Stalking A Killer

By Marilyn Clay

From the rocky shores of Lake Stevens near small town Pinehill, Texas to the teeming streets of Dallas and sweltering beaches of Miami, aspiring PI Amanda Mason fearlessly stalks the killer who is letting her father take the blame for murder.

Single mom Amanda Mason thinks she'd make a pretty good Private Investigator. Trouble is, she doesn't own a cell phone or a computer and her old green Dodge only starts when it wants to. Plus, she's stuck at home with a precocious five-year-old, AND looking after her elderly father who just had a heart attack while helping him run his dilapidated bait and tackle shop on the lake.  When the Pinehill PD suddenly charge her dad with murder, Amanda has to prove she'd make a VERY GOOD PI and solve the case ASAP, otherwise her dad is going to jail for life! Since the handsome man who has agreed to help her is keeping his true identity a secret, Amanda fears it's possible he knows the answers and is keeping her in the dark. But, why?

"Marilyn Clay's mystery novels keep readers on the edge of their seats while breathlessly awaiting the outcome. Another well-done and thoroughly engaging novel by this masterful story-teller." – Red River Reviews.

"Well-drawn believable characters coupled with an unusual setting and a surprise ending all add up to a very enjoyable read. A unique mystery set near Dallas, Texas." – Mystery Reviewer.

Marilyn Clay's suspense novels have been praised by The Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus, and literary magazines such as Historical Novels Review, Romantic Times, Red River Reviews, and others.

Best-selling author Marilyn Clay's most recent novels include the critically acclaimed Miss Juliette Abbott Regency Mystery Series; MURDER AT MORLAND MANOR, MURDER IN MAYFAIR and MURDER IN MARGATE. All available in print and Ebook. Book 4 in the Juliette Abbott Regency Murder Mystery series, MURDER AT MEDLEY PARK, is coming in 2018. All of the Juliette Abbott Regency Mysteries are available in both print and Ebook and are suitable for teen readers.

All of Marilyn Clay's novels are clean with no strong language, graphic scenes, or violence. All are suitable for teen readers.

Marilyn Clay's historical suspense novels include DECEPTIONS: A Jamestown Novel, originally released in hardcover and now available in Ebook. Catherine travels to the New World in search of her betrothed but what she finds in Jamestown nearly destroys her. (Also released as DANGEROUS DECEPTION and THE LETTER)

SECRETS AND LIES: A Jamestown Novel. Four young English girls travel to the New World on a Bride Ship in 1620 but are shocked to discover that someone in Jamestown wants them all dead! (Also in Ebook as DANGEROUS SECRETS and in paperback as A PETTICOAT AND LAMBSKIN GLOVES.)

Another popular historical suspense thriller by Marilyn Clay is BETSY ROSS: ACCIDENTAL SPY, set in Philadelphia in 1776. Quaker Betsy Ross sets out to uncover who killed her beloved husband John Ross, but is instead drawn into a dangerous underworld of spies and double agents. Available in print and e-book.

MARILYN CLAY has writtten seven Regency romances, the newest THE WRONG MISS FAIRFAX. If the handsome lord cannot sort it out, he just might propose to the wrong Miss Fairfax!

A former University Editor with the University of Texas at Dallas, for sixteen years Marilyn published The Regency Plume, an international newsletter focused on the English Regency. She also designed RWAs RITA award and was presented with the first RITA when the golden statuette was unveiled.

For more information visit Marilyn Clay Author online.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marilyn Clay
• Release date: Sep 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502240699

Book preview

First Mayfair Mysteries Paperback Edition published August 2013

All Editions of Stalking A Killer Copyright © August 2013 by Marilyn Jean Clay

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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This E-book is for your personal enjoyment only. It is unlawful to distribute copies of this e-book to others. Please do not contribute to the online piracy of copyrighted works.  Thank you for respecting the copyright laws of the United States of America and other countries and for respecting this author’s hard work.

Stalking A Killer is a work of fiction; any resemblance to actual persons or places is purely coincidental.

