Shadow in the Pines

Shadow in the Pines

by
PJ Nunn

SHADOW IN THE PINES is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by PJ Nunn

Shadow in the Pines

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Tidal Wave Publishing, a division of BreakThrough Promotions.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For information, contact Tidal Wave Publishing, 101 Sycamore St., Waxahachie TX 75165

Cover design by Michael Canales

Formatting by Polgarus Studios

Other books by PJ Nunn:

Angel Killer: A Shari Markham Mystery

Private Spies: A Jesse Morgan Mystery

Praise for
Angel Killer
:

“Dr Shari Markham demonstrates skills Charlie Fox would be proud of in this tense hunt for a deranged serial killer. Crackles with romantic suspense.”

– Zoe Sharp, author of
Die Easy
and the Charlie Fox Thriller series

ANGEL KILLER
by PJ Nunn had me riveted. As a Forensic Psychologist, I tend to be critical of such characters, but Ms. Nunn's lead character Forensic Psychologist Shari Markham hits the mark! I was immediately hooked when a child's body is found and Shari begins the "magic" of a Forensic Psychologist. More bodies add to the suspense and a love interest adds to a realistic feel. I was right there with Shari, as PJ weaved her words into a thriller. Captivating! Delightful! A+

– Dr. Cynthia Lea Clark, Psy.D., Ph.D., MHt. CHS-IV Forensic Psychopathologist, Actress, Writer

Tense and enthralling,
ANGEL KILLER
is a first-rate story of nail-biting suspense and unpredictable mystery. From page one it grips the reader and never lets go. Bring on more of Shari Markham, Dallas PD profiler. She's a winner!

– Joanne Pence, author of the Angie Amalfi mysteries

For anyone that loves a well written and thoroughly developed murder mystery, I recommend PJ Nunn’s
Angel Killer
. This book is dark and not for the faint of heart. It deals with a serial killer murdering the most innocent people in our society – our children. But don’t despair, the protagonist Shari Markham is on the case!

– Michael E. Witzgall, Law Enforcement Consultant, Charlie-Mike Enterprises

Praise for
Private Spies
:

In what will hopefully be the first in a series the author has created a contrast to the typical super-competent detective with stellar self-defense skills and whose impulsiveness would be frustrating were it not for the fact that Jesse is completely aware of her flaws. Her emotions frequently override her thoughts, but what does become charming is that she actually grows and learns from her mistakes. Humor remains central to the core of this very complex and well-written mystery and readers will enjoy a heroine who manages to defy the odds and survive, often despite her best attempts to get herself killed. It's impossible not to somehow fall in love with this character who both exasperates and delights readers with her impetuous but always well-intentioned behavior.

– Cindy Chow

Maybe a little too much back-story slows the beginning of this novel, but don't let that stop you. Once the action starts, it is non-stop.

– Pat Batta

I enjoyed this very much. Kept me guessing. I had a hard time putting it down once I started reading. Great characters, especially Jesse. I would like to see them again in another book.

– Leslie

This is an engaging twisted private investigative thriller starring a wonderful rookie and the veteran trying to keep her out of trouble though she is a magnet for tsuris. Fast-paced from that first call, readers (and the sleuths) wonder what is going on as nothing is what it is supposed to be; the refreshing reason will stun the audience.

– Harriet Klausner

I loved the main character and the quirky way she gets the job done. There were lots of plot twists that kept the story interesting. I look forward to reading more. Very enjoyable!

– Marcia

 
“Because we focused on the snake, we missed the scorpion.” – Egyptian Proverb

Acknowledgments

From the time I was small, I was taught that if I could say it and believe it, I could do it. Like so many children of my era before technology took over our lives, I grew up in worlds of make believe and imagination, worlds created with my siblings and friends. My parents taught me to love reading; my Grandma Ford taught me to transition my pretending into becoming. I’m ever so grateful for that. And of course there have been countless others who made deposits of wisdom and knowledge into my life until I ended up surrounded by friends who were, like I am, writers.

There are far too many of you to mention, but in particular as this book goes to print, I have to thank Earl Staggs, Jan Christensen, Pat Reid, Charlene Truxler, my clients, and so many others who daily remind me what a joy it is to be part of the widespread mystery writer’s community. I love coming to work with you every day.

Then there’s Mike Witzgall, my partner in crime. He’s endured endless phone calls, text messages and emails while I try to make sure I don’t write anything that will make a cop throw the book against the wall. I promise if I messed something up it was my doing, not Mike’s.

And of course I have to thank my family, especially my husband David and my two sons who are still at home, Dave Jr. and Caleb. Thank you so much for keeping things going around the household while I spent countless hours after work on the computer. I couldn’t have done this without any of you. Thank you all.

Chapter One

Maneuvering the Taurus as close to the front walk as she dared, Dani Jones got out and surveyed her surroundings. It was still daylight in town, but here, about three miles down a winding road, the dense foliage and canopy of trees cast eerie shadows and blotted out the early evening sun. What happened to the comfy and cozy the realtor promised? Visions of a cozy log cabin nestled among the trees with smoke trailing from the chimney while she snuggled on a sofa in front of a roaring blaze vanished as quickly as the smoke would in a burst of cold air. A quick glance at the back seat of her car reminded her she’d exchanged the thrill of buying her first house and starting a new life for the agonies of packing and moving. That might have tempered her enthusiasm just a little.

