Dead By Morning

Chapter 1

Maleah hated weddings and wedding receptions.

So why am I here?

She was at the Dunmore Country Club out of a sense of obligation. After all, the bride, Lorie Hammonds, was her sister-in-law’s best friend and the groom, Mike Birkett, was her brother’s best friend. Lorie and Mike had gone through hell to earn their second chance at love. Their reunion was like something out of a fairy tale, albeit an adult fairy tale. Against all odds, they had fallen in love again, nearly twenty years after their teenage love affair had left them both broken hearted. Maleah certainly would have bet against their ever making it to the altar.

Okay, so maybe happy endings were possible. For other people. Not for her.

“Come on.” Her sister-in-law Cathy motioned to her. “They’re leaving. Did you get your little bag of birdseed?”

Groaning inside, Maleah forced a smile and held up the tiny net bag tied with a narrow yellow ribbon. Following the other wedding guests, she went outside and took her place in the crowd awaiting the bride and groom’s departure. The groomsmen had attached tin cans to long streamers that they had tied to the bumper of the groom’s restored antique Mustang. A handpainted sign announcing JUST MARRIED hung precariously from the same streamers.

A roar of excitement heralded the couple’s exit through the double doors that opened to the front lawn of the country club. Lorie wore a pale peach tailored suit with matching heels. Mike had changed from his tux into a sport coat and dress slacks. Arm-in-arm, huge smiles lighting their faces, they hurried along the pathway. They laughed as handfuls of birdseed sailed through the air and rained down on them.

Maleah glanced across the brick sidewalk at her brother Jackson, who stood behind his wife, his arm draped around her and one big hand resting possessively over her belly. Cathy was three and half months pregnant.

When the bride and groom drove away, the crowd dispersed, many returning to the ballroom where the band still played. Maleah felt someone beside her and knew exactly who it was, even before she saw his face.

Derek Lawrence!

She turned, glanced at him, and did her best to maintain a pleasant expression. Despite his devastating good looks and undeniable charm, Derek Lawrence was pure poison as far as Maleah was concerned. From the moment they met several years ago, she had intensely disliked him. But she had to admit that after working with him on the Midnight Killer case for the Powell Agency earlier this year, she now disliked him less. And much to her dismay, she couldn’t deny that she found him attractive.

What woman wouldn’t?

He was tall, dark and dangerously handsome. And he possessed the kind of striking looks attributed to matinee idols of her grandmother’s generation. If Derek had one flaw, it was his physical perfection. He was too damn good looking.

Being attracted to Derek—the last man on earth she should be attracted to—was why she thought of him as pure poison.

“Nice wedding,” he said.

“Yes, it was a very nice wedding,” Maleah replied. “Lorie and Mike seem happy, don’t they?”

“They say that marriage agrees with some people.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“But you don’t believe it?”

She shrugged.

“Jack and Cathy seem blissfully happy,” Derek said.

“Okay, I concede that a small percentage of couples somehow manage to get their happily-ever-after, but most don’t.”

“Not willing to risk it yourself, are you?”

She looked at him, slightly puzzled by his question. “It’s a moot point. I’m not even dating anyone right now.”

“I wasn’t aware that you ever dated. I’ve known you for quite a while and—”

“I date,” she told him emphatically. Too emphatically. “I’m simply selective about whom I date.” She gave him a condescending glance. “Unlike you, my tastes are more discriminating.”

His oh-so-perfect lips lifted at the corners in an amused smile. “Are you implying that I’m some sort of Romeo who romances every woman I meet?”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything. I simply stated a fact.”

Before Derek could respond, Jack and Cathy joined them. He still wore his best man tux and she wore her matron of honor gown, a floor-length creation in light aqua silk.

“You two aren’t arguing again, are you?” Cathy looked pleadingly from Maleah to Derek.

“No, of course not,” Maleah assured her sister-in-law. “We were just discussing dating.”

Lifting his brow inquisitively, Jack grinned. “So, who finally asked who?”

“Huh?” Maleah said.

“What?” Derek asked.

Cathy draped her arm around Jack’s. “I don’t think they were discussing dating each other.”

“God, no!” Maleah said.

Derek chuckled. “You thought I asked Maleah for a date or that she asked me? Where would you have gotten such a far-fetched idea?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jack said. “Maybe the fact that—”

When Cathy gently punched him in the ribs, Jack grunted and instantly shut up.

“We’re heading out,” Cathy said. “I’m exhausted. It’s been a wonderful day, but a very long one.”

“I’ll see y’all at home in a little while,” Maleah said.

“Stay as long as you’d like,” Cathy told her. “The band will be here until midnight and there’s still a ton of food.”

Maleah felt Derek’s body heat as he moved in closer. When he slipped his arm around her waist, she tried not to gasp at the unexpectedness of his touch.

“Come on, Ms. Perdue, let’s dance the night away.” Derek’s black eyes sparkled with a definite challenge. “Since neither of us brought a date tonight . . .”