Cover photography by Alieksei Smalenski. 123RF Photos.

STALKING A KILLER is also available in print.

ISBN-10: 1490515623

ISBN-13: 978-1490515625

MARILYN CLAY’S NOVELS keep readers on the edge of their seats while breathlessly awaiting the outcome. Another well-done and thoroughly engaging novel by this masterful story-teller. – Barbara Hunt, Red River Reviews.

Well-drawn and believable characters coupled with an unusual setting and a surprise ending all add up to a very enjoyable read. – Angela Harrington, Mystery Reviewer.

Chapter 1

He Should Be Back By Now

IT WAS JUST A KISS, Amanda told herself. Actually it wasn’t even a real kiss, because she hadn’t kissed him back. He had taken her completely by surprise last night when she walked out to his truck with him after they returned home from the pizza parlor in Pinehill. Maybe she had let him kiss her because her five-year-old son Casey had been so excited to get to go somewhere and had had such a good time. Or maybe it was because Trevor had a way with kids and Casey had actually listened to him when he firmly told the boy to sit down and eat his pizza when all Casey wanted to do was run across the restaurant to where the clowns were. Or maybe it was because Jake, her dad, had been so happy that she’d finally agreed to go somewhere with a man . . . after three long years of refusing every single one who had asked her for a date. Or . . . and this was probably the real reason, maybe deep down, she really wanted to kiss him. Trevor Banks was, after all, the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on.

Still, Amanda had clearly told the tall, blond hunk two days ago when he first came into her dad’s Boat Rental and Tackle Shop on the Lake Stevens Road northeast of Dallas that she did not date the help; then in the middle of the job interview, and again at the end, he had boldly asked her to go out to dinner with him! She had refused, of course. But yesterday . . . she wasn’t sure how because it happened so fast . . . he had convinced her to let him take her and Casey out for supper last night.

And, she had to admit, they had all had fun.

At least six feet tall, with thick, wavy blond hair and eyes as blue as the Texas sky, Trevor’s lean, muscular body was tanned and toned to perfection. Standing next to him beside his truck last night, every time a soft breeze wafted by, she got a heady whiff of his cologne. Expensive cologne. Something she hadn’t smelled in a long time because her dad didn’t wear the stuff. And the majority of the wrinkled up old fishermen who frequented Jake’s Boat Rental and Tackle Shop sure didn’t smell good. Not like Trevor.

Now, here she was behind the counter in her dad’s lakeside store again this morning, acting like a teenager in love, her head jerking up every time she heard the rumble of male voices coming from outdoors. Every time the bell over the shop door jangled, she jumped. Once, when she caught a glimpse of a tall blond man standing across the road, her heart had leapt to her throat, then plunged to her feet when she saw that it wasn’t Trevor. Darn. Just thinking about his lips on hers made her feel tingly all over again.

It’s just that . . . the timing still wasn’t right. Yes, her divorce from Hunter Mason was final and yes, she was getting her life back together and yes, she had almost finished the PI correspondence course she had enrolled in six months ago, which meant that once she got her Private Investigator’s license she could start to earn her own money and also help pay off her dad’s huge hospital bill. Jake had had a heart attack a few months ago, which is why he needed someone now to help with the heavy stuff around the store and across the road at the boat dock.

Amanda realized it really shouldn’t have taken her six months to learn how to become a private investigator, but not having her own computer kind of held her back. And she did have distractions. Her five-year-old son Casey, for one, plus taking care of her dad, and helping him run the store. And then, out of the blue, in waltzes good-looking Trevor Banks and suddenly her life feels totally out of control again.

