Homicide Detective Jake Bishop smiled at the determined clip-clop of Georgia’s feet moving down the carpeted hallway of the homicide department. She always moved as if the demons of hell nipped at her feet. Never relaxed. Never smiling. Buttoned up tight. She was a live wire of determination, drive, and shouldering a need to prove herself.

Today they were scheduled to brief Deke on the Marlowe/Reed case; otherwise, Jake would have taken the day off. The last three days he and his partner, Rick Morgan, had been chasing down a killer who shot two men in east Nashville. It took days to interview witnesses and piece together the fragments of the men’s lives. Both, it turned out, were meth dealers unworried about cutting into the business of a rival group. They found the shooter last night shortly after midnight sleeping in the back room of a pool hall. The arrest was textbook and by four a.m. the man was processed and in jail awaiting arraignment. Rick, running on empty, went home for sleep and time alone with his new wife, Jenna, a former Baltimore police officer who was a trained forensic artist. She now freelanced her forensic drawing and sculpting skills to several jurisdictions in the region. Once a missing child herself, she specialized in missing children cases and often charged a very minimal fee to cover expenses. In her spare time, she painted portraits thanks to a growing reputation.

Jake should have packed it in for the day but didn’t want to miss the fireworks sure to follow Georgia, who now rushed past his open door toward Deke. Finding his office empty, she emerged frustrated and ducked into Rick’s office.

He always liked the way Georgia pinned her red hair up on her head and how the curls wriggled free to form a collection of ringlets at the base of her neck. On a humid day, her hair went into all-out rebellion, as much as the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose did every time she tried to cover them with makeup. Her neatly tucked shirt tugged at her narrowing waistband as if it also hated being constrained. Every aspect of the woman was in full battle mode.

However, she was always cool, all business, and kept him at arm’s distance. That had once suited him fine. There were plenty of women to warm his bed other than her. But six months ago that all changed. He was in Rudy’s grabbing a beer when Georgia took center stage. The red curls tumbled around her shoulders and she traded the blue button-down shirt, khakis, and steel-toed boots for a sleek silk top with a V-neck that dipped between her breasts, designer jeans hugging her round hips, and rhinestone studded boots. He took special notice of her as would any man with a pulse in the bar.
KC had leaned forward. “You like? Wait until she sings.”

“She can’t be that good.” He sipped, cold beer sliding over a parched throat.

“She’s gonna rock your world.”

And she had. He was never so transfixed as he was as when Georgia cradled that microphone in her long fingers and sang Faith Hill’s “Breathe.” Shit. He still got hard when he thought about the moment.

“Deke went to get coffee,” Jake called out to Georgia.

Seconds passed and then she stood in his doorway careful not to cross the threshold. “We have a meeting at ten.”

He tapped his watch. “Can’t wait.”

She folded her arms. “You read any of the files?”

“Not many. But I’ll get up to speed quickly. Besides,” he said grinning and leaning back in his chair, “you’ll give me the Cliff Notes, right?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. Before she formed a response, Deke’s voice sounded in the hall. Without a word, she turned and vanished into Deke’s office.

Figuring this was the meeting on the Marlowe/Reed case, he rose from his desk, straightened his jacket, and ambled toward Deke’s office. As he grew closer, he heard Georgia’s clipped words sharpening each consonant. She sounded ready to boil over.

“She tracked me down at Rudy’s.” Georgia held a rolled-up stack of papers in her left hand. “Someone here told her I was at Rudy’s. Not cool to give out information like that. How do I know someone is not going to cap my ass while I’m onstage with a bright spotlight in my eyes.”

“Do you have a name?”

“I tried to ferret it out but no one is talking . . . yet.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can find out. What did Amber say?”

Jake leaned on the door frame. “Amber Ryder?”

“She tracked me down at Rudy’s last night.”

“How did she know to look for you?” Jake asked.

“I called her a week ago.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Slight annoyance flared. “We’re partners on the case, right?

She sat in one of the two seats angled in front of Deke’s desk. “There wasn’t much to tell until now, and now I’m telling you all I know.”

Instead of sitting, Jake remained standing, feet slightly braced. Her little end run clipped the edges of his good humor. He cut his teeth as a cop on the streets of South Boston before he picked up stakes and moved to Nashville seven years ago. He had learned a few things about Southern niceties and could even employ them when it suited, but when angered, the boy from Southie with the hot temper came out swinging. “Going forward, we work the case as a team. No exceptions.”

Blue eyes sharpened. “Sure.”

Deke leaned back in his chair. He was tall with broad shoulders that filled the white starched dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A carbon copy of his old man, Jake still found himself doing a double take when he saw Deke glower as well as the old man. Deke had headed homicide for two years and recently married local defense attorney Rachel Wainwright, who was as bullish on defense as he was prosecution. There’d been a few side bets on how long the two would last.

Unlike Georgia, Deke and his brothers, Rick and Alex, had jet black hair. Deke’s had turned more salt and pepper in the last year. He jokingly blamed the gray on his new wife whom he adored.

Deke studied Georgia as he always did—a bit perplexed and annoyed. “Georgia, tell us what she said.”

“Like I said, I called her a few weeks ago. I was halfway through the files and took a chance I could quickly catch up with her. She didn’t answer.”
Deke tapped an index finger on the arm of his chair as he leaned back. “Two missing kids, one found. As you both realize, Dalton Marlowe wants closure and no more delays. It’s going to take cooperation to make that happen.”
Neither answered, but neither argued with Deke.

“It was a hell of a case,” Jake said. “All hands on deck. I’ve never seen so many man hours dumped into one case.”

Georgia wasn’t exactly frowning but no smile was in sight either. “We all volunteered for search crews.”

“I wish I had a nickel for all the times I walked through Percy Warner Park,” he said. “It was fall and one of the warmest on record. We never found a trace of the two other kids.”

She folded her arms, openly regarding him. “Did you ever interview Amber during the case? You weren’t mentioned in the files.”

“I was present while she was interviewed once. She was adamant that she didn’t remember what happened in the woods. Her story never varied.”

“And you believe her?”

“It was all a little too convenient for me. However, she passed the polygraph test and the body language experts all cleared her. Even the docs said her concussion caused by the fall could have created the amnesia. But I never could swallow it.”

