Dead Women Tell No Lies

DEAD WOMEN

TELL NO

LIES

by

Nora LeDuc

When a troubled young woman’s body
is found on a riverbank hundreds of miles from home, detective Luke Lennox battles small town politics, old loyalties and the temptation of the deceased’s hauntingly beautiful identical twin to bring a killer to justice.

Praise for Nora LeDuc

MURDER CAME CALLING
: “A Night Owl Romance Book Review TOP PICK!”

~*~

“STAGING MURDER
absolutely kept me glued to my ereader. I was caught up in the suspense, quite curious about the murder, the threats and what they all meant for Ava.”

~
Jennifer Porter, Romance Novel News

~*~

“Impressively crafted,
PICK UP LINES FOR MURDER
is an enjoyable suspense thriller.”

~ Josee Morgan, Apex Reviews

~*~

MURDER BY HEART: “Tension begins on the first page and doesn’t end until an unexpected culprit is revealed in the last few pages. This cleverly crafted story is filled with sexual tension that neither the hero nor the heroine wants to recognize and an abundance of action as they try to outwit a vicious killer.”

~ Donna M. Brown for Romantic Times Book Reviews

~*~

LOVE’S WICKED JEWEL
: “Several of the scenes contain wry humor that binds all into a tidy bundle of compelling and suspenseful romance.”

~ Faith V. Smith, Romantic Times Book Reviews

Dead Women Tell No Lies

Copyright © 2013 by Nora LeDuc

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Contact Information: [email protected]

Cover Art by
Niina Cord
 

Digital Formatting by
Author E.M.S.
 

Edited by Caroline Tolley
 

Publishing History 2013

Digital ISBN: 978-09892090-07

Dedication

To Anita, breakfast companion, supporter and dearest friend. I thank you for all of it. Here’s to our next time together.

A special thanks to all my readers.

~ Nora

Prologue

Brattleboro, Vermont

February 25th

A chill seeped into Rose Blue’s hands, through her jeans and stocking feet on the wooden kitchen floor. She paused over her unmade sandwich and stretched the cuffs of her navy turtleneck downward.

The rip of duct tape echoed in her ears. Footsteps crunched against the stones. Closer. Closer.

The granite counter blurred and warped into a granite ledge overhanging a river.

The vision sucked her in.

A shadowy figure hovered over a petite woman wearing a pink parka and lying on the ridge. Clammy strands of blond hair clung to a heart-shaped face, a face the mirror image of her own.

“Dahlia!”

Oh, God! Gooseflesh rippled up Rose’s spine. The shadow bound Dahlia’s hands and feet with gray tape, round and round. Terror flooded Rose’s chest. Goose flesh ripped across her arms.

“Help!” she screamed before the duct tape silenced her sister’s last cry.

Rose gasped and turned over. She was lying on the planked floor in her one bedroom apartment. What happened? The hum of the furnace kicked on followed by a flash of heat that filled the first floor apartment.

Her head ached like someone had slugged her. Near her hand, she spotted the butter knife. She grabbed the weapon and crawled toward the granite counter. Gripping the edge, she hauled herself to her feet. She held the blade in striking position while she tossed frantic glances over her shoulder to search the area.

Was she suffering a migraine, going crazy? She listened for the creep of a footstep, the sound of breathing, any noise in her apartment. “Who’s there?”

Silence answered. She raked a gaze over the table, trying to ground herself. Her store’s printed balance sheet leaned against her open laptop, the way she’d left it a few minutes ago. The sun’s dying rays shone through the small window above the porcelain sink and slanted downward onto the hardwood. Nothing seemed disturbed.

Near her elbows, the jar of peanut butter rested by the loaf of bread. One slice of wheat lay on the dish smeared with the brown spread.

What was going on? She shuddered with horror at the memory of her sister lying on the ground. Rose had once experienced her sister’s pain when Dahlia broke a foot at soccer. When the X-rays revealed Rose’s bone intact, Gram had ripped into her about faking it to gain attention. After that, Rose censored all her aches and pains, especially if Dahlia had the same problem.

Was something like that happening again? The stove clock showed she’d lost fifteen to twenty minutes of time. Her head throbbed, and her brain refused to work. One idea broke through her frazzled thoughts: Dahlia was in trouble now.

“Rose…help!”

Her sister was calling her. Where was she? A sense of breathless urgency grew in Rose’s chest. She sprinted across the floor to the house phone and hit the speed dial for her sister’s landline even though she doubted her twin was home. Dahlia’s home phone rang over and over. ”Answer. Answer.”

Her voicemail responded. “This is Dahlia. Leave a message.”

Rose hung up and tried her sister’s cell. She listened to the beginning of the recorded greeting before she hit the end button. With a growing premonition of something deadly, she shoved her feet into shoes and threw on her gray parka. Her sister needed her.

