Picking up the PIeces

By Rita Hestand

Coming home from the Marines, Jacob Hamilton faced a problem that he was determined to tackle his parents murder. Deep in the piney woods of Lake Houston and the San Jacinto River, lay the cabin where they were murdered. The police hadn't a clue and it was now considered a cold case. But Jacob was determined to pick of the pieces of the puzzle and find their murderer. When a beautiful woman, Tara Hughes show up at the cabin and tells him she's taken care of his cabin and his family dog, he's impressed. That is until she admits that she is his father's mistress. Anger, hurt, disappointment linger as Jacob tries to solve the mystery. Only the sweet Lucky Diana Tyler can distract him from his mission.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rita Hestand
• Release date: Sep 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463984789

Rita Hestand

Hi friendsI'd like to ask a favor, not just for me but for all writers. PLease when we offer a free book, it would be wonderful if you'd take the time to rate the book. This doesn't take much time out of your day and authors really apreciate your time to do this. I know not everyone wants to sit down and write a review, but rating the book will help as well. And a big thanks to all who do this. You never know how much an author appreciates you taking the time to do this.I finally finished The Car Stalker. Hope you'll check it out. This is the second book in the stalker series. Like I said mystery is much different from romance all though there are elements in romance in my stalker books too. Today I finished an another book in my series of Vets coming home, Better Every Day. This book takes the angle of when family interrupts your plans. When a one-night stand is much more. I love this story as it hits home. So two new books out now and more coming.I'm taking the time to write while confined at home. But lack of seeing people outside, and living alone all the time is not new to me. I've got lots of stories to tell so be on the lookout for my newest releases. You might check out my Searchin g for You Indian romance on Amazon too.There are several new free books for you enjoyment, since your stuck at home. Home you enjoy them.As for a bio, suffice it to say, I'm a Texan tried and true. I have grown children and grandchildren and already some great-grandchildren. I've done multi jobs in my lifetime giving me a variety of experiences to write and talk about. I've done many different kinds of work from Texas Instruments, to City of Garland, to working for the Wylie Independent School District. I've worked for a hat factory, filing insurance claims, secretarial work, to waitress work. My writing reflects my varied background. Another note I've had a in home day care for twenty years too. So when I write about something I have a general knowledge of it too, which is a real bonus for me. Just like my public work, my writing varies too from contemporary to historical, I write romance, thrillers, children's. A lot of people might say gee, that's a lot of different jobs, and it is, but, I've learned from them all, and I use that experience in my writing.I want to thank all the readers over a length of time that have tried some of my books. I hope I've enlightened and entertained you. I hope I've shared some love in this world. Sharing love can't be bad, it's God given.God bless.Other places to see my bookshttps://www.fantasticfiction.com/h/rita-hestand/https://itunes.apple.com/us/author/rita-hestand/id365799219?mt=11www.scriptsforschools.com/rita-hestandhttps://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/search?query=rita%20hestand&fcsearchfield=author

Book preview

Picking up the Pieces

Book One of Coming Home Series

Rita Hestand

Copyright© 2018 by Rita Hestand

All Rights Reserved

ISBN # 9780463984789

Cover Design by: Coverinked Book Cover Design

License Note

This book, Picking up the Pieces is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be copied or reproduced in any manner without express written permission of the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy or copies. If you did not purchase this book or it was not purchased for your use, please go to Smashwords.com to purchase your personal copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Picking up the Pieces is a work of fiction. Though some of the cities and towns exist they are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any names or characteristics similar to any person past, present or future are coincidental.

Dedication:

This is dedicated to all the service men coming home to face even more problems. Sometimes it just means you have to pick up the pieces and go on. God bless.

Rita Hestand

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

About the Author

Rita's Other Books

Chapter One

Jacob Hamilton woke with a start. Someone was outside. His natural reaction was to reach for his rifle, but he forgot where he was. Just discharged from the marines, Jacob knew it would take time to adjust to his new surroundings. He ran a hand through his short cropped brown hair and sighed as he pulled himself out of bed. He didn't bother dressing, there wasn't time.