“Why?” Georgia challenged. “That’s a lot of science backing her up.”

That was a trait he liked. She never took anything at face value. She was always pushing, prodding, wanting more until she found the truth. “Never could give you a solid reason.”

“Gut instinct?” Her gaze danced just a little with humor.

“Yeah, Dr. Science. My gut. I couldn’t boil it down to anything that could be proven in a court of law but the twitch I get around liars was there.”

Many a cop relied on instinct and the intangibles when they interviewed suspects. Sensing what not to ask was just as important.

Eyes narrowing, a sign she was processing, she turned back to her brother. “As we all agreed, I also pulled the clothes Amber wore at the time of the fall. I reexamined the items a few days ago and collected more samples including hair fibers and a stain. I’ve sent it all off to the state lab for retesting. No answers yet, but could you lean on the lab?”

Deke shook his head. “You sound like Rachel. She’s always pushing for faster, more detailed DNA testing. The lab crews hate the sound of my voice.”

She unrolled the papers she was clutching and tried to flatten them out, but they rolled back up as if they too didn’t want to take orders. “But they do listen to you.”

Deke’s newly minted wedding band glinted in the light as he twirled it on his finger. “What do you think you’ll find this time?”

“I don’t know. But the testing is a little more fine-tuned than even five years ago.”

Jake ran his fingers down his Brooks Brother tie, absently making sure it was straight. “They find data now that’s so specific, the lab techs don’t even know what it means.”

Deke’s scowl deepened, accentuating the lines around his mouth and his eyes.
“You better than anyone, Detective Bishop, understand the value of fresh eyes,” he said. “This case is worth a second look. And with Amber now back in town, we might have a shot at solving it.”

“That case got thousands of looks five years ago. But Dalton Marlowe has political juice and it’s coming to a head.” Jake didn’t like being boxed into a corner but he understood better than anyone the power of a grieving overprotective parent with influence. “Five years. Tests change. People change their stories. It’s still worth a look.”

“How much time have you invested in the case files so far, Georgia?” Deke asked.

“Eighty hours,” she said. “All my spare time in the last few weeks. The sooner I get any test results back on DNA, the sooner I can develop new leads. I’m not on anyone’s priority list so it will take months.”

Deke’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward. “You’re preaching to the choir. I’ll rattle the cages.”

“Thanks.” Her grin was sweet and friendly and Jake guessed she used that same smile a thousand times since she was a tiny girl. She was expert at wrapping her big brothers around her little finger.

“That case was full of dead-ends.” Jake liked the smile, but refused to be manipulated by it.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to those kids?” Georgia’s voice rose an octave.
“Sure. And I’ll give the case one hundred percent. But the search and investigation back in the day was pretty damn extensive.” Truth was he liked the idea of giving this case a second look. Two kids remained missing. His argument now was based solely on pissing Georgia off. He could dish out as well as he took from her.

“It’s a start,” she said.

“Retesting forensic evidence is a small but integral piece of the puzzle. Most cases are solved by a detective’s legwork.” Jake shook his head. “If this case is cracked, it’ll be because someone is now willing to talk.”

She was too professional to roll her eyes, but for him, she did anyway with a shit-eating smirk.

Jake shook his head as he looked directly at her. “You, Georgia, aren’t always nice to people. You’re about as subtle as a crowbar.”

A nod of acknowledgment lobbed his way. “I’m nice to some people.”
Deke laughed, but quickly caught himself and sobered his expression. “Your heart is in the right place, but you can be so direct that you put people off.”
She glared as if daring his smile to reappear. “I can’t help it if they have thin skins.”

Jake shook his head. “I’ll do the talking.”

“Bishop’s right, Georgia,” Deke said before she could rebut. “You’ll have to do more than read case files and retest DNA. Bishop excels at the interviews. Did you make a witness list while you were reading the case files?”

As much as she wanted to work this case alone she was smart enough to realize it would take them both. “I did. I also have a ten-page synopsis.”

“Perfect.” Deke rose. “You two work out the details and make something happen. Now get out of my office.”

©Mary Burton 2016

“Jake and Georgia’s subtle yet heated attraction provides a good layer of tension to an already tense situation involving a cold case. With precision and detail, Burton crafts a suspenseful plot. Her dialogue is crisp and sharp; her characters are distinctive and her villain is off-kilter, psychotic and wholly believable.”

RT Book Reviews

“The twists and turns just keep popping up . . . an explosive ending . . . Romantic Suspense with an intriguing blend of suspense and spicy romance.”
Book Lovers Book Reviews

“What a wild ride . . . I recommend all of her books wholeheartedly . . . This book plays with readers’ minds so perfectly that I felt every goose bump and shiver along with Georgia and Jake . . . The plot is so intricate, shocking, surprising and unexpected that the story . . . consumed me until the end . . . No other book has made me second-guess myself, theplot and all the characters involved as much . . . If I could read one book for the rest of my life, I dare say it might be this one.”
Swept Away by Romance

“A fast paced thriller . . . a real page turner. The suspense filled story had me reading the entire novel in one sitting . . . Georgia and Jake make good team . . . complex . . . [a] host of characters with secrets to hide.”
Just Book Talk

“From twists and turns with every page, Burton delivers top- notch police procedures and impressive forensics, with a riveting crime mystery whodunit, and twisted psychological suspense . . . Burton is quickly becoming one of my leading favorite female crime authors! Fans of Karin Slaughter will enjoy this well-written dynamic series–an explosive plot, and an ending you do not see coming. Her best yet!”
Judith D Collins Must Reads

“Vulnerable is a delight to read . . . Burton’s romantic crime fiction is gritty and well plotted. She leaves the reader breathless in anticipation of the next twist or turn.”

The Crime Warp

“An extremely well-written and intriguing suspense thriller, with multi-layered characters and a villain twisted and sick enough to make you shiver . . . I loved . . . all the forensic detail . . . If you’re like me and you love a well-written romantic suspense thriller . . . .you’ll love Vulnerable.”

Okie Dreams Book Review

“Rick says you’re a popular vet with dogs.”

“I love what I do, so it’s easy.” She took a sip of beer. “He says you’re a great agent.”

Alex traced the label on his bottle. “He didn’t say that.”

“Maybe not in so many words. But my receptionist got him talking the last time he was in, and she said he had nice things to say about you.”