Chapter 1

Friday, March 23rd

At 11:00 am, Detective Luke Lennox drove through the bustling center of Ledgeview, New Hampshire. He stopped for the octogenarian crossing the street to enter Joe’s Coffee Shop where the retired crowd hung out. On the sidewalk, a group of women pointed at the Made in New Hampshire jewelry and crafts in the storefront window. The downtown had embraced the slogan, “Buy Local,” and for a small city of thirty thousand, the business section seemed to be thriving. He hit the accelerator and passed the white steeple church at the head of the block. Two miles out, he drove past the popular shopping plaza with Egore’s Electronics.

From there, Luke headed north, past refinished farm houses, dilapidated barns and newer homes separated by acres of land and old stone walls. He pulled over and parked near the swamp where the man walking his dog had found the missing woman’s wallet two days ago. The billfold was located about six feet from the roadside. A good throw from a passing car would hit the spot. If the woman was alive, why hadn’t she reported her possessions stolen or lost? The answer was not one he liked.

Ledgeview had grown in the last few years, but the population clustered around the city center. On the outskirts, buildings fell away to long stretches of woods. Places perfect for illegal activity.

He hopped out of his car, Old Charger, and cool air whirled around him. He buttoned up his dad’s worn, leather jacket and focused on what he’d learned about the case. The twenty-seven-year-old, Vermont female, Dahlia Blue, disappeared from her home almost a month ago and was reported missing by her sister. At the moment, the wallet remained their sole clue. It drew him to the marsh, though yesterday’s organized search of the locale revealed nothing.

From inside his trunk, he removed his size twelve hiking boots and snagged a couple of evidence bags. He probably wouldn’t use them, but solving crimes taught him to always travel prepared. Luke stuffed the bags into the back pocket of his jeans and switched his footwear. Set, he tramped off. Tomorrow he’d meet the woman’s twin, Rose Blue. The Vermont Police had been handling the case up to this point, based on the theory the missing woman remained somewhere in state.

Now, Luke wanted a face-to-face interview with the only living family member. He also wanted, no needed, to find a lead. He raised his shoulders against a blast of wind and tugged on his blue knit hat. A few stray blonde hairs clung to the fabric. When he worked a case, he never stopped for mundane time suckers like haircuts.

The water’s hum grew to a roar as he approached a copse of pines. The ice on the lakes and streams was out early this year and fed the bodies of water. He trekked under protruding boughs. His large form hit and snapped the branches. The evergreen’s fragrance followed him to the other side of the trees where he searched for an obscure footprint or a discarded item.

A stab of gray on the tip of a barren branch waved in the air. He started forward when his boot slipped. He regained his balance with a glance at the river a few yards away. One fall on an icy patch and chances were good he’d slide down into the fast moving current. He wouldn’t last long in the sub freezing water.

Sidestepping, he approached the scrub until he stood beside the silver fabric. Duct tape. It might not have been here when the searchers plodded through, or they simply missed the tape. Even if the gray fabric had gone unnoticed, the tape could have been left by a hiker or hunter and not connected to the missing Dahlia Blue. He removed his jackknife and prayed this was his break. Luke sawed through the tip of the limb, stuffed the evidence bag and walked up toward his car. Three feet from the road, his cell rang.

“Hey, we’re behind the
Smith Plaza
on South Main, near the interstate,” Detective Mike Conroy announced in his thin voice. “A couple of teens got a surprise when they thought they’d get in a little privacy down by the water. Turns out, they were almost able to make it a threesome.”

“Is this a vice call, Conroy? What’s your point?”

“The kids found a woman tangled in the brush on the riverbank, only she was dead and not up for their ideas. From her condition, I’d say she didn’t wander into the undergrowth on her own. I’ve cordoned off the area. Vic appears to be the Vermont woman reported missing last month.”

Dahlia Blue? Damn. “I’m on my way.”

As he sped to the scene in Old Charger, Luke searched his mental list of homicide cases involving dead ringers. He’d read about two identical sisters who murdered their mother in Georgia, and he couldn’t forget the Han twins in California. Two bright, inseparable young women whose bond was broken when one attempted to murder the other. The good twin versus the bad played big in the press.

Was the surviving Blue sibling an evil, vindictive killer who’d murdered her sister? She better have a lot of answers for him. Luke hit the gas. A lot was riding on this investigation. He’d overheard the grumbles at the station that the chief hired him back because of Luke’s father. He’d been a lifer in the department and an old pal of the chief’s.

Plenty of gossips would love Luke, who’d left them behind for bigger and better in Buffalo, to screw up his first case as Ledgeview’s head detective. He shrugged to ease the cramping muscles in his upper back. He’d proved them wrong and knock their duty boots off too.