Knight and Shadow: The Modern Knights, #2

By Pamela Loewy

Do knights in shining armor still exist? Check out the stalwart heroes of the Modern Knights series and decide for yourself!

Widowed investigator Laura Taggert rushes to her brother's home in northern Maine after his girlfriend's murder and his subsequent disappearance. Unexpected complications, including the attentions of two very different men, make finding her brother and solving the case even more challenging.

After clearing his name of a false murder accusation, former Army Intelligence officer Jake Emerson is scarred by years of living on the run. Although he couldn't forget Laura after their paths briefly converged during an investigation the year before, he resists contacting her again. Until he learns she needs his help.

Both their lives will change forever unless a determined killer ends them first …

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pamela Loewy
• Release date: Oct 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393253198

Pamela Loewy

Pamela Loewy reads everything she can get her hands on. She writes romantic suspense and hopes to branch out to essays, poetry and sci-fi in the near future. Her romantic suspense novels include Doubt and Desire, Jemma's Knight (originally published by the Wild Rose Press as Saving Jemma) and Knight and Shadow. Pam teaches writing at the Plymouth Center for Active Living and served as editor for telegraph21.com, a curated video magazine. She lives with her husband Bill in coastal Massachusetts.

Book preview

Prologue

He had no choice but to get rid of her. Drink would have destroyed her soon enough; at least this way she wouldn’t drag a carful of innocents to hell along with her. The greater good, he rationalized. Yes, the greater good.

Her continuing education program provided the cover for their clandestine getaways—an excuse her sap of a husband bought without question. Not a bad guy, her husband. He deserved better.

As she moaned in her sleep and snuggled closer, he experienced a twinge of regret. But now wasn’t the time for second thoughts. Once he got his hands on the money, she wouldn’t hesitate to squeeze him dry. He’d be a fool to take the risk.

Decision made, he placed the will on the night table and switched off the bedside light. Staring into the darkness, he wrestled with another problem, one less morally clear. Eyes on the prize, he told himself. Eyes on the prize.

Chapter One – Laura

Two facts, stark in black and white: Kim, my brother Nathan’s girlfriend, had been shot to death in their Maine cabin, and Nathan was nowhere to be found.

Dread tensed my shoulders as I drove north. I would have flown to Bangor from New York City, but a winter storm blustering eastward made air travel a questionable proposition. Plagued by a lingering cold, I’d already gone through half a box of tissues and my remaining stock of cherry-flavored throat lozenges, though I suspected a few outliers had migrated to the bottom of my purse.

By the time I crossed the Piscataqua River from New Hampshire into Maine, my fingers ached from their convulsive grip on the steering wheel. Regrets haunted me. I could have done more for Nathan. When he pushed me away, I should have pushed back. Impossible to treat his disappearance with my usual professional objectivity; the stakes were too personal, too devastating.

As land and sky merged into sullen white, I switched on the local weather forecast. Bangor, two hours southeast of my destination, expected blizzard conditions with up to 26 inches of snow and wind gusts of over 50 miles per hour. Lovely.

Stopping only for rushed coffee and bathroom breaks, I reached Grandmont Falls at 2:30 p.m. Crimson bows graced the light poles along Brandon Avenue, the town’s main drag, and a Peace on Earth banner spanned the width of the boulevard. These attempts at holiday cheer couldn’t hide the pawn shops and boarded-up storefronts, nor the dirt-covered mounds from previous snows.

Brandon Avenue boasted a grocery store, two gas stations, a diner, a convenience store, a beauty shop, and the Grandmont Arms, the town’s one motel, its neon sign advertising vacancies at the bargain rate of $39.00 a night. My eldest brother Dave, who’d driven up from Massachusetts, had already booked our rooms. I’d check in later.

After driving another half mile, I parked in front of the municipal building where I’d arranged to meet Dave and the police chief.  An aristocratic doyenne of a structure, its ochre-colored brick and shingled Mansard roof attested to the old mill town’s more affluent past.

Gritting my teeth, I stumbled out of the car. Pine-scented air tore through my down coat as if it was tissue paper. My breath puffed out white clouds in front of my face.