He studied the menu. “So you and your receptionist were talking about me?”

Color rushed to her cheeks. “I suppose we were. We take care of several of the police canines, and we generally talk about them and their families.”

He closed the menu and looked up. “Good to know. So you must have a dog?”

“No. No dogs for me. I work long hours. Maybe one day.” Since Philip, she’d feared loving anything too much in case it would be taken away.

“I picture you with a houseful of cats and dogs. The homespun type.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Not at all. Making an observation.”

Homespun jabbed, conjuring rocking chairs, shawls, and, well, old. “You’re not the animal type.”

“I like Tracker. But I’m not a dog or a cat guy. I’m on the go too much.”

“Which begs the question, why did you ask me out?”

He sat back in the booth and tugged his coat jacket in pace. “You’re different. Interesting.”

“In a homespun sort of way?”

“In a multilayered sort of way.”

She sensed he had lots of questions, but there would be no peeking behind the curtain where she hid her secrets. “I vaccinate dogs and cats all day. Most interesting thing I’ve done lately is joining a running group.”

“With Deidre Jones? She told me a vet had joined the group.”

“I didn’t realize you knew Deidre.”

“She works with my brother at the Nashville Police Department. We cross paths occasionally. How’s the running going?”

“I’m the slowest in the group. And that’s not false modesty. It’s the truth.”

“Tortoise and the hare. Stick with it.”

“Maybe.” She sipped her beer. “You don’t seem to have a lot of friends at Rudy’s.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I investigate cops. Doesn’t’ win me many points with the rank and file.

She traced the rim of her cup. Ah, that explained the man’s comment in the bar. “Does that bother you?”

“No.”

His attention shifted to her palm and the scar slashing across it. She closed her fingers, resisting the urge to explain. Whatever she told him would be a lie. She never told the truth about her past, which still shamed her. How could she explain that shew as a smart woman who had stayed with an abusive and, ultimately, murderous man? The less aid the better.

“Seems they’d want to weed out the bad apples.”

Alex’s expression didn’t change, but somewhere inside him she thought she saw a door close and lock.

“You would think.”

They both hid behind walls. Guarded secrets. Good. You leave mine alone, and I won’t dig into yours. “So, we’re two very simple people.”

The corner of his lip tipped into that grin. The ice melted for a moment, and that unfamiliar pull of desire flowered again. Some would have embraced it. Leah likened desire to a tiger’s dangerous beauty.

“I think we’re two people who’re fairly bad at dating and don’t like to talk about ourselves,” Alex said.

His directness charmed her. And that scared her. Being charmed led to liking which led to desire, which equaled vulnerability. Her nerves stretched tighter and tighter. “Then why’re we here?”

A shrug. “I was curious about you. And tracker likes you. He’s a good judge of character.”

Secrets, sadness, and shame banged on the wall so carefully built. She sipped her beer, which now tasted flat and lifeless. “Ah.”

“So what about you?”

“I’m fairly straightforward. Raised in Nashville. Both my parents have passed. Got my vet degree in Knoxville at the University of Tennessee. Enjoying the single life.”
He leaned forward, as if a bullshit meter had clanged in his head. “How did you get the scars on your hands?”

Cut to the chase. This guy didn’t waste time or mince words. No need to look down to see the deep slashes that crossed both palms. “Are you this nosy on most first dates?”

“No.” No apology. “They look like defensive wounds.”

“Nothing so dramatic,” she lied.

No adult had ever asked about the scars on her palms, or the ones on her arms. They might have stared, but they hadn’t asked. Once a little girl in a grocery store had asked her about them. She’d looked as if she’d believed in fairy tales, Santa Claus, and the tooth fairy. Monsters under her bed could be chased away with a mother’s kiss. Leah couldn’t bring herself to tell the girl real monsters walked among them. “It was an accident.”

“Okay.” Alex tapped a finger on the table, as if forcing back more questions that, eventually, he’d ask. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She kept her hand on her beer glass refusing to tuck it in her lap. “I’m not upset.”

“You’re pale now.”

She moistened her lips. “Just been a long day.”

“It’s my job to be nosy.” That smile appeared again. “Sometimes it’s hard to shut off.”

“No worries.”

Alex Morgan was the kind of guy who’d unearth all her carefully buried secrets. And when he did, what would he think of her? What kind of woman, what kind of fool, willingly lay down with a monster? The idea that he’d see her as less or weak scraped the underside of her scars.

Her phone buzzed, startling her. With a grateful heart she dug her phone from her purse and read the message. “It’s from my clinic. I’ve got to go by the kennel to check on one of the dogs.”

Alex looked more curious and disappointed. If his job was to sniff out lies, then he surely knew this was not fib. Their clinic took emergency calls, and this was her night on call. “You can’t eat first?”

“No.” She gathered her coat, anxious to step into the cold and slide behind the wheel of her car.

He tossed a couple of twenties on the table and rose. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

She gathered her purse and coat. “You don’t have to. I’m right across the street.”

“I’ll walk you.” He helped her on with her coat, opened the front door and waited for her to pass through before allowing it to swing closed behind them. Across the street, the door to Rudy’s opened and closed. In a rush of music and flashing light, Deidre and her date sauntered out arm in arm.

Leah envied the couple’s easy manner. Her back stiff, she started toward her car, her pace brisk as she fished her keys from her pocket and pushed the unlock button on the key fob. She opened the door, and he lingered back an extra half step. For a tense moment she thought he might kiss her. Norman women on first dates kissed their dates right? A kiss, a touch, vulnerability, pain and death.

Alex held back a couple of steps. He watched her. Seemed to see fear and accept it as a fact to be filed away under Leah Carson. “Drive safe.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’ve been a real lousy date, Alex. I’m sorry. I’m way out of practice.”

A small shrug. “No worries, Leah. See you soon?”

“You don’t have to check up on Tracker every day.”

“But I will.” The patience humming under his tone coaxed her out of her shell a little further. “You want to go out with me again?”

Fear hovered around her like a ghost. Stay behind the walls. But something she could not put into words challenged her to reach for more. Elbowing aside gnawing butterflies, she nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Great. We’ll figure it out.”

