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Miles of Deception
Miles of Deception
Miles of Deception
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Miles of Deception

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Megan Gerard has already survived the worst night of her life. As she buries her mother just days after a deadly car accident, she is overcome with grief at her graveside. All she wants is to have her mother back. But after she catches a glimpse of a stranger limping out from behind the trees at the cemetery, Megan has an uneasy feeling she cannot seem to shake. It turns out her intuition is spot on; the mysterious man has but one goalto kill her.

After the wake, Megan receives a gift on her front porch. Inside is a music box accompanied by a sympathy card with a deadly warning: she is next to die. Terrified, Megan phones the police and immediately Detective Joseph Lentz begins questioning whether her mothers accident was really an accident after all.

When Megan recruits the help from an undercover cop, the investigation evolves further with one clue after another that leads Megan to a surprising discovery that pulls her into a complex mystery surrounding her mothers secret past.

In this gripping mystery, Megan must stay one step ahead of a ruthless killer as she embarks on a dangerous journey to find the answers to her mothers past and, more importantly, to her own future.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAbbott Press
Release dateMay 9, 2012
ISBN9781458202673
Miles of Deception
Author

Leah Diehl

Leah Diehl graduated from Woodlawn Senior High in Catonsville, Maryland. She loves to write, camp, and fish; she also enjoys watching football and crime shows. Diehl now lives in Nottingham, Maryland, with her husband and near her two adult daughters.

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    Book preview

    Miles of Deception - Leah Diehl

    Miles of

    Deception

    Leah Diehl

    abbottpresslogointeriorBW.ai

    Miles of Deception

    Copyright © 2012 Leah Diehl

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    Abbott Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

    Abbott Press

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.abbottpress.com

    Phone: 1-866-697-5310

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    ISBN: 978-1-4582-0266-6 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4582-0267-3 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2012904380

    Abbott Press rev. date: 4/20/2012

    Contents

    Acknowledgements

    Prologue

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    Chapter 16

    Chapter 17

    Chapter 18

    Chapter 19

    Chapter 20

    Chapter 21

    Epilogue - Six Months later

    C&J Private Investigators:

    Unwarranted Abduction

    For Rob, Melissa and Mindy

    Acknowledgements

    I would like to thank my husband, Rob, for the encouragement and love day after day. For cooking dinners and taking care of things, giving me the time to write. I couldn’t have done it without you....thanks love.

    Melissa and Mindy, for playing reverse roles and pushing me to follow my dream and always being close by for support. Thank you being the best daughters anyone could ever want....proud of you and wub you.

    My family and friends; Germaine Gugliuzza: my Mom, Jennifer Jacobs, Jamie Leizear, Debbie Hagert, Maryanne Swontek, Sandy Nash, Cathy Smith, Sharon Briant, and Jenny Hood. All who read as I went along and believed in me to finish what I started....thank you for your love, support and the many words of wisdom.

    David Bischoff, the most proficient editor ever....thank you for your honesty, time and patience. You’re the best.

    Neither the Sun nor Death can be looked at steadily

    Prologue

    Thursday, October 13, 1983

    Shrieks were released every 30 seconds coming from the rundown shack covered with climbing ivy. The piercing sound echoed through the fogged valley as the semiconscious woman was pushing the baby out from the comfort it had known for nine months.

    Push! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Good. Now again. The demanding count was repeated.

    I can’t push anymore. Please. Let me sleep, the slumbering woman begged as she longed for a break. The ringing in her ears got louder and stronger.

    Push. Now! Your baby is almost here. The head is crowning.

    I can’t.

    Your baby will die!

    Ouch! Oh, no!

    One last time, the woman bore down with the little strength she had. The faint sound of cries that came from the bundle of joy filled its mother’s ears with sweet music making her dizzy with love. As she tried to relax, her tired muscles cramped her aching stomach. She could barely comprehend the cursing that escaped the midwife’s mouth seconds before.

    What, what’s going on? The frantic question escaped softly from the mother as she tried to keep her eyes opened and focused on the woman that cradled her child in one arm. The other strong callused hand of the midwife’s felt the mother’s swollen bare stomach as her drawn on eyebrows were crooked with concern.

    It is okay, he said patting the young mother’s hand. Try and get some rest while we clean your daughter so that you can finally meet her.

    His encouragement made the new mother feel at ease.

    I have a daughter? A daughter? With closed eyes, she beamed as her whispered words were quickly ceased to silence. The lasting drugs took full effect and numbed her to a slow paced sleep.

    After moments of silence, he pinched her arm to make sure she was out. The man took the cleaned child from the midwife and handed the babe to his wife that stood nearby.

