Scene of the Crime: Bachelor Moon

He was shirtless and his dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been in bed.

Daniella’s mouth went dry. “Is there something you need?”

“Yeah, there is.” He walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze never wavering from her. “I need that kiss we talked about earlier.”

Daniella knew the difference between right and wrong, and she’d always told herself that it was wrong to get involved in any way with her guests, but at the moment she didn’t care. She wanted to be wrong.

She’d expected something simple, something light, but when he reached a hand up to cup the back of her head and pulled her tight against his bare chest, she knew this kiss wasn’t going to be anything remotely resembling simple.

Scene of the Crime: Bachelor Moon

Carla Cassidy

Dedicated to Annie Hale,

Friend and fellow writer who dreamed of a book called

Bachelor Moon.

Annie, I know the angels are now enjoying your stories,

basking in the warmth of your soul and delighting in the

sound of your laughter. Our loss is Heaven’s gain.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels for Harlequin Books. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.

Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Sam Connelly—The burned-out FBI agent wasn’t looking for love and he definitely wasn’t looking for murder.

Daniella Butler—She runs a bed-and-breakfast and has become a killer’s obsession.

Mary Marie Butler—Daniella’s precocious five-year-old daughter is convinced she can turn Sam into the third princess in her little operation.

Johnny Butler—Daniella’s ex-husband. He’d disappeared years ago. Was he back now with a score to settle?

Matt Radar—He was reputed to have killed his wife. Was it possible he had another victim in his sights?

Frank Mathis—Daniella depended on the handyman to keep things running smoothly. Did he harbor dark secrets that nobody knew?

Jeff Tyson—He and Daniella’s ex had been best friends, but now he seems to want more than just friendship from Daniella.

Contents

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 One

If he’d agreed to see the FBI psychiatrist like his boss had wanted, this was probably what the doctor would have ordered.

That was the first thought that jumped into Sam Connelly’s head when he pulled up in front of the Bachelor Moon Bed and Breakfast.

Located ten miles from the small town of Bachelor Moon, Louisiana, the huge two-story house was surrounded by large cypress and maple trees and sported a large sweeping veranda. The website had indicated that the house had three guest quarters inside and an additional three in a renovated carriage house.

As Sam parked his car and got out he was greeted with the blessed sound of nothing but nature at work. A bird sang from one of the trees as a light breeze rustled through the branches. Somewhere from the distance he heard a faint splash from the huge pond on the side of the house that the website claimed was stocked with catfish and bass.

Yes, this was just what the doctor would have ordered: two weeks of peace and quiet, fourteen days of thinking about nothing more difficult than what bait to use. He supposed he needed a break from the darkness that had been his life for so long. In truth there were times when he felt as if he’d swallowed a whole night full of darkness.

He stretched his arms overhead. The drive from Kansas City to Bachelor Moon, Louisiana, should have taken only about nine hours, but road construction had added an additional two hours to the trip.

The bed in the motel room where he’d stayed the night before had been abysmal, and he’d gotten little sleep. If he thought about it he could get downright cranky.

This vacation had been forced on him, and Sam didn’t like the idea of time off or anyone telling him what he needed to do. As an FBI profiler he knew that the serial killers he hunted certainly didn’t take vacations.

With a sigh he accepted the here and now and grabbed his duffel bag from the backseat. Although it was just after ten in the morning, already the sun beat hard on his shoulders and the humidity pressed tight against his chest.

At that moment the front door of the house swung open and a woman appeared on the veranda. She wore a long, dark blue, gauzy skirt that the breeze swirled around her slender legs, and a light blue sleeveless blouse that exposed lightly tanned arms and emphasized the press of full breasts.

Long blond hair framed a heart-shaped face, and the smile of welcome that curved her lips caused a flicker of something alien deep inside Sam.

“Hello,” she said as he approached. “You must be Mr. Connelly.”

“Sam. You can call me Sam,” he replied. As he drew closer he realized that she wasn’t just pretty, but she had the kind of classic beauty that required little makeup or artifice. Her eyes were the blue of a summer sky, and her features were elegant without being cold.

“I’m Daniella Butler, owner and operator of this place.” She opened the front door wide to allow him inside.

He swept past her and into a large foyer, aware of the scent of ripened peaches that either came from her or rode in the air inside the house.

“I’ll just show you around and then take you up to your room,” she said.

He nodded, vaguely surprised by his instant attraction to her. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything for anyone. He’d turned off his emotions a long time ago.

“This is the common room,” she explained as she led him into a large family-room-type area. There was a television, a bookshelf with books, puzzles and games, a table and a sofa and several easy chairs. “It’s just a place to hang out if you’re feeling sociable.”