“Perfect.” She drove off, wondering if she’d lost her mind, all the while daring herself not to look in the rearview mirror, knowing he was watching.
Copyright 2015 © by Mary Burton

He sat and watched as his wife stood by her car and spoke to her date. The guy had dark hair and a trim build. A gust of wind had caught, blown back his jacket and for a split second, the edge of a gun resting on his hip caught the moonlight before the guy tugged the coat’s edge back into place.

This man is not a beat cop like he’d been. He had the look of a detective. “Moving up in the world, babe. The uniform isn’t good enough for you anymore.”

Embers of rage, always warm and glowing, flared and flickered into a hot flame. His wife and the guy lingered, staring at each other. A smile flashed on her face, and he knew they’d be seeing each other again.

“She’s my wife, dick.”

This close he could see dick’s face. Keen interest sharpened the man’s gaze. No doubt he was thinking about getting into his wife’s pants.

Irritated, he tore his gaze away and focused on the mission. He studied the text he’d just sent Leah: Emergency at the clinic. Can you come to work?

I might be a regular cop, but I found her number and I’m going to win this chess game, dick.”

She slid into the front seat, started the engine and rolled down her window. She glanced up, smiling, nodding, and drove off. Dick got into his car and drove off.

He started his truck and shifted into first gear. Slowly, he turned onto Broadway and followed it until it branched right and turned into West End Avenue.

The drive back to his wife’s town house took ten minutes, but of course he knew the way. He’d been watching the house since he’d arrived in Nashville a week before. Many a night in the last couple of weeks, he’d sat in the parking lot across the street and watched her town house. He’d gotten to know all her new habits.
His wife arrived an hour later and parked in her reserved spot under the street lamp. She hurried from her car up the brick front steps of the town house, unlocked the door, and vanished inside. Lights clicked on, and though she’d already drawn the drapes, he could see her figure pass in front of the sliding glass door before the lights in her bedroom clicked on.
He imagined her in that bedroom, stripping off her shirt, her full breasts spilling over the top of her bra. It had been too long since he’d kissed those breasts, but he remembered how soft they felt. He remembered her lips tasted like her cherry lipstick. He remembered those lush lips kissing him along his belly, teasing him to the brink of insanity. He remembered every single detail of their life together.

But she wasn’t thinking about him as she stripped off her clothes. A different man lingered in her thoughts. How many men had she fucked since him?

It took all his willpower not to scream as he removed a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open. Moonlight glinted off the sharp blade as he gouged it into the truck’s seat. He sliced through leather, imagining it was flesh.

He leaned back against the seat. Her shadow passed back into the living room, and the light of a television glowed as her silhouette lowered on the couch.

In the last few weeks, he’d learned all her new patterns and all her secrets, tracking her and listening via the bug he’d planted in her house. “No one knows you better than me, babe. No one.”

After an hour in the parking lot, he cold had numbed his toes and the tips of his fingers. He would have stayed all night, watching her sit on her couch in front of the television, but there were enough people coming and going at this time of night to get him noticed. He drove off, knowing she was alone in her town house, unable to sleep and thinking about him.

Until death do us part.
The words hummed in the back of his throat. So poignant, and yet their meaning appealed to him.

Until death do us part.

His little bird flew free right now, but soon he’d catch her and pluck off her wings. She belonged to him and no one else.

Until death do us part.

Copyright 2015 © by Mary Burton

“Burton’s latest is a chilling, suspenseful read with a calculating villain at the center of a well-crafted, intricate plot. Alex and Leah’s intensity and pairing is a highlight. With sharp, crisp dialogue and heightened tension, this story will have readers guessing until the very end.”
RT Book Reviews

“Mary Burton has a lot of twist and turns in I’ll Never Let You Go . . . Her books are right up there with the likes of James Patterson . . . [She] keeps the mystery and romance going through the whole book. One page after another, I couldn’t flip the pages fast enough.”
Fresh Fiction

“An intense four novel series featuring the Morgan family of Nashville. . . readers will be turning pages to see what happens next . . . Attention to detail and vivid description of the various characters will pull readers into the true to life thriller. The author filled her pages with edgy dialogue and a strong plotline that continues to build tension until the climatic end.”
Edie Dykeman, Bella Online

“If you’re a lover of romantic suspense, then you’ll love curling up with this book in front of the fire . . . I love how the romance is slow to grow and you are concentrating on the person who Alex’s is trying to find to prevent Leah from getting killed. I highly recommend this book for fans of Kay Hooper, Linda Howard, and Allison Brennan.”
As the Page Turns

“A fantastic read . . . Dark and thrilling, I’ll Never Let You Go had me awake until late into the wee hours . . . a real sense of danger and terror . . . the romantic side of the plot, although evident, was placed firmly in the sidelines to allow suspense and drama to take center stage . . . twists and turns.”
Mysteries & Crime Thrillers

“Ms. Burton is very good at ratcheting up the readers’ anxiety level from page one.”
Fiction Vixen

“One of my favorite authors, talented storyteller, Mary Burton returns . . . with another multi-layered, twisted “must read” psycho-crime thriller! . . . I love Mary’s smooth sharp writing style – Riveting . . multi-layered and complex . . . This is not one to miss.”
JDC Must Read Books

“The story is gripping, and kept me guessing . . . intense but with sweet moments . . . suspenseful and engaging and worth staying up late for.”
Bea’s Book Nook

“Chilling . . . the plot is strong, flowing beautifully . . . might make you want to sleep with your lights on, and check your locks one more time.”
Books and Spoons

“Mary Burton can always be counted on for fast paced suspense, a gutsy heroine and a dauntless hero.”
For the Love of Books

“Interesting and suspenseful thriller . . . [I] look forward to more in the series.”
Books ‘n Kisses

Rick, with Tracker at his side, arrived at the medical examiner’s office and took the elevator to the second floor where he knew he’d find Jenna working. His eyes itched from lack of sleep and as much as he’d like to have a solid eight hours, with two homicides on his desk and a hip that always throbbed, he knew he’d get precious little sleep in the days to come.

He found Jenna sitting cross-legged in a chair, bare feet tucked under her as she leaned over a sketchpad on her desk. Her long, dark hair hung in a silky mass, curtaining half of her face.

Beside her, the small skull set staring at her as if waiting. The skull was now covered with rubber plugs, which he knew indicated skin depths. Her row of pencils and erasers arranged in a neat line on the table reminded him of the workspace at her house. It too had had been well organized. Order was so important to her.