She would not fall for this man. No matter what the counselor at the divorce group at the church said, two . . . and in her case, three years . . . was not long enough. She did not trust herself to date yet. And she certainly did not trust herself to care again, especially not for a guy like Trevor. He was way too much like her ex. Pure-d Yacht Club. It was clearly obvious that he did not belong here, working in a dilapidated old boat rental and tackle shop beside a sleepy little lake. He wore a Rolex watch, for Heaven’s sake. If her dad weren’t so desperate for help she never would have agreed to hire the guy. But none of the teenaged boys who’d applied for the job even knew it took a key to start her Dad’s old outboard motors. That Trevor had proven he could get one up and running had impressed both her, and Jake. In a mere two days time, Jake Jackson already thought Trevor Banks hung the moon. So did Casey. And she was kinda’ coming around to that opinion herself.

But, not quite. The P. I. in her kept kicking in and asking questions.

What did he mean when he’d said he just needed something to do with his time this summer? He sure didn’t look like he needed this job. He wore designer jeans and two-hundred-dollar running shoes. He looked like he should be working in a bank, or a brokerage firm, sitting behind a big desk with a cell phone thingy stuck in his ear. Who was he, really? She and Jake didn’t know a darn thing about their new boat mechanic. She was pretty sure Jake hadn’t checked his references. And she hadn’t either.

All she knew was that Trevor Banks was drop-dead gorgeous . . . and a good kisser. She tried to think back to the beginning with her ex. She may have thought she was head over heels in love with Hunter Mason six years ago, back when she was seventeen and fresh out of high school, but kissing him sure didn’t feel like . . . kissing Trevor. Shoot, at seventeen, kissing anyone would have made her think she was in love. She told herself when she woke up this morning and the first thing that popped into her head was the memory of that kiss last night that the only safe thing to do was stick to her decision to not see the man again. Outside of work, that is. It was the only way. The only safe way.

Today was Saturday. Which meant the store would be busy. The summer season on Lake Stevens was already in full swing. This little pond may not be the largest lake near Dallas, but it was pretty darn popular with fishermen and boaters. The store would definitely be busy today and from now on until at least September or even October. Lots of her dad’s regulars continued to rent boats from him until the first freeze of winter. Fishermen were as fanatic about fishing as football fans were about the Cowboys.

As it turned out, Jake’s Boat Rental and Tackle Shop was busier than usual that day. Both Jake and Trevor took boats out with vacationers, men who needed someone to show them how to bait a hook, how to cast a line and reel in their catch. Amanda rented four more boats to fishermen who didn’t need anyone to show them how to start the engine or steer the boat. Casey was in and out of the store all day playing with his dog Buster, where Amanda could see him, of course, on the gravel drive in front of the run-down waterfront store, or behind her in a little windowless alcove they called the office.

That afternoon, after she and Casey had eaten a quick bite of lunch, she told him to take Buster and go back to the family’s mobile home, which was located right behind the store, and take a nap, or watch cartoons on TV. Once, while her dad was in the store, Amanda had hurriedly run around and checked on her son and was glad to find him asleep, with Buster curled up on the foot of the bed. So unless her dad came and got Casey later . . . which he sometimes did without telling her . . . Amanda was a bit surprised around seven thirty that evening when she was closing out the register, to glance up and see Trevor and Casey, and Buster, come bounding across the road and into the store.

Where’s Jake? she asked. Her dad should have been back by now. The sun was already dipping toward the horizon.

Still out on the lake, I suppose, the handsome man replied pleasantly.

Look what Buster found, Mom! Casey thrust something small and red at his mother.

Amanda absently glanced at the object. That’s nice, honey. She looked up at Trevor again, concern in her brown eyes. Jake should be back by now. Mr. Wingate never wants to stay out late.

I saw the boat just now. They’re only a couple of yards from shore. How was your day?

Amanda didn’t answer because at that very second, beyond Trevor’s shoulder, she spotted Casey run back out the shop door. Don’t let him cross the road by himself!

Trevor turned and was out the door in a flash but suddenly a big silver sedan came barreling down the blacktop road headed in the direction of the Yacht Club and Trevor had to wait until it passed by before he could chase after the boy. Once he gained the opposite side of the road, he didn’t see any sign of Casey. Where had the kid disappeared to so fast?