“You two have fun,” Jack told them as he led Cathy away and herded her toward their car.

As soon as Jack and Cathy were out of earshot, Maleah jerked away from Derek. “It’s late. I’m tired. I have to get up early and drive back to Knoxville in the morning.”

“Excuses, excuses.” His grin widened. “What are you afraid of, Maleah?”

He’s goading you. Don’t let him get to you.

“I’m certainly not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re implying. You should know by now that I’m immune to your charm.”

He held out his hand. “I don’t doubt that you are. So . . . ?”

From the first moment they met several years ago, Derek had seen Maleah Perdue as a challenge. She had disliked him on sight, a reaction he was unaccustomed to getting from women. In the beginning, he had tried to charm her, and when that hadn’t worked, he had ignored her. They had managed to steer clear of each other for the most part, more or less ships passing in the night, although they were both employed by the Powell Private Security and Investigation Agency. Maleah was a Powell agent. He was a consultant. His background as a former FBI profiler had proved to be a valuable asset to the agency. Three months ago when they had been assigned to work together on the Midnight Killer case, they had entered into the partnership reluctantly. Oddly enough, they had made a great team.

When she slid her small, soft hand into his large hand, he felt as if he had won a prize. The lady was not an easy conquest and because of that fact, he found her all the more appealing. Common sense cautioned him to keep their relationship strictly professional and not dip a toe into personal waters. But Derek had never been able to walk away from a challenge—or from a beautiful woman.

As he led her into the country club and straight into the ballroom where dozens of wedding guests remained, he subtly scanned her, out of the corner of his eye, from blond head to pale pink toes. Maleah had the type of wholesome blond beauty that once would have won her the title of All-American Girl. Five-four. Trim, nicely rounded figure. Peaches and cream complexion that tanned to a golden hue. Sun-streaked, shoulderlength blond hair. And topaz brown eyes that changed color depending on the color she wore and on her mood, alternating from a smoky yellowish hazel to a fine, golden bourbon.

When he put his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, he felt her stiffen. “It’s just a dance,” he reminded her. “You’re not committing yourself to spend the night with me.”

“God forbid.” Her gaze lifted and clashed with his.

He drew her closer, allowing their bodies to touch intimately. “Relax, honey. You’re stiff as a poker.”

“Don’t hold me so tight.” She wiggled her shoulders. “And do not call me honey.”

He loosened his hold, giving her a little breathing room. “Better, Blondie?”

“Yes, thank you.” She frowned. “Blondie?”

He grinned. “It suits you.”

She huffed. “I suppose it’s better than honey. Not quite as generic. But you could just call me Maleah, you know.”

“I could.” His grin widened. “Would it help to know that I’ve never called another woman Blondie?”

“You’re determined to aggravate the crap out of me, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s what I live for . . . Blondie.”

As they danced to the smooth, romantic jazz tune, Derek tried to think of some innocent subject, something that wouldn’t lead them into another verbal confrontation.

“Lorie was a beautiful bride,” he finally said.

“Yes, she was.”

Silence.

“It’s great about Cathy being pregnant,” he said. “Jack’s over the moon about it.”

“Yes, he is. He’s really excited about being with her through the entire nine months since he missed out on doing that the first time around.”

“Some men are cut out to be fathers. Jack’s one of them. So is Mike.”

Maleah nodded. “Cathy’s a great mom. And I think Lorie will be, too. She’s great with Mike’s two kids.”

“Do you ever think about having children?”

She paused mid-step. “I wouldn’t bring a child into this world without having a husband first and since I don’t intend to ever marry—”

“You’re really an old fashioned girl, aren’t you?”

“Only about some things.”

“I agree, you know, about not ever getting married and having kids.”

“Why am I not surprised? Why settle down with one woman when you can have your choice of women to sample, a different flavor every week?”

“Why indeed.” Yeah, he could pretty much have his pick, had seldom been turned down, and had successfully avoided committed relationships. He had never allowed himself to care enough about any woman who could tempt him to willingly give up his freedom. He had learned, at his mother’s knee, how a woman could use love to manipulate a man, turn him inside out and eventually destroy him.

Just as one tune ended and another began, Maleah pulled away, but Derek grabbed her hand and refused to relinquish his hold.

“One more dance,” he said.

While she debated his request, his cell phone vibrated in the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. Reluctantly, he released her hand, reached inside his jacket, and removed his phone. Derek noted the caller ID. Griffin Powell, his employer.

“Yeah, Griff, what’s up?” Derek’s gaze connected with Maleah’s, both of them aware that it was highly unlikely that Griff would be calling if it wasn’t important business.

Maleah waited until he had answered the call and then walked with him off the dance floor.

“He’s struck again,” Griff told Derek. “I don’t have all the details, but we’re relatively sure it’s the same person who killed Kristi and Shelley and Holt’s brother.”

Absolute dread tightly coiled Derek’s stomach muscles as he asked, “Who’s the victim?” Was it another Powell employee, as the first two kills had been, or was it a Powell employee family member, as the third murder victim had been?