“Good morning,” Rick said.

The sound of his voice drew her gaze up, but it took several seconds for the trance-like haze glazing her eyes to clear.

“Detective Morgan.” Her gaze skittered to the canine, hesitated, and then met his again.

No warm welcomes. No smiles. “I thought you were going to do a clay bust,” he said.

“I considered that. But it will take a lot more time and I thought sooner rather than later would be best for an image.”

She unfolded her legs, slipped on flats, and rose. Pencil still in hand, she stretched her head from side to side and he found his gaze drawn to the slender lines of her neck.

He leaned around to look at the picture but she shook her head no. “Can’t I have a look?”

Almost flinching, she turned the easel away from him an inch or two more. “Not until it’s finished.”

Her reticence amused and annoyed him. “Why not? What’s the big deal?”

She’d pulled her hair up into a topknot and secured it with a pencil. She missed a few long stands, which dangled to frame her face. A nice effect. “No one sees my work until it’s done. That’s always been my policy.”

Tracker yawned, lowered to the floor, and closed his eyes. Clearly, none of this interested him.

However, Rick was very interested. The word no had stoked his interest. He didn’t like hearing it or when an answer eluded him. He liked having answers whether the question concerned a picture, a killer’s identity, or a woman’s backstory. He always figured that, given time, he could crack any code.

But like it or not, the Jenna Thompson code wasn’t so easily solved. “Sure, I’ll wait.”

A subtle tension around the edges of her lips eased. “It should be done by tomorrow. I’m close to the end. Sometimes the finishing touches just take me a while.”

He noticed how her gaze darted around the office once or twice as if the space was too small. “You don’t like this space.”

“No. I don’t.”

She didn’t mince words, as he’d expected, but her dislike of the space surprised him. “Why not? It’s one of the better rooms in the building.”

She stood a little straighter. “No windows. Too much like a closet. I like natural light.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of being inside. I’ll take any task that gets me moving outside.”

Jenna allowed her gaze to travel over the length of his body. “So what happened to your leg?”

He folded his arms, not sure why he shifted to defense. “You’ve been talking to Georgia.”

A half smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Sure. But not about you. I noticed the way you shift your weight. And I noticed your expression when you tackled the stairs yesterday.”

An artist who re-created human figures would notice inconsistencies, anomalies. However, he didn’t like being the subject of her scrutiny, especially when it zeroed in on his weakness. “I thought I did a good job of covering it up. Worked pretty damned hard with my physical therapist to make sure that I have an even gait.”

A shrug of her shoulders softened some of the intensity in her eyes. “There’s no limp when you walk but there’s a subtle stiffness. I draw people. And, I’m a cop. Part of what makes someone who they are is how they move.”

“You were just summing me up.”

“You. Bishop. Georgia.”

“Bishop? What did you figure about him?”

“He has a keen eye for Georgia.”

Morgan laughed. “The two fight all the time.”

“I think, for those two, arguing might be flirting.”

“He’s not fond of the Morgans.”

“Don’t be so sure.” This was not the conversation he’d intended. He shifted to offense. “I was comparing your space here to your home.”

A brow arched as hesitancy flashed in her gaze. “And what do you see?”

Good, they were now both uncomfortable. “Can you say control issues?”

That made her laugh. “Did you miss the part where I said I’m a cop?”

“The trait comes with the job. The question is where did it come from? We all had it before the first day on the job.”

“Where did it come from in you?”

Nice deflection. “Genetics, I guess. A legendary homicide detective raised the Morgan kids. We all have our share of issues.”

“Ah.”

“Now, your turn. What’s your excuse?”

A slight tension tugged at the edges of her lips. “Who knows?”

“No, I’m not letting you dodge this so easily.”

“Really.”

“Want my theory?”

She turned back to her sketchpad and opened it. She began to draw. “Sounds like I’m going to get it.”

“It was definitely from your past. Something that instilled a need to control.”

Her pencil stilled for a beat before moving again. “Maybe it was genetics in my case as well.”

“I don’t think so.” He dropped the line in the water wondering if she’d take the bait.

She swam right past it as if it would take more to get her to open up. Fine. He’d drop it for now. “Sorry, Detective, I didn’t sign on for analysis.”

And with that, the door slammed shut. However, he wasn’t worried. He’d find a way to open that door again soon. “So the picture will be ready tomorrow?”

“Likely. The day after at the latest. Like I said, the final details always take more time than I figured.”

©Mary Burton 2016

“Be Afraid is vintage Mary Burton . . . a complex, riveting story . . . surprises and white-knuckle suspense with a capital S. Her characters are wicked smart . . . Readers will be on tenterhooks . . . Burton’s storylines are finely tuned . . . a nail-biter . . . gritty, fast-paced suspense that will send chills down your spine.”
USA Today’s Happy Ever After

“Burton creates deeply vulnerable, complex characters with hard edges and sets them within an intricate, well-written mystery. Her crisp storytelling engages, and the deep emotional connection and tension she creates between Rick and Jenna will hook readers in. A complex villain with a tortured soul ups the ante and makes this story one suspenseful read.”
RT Book Reviews

“Mary Burton, queen of the modern-day romantic thriller, pulls us into the vortex of a whirlwind battle centered on the age-old dichotomy between good and evil . . . Be afraid to miss this riveting, sizzling, terrifying new novel by a master storyteller.”
Book Reporter

“Mary Burton gives us another chilling, thrilling romantic suspense novel . . . will keep you riveted to the very end as you get the answers to these questions and more. Nobody combines suspense and romance quite like this author to give you a pleasing read that delivers both. She is a must-read for fans of the genre. I can hardly wait for the next book!”
Heroes and Heartbreakers

 “Bestselling author Mary Burton is a master of her craft. She keeps her readers tingling with suspense while we try to figure out what will happen next. Burton skillfully exposes the mind of the killer to her readers, making her chilling books even more alarming. In BE AFRAID . . . the twists and turns and chain of relationships to previous terrifying events will keep readers on the edge of their seats with doors locked and the dog on guard.”
Single Titles

“As usual Mary Burton delivers a tense serial killer book that is fast paced and edgy . . . I loved reading about how memories can be prompted by a good forensic artist tapping into the subconscious of a witness.”
Crime Warp