He looked around the room, it was bare of frills, the curtains were brown and didn't let the light in much. The comforter matched. There was a plain dresser drawer a night stand and that was all there was to this cabin in the woods, bedroom. It was like a ready-made man cave. Nothing fancy, just basics. That much reminded him of his old barracks.

Scrambling numbly to his feet, he glanced around the bedroom. Walking into the living area, he spotted the rifle above the fireplace mantle and reached for it. It felt right having it in his hands. Natural.

Checking to see if it was loaded, he heard the noise again. Someone, or something was outside.

Quietly, he moved toward the door of the cabin. He was barefoot, so he wasn't making any noise. Turning the door knob, he opened it slowly, his glance going in every direction around him.

He waited for the noise. He heard nothing. He began to move silently about the property. He heard leaves crunch. Someone was about, or something. He moved slowly, quietly, on guard.

His glance scanned each direction as he'd been trained to do.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere came a voice, Who are you and what are you doing here?

It was a female voice, but Jacob knew not to take that for granted. He'd been too well trained. With one kick in the air, he downed his subject and trained his rifle on the dark-haired beauty that had approached him from behind.

"I think you got that wrong, lady. Who are you and what are you doing here?" He demanded in a firm voice, as he held her in his sights. The rifle was pointed straight at her.

She caught her breath and panted. He could tell she wasn't used to being accosted herself.

She wore a gray sweat suit, and she had a rifle in her hands. She was petite, and built too, he noticed.

The woman raised a bit, trying to point the rifle away from her, as Jacob held it steady. Alright, alright, I'm Tara Hughes, I live about five miles down the road. She explained.

That doesn't answer my question, what are you doing here? And why do you have a rifle in your hand?

She slowly stood up, straightened herself, and brushed the leaves from her suit.

This cabin has been vacant for three years, and suddenly you drive in and make yourself to home. I was checking to see who you where, and what business you have here. I'm the Hamilton's neighbor. She stared with interests now. You always greet people in your boxers?

He studied her openly now.

She stood facing him squarely, Well?

If it's really any of your business, I'm Jacob Hamilton, this cabin belonged to my folks. He explained. And when I hear someone sneaking around my place, clothes are not essentials.

Oh… she drawled staring. Her glance went over him swiftly. He saw a hint of a smile lurking. I'm sorry. It's just that, after their death, after the police came, no one has been here in years. I thought you were some kind of trespasser.

He looked at her from head to toe, appreciating her feminine qualities.

She raked a hand through her unruly dark hair that hung loosely down her shoulders and back.

He put the butt of the gun on the ground, holding the barrel with one hand. You live around here?

Yes, just down the road… she explained. I sort of see after the place.

He looked a bit puzzled by that comment.

Well, no one else would come near it. Someone had to keep an eye on things. Not let the cabin run down.

So that's why it looked so clean. He shot her a sudden crooked smile.

I don't understand, she gave him a wary glance, Why haven't you been here before now? I didn't even see you at the funeral. What kind of son are you, anyway? The sarcastic edge of her voice annoyed.

He relaxed, stood at ease, as he inspected her once more with a trained eye. I just got out of the service.

Oh, oh, well, I guess that does explain things then. She managed to offer him her hand in a shake.

He glanced at it, then shook it firmly.

What branch were you in? She asked giving him a once over.

Marines.

You couldn't make the funeral I guess. She frowned.

I was in Afghanistan at the time. Couldn't get a leave. He shot her an incredulous glance.

That must have been rough. Her sarcasm hadn't died yet as one brow shot up.

My father didn't tell you about me? He studied her discomfiture, as she dusted her backside off.

No, he didn't.

Sorry I manhandled you. Kind of hard to get my bearings here yet. I sometimes forget where I am. He glanced around at the falling leaves, and the barren looking trees. I've never been out here, but I really like the place.

Now she stared a moment. I suppose that's understandable.

So, you were at the funeral?

Yes, I was. She lifted her chin. It's strange that he had no family there.

My sister was there?

Oh, I guess I didn't see her then.

His gaze riveted on her again. Would you let me make you a cup of coffee, to apologize for my behavior?

Sure, sounds good. She smiled finally, and Jacob led her inside. His smile was genuine and friendly, but Jacob didn't let his guard down yet. He had learned early on that the enemy could be anyone, any gender and any size.