I shuffled into the building and checked the lobby directory. The police department was on the third floor. Stepping off a creaky elevator, I identified myself to the tight-lipped officer pulling front desk duty. He directed me through a steel-reinforced door to the second office on the left.

The office door had been left open. As I entered the room, Dave rose to greet me. His red-rimmed eyes and ashen face sent shock waves through my system. I’d never seen my calm, always-in-control eldest brother look this devastated. If my heart had been cracking before, now it lay before me in shards.

As if agreed beforehand, Dave and I kept our distance. He must have sensed that if he pulled me into his arms, I might well fall apart.

He spoke first. You look like hell, Laura.

I was thinking the same about you.

Dave scowled. Why is your voice hoarse? Are you sick?

I waved my arm. A cold. It’s nothing.

The uniformed man who’d been observing us got to his feet and extended his hand. I’m Police Chief Matt Gunderson.

Gunderson was perhaps in his early forties, muscular and square-jawed, with clipped dark blonde hair. If I was casting the role of a tough-looking lawman for some action flick, this guy would have fit the bill.

I’m Laura Taggert, Nathan’s sister, I said as he encased my hand in a firm grip.

You’re cold, he commented. Our heating system’s seen better days. I’d be happy to take  your coat, but you may prefer to keep it on.

Yes, I think I will keep it on for now.

Please have a seat. Would you like anything? Water? Coffee?

Nothing, thanks.

Settling into one of the office chairs facing the chief’s double pedestal desk, I noted a worn black laptop, a note pad and pen, and a telephone console arranged in symmetrical order on the desk’s uncluttered surface. Nary a rogue paper clip in sight. Three four-drawer lateral cabinets completed the room’s furnishings, while a framed poster map of the Appalachian Trail graced the wall behind the desk.

Gunderson gave me an ironic look, as if he could tell I was scoping him out.

I asked, Is Nathan still missing?

Yes.

Ah, a man of few words. I removed a memo pad and pen from my purse. If you would, please start at the beginning.

His head tilted to one side. That’s usually my line, Ms. Taggert.

What was wrong with me? Stupid to have made such a strategic mistake. I work for a private investigator in New York City. I didn’t add that my employer happened to be one of the largest and most respected investigative firms in Manhattan. It’s tough to kick old habits, I continued, attempting a smile.

Here I would have pegged you for a librarian or a schoolteacher, he muttered.

If the man was trying to goad me, it wouldn’t work. I get that a lot. In your position you must know that looks can be deceiving. I’d like to help with this investigation in any way possible.

Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but you have a vested interest in this case. You’d be wise not to get in my way.

Dave started to his feet. I put a restraining hand on his arm, hoping he’d understand that antagonizing the police chief would not be our most intelligent move. My glowering brother sank back in his chair as Gunderson watched our little drama play out.

The last thing I want to do is get in your way, Chief. I kept my voice low and conciliatory. We’d be extremely grateful if you could give us an idea of what you know thus far. And we’ll answer any questions you have for us.

Gunderson’s chin jerked downward. At seven o’clock yesterday evening, Nellie Cowan, Kim and Nathan’s neighbor, swung by their cabin to take Kim to the Quilting Guild meeting in town. When Nellie arrived, the lights were on and the front door ajar. Kim was lying on the living room floor with a bullet wound to her head. No sign of Nathan. Gunderson’s gaze drifted to Dave’s face before returning to mine. When was your last contact with Nathan?

This past Thanksgiving at Dave’s house, I responded. Nathan brought Kim. He wanted us all to meet her.

Dave added, My wife and I came up here from Boston two weeks ago for a skiing weekend. Kim and Nathan were talking about getting married. No way in hell would Nathan have harmed a hair on that girl’s head.

Gunderson didn’t comment.

I rubbed my throat. Is it possible that Kim committed suicide?

Given she was shot point-blank in the forehead, I doubt it.

A shudder shook my body. The approximate time of death?

We have a narrow window. Nellie Cowan spoke with Kim at four o’clock Thursday afternoon to confirm the pick-up time. As I stated, she discovered the body at seven o’clock.

When was the last time anyone saw Nathan?