 “A page -turner and a great book . . . if you need a good beach read then I highly recommend this book.”
As the Page Turns

“Mary Burton is a top notch romantic suspense/thriller/mystery novelist and she produces real, interesting, and very intelligent characters. BE AFRAID teems with precise dialogue, perfect pace and a loud, strong and clear narrative. The pieces of her plot lines fall into place like a giant jigsaw puzzle . . . Terrific book.”
Reader to Reader

“Mary Burton’s books keep me going back for more . . . the mystery and suspense kept me reading. The characters were interesting and real . . . twists and turns kept me guessing until the end . . . a great book for people who enjoy mysteries and suspense.”
The Friendly Book Nook

“The pace is fast; writing top notch and the storyline twists and turns as it weaves a spell . . . a wild ride . . . with the right amount of toughness and vulnerability, Ms. Burton delivers two strong characters who complement one another . . . left me reeling from start to finish with an ending that had my jaw dropping . . . I, for one, cannot wait to see who is next in the Morgan siblings . . . to navigate murder and relationships. I give Ms. Burton kudos for creating a great series.”
Love, Romances and More

“BE AFRAID proves that if you are looking for complex, twisted, action-packed thrills and chills – rest assured – Ms. Burton should be your “go-to author” . . . [she] has a knack for playing her cards close to the vest and I haven’t been able to guess her villains until she is ready to reveal them! The complexity of Burton’s plotting is top-notch and her writing style is clean and fresh with no wasted words . . . characters are all superbly drawn . . . Burton at the top of her game! Highly recommended!!”
CK’s Kwips and Kritiques

Very intense, dark and edgy suspense, multiple murders, and many mysteries to be solved, with a touch of romance on the side . . . [a]creepy kind of scary story telling that will make you check that your doors are locked and windows sealed . . . fascinating to read about their efforts to solve all the cases . . . fierce, intimidating, and addictive suspense, with an inkling of great romance . . . twists, turns, and surprises.”
Books and Spoons

“Opening with a chilling prologue, Be Afraid by Mary Burton is an incredibly riveting read from beginning to end . . . a very intriguing mystery with slight romantic elements that fans of police procedurals do not want to miss . . . suspense-laden and fast paced . . . an absolutely brilliant job obscuring the killer’s identity . . . pulse-pounding conclusion.”

Book Reviews and More by Kathy

“I love a good police story. The details that Ms. Burton includes . . .may have you checking behind you a time or two. Can’t wait to read if there is another book with these characters.”
Illustrious Illusions

“Mary Burton pens another tale of murder and mayhem with a likeable heroine and

a fast paced plot line.”

cayocosta73-Book Reviews

“Fast-paces suspense . . . an intriguing case diving into psychological elements of the crazy killers. I also enjoyed Jenna’s character, her talents, the light romance, and catching up with familiar Morgan characters.”
Judith D Colllins Must Reads

“There is no doubting the writing prowess of Mary Burton . . . with many twists and turns, Mary Burton keeps the reader guessing until the very end . .. [will] keep you intrigued, interested and glued to the story until the very last page.”
Romancing Life

“I loved this new mystery from Mary Burton . . . the prologue was fantastic . . . a thrilling ride that left you wondering who the murder was up till the end.”
Majorly Delicious

Rachel dropped her gaze to her talking points.  Stick to the facts.  Add emotion.  Eye contact.

The facts were: thirty years ago a young mother, Annie Rivers Dawson had been brutally murdered.  Annie’s younger sister had arrived for a visit and discovered the house covered in blood and Annie’s newborn wailing in her crib.   Police had been summoned.  No body had been found but police concluded Annie could not have survived such blood loss.  The case had gone unsolved for three months.

The public had been in a panic knowing a young woman and new mother from a good neighborhood had been brutally murdered.  The press had put tremendous pressure on the cops.  There’d been extensive searches for the body until finally a tip led cops to the remains of a woman wearing Annie’s clothes and jewelry.  The outcry for justice grew louder.  Even the governor had weighed in on the case.

Rachel’s client, Jeb Jones, had been a handyman in Nashville at the time of Annie’s death.  He’d had an eighth grade education, was considered a good, if not, an inconsistent worker who drank heavily at times, and had been married with a nine-year-old son.  He’d never made much money but he got by.  And then one night cops, acting on a tip from a paid informant, had searched the trunk of Jeb’s ’71 Cutlass sedan and found a bloody tire iron.  Jeb had been arrested.  Under interrogation, he’d confessed, though within twenty-four hours had recanted.  The blood testing available at the time, crude by today’s standards, had indicated the two blood samples on the tire iron matched both Annie’s and Jeb’s types.

Further investigation revealed that Jeb had known the victim.  He’d worked in her apartment building and witnesses had later said he had been caught staring at Annie once or twice.

His trial was set a month after his arrest and it lasted five days.  Dozens testified that Jeb had a drinking problem and had cheated on his wife.  Though Jeb had never denied he was a bad father and husband, he swore that he’d not killed Annie.  He didn’t know how the tire iron ended up in his car.

Rachel wouldn’t discuss science tonight but would stick with her emotional plea to the public: we need to pressure the cops for a DNA test.

Christ, Rachel, these people could care less.

Her brother’s voice all but hissed as she stared at the uninspired crowd and her stomach knotted another twist.  She might not muster passion in this group, but the right television airtime could turn up the heat on the cops.

The news van arrived and Rachel now coveted Colleen’s smoothness.  Rachel had no soft edges.  Life had sharpened those edges into razors. . . .

Rachel scanned the crowd one last time hoping for a flicker of excitement.  Off to the left she spotted a man she’d missed the first time.  He stood apart from the crowd, partly concealed by a shadow cast by the building protecting his back.  Given his dark suit, white shirt, red tie and black western boots she’d have cast him as a banker or another lawyer.  His short dark hair and square jaw fit the possible scenarios.  However, the hard angles of his face, frown lines that cut deep and a battle ready stance dashed her theories.

For a moment she wondered why a man like him would be here and then the pieces fell into place.  He was Detective Deke Morgan…

Her stomach clenched.  She’d seen him once in court eight or nine months ago.  He’d testified in a drug case and though his hair had been long and his beard thick, the eyes held the same intensity as the man edging the crowd.  The Deke in her memory had a Tennessee drawl, adding a quiet authority the jury did not ignore.  After he’d testified he’d remained in his chair, stoic and watching.