The one thing he didn’t intend to feel while he was here was sociable, he thought, as she led him into the next room, a large dining area.

“This is where meals are served,” she continued. “Breakfast is from seven to nine, lunch is eleven to one and dinner is five to seven.” Her voice had the soft drawl of somebody born and bred in the region. “On Sundays the only meal I serve is breakfast, but there’s plenty of dining places in town. I also try to keep little nibbles in the common room if you get the munchies between meals.”

She offered him another warm smile, and he forced his lips to stretch in what he hoped was a smile of his own. It had been so long since he’d smiled at anyone the gesture felt forced and strange.

“Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room,” she said.

As he followed her up the wide staircase he tried not to notice the sway of her shapely hips before him. Normally, his head was filled with crime scene reports and grisly details of murders. He couldn’t remember the last time that his head had been empty enough to enjoy the view of a woman’s swinging hips, the weight of a fishing pole in his hand, the simple things that everyone told him made life worth living.

“Is it always this quiet?” he asked once they had reached the second-floor landing.

She turned to face him. “On the weekdays it’s fairly quiet. I have one man who has been staying here for the past two months, but other than that the place only fills up on the weekends and then things get a little livelier. So, that gives you the next three days to enjoy the peace and quiet, if that’s what you’re after.”

She gestured him into a room on her right. The large, airy bedroom was painted soft green with white borders. The four-poster bed looked as if it had one of those pillowy mattresses that instantly made Sam’s muscles moan in sweet anticipation.

He set his duffel bag on the floor and moved to the window to look outside. From this vantage point he could see a wooden walkway, which led to a dock, and a pond almost big enough to be considered a lake, which sparkled in the morning sunshine.

“The bathroom is here,” she said, drawing his attention away from the window. “And here’s the key to the room. Unfortunately the days of unlocked rooms in a bed-and-breakfast are over.”

He took the key she held out to him and noticed that she wore no wedding ring. Not that it mattered. Not that he cared in the least. There was only one thing he wanted to know from her. “What’s the best bait to use?”

“Worms or crawdads,” she replied. “And I don’t clean what you catch, but I’ll be glad to cook it up for you if you want. There’s a shed in the backyard that has bait and a place to clean fish, and you’re welcome to help yourself. Just let me know if you need anything else and once again, welcome to Bachelor Moon.”

He was grateful when she left him alone. Being sociable and pleasant had never been one of Sam’s strong suits. What Sam did best was crawl into the mind of killers.

“Not here, not now,” he muttered to himself as he opened his duffel bag and began to unpack.

It took him only minutes to store the jeans and T-shirts he’d brought with him in the dresser drawers. Then he left the room and went back downstairs, intent on spending the rest of the day with a fishing pole in his hand.

He didn’t see Daniella as he went back down the stairs although he heard the murmur of voices coming from another room. He walked back out the front door and to his car, where he grabbed a new fishing pole and tackle box from the trunk.

He’d been fishing only a couple of times in his life, the last time over twenty-five years ago, when he’d been about ten. At that time he’d gone fishing with his best friend and his best friend’s father. It had been one of the few good memories he had of his childhood.

He found the shed where Daniella had indicated bait was kept. Inside the cool, dark interior an old refrigerator hummed; it stored foam containers of fat worms. Crickets chirped from a cage, and a dank tank held crawdads. There was also a wooden table with a water spigot and a trough for cleaning the daily catch.

Sam grabbed a container of worms and tried to keep his mind empty as he walked down the wooden walkway that led to the dock at the edge of the pond. The dock held several lawn chairs. He grabbed one and positioned it facing outward, then eased down and drew in a lungful of the warm, humid air.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be in the field, hunting bad guys and getting them off the streets. He grabbed a worm and looped it onto his hook, then cast out into the sparkling pond.

His coworkers called him the Prince of Darkness because of his ability to creep into the mind and soul of evil. “You’re immersing yourself too deeply in your work,” Assistant Director Ken Walt had told him three days ago. “You need some time off, Sam. You need some distance, a reminder that there’s still good out in the world. You might not know it but you’re on the verge of permanent burnout from life.”

Sam had argued that he was fine, but ultimately he was given a choice: go talk to the company psychiatrist or take a vacation. So here he was, sitting on a dock wishing he were back on the job.

“If you cast closer to the shore, you’ll have better luck.”

Sam jumped at the voice coming from just behind him and turned to see a little girl in overall shorts and a red T-shirt, her long blond hair escaping from pigtails. It was a no-brainer who the kid belonged to; she looked just like her pretty mama.

“Thanks, kid, but I’m doing fine.” He turned back to stare out at the water, not wanting to encourage any further conversation.

“But if you want to catch fish you should do like I tell you,” she replied, and sidled up next to him. “Frank says the best fish in the world like to hide in those big cattails by the shore.”