The cabin had a homey touch to it, with a leather couch, a leather recliner, and a bricked in fireplace. No one would guess his parents had been slain here, now.

He went to the kitchen and began making coffee as though he'd been here all along. Funny how some things just came natural to him. But this cabin seemed to welcome him when he got here, and he decided he was staying.

As he looked in the fridge, he brought out some cinnamon rolls. He put them on the table and got them both a cup and saucer. Tell me, were there many at the funeral?

About a hundred. She told him.

He went into the bedroom, slipped into his jeans and t-shirt and came back out.

He nodded, and sat down opposite her, Were you here when it happened?

I was living out here, yes, when it happened. I knew your folks before they moved out here. Your dad handled some investments for me. I was the one to recommend them moving here. He wanted a place he could hunt, and fish close by. In the country. And unfortunately, I was the one that—found them.

She stared at him again.

Jacob noted it was the first time she included his mother in the conversation. He found that a bit odd.

Jacob stared now, watching her every move carefully.

She had large dark eyes that were quite expressive and long lashes that covered her cheeks when she blinked.

Could you tell me where they were… when you found them?

Her expression became stark, wary even. Your father was at the mantle, as though he were reaching for his rifle. He must have bumped his head on the fireplace there, as blood trickled down his forehead. But whoever shot him hit him in the heart. Like a dead shot. You know. She nodded in the direction of the fireplace. Your mother was still in bed. She looked as though she had tried to get up and hadn't quite made it. She was shot the same way. Whoever it was knew how to handle a gun.

Did the police have any clues?

They found footsteps outside, I think they said a size twelve boot print. No fingerprints, he obviously wore gloves.

Jacob seemed to be calculating her words, making mental notes.

Did they have any idea, who?

Not at the time, no. They snooped around for a month out here, then no one heard another word from them. There was little in the paper about it. I found that strange.

Have you had time to find out anything? she asked.

He got up and checked on the coffee, poured them a cup and asked her if she took cream or sugar, she shook her head.

No, not really. After I heard the news, and knowing I couldn't make the funeral, I was able to makes some calls to get a few things taken care of. I sold their house in Houston. I contacted the police beforehand to see if there was any on-going investigation there. They told me no, that the murder was here. They'd been to the house to search it for any clues as to why.

Yes, well there's not been a word in the local paper about it in three years. she looked away. He saw her tremble as she spoke, It was just so gruesome… she shook her head as though remembering. John lying there on the floor, so helpless.

Why would she call him by his first name? Jacob's mind began to spin. And why always his father, not his mother.

The intimate first name basis had Jacob staring at her intently. Just how well did this woman know her father?

I guess it was rather shocking, just walking in on something like that. He suggested. If the blood was still trickling down his forehead, you must have walked in, just after it was done.

Yeah, I had my rifle with me at the time, and it scared me when I saw that. He might have been lurking somewhere close at the time. The killer that is. She said softly. That's why I was shaking so bad when the police showed up. I was afraid to go back outside.

You always carry a rifle?

Most of the time I do, yes. A woman alone in the woods, too much can happen.

Have there been any other murders around here?

She hesitated. Yes, two women were killed on one of the walking trails just a few months before your parents. That is why I carry my rifle.

Did they catch who did it?

No, they didn't.

He nodded as though studying the information.

So, what are you going to do with the place here? she asked moments later.

I'm going to pick up the pieces and find their killer. I'm going to live here.

I would think with all their money, you'd be buying the best place you could find. Why not leave it to the police? I mean, your fresh out of the service, I'd think you'd want to live it up a little. Celebrate?

So, you knew they were rich?

She chuckled drily, They never let on they had money to me. But his job, I naturally assumed he wasn't poor, the way he dressed. But at the funeral, limos started showing up and I sort of guessed.

He nodded, as though remembering them, They weren't the kind of people to let on. They simply wanted to live their life the way they wanted. I suppose dad loved the place, so do I. My father had a good job, invested well, and lived modestly. They were quite happy.

Yes, that much I gathered. We became good friends. She told him. In fact, I have their dog.

Chocko? he beamed a smile at her now.