    Here, take her and drive to the hotel. Carefully handing the baby over to her, he said, I will meet up with you tomorrow. All of the necessities are there that you will need to care for the child. Call me if anything goes wrong.

    Now? You’re not coming with me? I, I’ve never done this before, she stuttered staring at the pink glossy face of the child. I don’t know what to do. I need you with me, she cried as her shaking hands held the infant at arm’s length as if covered with leprosy.

    We went over this many times. He yanked the pillow out from under her sweater. Don’t mess this up for us or I will kill you. Stay calm. Can you do that? Can you do that?

    She nodded. Ye..yes.

    Everything will be fine once we announce the birth of our daughter. Leave now, he said pointing to the only exit.

    She laid the baby on the sofa in the dim lit room and cautiously dressed the child in a sleeper. After wrapping her in a warm thick blanket, they quietly left without a sound.

    Outside, the strong wind blew crisp leaves making them twirl into funnels that danced across the russet ground. The smell of dampness filled her nostrils as she shielded the snuggled baby against the expensive cashmere that covered the sock filled bra that was two sizes too big.

    As the woman crossed the path to her luxury car, she saw a fat bellied squirrel gather nuts for the long winter ahead.

    After placing the child in the car seat, she slowly drove down the long muddy driveway.

    She glanced at the baby that was safely fastened in the seat next to her. You’re my daughter now, she said as she watched the tattered shack grow smaller by the second in the rearview mirror.

    Remember, you tell no one. What is wrong? He looked at the midwife as he brushed the sweat away with the sleeve of his Armani suit jacket.

    The second baby is in breached position. I’ll have to cut her open and I’ll need your help, the midwife stated.

    He shrugged his shoulders. He did not care if this child died or not. He had his baby.

    After rapid preparation, the midwife carefully sliced the mother’s abdomen open and tugged hard at the baby, pulling it out from the upside down position.

    She’s not breathing. She laid the child on the cold metal table and quickly started CPR. With no response, the midwife then turned the baby over and slapped her back hoping to bring up the gunk that was blocking the child’s airway with no luck.

    The baby’s dead. She turned and looked at the mother sleeping soundly on the makeshift bed already feeling sorry for her.

    The smell of birth surrounded the room along with the stench of aging blood. The redness flooded the sticky floor making it hard to step.

    I will tell her when she wakes up. Stitch her up then clean up this mess. I have a grave to dig.

    Monday –November 7, 2011

    Chapter 1

    On the day of the funeral, the lone concealed man peered out from behind the trees trying to get a better look at the crowd assembled by the grave.

    Curiosity had been gnawing away at this man for three days now. Finally, the moment he longed to witness had arrived. Watching the pain of the family and their friends made the man’s blood thrill with excitement. Beneath his dark garments, he sweated.

    The mourners stood two rows deep at the graveside as a priest gave the funeral oration. They were dressed heavily against the chilled autumn weather. Several people clenched handkerchiefs to their faces and one or two sobbed audibly.

    The secrete man glanced from one damp face to another.

    In those eyes he could see the pent-up tension that had been there all morning, only now it was finally starting to evaporate. Some faces he recognized from the hospital, where he had sat in the waiting room, watching from behind a newspaper as people came and went. Later, he had taken a seat at a table in the canteen, trying to catch a glimpse of their tired, veined eyes as they came to take a break from their vigil. Their gaunt, drawn faces had given him much needed pleasure.

    He had talked with them as though he was a relative of another critical patient, and he had joined them briefly in their time of sorrow and sadness. He spoke to them solemnly of being strong and needing the ones you love at a time like this.

    The man behind the trees smiled at his convictions. She was not the only one he killed recently and he knew there would be more to come. He had an itch to kill and he needed to scratch it.

    He would happily sell his soul to the devil just to be able to replay her final moment in the hospital over and over again. Oh, to see the tired wrinkles relaxing in her face as she swallowed her last breath of air. She had been alone in the room with only him, making that even more special.

    The man’s gaze kept returning to one woman in particular. She stood in the center of the crowd, with the others gathered around her. She was young, perhaps in her late 20s, and wore a demure suit of dark wool. She was quite attractive. Her long dark hair and big brown eyes were encased by long lashes, his favorite type of woman. As he stared at her, the hidden man beamed.

    He closed his eyelids as the tangy aroma of distant burning leaves hung crisply in the chilly air. He opened his eyes again and studied the picturesque view so that he could store it in the back of his mind for days to come. He wished he could be closer. He wanted to be a temporary part of the funeral party just so he could feel the agony and savor the gloom of the loved ones.