The last thing Sam wanted was a fishing lesson given to him by a five-or six-year-old. “I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” she replied. “But if you catch a big old catfish then Mommy can fry it up for supper, and there’s nothing better than Mommy’s fried catfish.”

“I’m not going to catch much of anything if you keep talking. You’ll scare all the fish away.”

She giggled, a pleasant, childish sound. “Silly boy. Fish don’t have ears and you sound a little bit crabby.”

“I am just a little bit crabby,” he replied, hoping that would end the conversation and she’d go find somebody else to talk to.

“Well, you can just get happy in the same pants you got crabby in,” she exclaimed.

An unexpected burst of laughter escaped him, the sound rusty from lack of use. She grinned, pleased that she’d made him laugh.

“I’m Macy Marie Butler,” she continued. “And I’m a little princess. My mommy is a big princess, and you don’t have to be scared of monsters when we’re around.”

“And why is that?” Sam asked, despite his desire to be left alone.

“Monsters don’t have any power when there are princesses around.”

“Macy Marie!” Daniella’s voice drifted to them from the back porch.

“Uh-oh. I’m in big trouble now.” The little girl released a deep sigh. “Here she comes and she’s gonna yell at me. I might even get a time-out.”

Sam turned to see Daniella coming down the walk, the skirt swirling with each determined stride she took. When she reached them she gave her daughter a stern look. “Macy, go on and get to your room. You know you aren’t supposed to bother the guests.”

“She wasn’t bothering me,” Sam surprised himself by saying. “In fact, I was probably bothering her by asking so many questions about the fishing.”

Daniella eyed him dubiously, but Macy gave him a beatific grin. “And I was explaining to him about monsters and that you and I are princesses,” Macy added.

Daniella’s cheeks flushed with color, and once again Sam was struck with a tiny flicker of heat in the pit of his stomach. God, the woman had a smile that could sizzle an egg in a cold skillet.

“Yes, well, this little princess needs to get inside and clean her room,” she said, and gave Macy a pat on her bottom.

As Macy ran toward the house Daniella looked at Sam once again. “The princess thing—it started as a story to help with her nightmares of monsters.” She looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“So I guess that means you don’t want me to call you Your Highness,” Sam said. He began to wind in his fishing line.

“Definitely not,” she replied with a small laugh.

“Still, it’s nice to know you have the monster thing under control.”

“Thankfully in Bachelor Moon we don’t have to worry much about monsters. Can I bring you a glass of iced tea or something?” she asked, obviously eager to change the subject.

He shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” He cast his line out closer to the shore where Macy had indicated he should be fishing.

“Again, I apologize for my daughter. She can be a bit of a handful.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Sam assured her. “Besides, I’m sure she’s the apple of her daddy’s eyes.”

Her eyes darkened. “I divorced my husband a year ago. Enjoy the rest of the morning and we’ll see you inside for lunch.” She didn’t wait for a reply but instead turned on her heel and hurried back toward the house.

Sam watched her until she disappeared into the house, then turned back and stared out at the pond. The whole bed-and-breakfast thing was a pretty big operation for a single mother.

Of course, just because she wasn’t married didn’t mean she was all alone. A woman as gorgeous as Daniella Butler probably had any number of men willing to step up and help her in whatever way she needed.

Sam wouldn’t mind helping her if she needed a body to warm her bed. He definitely found her physically attractive, and it had been way too long since Sam had been with any woman.

Monsters. Sam didn’t worry much about the monsters he encountered in his work. What he worried about was the monster he feared slept deep in his soul, a monster that might awaken at any moment.

DANIELLA STOOD AT THE back door and stared at the back of her newest guest. Hot. The man was definitely hot, with his slightly shaggy black hair and intense blue eyes.

When he’d first gotten out of his car and had stretched, she’d watched from the door and admired the width of his broad shoulders, emphasized by his lean torso and long legs.

Even though she’d officially sworn off men years ago, that didn’t mean she couldn’t lust after a particularly handsome specimen when he was right under her roof.

She told herself the slight flush of heat she felt was from the corn bread cooking in the oven and not from speaking with Mr. Hunky Sam Connelly.

Thinking about her corn bread, she opened the oven door to check on it. Dinner this evening would be a traditional gumbo with corn bread. Lunch would be chicken salad croissants with potato salad and coleslaw. It would only be Sam for lunch. Her long-term guest, Matt Rader, was rarely here for the noon meal.

When Daniella had opened the bed-and-breakfast she’d decided to offer three meals to her guests. She loved to cook and adding the additional meals meant she could also make a little money on the food.

And money was always an issue, so she was pleased that for the next month she was pretty well booked solid for the weekends.