In seconds, Amanda came running up behind him. Where is he?

Damned if I know. After that car passed by, I . . .

"Casey! Ca-sey!"

Amanda took off running the length of the pier in search of her child. Trevor disappeared into the wooded area that ran alongside the covered dock, which he knew eventually emerged onto a stretch of shoreline that ended near the boat ramp about a half mile up the road.

Not spotting the boy, Trevor turned back around and met Amanda just emerging from the rickety old boat dock where Jake kept his fishing boats tied up in individual slips.

You didn’t find him in the woods? she asked.

Where could he have disappeared to so fast?

"I knew something like this would happen sooner or later. Tears welled in Amanda’s eyes. I just can’t . . . between him and . . . and worrying about Jake . . . I just can’t . . ."

"Mom! Look!"

Casey! Wild-eyed Amanda spun around just as her son bounded up to her from under the high end of the pier. "Where were you? I’ve told you not to run off like that! She took the boy’s hand and marched him back across the road. Trevor, will you please tell Jake the store’s locked up and we’ve gone to the house," she flung over her shoulder.

Sure thing. Trevor watched the petite brunette hustle her little boy away. The pretty young girl did have a lot on her mind. Not half as much as he had on his, but still . . . plenty for a twenty-something mom trying to raise a son by herself and take care of her aging father and also run a busy store. Two days ago when he’d stopped in to ask about the boat mechanic’s job, he had been pleasantly surprised to discover such an attractive young lady way out here on the lake where he had decided to hide out while he was down here in Texas . . . taking care of business.

Walking back across the road, Trevor exhaled a weary sigh. Should he stick around until his new boss, Jake Jackson, was safely ashore or . . . just leave? It was already nearly dark. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be ‘on duty’ until the last boat was securely tied up, or . . . what? His actual hours on his new job were still kind of vague. If Jake had a cell phone, he’d call him. But the old man had told him that first day that he didn’t have one; said he’d had one once, but he kept dropping it into the lake, so he gave up. Amanda didn’t have one either. Jake said if he needed to tell his daughter he’d be out on the lake later than usual; he just used one of the fishermen’s phones. They all carried one.

After last night when Trevor had taken Amanda and her little boy into Pinehill for pizza, he had looked forward to seeing the pretty girl again at the store today, so he’d arrived early, a little after sun-up; but was disappointed to find that Jake was the only one there. When the first customer came in, Jake sent Trevor out on the lake with the fisherman. He’d taken two more out this afternoon. He’d just barely caught a glimpse of Amanda all day.

Now, before climbing into his truck, he looked back toward the placid lake. He could hear the gentle waves lapping against the pilings beneath the old wooden pier. Who knew how long Jake would be out on the water this evening? He once said some fishermen liked to stay out all night.

Well. Trevor swiped the back of his arm across his sweaty brow. He wasn’t going to hang around here all night waiting to see if Jake Jackson was all right. He was a grown man; he’d been doing this all his life. Drawing a deep breath of sultry hot air into his lungs, he climbed into his truck and switched on the air-conditioner. Full blast. Pulling onto the road, he spotted a light flickering out on the water just beyond the pier. Was probably Jake coming back in, which seemed odd since he’d seen the old man and the two fishermen with him headed in fifteen minutes ago. Maybe they decided to take off down another inlet before they docked.

He flung a look beyond the store. Too dark to see the Jackson mobile home from here. He assumed Amanda and Casey had made it home all right. The house sat in a little clearing surrounded by thick woods about ten yards behind the store. He considered going back there now to check on them but realized he was simply too darn tired. Although, it might be worth it. Kissing Amanda last night felt . . . nope; too tired. This had been one heck of a long day and . . . he had to work again tomorrow.

The next morning when Trevor pulled up to Jake’s Boat Rental and Tackle Shop, it looked like all hell had broken loose.