    The man yearned to stand alongside the deceased’s daughter, the woman in the dark outfit. To be the shoulder she leaned on, to hold her tightly in his arms and stroke her. He looked up to the heavens, begging God to let him take part in the rite today and feed off the horrific end of this woman’s life story.

    It was his right to be here, he thought. He was the real guest of honor. After all, he was the one who had made this day possible.

    The sky was grey, holding an indication of snow, causing the mourners to draw more closely together. Trying to be strong, they listened intently to the words the priest spoke.

    There is no pain; there is no worry. There is no rain; there is no hurry. There is just light; there is just shine. There is just happy; there is just kind. Heavenly father, please welcome your daughter with open arms into your house for eternity and give her the same love that she felt when she was here with us on earth.

    In the crowd around the grave, Megan Gerard quietly muttered her own prayer. She prayed that her mother was safe in the beyond with her father and grandparents. She prayed that her mother was happy and peaceful beside the Lord.

    That was all a loving daughter could want, right?

    No, it wasn’t. Megan felt selfish.

    She wanted her mom to be here with her now, not later on when her own time came. Megan wanted her mother to be home, sitting in the beat-up chair, waiting for her to get back from work. She wanted her mother to still be in this world. Why not? It was her mother. Megan had the right to want her back.

    Oh Mommy, I need you, her inner child cried, even as Megan tried to stay focused the way a balanced adult should. Please, just one more day with her, she asked God. I promise you can have her back. I just need her one more day.

    It’s okay, Megan heard her mother whisper in her ear. You’ll be fine.

    Megan turned, her eyes suddenly wide and happy, expecting to be awakened from a bad dream. Instead, she saw the respectful funeral goers standing there with eyes closed, heads bent, hands folded. She could read their lips as they moved in sync with the Lord’s Prayer.

    Amen, the priest said loudly, making the sign of the cross. With great sadness he performed the final ritual of the outlined service. Please feel free to come up and say your farewells. He gave a welcoming gesture and moved to one side.

    Megan was first in line placing the single ivory lily alone at the top of the carved box. She watched at full attention as the line formed. One by one, flowers were rested on the beautiful white pearled coffin trimmed with dark wood. Her mother had wanted to go in style and would be blissful that her wish was fulfilled.

    Once the assembly line had dwindled, Megan drew herself up to full height. Head up and chest out, her mother had always demanded.

    Taking a deep breath, she whispered, Thank you, Father Allen. The service was beautiful. She dabbed the mascara-filled tears so that they would not streak her puffy brown eyes any more than they already had.

    Megan looked up at the tall slender priest who towered over her by a foot and a half. She noticed how his aging, grey-peppered beard mirrored his eyes, making them look silver.

    You’re more than welcome, my dear. She meant a lot to me and our church. Pulling his khaki rain coat up around his neck, Father Allen could feel the early winter approaching. He secretly thanked God for batting on their side that day and delaying the weatherman’s forecast of snow. It’s the least I can do. If you ever need to talk to me, you know I’m here for you.

    Megan talked low so she did not disrupt the quiet atmosphere of the open region. I will miss her deeply, but I trust the word of God and I know in my heart she’ll be next to me forever. Mom would have loved all of this. I can picture her now, looking down on all of us and smiling, urging us to go on. I’m sure she’s pleased to see all of her friends here from the senior center. She loved volunteering there and she made a lot of lasting friends. I know that she’s in a better place. She’d be with my father now. Since last year, all she ever wanted was to be with Dad.

    Father Allen nodded and agreed. I’m elated I could help her travel up that high mountain after your dad died. She expressed her guilt over and over to me about how she had lived and he hadn’t. The injuries from the accident were too much for his diminutive body to handle. It took faith in God and a lot of guidance and Love to make her realize how much you needed her and that it wasn’t her fault that her husband had passed on. Depression is a tough disorder to overcome. He thought of the many days and nights he had spent comforting Megan’s mother when she had been ready to give up. I just want to be with my husband, Barbara would cry as she clenched her chest. I need him.

    Megan acknowledged the priest’s words and gave him a hug. As she peered over his shoulder, her eyes were drawn to the edge of the woods by a quick flash of light. She looked across the stretch of tombstones and spotted a stranger limping out from behind the speckled trees, holding a camera to his eye. She squinted to get a better look, but she could not make out his face. As quickly as Megan had seen him appear, he vanished.

