. What have you got for me?”
“You might want to take a look at these.” Millette crossed the room and dropped several thick file folders on his desk.
Pushing his coffee mug aside, Sully cleared some space on his blotter and reached for the folders. “What are they?”
“Cold cases for the Mallard Bay area, beginning thirteen years ago. I’ve found four deaths raising a lot of questions. They have marked similarities to both Rainey Dubé’s murder and Miranda Greene’s death, although I know we’re still waiting for the findings on Greene.
“These are the dossiers of four other women who died under questionable circumstances, the findings on their deaths listed by the coroner as being inconclusive. Three appeared to have drowned and the fourth died in a fire of mysterious origin. While the fire is a different type of death, I included it because there still might be a connection to the other cases.”
Sully thumbed through the folders and processed their contents. This old information supported his serial killer theory. If these deaths were murders, there could be a psychopath on the loose who had been killing for the past thirteen years, at least, and getting away with it.
“How did you find these, Millette? Some of these aren’t just cold cases—they’re cold as ice.”
The other man shrugged. “I’ve had them for a while. I like to review old cases whenever I have a chance between my active files. It seems a shame these women died and nothing was ever done about it.”
“Nice work.” Sully flipped the last folder closed and handed them back. “I want you as the primary on Dubé’s investigation. Word just came down the woman was strangled. Apparently being in the water delayed the bruising pattern around her neck.
“Hand off everything else you’re working on to Chartrand and Brown. You’re taking the lead on this, and also on Greene’s suspected homicide. But, I’ll be working with you every step of the way and I expect to be kept fully informed.”
Millette nodded while shuffling
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