Chapter 2

A Body In The Lake

WHEN THE ALARM WENT off at half past seven on Sunday morning, Amanda dragged herself out of bed. She hated to bail on her dad on Sunday, which was usually just as busy as Saturday, but she felt it was important that Casey go to Sunday school. He needed to be around kids his own age and learn to sit quietly beside her in church. One of these days he might even hear something the preacher said. So . . . if her old green Dodge started this morning, she’d drive Casey into Pinehill and while he was at Sunday School, she’d run by Peg’s. She hadn’t seen Peg in a while and missed talking to her. After tugging on a pair of cut-offs and a tee shirt, she walked barefoot to Casey’s room and peeked inside.

Casey, honey, wake up. I’ll fix your breakfast while you wash your face. This is Sunday, we go to church today, remember?

I already up, Mom. Casey turned from where he stood in front of the lone window in his tiny room. I been shootin’ stuff.

A question on her face, Amanda walked on into the room, big enough only for a twin bed, a three-drawer dresser and a little chair. Casey was standing in front of the window beyond the dresser. What do you mean shootin’ stuff?

With my new camera.

Your new what? Amanda bent down and took the small red object from Casey. Where did you get this?

I showed it to you last night, Mom. Buster found it.

Amanda vaguely recalled Casey trying to show her something last night at the store right before he ran off. Where did Buster find it? She turned the slim metal object over in her hands. It looked . . . expensive.

I saw Buster scratching at something in the leaves by the boat dock. Twev-er said it was a camera and I could shoot stuff with it. At first it didn’t work, but Twev-er fixed it and it works good now. It works at night, too. Wanna’ see? He took the small red camera from his mother and began to press buttons. Look! I took this picture for you. ‘Cause you like watchin’ the sun set. The boy grinned proudly as he held up the red camera to show his mother the picture of last night’s sunset that he had snapped especially for her.

Amanda’s heart melted. Is that why you ran back across the road last night, sweetie?

Uh-huh. Do you like the pictures, Mom?

Tears welled up in Amanda’s eyes as she bent to give her precious child a hug. They’re beautiful, Casey. She’d been so upset with him when they got home last night that she hadn’t heard a single word he’d said. She’d just shushed him up while she hurriedly fixed him a tuna fish sandwich, then hustled him in and out of the bathtub, and off to bed. He’d probably tried to tell her about the camera last night and perhaps, even show her the pictures of the sunset he’d taken. Oh, Casey. She hugged him again. "I love the pictures. But, promise me, honey, you won’t ever run across the road by yourself again, especially not after dark."

"It wasn’t after dark, Mom. It’s not after dark ‘til the sun falls in the water, remember?"

Amanda smiled. "I know, sweetie. All the same, I don’t want you running off like that. It was nearly dark last night and you’re still a little boy. Cars and trucks come whizzing down that road way too fast. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Do you understand?"

At precisely that second, both Amanda and Casey heard the howl of sirens. Amanda’s brows drew together when it became obvious that the blaring sirens weren’t moving on down the road. Terror gripped her.

Dear God, had Jake had another heart attack?

"Casey, I need to go see what’s happening. Do not leave the house! I mean it. Stay right here."

Casey’s brown eyes were big and round. Can I have some cereal and orange juice, Mom?

Of course, you can. Amanda rushed to the kitchen to put a bowl of cereal, some milk and a mug of orange juice on the table. The sirens were still blaring. It had to be an ambulance. Dear God, please don’t let it be dad.

Amanda tried extra hard before she left for the store to impress upon Casey that he must not leave the house while she was gone, no matter what!

Her heart pounded until the very second she reached the gravel drive in front of the store and saw that the trouble did not, in fact, involve her dad. Thank you, God. Jake and a pair of uniformed policemen were standing on the gravel drive in front of the store talking. Amanda’s eyes darted here and there, taking in the chaotic scene. She didn’t see evidence of a car wreck. No one had pulled out of the drive and plowed into the path of an on-coming truck, or T-boned one, as had happened once or twice before. Other than the ambulance parked across the road with the rear doors standing wide open, she couldn’t tell what had happened.