Now his gaze skimmed her meager crowd, studying them until he seemed satisfied that this group was not driven enough to pose a threat.  His gaze settled on her . . .

At exactly six fifteen as the sun set she stood on the curb, lifted the microphone to her mouth, moistened her lips, and began to tell the story of Jeb Jones.

The crowd grew quiet and news cameras rolled.  Several times she paused to gather her thoughts, which kept trying to skitter ahead.  More people stopped to listen and the flicker of the candles in the crowd grew brighter.

She could see disinterested faces grow solemn as the impact of her words settled.  Passersby stopped to listen.  “He deserves to have the DNA test.”

When she finished, the reporter, a woman with a tall lean build emphasized by a red body slimming dress, moved to the front of the crowd and held out her microphone.  A closer look revealed the woman was well into her fifties.  “So do you blame the Nashville Police Department for a possible miscarriage of justice?”

“I can’t speak to what happened thirty years ago.  I can only talk about now.  And today the Nashville Police Department has DNA evidence from the Dawson murder trial.  They’ve yet to respond to my requests for retesting and my fear is that the test will be forgotten or worse, swept under the rug and my client will die in prison.”

A murmur rumbled through the crowd.  More hands shot up.

“What can we do?” Colleen shouted as if she too were part of the crowd.

“Call the police department.  Call you councilman.  Let them know that Jeb Jones deserves to be heard.” . . .

“What about Annie Rivers Dawson?  The victim!”  The angry voice shot out from the edges of the crowd.

Rachel studied the cluster of people and settled on a woman dressed in a dark, loose fitting dress stepped forward.  She wore her dark hair in a bun and no makeup adorned her pale angled face.

Rachel had thought someone might remember Annie and had prepared comments.  “My focus today is on Jeb Jones.  He’s been a victim of the system for thirty years.”

“Annie Rivers Dawson is dead.”  The woman moved forward clutching a well-worn purse close and moving to within feet of Rachel.

The reporter and her cameraman had also moved in closer.  If Rachel dodged this woman or her question, it wouldn’t play well.  The eyes of Nashville were upon them.

“Annie deserves to have her real killer behind bars,” Rachel said.

“Her real killer is behind bars.”  Despite a mousy demeanor, the woman’s voice reverberated with fierce anger.

“Her death was tragic,” Rachel said.  “I’ve never denied that.”

The woman fished an eight by ten picture out of her large purse.  The image was a publicity shot of a young smiling woman and Rachel recognized Annie Rivers Dawson’s face immediately.  Annie had had long blond hair that billowed around a face with the perfect blend of porcelain skin, a high swipe of cheekbones and smiling full lips that added a joyous spark to bright blue eyes.  “She was a talented beautiful new mother and she was brutally beaten.  Her house was covered in blood and her body was found in pieces because of your client!”

Anxiety singed Rachel’s skin leaving her cheeks flushed.  “Annie’s death was a great loss.  Tragic.  But the police never adequately proved that my client was involved in her death.”

“The murder weapon was found in his car!”  Her voice had grown louder and her face flushed with anger.  “How can you stand there and defend that human piece of garbage?”

Aware of the crowd’s intense interest, she clung to her control with an iron grip as she lowered her microphone.  “This vigil is about Jeb and his right to have the DNA testing.”

“His right!”  The woman advanced a step.  “What rights did Annie have?  She had the right to live and raise her baby but those rights were stolen from her by Jeb Jones.”

“The DNA—”

“The cops found lots of evidence against him, including witnesses who said he stalked her!” she shrieked.

“He concedes that.”

“Of course.”  Her voice had grown louder and sharpened with a dramatic edge as she now played to the crowd.  “Poor murderer.  He’s the victim.”  She spit on the ground.  “The media loves to focus on the perpetrator.  They always forget the victim silenced by death.”

Rachel stepped off the curb and moved toward the woman.  Her hope was to calm her and dial down the energy in their conversation.  Later they could talk in private.  “I haven’t forgotten about Annie.”

“You might remember her, but you don’t care about her.  All you care about is him.”  The woman’s fingers fisted around the edge of the picture so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

“What if Jeb didn’t kill Annie?” Rachel reasoned.  “Have you ever considered that the real killer is still out there and perhaps killing other women?”

The woman shook her head, her gaze zeroed in on Rachel.  “The real killer is not out there.  He is rotting behind bars as he should be.” . . .

The Channel Five camera caught every word of the argument.  Later the reporter would pluck chosen sound bites for the eleven o’clock news.  “I want justice, Ms. Miller.  DNA testing will prove once and for all if Jeb killed Annie.”

“No test is going to change what I know in my heart!  That bastard killed my sister!”  More tears welled in her eyes.

Rachel, drawn by the tears, missed the woman’s right hook, which rose up as quick as a viper.  The bare-knuckled fist struck hard against her jaw sending pain reverberating through her head.  Thoughts scrambled, she staggered, nearly caught herself, but teetered on her heels and dropped to her knees.

The sounds from the crowd grew distant as her head buzzed and popped.  She was aware of Colleen calling for the police as she pushed through the crowd . . .

Rachel’s head cleared and she planted high-heeled feet, wobbled and pulled back her shoulders.  She balled her fingers into a fist, focusing on Margaret Miller now being held back by a Nashville uniformed officer.  The woman’s screaming pounded inside her skull.

“Call an ambulance.”  Colleen’s command snapped like a whip, prompting several to fish in their pockets for a cell.

Rachel blinked, worked her jaw.  “That’s not necessary.”

“It is,” Colleen said.  “You could have a head injury.”

Rachel readied to protest again when she saw Deke Morgan glaring down.

He looked amused.  “She clocked you pretty good.” . . .

“You want to press charges?”

The cameras still rolled but now she wanted the press to go away.  She’d meant what she’d said about talking to Margaret in private.  She didn’t want a war.  “No charges.”

A restrained Margaret shook her head.  “You better arrest me!  I’ll hit her again given the chance.  She is a menace.”

The verbal threat earned the woman a set of handcuffs, which constrained her arms behind her back.  She sneered at Rachel and spit.  Spittle landed inches short of Rachel’s feet. . .

“Sure about those charges?” Detective Morgan asked.

