Exercpt

CHAPTER ONE

 Lindsey Dameron powerwalked down the sidewalk, praying for the cheating son of a bitch to show up.  She needed the money, needed it now, but if he didn't appear for his normal Monday nooner, she was sunk.  Her mortgage was due, the electric company had threatened to cut off her power and the only things left to eat in her fridge were two cartons of yogurt and some bread and butter pickles.

She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, swallowing the panic that bubbled up.  The sun shone overhead and the smell of fresh cut grass tickled her nose.  The beauty of the spring day gilded the ugly secrets hiding in the houses that lined the street. 

Lindsey forced a smile and waved at the old man shuffling down his driveway to pick up his mail.  She'd started walking the neighborhood the previous week so that she wouldn't arouse suspicion.  With her iPod strapped to her arm, ponytail swinging behind her, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and spandex shorts, not too baggy, not too tight, she fit right in to the suburban scene in the bedroom community of Jonesboro, Viriginia, just south of Washington, D.C.. 

Of course, her ability to blend was why Ace Investigations hired her.  Lindsey Dameron, private eye.  Well, not exactly.  More like snoop for hire.  Her job title didn't matter, her paycheck did, but if she didn't get proof of their client's husband's infidelity, she wouldn't get paid. 

Rounding the circle at the end of the cul de sac, Lindsey walked back towards the target's house just as a black Mercedes swung into the driveway and pulled into the open garage beside a white Lexus SUV.  Lindsey's heart raced as the garage door descended.  The husband, Greg Stanley, drove the Mercedes.  The house belonged to his girlfriend, Mandy Wayne.  His married girlfriend. 

If she got the pictures, Ace Investigations might even get a two-for-one package.  Two paychecks for one set of pictures.  Lindsey slowed her pace as she neared the house.  She couldn't get ahead of herself.  She needed the proof.

Lindsey bent down to tighten a shoelace and scanned the street.  The old man had reentered his house.  Teenagers were stuck in school and younger kids were taking naps.  Most adults were at work.  Good time of day to commit adultery.

Taking a deep breath, Lindsey stood and strolled up the edge of the driveway towards the garage.  The red brick house stood two stories high and stretched out three rooms deep.  From her previous snooping trip, Lindsey knew the master bedroom was located on the same side of the garage, towards the back of the house.  Her hand trembled as she reached out to open the gate of the waist high iron fence.

A ball of fur flew across the manicured lawn towards the fence.  The high pitched bark shrilled like a burglar alarm.  Lindsey jumped back, slamming the gate closed as the dog launched itself at the fence. 

"Sssh!"  Lindsey crouched down.  "Good dog.  Quiet dog."

The dog laid down.  The puppy, a ball of fur resembling a mop head, stopped barking, but whined and wriggled, tail sweeping from side to side.  Lindsey stuck a hand through the fence and the dog slobbered over her fingers.  Lindsey pushed open the gate and slipped inside, closing it behind her.

The dog immediately jumped up on her legs, then ran around in a circle before leaping back on Lindsey.  To calm it, Lindsey bent down and picked it up.  Just a puppy, the tiny dog seemed more fur than animal and it lapped at her face as Lindsey tried to avoid its tongue. 

Lindsey choked back a laugh.  She'd always wanted a dog, but now she couldn't afford to feed herself, much less a pet.  She rubbed her cheek against the dog's soft fur, inhaling the sweet smell of puppy breath, then lowered it to the ground. 

Unzipping the pouch buckled around her waist, Lindsey pulled out a digital camera.  Time to get to work.  Lindsey crept along the side of the house.  No one had come outside to check on the barking dog.  She hoped that meant they were already busy getting busy.

Two windows looked out onto the side yard.  As long as the drapes weren't closed, she'd get her pictures and get out.  Lindsey closed her eyes and rested her head against the rough brick. 