Before her stood a log cabin. Her log cabin, now. Two stories of history, planted firmly in the midst of overgrown pine trees and an assortment of scraggly shrubs that reached out spindly limbs and grabbed her jeans as she walked by. The sidewalk was a collection of stones arranged in a semi rectangular pattern and pounded into the earth. The shadows and piles of fallen leaves and debris hid whatever grass there might have been. Since it was only late August, the fallout testified to total neglect of the landscape for at least a year. Uncovered portions of the yard were cracked and dry, with only a few sprouts of weeds scattered about to prove that it had once sustained life. The front porch would creak, she knew that before she set foot on it.

The wind, whistling and rustling through the trees, gave her a chill even though it wasn’t cold. Dani scurried up the steps, digging in the snug fitting pocket of her jeans for the key. If she hurried, she might just get the car unpacked before it was really, truly, totally dark.

Heaving the last box through the door almost an hour later, Dani sank down on it and kicked the front door closed, wrinkling her nose at the onslaught of stale, musty air that replaced the fresh, cedar scent of the outdoors. Home. From now on, this was it. Wearily, she pulled the cap off of her head and ran long fingers through her short blonde hair and wondered for the millionth time if she’d made the right choice. But this was no time to dwell on the wisdom of her move, or lack thereof. Even though the boxes were inside, she had miles to go before she could sleep.

The house came furnished; Dani bought it lock, stock, and barrel. At the time, it seemed preferable to making arrangements for all her things to be transported here from Austin, but now, looking at it close up, she wasn’t so sure. From the looks of it, most of the pieces had come from garage sales. One man’s trash, as they say. Outside, the logs gave the place character, but they weren’t visible inside. There wasn’t much character visible either, she mused, surveying the four white walls. Not even a nail hole interrupted their monotony. The only variation was a light smoke stain around the edge of the ceiling. It could be worse, though. It could be covered with hideous wallpaper she’d have to remove before she could redecorate.

The stone fireplace, tucked away in the corner, showed promise. At least it would, if she patched and refinished the mantel. Oh well, she sighed, getting to her feet. She had a bed to sleep on and a table to set up her computer. She could replace it all, piece by piece, if she had to. Hadn’t she decided this was her chance to start life all over? Besides, out here in the boonies with no friends or relatives, what else did she have to do after work?

Life for Dani, or Danielle Elisabeth Jones as she was legally known, hadn’t always been easy. Still, she’d managed to do okay. Raised alone by a single mom from the time she was six, she knew what it was to do without, but somehow, Mom worked hard and got her through college. When she married her college sweetheart and he graduated from medical school, she thought she’d made it. At least Mom died before things went bad.

Mark Bridges was every mother’s dream for her daughter, according to him, anyway. That should have tipped her off a long time ago, but she was too intoxicated by his attention. Tall, dark and handsome, he imagined himself a real life clone of George Clooney on ER, and even started a first year residency in emergency medicine. Less than a month into it, he bailed, begging his way into another residency spot specializing in plastic surgery. After all, that’s where the real money was.

At Mark’s suggestion, Dani postponed graduate school and went to work full time so they could afford the glamorous lifestyle of a doctor in spite of a resident’s salary. A chic townhouse in a high-class neighborhood. A used, but very flashy Porsche. All the right clothes to wear to all the right cocktail parties. How could she have been so blind? She’d heard all the stories, too, of women who worked to put their husbands through med school, only to get divorced when they made it. She just never believed it could happen to them. To her. He’d actually had the nerve to tell her that the reason he was first attracted to her was her blonde hair and the fact that she was just the right height to wear on his arm. Instead of complacently accepting it and understanding like he fully expected her to do, she experienced a wake up call that was long overdue. Their divorce was final almost a year ago.

It wasn’t until she saw his wedding announcement in the Austin paper that she realized how deeply it had changed her. Whether it was a rebound reaction or a sudden taste of reality, she didn’t know, but suddenly, she had to get out of there. Two weeks later, she’d submitted an application for admission to grad school at the University of Texas in Tyler, secured a position in the lab there, and started a search for a house.

The divorce settlement was surprisingly generous, awarding her the townhouse and all its furnishings, not that any of it held fond memories. Fortunately, she found a buyer right away and made a tidy profit on the sale. A couple of yard sales later, she was on her way, leaving Mark Bridges and her old life behind, and picking up the dreams she’d shelved for him almost ten years ago.

Real estate in east Texas was considerably less pricey than in the elite Austin neighborhood they’d inhabited. Maybe she was naïve, but when the real estate agent tentatively suggested an old fashioned log cabin located outside of town, it seemed perfect. When she heard the price, it seemed better still. She paid cash for the house and still had enough left in the bank to support herself for a year or so, even without a job if she kept her budget under control.

Hauling her suitcases upstairs, she dropped them on the four-poster bed and turned, catching a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror. Moving closer, she peered at her image. Did she look thirty-four? She’d gained a few pounds since college, but she hadn’t lost her girlish shape. She’d always been lean. Faded blue jeans hugged her hips and thighs, still shapely and firm. Her waist was proportionately smaller than her hips, leaving a slight gap between the waistband and her waist. Her breasts were firm and full enough that a bulky sweatshirt didn’t quite conceal their presence. It was her face that drew her attention, though.