©Mary Burton 2014

“The chilling suspense starts promptly at the beginning, setting the steady clip for the unveiling of the suspects. Within this chills and thrills ride, there is romance, against the odds, that may develop under the right conditions. Good luck with figuring out who did it. I tried. Lots of delicious trails and tidbits of information to stir the inner-detective to life.”
–USA Today, Happily Ever After

“If there’s a category of ‘page-turner,’ Burton would always ends up on the top of that list. This time is no different… a chilling puzzle… fantastic work with never a dull moment for the reader.”
–Suspense Magazine

“With sharp detail, a nicely developed romance, and stellar plotting that distributes clues with chilling precision, ­Burton’s latest “lock your door and keep the lights on” thriller beautifully kicks off her new series of four Nashville-set mysteries dealing with the Morgan family.”
–Library Journal

“In her latest, Burton pens a well-crafted mystery and an intricate plot set in Nashville with rough, gritty detective Deke and gutsy, vulnerable lawyer Rachel at the center.  Her strong, dynamic storytelling and crisp dialogue are the highlights.  Good pacing, distinctive secondary characters and chilling suspense make this story one heck of an exciting ride.”
–RT Book Reviews

“Burton’s trademark is providing the serial killer’s viewpoint without giving anything away, and by feeding the reader tiny details one at a time, she keeps the tension building.”
–Publishers Weekly

“Burton’s newest release treats her devotees to more twists than a bag of pretzels… all the ingredients of a blockbuster… full of surprises… Agatha Christie must be rolling in her grave with jealousy as Burton serves red herring after red herring. . another of her high-speed roller-coaster rides… even the most critical reader is challenged to solve the case.”
–Book Reporter

“Cover Your Eyes has a strong suspenseful, plotline with many twists and turns. Rachel and Deke are very formidable, very likeable characters, who pair well together and work off each other’s strengths while working on the new murder investigations . . . their relationship is as relevant to the story as is the murders themselves. This is a gripping, fast-moving mystery and a terrific start to this new series.”
–Betty Betz for Mysterious Reviews

“A dark, engaging mystery… rich dialogue, complex characters, and a well plotted storyline provides us with a multi layered who dun it that twists and turns with deception and misdirection… dialogue between the characters is fast and smooth… ripe with tension till the very last page… secondary characters are as rich and inviting as our protagonists… I never figured it out—Burton did a fabulous job of keeping me twisting and turning in the dark… [and] once again pens a thrilling mystery.”
–Smexy Books

“I’ve never read a Mary Burton book I didn’t like and Cover Your Eyes was no exception… first rate… secrets, danger, and of course, a budding romance… I enjoyed the way this story unfolded. A clue here and there, another character thrown in just to keep you on your toes… the ending was perfect for a die-hard mystery reader… I also liked the setting… I can’t think of a romantic suspense I’ve read that’s set in Nashville and the music industry. It was a refreshing change.”
–Long and Short Reviews

“Mary Burton’s captivating characters kept me up well into the night… this was an ‘all lights on all night, what was that noise’ kind of night read… Mary Burton’s characters have character. She creates an engrossing thriller, captivating suspense… this is one not to be missed.”
–Under These Covers

“Bestselling author Mary Burton will keep you up late reading with all the lights on! COVER YOUR EYES is a roller-coaster ride filled with suspense and mayhem. Take one plucky lawyer and one curmudgeonly homicide detective determined to solve a series of brutal murders incited by decades of bottled up rage, jealousy and evil and you have an electrifying must-read. I promise you will never be able to figure out the mind-blowing surprise ending of COVER YOUR EYES by mega-talented Mary Burton!”
–Single Titles

“Many possible suspects… good suspense in true Mary Burton style.”
–Saved by Suspense

“I was amazed by this book. The characters, the plot and the way everything ties in together will have you absorbed . . . Cover Your Eyes is all about the evil that exists in the world, but also about the way that love can occur out of nowhere.”
–Readers’ Favorite

“A seriously intense read with lots of twisty and unexpected turns that left me constantly trying to guess where it was going to go next . . . very well written characters . . . really enjoyed this one all around.”
–Caught in My Book

“Started off fast and didn’t let up… and I literally did cover my eyes a few times… twists and turns that kept me guessing… a tense, fast paced, engrossing story… make sure you have the lights on!”
–Bea’s Book Nook

“Great book . . . engaging and thought provoking . . . surprising twists and turns . . . kept me riveted and coming back for more . . . Mary Burton is one of my favorite authors.”
–The Friendly Book Nook

“Mary Burton’s captivating characters kept me up well into the night. . . this was an ‘all lights on all night, what was that noise’ kind of night read . . . Mary Burton’s characters have character. She creates an engrossing thriller, captivating suspense . . . this is one not to be missed.”
–Under These Covers

“An intriguing murder mystery . . . kept me guessing . . . plenty of twists and turns and interesting . . . I love it when a story keeps me guessing from beginning to end.”
–The Life and Times of a Book Addict

“A fast paced, edge of your seat thrill ride . . . Ms. Burton does a great job in capturing the heart of the story . . . the right amount of tension, twists and turns . . . a spine-tingling story . . . what really made this different from other crime books was the setting of Nashville . . . complex, diverse characters . . .the ending . . . is explosive . . . I was shocked to find out who the murderer was and I am thinking you will be as well.”
–Love, Romances & More

“Mary Burton’s Cover Your Eyes is my first book by her and most definitely, it is not going to be my last. She had me hooked right from the prologue… hard to put down… vibrant characters… hints of a romance… I loved both Deke and Rachel… a satisfying story on all counts… there are too few authors who do the romantic suspense genre justice and I believe I have found one in Mary Burton…  Mary Burton spins one hell of a story. Unputdownable!
–Maldivian Book Reviewer

“Strong characters… many twists and turns… gripping… I couldn’t put the book down.”
–A Fortress of Books

“If you enjoy the crime/thriller novels, this is a very satisfactory one to sink your teeth into.”
–Dew on the Kudzu

“Just as you are scratching your head- and thinking about all the pieces and how they fit together- Mary Burton has one more up her sleeve.”
–Traveling with T

“First things first: I DIDN’T GUESS WHO DID IT!!!!!… an abundance of good (and bad) characters.”
–52 Book Minimum