“Ben Corbett’s seventy-year-old father,” Griff said. “Ben’s the one who called me. A couple of fishermen found the body this morning, but there was no ID on the guy. Apparently he didn’t have his wallet on him. They ran his fingerprints and didn’t get a hit.”

“How did they finally ID him?”

“It seems Mr. Corbett has a breakfast date with a lady friend every Saturday morning and when he didn’t show up, she went to his home. When she couldn’t find him, she started searching for him. One thing led to another and she finally went to the police earlier this evening.”

“Ben’s on assignment, isn’t he?”

“He was in California. He chartered a plane and is flying into Birmingham and renting a car. His dad lived outside Cullman, which is about an hour drive from Dunmore. I want you and Maleah to head down that way as soon as possible. You two can get there before Ben can. When he arrives, he doesn’t need to handle this alone.”

“We’re leaving now,” Derek said. “I’ll pick up my laptop at the hotel. You can send me any other info that we’ll need.”

As soon as Derek slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, he faced Maleah. “The boss wants us to drive to Cullman tonight. Ben Corbett’s father has been murdered.”

“Damn. Griff thinks that it’s the same person who murdered Kristi and Shelley and Holt’s brother, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Why didn’t you tell Derek everything that we know and about what we’ve decided?” Nicole Powell asked her husband moments after he ended his conversation.

“We’ll explain it to him and Maleah together,” Griff said. “I’ll have Barbara Jean compile all the information the agency has accumulated. Maleah and Derek can read over everything and digest it all before I tell them that I expect them to take over as lead investigators on the case.”

“We might be closer to solving this mystery, if it hadn’t taken us more than two months to connect the dots.”

Griff draped his arm around Nic’s shoulders as they stood on the patio overlooking Douglas Lake. “When Kristi was murdered, there was no way we could have known that her killer would target another agent. Until he killed Kristi and then Shelley, their murders identical in almost every way, we couldn’t have known he had a specific MO. And even after Holt’s brother was murdered and Barbara Jean discovered there had been three killers in the past with a similar MO—the Savannah Slasher, the Carver, and the Triangle Man—it took time to study each killer and figure out if our guy was copying one of them.”

“After what we just found out, do you think Maleah is the key to everything that’s happening?” Nic asked.

Griff squeezed her shoulders. “Possibly. But we can’t rule out any of our other scenarios, especially since we don’t know why anyone would be out to punish Maleah by killing people connected to the agency.”

“Unlike you and me. We both have enemies from the past who could be targeting us.”

He nodded. “Yeah, unlike you and me. The logical assumption is that whoever is behind these murders is doing it either to punish me or to get my attention.”

“But it’s possible that the rumors floating around Europe about Malcolm York being alive have nothing whatsoever to do with these murders. You can’t assume you’re the target simply because someone, thousands of miles away, may be pretending to be the man who kidnapped you twenty years ago. It could just as easily be someone from my past, someone connected to one of my cases when I worked for the Bureau.”

“You’re right, of course, “ Griff agreed. “That’s why we cannot rule out any possibility.”

“You don’t think there’s even the slightest chance that the real Malcolm York is alive, do you?”

Griff’s square jaw tightened. “York is dead. I have no doubts. Yvette, Sanders, and I killed him sixteen years ago. Unless he’s found a way to rise from the dead, whoever the hell is calling himself Malcolm York is an imposter.”

“This man is in Europe somewhere, not here in the U.S. To date, all the murders related to the Powell Agency have occurred here in America. We have no evidence to indicate a connection between him and these murders.”

“Yes, I know. And the only apparent connection between the agency and the murders is Maleah.”

“She is going to freak out when we tell her that our research shows the three previous murders almost identically mimic the murders committed by the Carver and that one of his first victims was Noah Laborde.”

“It’s no coincidence that the original Carver murdered Maleah’s college boyfriend. What it means, we can’t be sure, not at this point. But sooner or later—”

“Maleah has become my best friend.” Nic rested her head on Griff’s shoulder. “What better way to get to me than by using my dearest friend?”

“And what better way to send me a warning than to use my wife and her best friend to send that message?”

“Maleah will want to follow through and see this out to the end. You know she will. She’ll feel that it’s personal because the original Carver killed Noah Laborde.”

“Yes, I know, she will. I also know that we need Derek’s expertise. We need a professional profile of our killer. And Derek has a keen sixth sense about these things. I can’t give him and Maleah the choice of not working together, despite their personal animosity,” Griff said. “I’m putting the entire staff—office employees and agents in the field—on high alert. This case takes precedence over every other case. Until we find and stop this killer, no one connected to the Powell Agency is safe.”

Nic turned into Griff’s arms. He cocooned her within his embrace.

She might have doubts about why this was happening and about who was responsible, but Griff didn’t. Not really. She knew her husband. No matter what she said to him or how many scenarios she presented to him, he laid the blame squarely on his own shoulders. He truly believed that innocent people were now paying for his past sins.