"Please, God," she prayed.  "Let them be sinning."  She took a deep breath and peeked through the window.  No drapes, no blinds.  Lindsey had a clear view of the opulent master bedroom. 

Gold and white wallpaper with mischievous cherubs engaging in acts she knew couldn't be approved of in heaven.  Hardwood floors with furry white rugs on either side of the bed.  Lord, what a bed.  A four-poster, large enough for a half dozen people to roll around on, covered in a gold satin comforter, white and gold pillows stacked against the headboard and scattered on the floor. 

The cheating husband lay stretched out on the bed, spread eagle, still dressed in his suit and tie.  Lindsey frowned.  She preferred to get a shot of them together, naked, but she wasn't going to hang around and watch.  Placing him in the woman's bedroom would have to do.

She watched the screen of the digital camera as she shot a picture of the bedroom, then zoomed in for a close up of the man's face.  His eyes stared straight at her.  Lindsey jumped back, out of sight, sure he'd seen her.  No one yelled or came running.

Lindsey peeked around the corner again.  The man hadn't moved.  Sweat beaded on her forehead and her heart pounded.  Raising the camera with shaking hands, Lindsey looked at the screen and zoomed in.  Wide, unfocused, his eyes stared unseeing.  Without thinking, she pressed down, the camera clicked a half dozen times before she realized and lowered it. 

This time she saw the streaks of red on the gold comforter, the splatter of something, she didn't want to think what, on the white throw pillows.  Her vision tunneled and the ground titled beneath her feet.  Lindsey sank to the ground and put her head between her knees.

Beside her, the dog whimpered.  The heat of the puppy against her leg warmed her chilled blood.  Lindsey stroked the soft fur, taking as much comfort from the animal as she gave. 

The man was dead.  What about his girlfriend?  Who killed him?  Lindsey scrambled to her feet.  The killer could still be inside.  She could be next. 

The rumbling of the rising garage door startled a squeak out of her.  The dog ran towards the gate, but Lindsey scooped it up off the ground and held it close. 

"Sssh, puppy," Lindsey whispered.  "We don't want them to hear us."

Sticking close to the red brick, Lindsey slinked up to the gate, hiding behind a massive lavender rhododendron.  The sickly sweet smell combined with the memory of the dead body made her stomach roll.  Swallowing hard, she peered through the broad green leaves.  She could see the white Lexus SUV backing down the driveway, but she was too far away to identify the driver.  The garage door lowered to a close and the Lexus cruised down the street.

The killer was gone.  Maybe.  She was probably safe, but a man lay dead in the house, his girlfriend either a killer or victim herself.  Lindsey's breath hitched as she pushed the image of the dead body out of her mind.   She didn't want to think of what shape the woman might be in.

What if she was still alive?  She could be lying in the house, bleeding to death.  Lindsey couldn't just walk away, but if she called the police she'd be a suspect.  Even if cleared, her cover as an innocent suburbanite would be blown.  A murder of a man like the one who lay inside would be splashed across the paper every morning for a week.  Her involvement, the firm's involvement, entangled like the gold chains in her jewelry armoire.  She needed her job, which depended on her anonymity.

  Lindsey yanked her cellphone out of the pouch at her waist, but hesitated when she flipped it open.  Could the police trace a 911 call from a cell phone?  She chewed on her lower lip.  She didn't know.  Couldn't chance it.  She snapped it closed and stuck the phone and camera back into the pouch. 

A payphone would work.  Even if the police traced the call, they couldn't connect her to the payphone.  But where would she find a payphone?  Since cell phones had become as necessary as air, payphones had gone the way of the cassette tape. 

The puppy in her arms whined and Lindsey realized she'd been squeezing the life out of the poor dog.  The poor dog.  She couldn't just leave her.  The woman hadn't had kids and the husband was never home.  The dog would probably end up in a shelter.  As though reading her thoughts, the dog whined again.

"Don't worry, girl."  Lindsey stroked the dog's ears.  "I'll think of something."