Y-yes, she smiled too. Someone had to take care of him. I'm the only one that lives out here all the time. Most people have cabins, but they are just for vacations and such. I live here, year around. I've been here for a long time. Anyway, that's why I took him. I'll bring him by later.

My God, Jacob cried aloud. I didn't think he'd still be around.

He's a beautiful animal and he grieved for them for a while, it was so sad. But I finally got him out of his misery. We play ball at least once a day and I take him for long walks. Mostly in the other direction as I don't want him grieving anymore.

Thank you, for taking such care of him. Jacob told her.

You're welcome. You are really going to try to find their killer? After all this time.

If I can, yes.

Do you have any idea where to start looking?

No, I don't. I've found that their assets are taken care of. Their attorney saw to that. So, it wasn't theft.

Have you considered that it could be just some random killing? I mean with those two women, it sounded very much like some serial killer, could they be connected?

I haven't ruled anything out yet. He eyed her now.

Including me? she asked when he kept staring.

Including you! He smiled charmingly.

She swallowed her coffee and got up, Well, let me know if there is anything I can do to help. She said quietly.

He stood up. Yes, I will.

I'll bring Chocko around this afternoon.

I'd appreciate that, thanks. He smiled again.

As she walked to the door she turned to smile, Good luck with your putting the pieces back together.

Thanks. He nodded and watched her leave.

Chapter Two

Jacob walked down to the pier and stared out over the water. The sun was in the trees and glistening onto the water creating a shimmering effect. He hung his feet over the edge, dangling them. He heard a loon somewhere, but he didn't see it. It lent an eerie feeling about the place. He saw a fish jump up quickly then dart back to the depths of the water. A light fog far off settled between the lake water and the sky. It was quiet here except for nature itself.

The cabin was situated on a tributary of the San Jacinto River where it joined the edge of Lake Houston. Fancy homes could be purchased in the more inhabited areas. There were many cabins along the wooded areas, but none too close to the Hamilton property and many miles from the rich area properties of the Lake Houston homes. His father liked seclusion and being in a more untamed atmosphere. This place gave the illusion of seclusion. He liked that.

Jacob could see why his father would like the place, it was totally a man's dream. But for the life of him he couldn't imagine his mother wanting to live here.

John and Barbara Hamilton had been married thirty-two years. Jacob was the only son they had. He had a sister in New York, working as a model. Jacob hadn't seen her in several years. He wondered if she made it down for the funeral.

He remembered the day the Captain told him about his parent's murder. He told him if they hadn't been engaged in an undercover project, he'd let him fly home. But it was impossible under the circumstances. Jacob took it in his stride. He called Max Strong, his father's attorney right away and they talked for some time. Max hadn't seen his father in a long while, only speaking to him on the phone a couple of times in between. He said it was strange for John to move out to the boonies when he had so much business he needed to tend to. But he hadn't voiced that opinion because it was none of his business.

I think something has pulled him in a totally different direction, and I don't know what it is. Your father has been quite different for a while now. When he left the real estate firm everyone was shocked. But he claimed he needed to get back to nature. I was a little concerned though when his accountant called me to let me know that John was taking massive amounts of money out of his account and he knew nothing about why. John didn't explain. In fact, George said he became irate with him trying to 'snoop' into his business. It wasn't like John, not at all. He should have known that George was only trying to protect his interests.

Sounds a bit odd, doesn't it? I bet Mom wasn't too pleased.

"I don't know, I never got to talk to her on the phone. Funny, now that you mention it, Barbara used to call quite often just to keep in touch with me and my wife, Helen. Helen was a little concerned about that, too.

It was always your father, and he seemed…. Distracted somehow. I can't put my finger on it. But that's how he sounded to me.

Distracted, uninterested in work, wanting to get back to nature, none of that sounded like his father. His father had once been a workaholic. What had happened. Had he finally cracked or something.

He sighed as he stared out over the water. His mother hadn't wanted to live in the country, thinking it too far from civilization. She wasn't one for the country or woods. Still, she enjoyed hiking and taking pictures of the wildlife when they went to the country. Many of the property owners around Lake Houston knew the Hamilton's well. His mother was great friends with them.

His father was an outdoorsman and he enjoyed hunting, fishing