Heading toward her father, she spotted two more cops standing across the road talking to Trevor. What happened? she asked as she walked up to where her dad and the two policemen stood.

Who are you, ma’am?

Amanda Mason. Jake’s my father. What’s going on here, officer?

We found a body in the lake.

Oh, my gosh! Wide-eyed, Amanda’s head whirled toward the lake. Just then, everyone looked across the road in time to see three men emerge from the woods carrying a bulky-looking black bag, which they shoved through the back door of the ambulance. After that, someone shut off the sirens.

Did . . . someone drown? Amanda glanced from one police officer to the other.

No one said anything.

Dad, what’s wrong? What happened?

We need Mr. Jackson to come down to the station with us, ma’am.

"Why? Amanda demanded. He hasn’t done anything! Dad . . .?"

At that moment, Trevor walked up. Do you want me to come down to the station with you, Mr. Jackson?

What is going on?

It’s okay, hon’, Jake said. This won’t take long, will it, officer? Neither cop said anything as they began to escort Jake to a squad car. Trevor, you stay here with Amanda and Casey, all right?

Yes, sir.

Her brow furrowed, Amanda watched the ambulance and two of the three squad cars pull away from the store before she turned to Trevor. I better go get Casey.

I’ll wait for you inside the store.

Ten minutes later, Amanda, holding Casey by the hand, hurried back around the corner to the store. By then, Patsy, the high school girl who usually handled the cash register while Amanda took Casey to Sunday school, had arrived. Trevor was inside helping a fisherman over by the live bait counter. When the man left carrying a bucket full of minnows, Trevor approached Amanda at the front of the store, where she was explaining something to Patsy.

This is Trevor, Amanda said to the plump seventeen-year-old girl who wore glasses and had spiky pink hair. He’s our new boat mechanic. I need to talk to him about something now, so if a fisherman comes in and wants to go out on the lake this morning, tell him we’ll be right back.

Is Jake already out on the lak. . .? Patsy began, then said, You never did tell me why that cop car is parked across the road.

Jake will be here shortly. Just watch Casey for a little while for me, okay? Amanda bent to tell Casey not to leave the store and to mind Patsy.

Can I look out the window, Mom? I wanna’ take a picture of that p’liceman with the yellow ribbon. Look, he’s puttin’ it around the trees.

"I see, honey. Yes, you can take a picture, but do not leave the store. I mean it. I’m going back to the house to talk to Trevor for a minute. You stay right here and mind Patsy," she said again.

I will, Mom. Casey was already holding up the red camera and snapping pictures.

On the way to the trailer, Amanda said, He really likes that little camera. He said Buster found it and you fixed it.

Trevor nodded. It was caked with dirt. The case is broken on the bottom. I taped it together and it seems to be working all right now but I can’t say how long it’ll work.

It looks expensive. No one has mentioned losing one, so I guess it’s all right if he keeps it.

It had pictures on it, mostly of the lake, trees; nothing that might indicate who it belonged to. I deleted them. Somebody probably just tossed it because the bottom kept flopping open. I charged it up on my laptop.

Amanda glanced up. I thought digital cameras used batteries.

Most do. That one has an internal battery. When the memory’s used up, it’ll quit working again. You can just plug it into your computer, download the pictures, and when the camera’s recharged Casey can shoot more pictures.

We don’t have a computer, Amanda murmured.

Trevor’s brow furrowed. You don’t have a computer? But . . . how do you . . . are you saying there’s not even a computer at the store?

Amanda shook her head as they entered the house. In the kitchen, she poured Trevor a cup of coffee and sat down across from him at the kitchen table, her hands also wrapped around a mug of lukewarm coffee. So, tell me what happened this morning? Why do the cops want to talk to Jake? Did he know who drowned or something?

It wasn’t a drowning. Trevor paused. "They’ve already determined that the guy was killed before he was dumped into the lake. He had a gash on his head and apparently some bruising. The body hadn’t drifted out very far; the man’s pant leg was