Johnny would be so proud. The words jumped unbidden into her mind. As always, thoughts of her ex-husband brought with them myriad emotions that ranged from anger, to grief, to an uneasy lack of closure that might always haunt her.

The knock on the back door shoved thoughts of Johnny right out of her head. Frank Mathis peered in through the screen, and she motioned him inside.

“That flower bed on the north side of the house is looking pretty dismal,” he said. “I thought I’d head into town and pick up a couple of new plants to add in. Is there anything you need from the stores?”

She smiled at Frank, who had been her right-hand man since she’d bought the place a little over five years ago. He could make a flower bloom as easily as he could fix the temperamental air conditioner. “No, I think I’m good until Sunday when Macy and I will do some grocery shopping, but let me get you some money for the new plants.”

Frank raised a hand to dismiss the offer. “I’ll take care of it. I still have some of the money left that you gave me to replace those shrubs in the front.”

“Thanks, Frank. And you might want to plan to eat dinner here tonight. I’m making gumbo.”

He patted the slight paunch at his middle. “You know I love your gumbo. I’ll definitely be here.”

As Frank left through the back door, Daniella pulled her corn bread from the oven and thought about the man who had been such a support when Johnny had disappeared and she’d been left alone to run this place.

Frank had worked with Johnny at a factory that manufactured furnace boilers. Two months before Daniella and Johnny had opened the doors to her bed-and-breakfast the factory had closed down, leaving Frank and many other men in the small town unemployed.

Frank had come to them and confessed that he was broke and needed to move out of the apartment he’d been renting. He knew they had a caretaker’s cottage across the pond, and he’d sworn that for free rent and board he would take care of whatever needed to be done around the place. Two months later Johnny was gone, but Frank had proven himself invaluable around the place. And it was an added bonus that he adored Macy.

She found herself once again standing at the back door and staring out at her latest guest. Even though he was still seated in the chair she sensed a tenseness about him, a simmering energy that she’d noticed the moment she’d introduced herself to him.

She closed her eyes and for a moment could imagine his strong arms wrapped around her, the spicy scent of his cologne on her skin, in her bedsheets. It had been so long since she’d been held in the warmth of an embrace, felt the breathless excitement of making love.

Sam Connelly looked like a man who would know how to please a woman. There had been a dark heat in his eyes as his gaze had slid the length of her, a sultry heat that had made her feel all tingly inside.

She snapped her eyes open and moved away from the window. What on earth was she thinking? It was ridiculous to fantasize about a guest, even one who looked like Sam.

One of her cardinal rules was to never get involved with her guests. Sam Connelly was just like all the other people she allowed into her life—fleeting and definitely temporary.

The ring of the phone pulled her from her crazy thoughts. As she went to the desk in the kitchen to answer, she noticed that the caller ID indicated the call was anonymous.

It wasn’t unusual for her to get anonymous calls. Some people called to find out the rates and information about the bed-and-breakfast and didn’t want her to have their number. They were probably afraid she’d make follow-up calls to them and try to talk them into a vacation they didn’t want.

“Bachelor Moon Bed and Breakfast,” she said into the receiver. There was a long moment of silence, although she could tell the line wasn’t dead. “Hello?”

“For you.”

The voice sounded strange, as if it had been somehow altered. “Excuse me?” Daniella replied. There was a soft click and she knew the caller was no longer on the line.

She hung up the phone with a frown. For you. What in the heck did that mean? Maybe she hadn’t heard right.

She tried to dismiss the call from her mind, knowing it was time to get lunch prepared. Still, as she got busy setting the dining room table for Sam’s lunch, she couldn’t stop the dark sense of foreboding that slithered through her.

Chapter Two

Sam fished through the lunch hour. He had a couple of bites but never landed a single fish. It didn’t matter. As the day wore on and the peaceful silence of his surroundings seeped through him he began to relax in a way he hadn’t done in years.

Not once did the details of a case enter his mind. Not once did he think about any of the killers he’d hunted and caught in his career. He just breathed in the air, napped for a few minutes and relaxed.

By four o’clock the late July sun was at its hottest, and he decided to call it a day and head inside to his room. He stored his fishing pole and tackle box in the trunk of his car and went into the house.

He saw nobody as he climbed the stairs to his room, but the air was redolent with the scent of cooking, and he immediately thought of the woman who would be his landlord for the next two weeks.

He certainly wouldn’t be averse to a little vacation romance as long as she was willing and able and understood the meaning of temporary. It was the only kind of relationship he had—hot and very, very temporary.

Minutes later he stood beneath a shower, grateful that the water pressure was good and the water steamy hot. He hoped the food was as good as it smelled. He regretted missing lunch because now he was starving.