Close Deception: The Det. Lonnie Mae Moberly Mysteries, #1

By Adeara Allyne

Close Deception - The Det. Lonnie Mae Moberly Mysteries - Book 1

In quiet Maybe, old wounds fester...
 
A shotgun blast on a lonely road and a Blue Star husband lies dead.
 
Lonnie and her partner must find justice...
For his wife, deployed overseas.
For his toddler, here at home.

It's her first murder back in her hometown of Maybe, Kentucky, and Detective Lonnie Moberly has a lot on the line. After a career spent in big cities back East, Lonnie must relearn the town she grew up in and take her father's place... 

A good read for fans of Melinda Leigh and Kendra Elliot.

Also by Adeara 

The Det. Lonnie Mae Moberly Mysteries
In quiet Maybe, bad things happen...

Close Deception - Book 1
Obscure Deception - Book 2
Cryptic Deception - Book 3
Grim Deception - Book 4
Maybe Alone - Book 5
Maybe Forgotten - Book6
Maybe Betrayal - Book 7

A Slice of Life in Maybe, Kentucky

Driving Miss Reba

The Warfield's Landing Series

Silent Caller - Book 1
Hidden Peril - Book 2
Double Secrets - Book 3
Covert Reprisal - Book 4

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adeara Allyne
• Release date: Apr 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386165583

Book preview

1

After a morning spent at court, Detective Lonnie Moberly was playing catch-up, something she always hated. This call had come through an hour ago. Walt Sharp, her partner, was on site. Lonnie fought the urge to speed, never a good idea on the twisted roads through the forest.

At the next crest, she could see the roadblock, a Maybe, Kentucky Police Department cruiser parked catty corner across the narrow mountain road. On the right was a small, old, mobile home. Impeccably kept, it nestled into the hill with the Daniel Boone National Forest looming over its small grassy lawn.

Lonnie eased her SUV in behind her partner, Walt's, venerable pickup truck. She yanked hard on the parking brake and not for the first time wished there was an actual curb to cut her wheels into. But, on the remote roads here in the national forest, in most cases all you had was a steep hill going up on one side and a steep cliff going down on the other, so choose your poison...

She hopped out and moved to the back of her SUV. She was slim and energetic. About five-foot-seven, she wore her black hair in a short asymmetrical style which contrasted with her pale skin and framed her elegant bone structure. In a seeming contradiction to her chosen profession, she was a clotheshorse, albeit a thrifty one. Her top and slacks were simple, black, and easily replaced when -- not if -- they got damaged. Most days, jackets were her statement pieces. Today's was a simple hip length one, a crazy quilt of vintage silk scraps in reds, oranges, and pinks -- HER colors.

Quickly, she slipped it off and donned an MPD windbreaker. She slid out of her flats, pulled on socks, and laced up well-worn hiking boots.

It was a sunny spring day with a pleasant breeze rustling the leaves. Typically, spring lasted only a week or two, sandwiched between the cold of winter and the oppressive heat of summer. This year, it had been drawn out to more than three weeks, a welcome state of affairs and lively topic of conversation.

The patrolman's bright red hair made it easy to identify him. His stocky build was the confirmation. She called, Jacobs, what's going on?

He was standing with his back to her, watching what was happening. She'd seen him glance over his shoulder when she pulled up, so he knew it was her.

The road, Wilderness Pike, was a shortcut running east to west through the forest, from the town of Maybe to the sprawling subdivision of Verdant Valley. It was a simple forest road, nominally two lanes if the vehicles were small. No improvements had been made to accommodate its heavy use. Its high traffic windows were in the morning and after work. At this point in the middle of the morning, there were virtually no vehicles, and it would be easy to hear anything coming.

Lonnie hadn't been in this section of the forest, on foot, since she didn't remember when... Not since college, maybe sometime in high school?

Cousin LeRoi preferred the more remote areas. He, Lonnie, Cousin Cookie, Preston, LeRoi's best friend, with other cousins added to the mix intermittently, had done most of their roaming north and east of here. They'd considered this shortcut and its immediate environs too busy. After all, it had an actual road. They'd liked areas with no roads, without even limited access roads.

Still watching, Jacobs answered. Minivan. Down the hill. Just the driver.

Lonnie caught a glimpse of the coroner's van. Deceased? Is this an accident?

That got her Jacobs' full attention. No, ma'am. He was shot in the face. He jerked his head in the direction of the mobile home. The homeowner heard it and called it in right away.

Lonnie moved around the cruiser, looking at the tire tracks on the road as she walked up to the ugly break in the underbrush. They had brought the coroner's van and emergency vehicles in from the other direction to avoid damaging the tracks. She was no expert, but it looked to her like the vehicle, traveling toward town, had braked suddenly, then skidded before going over the cliff. There was also a single tire track running parallel on the driver's side and continuing down the road. A motorcycle? At the same time?

State police cruisers near the van were a good sign that the accident reconstruction people had already been contacted.

The only lookie loo seemed to be the frail little old man watching from the mobile home's front porch. The citizen who had called it in?

From the vantage of the road, the crash site was ugly. The minivan had ended upside down with its driver side wedged up against a large tree. The debris field and the damage to the smaller bushes clearly marked its path down the steep hill. Both MPD patrolman and state police officers were documenting the scene. She only recognized one of them, Henry Holden, another new hire. He'd started about a month after she joined the force.

A rescue crew was gathered around the minivan, working to extricate the body. Walt and Quincy, the coroner, were talking off to the side. Quincy's actual name was Dave Quentin but, in an amazing coincidence, he was a near twin of the actor Jack Klugman, everyone's favorite TV coroner, Quincy.

Detective Walt Sharp, her partner, was a small man about her height. A long, narrow nose and thin lips were accentuated by a dramatically receding hairline. His sardonic manner matched his appearance. In the way of many Kentucky towns, he and Lonnie shared a past with multiple intersections. Her father, Bill Moberly, had trained him and they had been longtime partners. Now, he was her partner. So far, it was working well although every now and then she did have to remind him she was a capable professional, rather than a favorite niece.

She chose a path off to one side to avoid damaging evidence. Gingerly, she worked her way down sideways, digging the sides of her boots into the dirt. At the bottom, she moved over to look at the van, careful to stay clear of the crew working on it. Looking past the extreme damage, it appeared new and well kept. A bumper sticker on the rear bumper proclaimed - Proud Marine Family.

She could see the top of a baby seat behind