    Earlier, when Father Allen had been giving his sermon, she had noticed a bright reflection in the woods, but her thoughts were elsewhere then and she did not comprehend the distraction. She looked around to see if there were any cemetery workers digging a nearby grave, but she saw no crew in the area. Megan thought that is was very odd for a lone man to be out carrying a camera in a cemetery.

    I have to go now, Megan, said Father Allen as he turned to leave. Remember, call me whenever you want.

    Dr. Marsha Hope from the University Hospital lingered at the graveside to give her condolences to Megan before she left.

    When Megan first met Dr. Hope at the shock trauma unit, she had felt that it was fate that the doctor assigned to save her mother’s life was named Hope. Go figure.

    I just wish there was more we could have done, the Doctor said. It was such a tragic death.

    More we could have done. More we could have done. Those words echoed in Megan’s head 24/7.

    Well, I thank you for everything that you did do, Megan said.

    As the rest of the attendees said their goodbyes, Megan thanked everyone again for coming and for their support. She would not have been able to get through this alone.

    Standing alone after the others left, Megan remembered the night of the accident.

    It had been a typical day. She had just arrived home from work and was unlocking the door when she heard the phone ring.

    Hello, she said, out of breath.

    Can I speak to Megan Gerard?

    Speaking, Megan replied, as she pried the high-heeled shoes off of her aching feet.

    Miss Gerard, this is Brandy Harris from the University Hospital. Your mother has been in an accident. This number was one listed on the emergency card in her wallet. I’m not sure of the extent of the injuries at the moment, but I wanted to call and inform you.

    Accident! Oh, my God! Is she okay? Please tell me she’s okay. Megan attempted to slow her breathing so she would not hyperventilate.

    She’s in the emergency room. The doctors are looking at her right now. The paramedics who brought her in said she’s in stable condition. You can come in by the emergency entrance and ask for me. When you get here we should know more.

    Megan remembered the long drive to the hospital: slowing at stop signs, running red lights if no traffic was coming the other way and illegally parking.

    And then….it had been the most terrible night of her life.

    Alone at the grave site, after everyone had gone, Megan said a final goodbye, blew her mother a kiss and headed back to the limousine that was waiting for her at the road.

    Her best friend Anna came up behind her, startling her out of her solitude. Anna’s wild red hair blew under a scarf in the breeze. She looked a bit like Nicole Kidman.

    Oh, Anna, you scared me, Megan said, taking her friend’s hand. I didn’t realize you had waited for me. I thought you’d gone back to my house with the others.

    We came together, we leave together, Anna replied. That’s our number one rule, and since I didn’t want you to be by yourself, I hung out. I left you and Father Allen alone to talk for a few. I had to pee so I hiked through all the damp leaves to that building over there to use the restroom. It’s a mausoleum, for Christ’s sake! Who wants to piss with dead bodies all around in the walls?

    Oh, my God, Megan said looking around embarrassed to see if anyone was still there and heard.

    Who gives a rat’s ass if anyone hears me? Father Allen is gone, and by the way, he’s pretty hot for an old priest. What was that movie called about the love affair in the church? Thorn something or other?

    Stop it, Anna. Now isn’t the time for jokes. Megan’s hand caressed her stomach through the work suit. She was starting to feel ill.

    Are you okay?

    I’m fine, she replied, praying that her breakfast would not come back up. Did you see a man standing over there by those trees? At first I thought it was a worker or someone from the center, but then I realized they’d already gotten in the van and were on their way back. Anyway, this guy looked suspicious. He had a camera or maybe even binoculars. Megan pointed behind the cemetery’s Magdalene Meadow Section.

    You’re a freak. I didn’t notice anyone. Maybe it was a ghost. Anna waved her hands in circles in front of Megan’s face while she moaned. After I relieved myself I was walking around looking at the headstones over that way. Damn. They need to rake up all of these leaves. My shoes are ruined. Anna looked down at her feet. Megan followed suit and eyed the wet pair of Jimmy Choos that Anna wore.

    We’d better get going, Megan. It’s getting really cold, plus everyone will wonder where we are. You know how the Mother Theresa’s from work will worry. God help us all.

    Before Megan ducked into the white stretch limo, she briefly looked back at the place where her mother would rest in peace. The next time she came to visit, the flowers would be dried and wilted, the dirt would be piled high on the ground, and the feeling of loneliness would have set in. Megan had not had time yet to think about her mother being gone. She brushed a brown-auburn curl off of her face and looked over towards the trees one last time. The mystery man that she saw earlier had not come back. Some of the uneasy feeling in her gut began to ease. She climbed in the car and the driver pulled off to take her home.

    When the car had safely disappeared from sight, the man hiding in

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