The night before, at Pancho’s bar in town.

Do you have an APB out for Nathan’s truck?

No need. His truck is still parked outside the cabin. Our forensics unit from Bangor has gone through it. They haven’t found anything of significance.

Dave and I exchanged startled glances.

That doesn’t make sense, Dave said. If Nathan wanted to get away, he would have taken the truck. Which implies whoever killed Kim may have attacked Nathan, too.

We’re considering every possibility, Gunderson replied.

I pulled my coat tighter around my body. What about Nathan’s dog? Jasper, Nathan’s much-loved lab/shepherd mix had been his constant companion for the past two years.

The chief shook his head. We haven’t located the dog.

Nathan and Jasper, both gone. Where and how? Have you found the murder weapon?

Not yet. No sign of forced entry, thus our assumption that Kim knew her attacker. You can understand why we’re interested in finding your brother.

I did indeed. May I see the preliminary police report?

We’re in the middle of an active investigation. I’m surprised you ask the question. He shoved back in his chair, obviously exasperated.

If you were in my position, you might do the same thing.

Perhaps he noticed the catch in my voice, because his expression softened. I probably would at that. Look here, Ms. Taggert, Mr. Taggert, I’m aware how difficult this situation must be for you. I’ll share as much information as possible within the constraints of my position.

We appreciate that, Dave said.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in what I suspected was a futile effort to stem a budding headache. What happened after Nellie found Kim’s body?

She called 911. One of my deputies, Officer Tremblay, arrived on the scene within 20 minutes. Gunderson leaned across his desk. A question for you.

I inclined my head. Please. Go ahead.

From what I understand, Nathan experienced a rocky adjustment after returning from Iraq.

Dave shot up, planting his palms on Gunderson’s desk. What the hell are you implying?

The chief responded with a fish-eyed stare. Please sit down, Mr. Taggert.

I grabbed Dave’s arm a second time. Dave, please.

Mouth tight, my brother obliged.

I met Gunderson’s eyes. Nathan suffered from PTSD after he was discharged from the military. Not an uncommon reaction. He’s been doing much better.

Has he? We’ve been called to his cabin for domestic violence complaints twice in the past six months, the chief stated.

My heart sunk to my knees.

He wasn’t finished. If you have any idea where your brother may have gone, you need to tell me now.

Of course, we’d tell you. I cleared my throat. What was the nature of those domestic violence complaints? Were charges filed?

No. His tone making clear he didn’t intend to give us more details, Gunderson posed another question of his own. What do you know about your brother’s substance abuse issues?

Only that he drank too much, I replied. As far as we know, he was trying to stop.

Anything else?

Not that I’m aware of.

Dave’s mouth had become a thin line. This alleged abuse. Did Kim press charges?

I wish to hell she had, Gunderson responded.

My older brother reached for my hand. What have you done to find Nathan?

We’re working with the Major Crime Unit out of Augusta. The evidence response team is still at the site. His jaw went hard. You both should be aware that if you’re withholding information about Nathan’s whereabouts, I’ll have no compunction about charging you as accessories after the fact.

We want to know the truth as much as you do. My nose began to run. Great. I dug into my bag for a clean tissue and came up short.

Without speaking, Gunderson reached inside his desk and shoved a box of tissues in my direction.

Thank you. I used several of the tissues and tossed them into his wastebasket.

The chief gestured toward the window. A major blizzard’s about to bury us under. If you’re planning to leave town, get out now. All I need is a number where I can reach you.

We’re staying at the Grandmont Arms, Dave said.

Your call, the chief responded with a shrug.

I extracted one of my business cards, scribbled Dave’s number below mine and passed it to the chief. Here you go. About that domestic abuse— 

A uniformed man ducked his head in the doorway. Kim’s parents are here, Chief.

Gunderson held up his hand. Two minutes, Tremblay.

So that was Tremblay, the first officer on the murder scene. Useful to know.

I’ll follow up with you later. The chief gestured toward the door to emphasize our meeting was at an end. Then he held up one hand. What kind of car are you driving, Ms. Taggert?

What kind of car was I driving? What did it matter? My thought processes were moving with the speed of sludge in a landfill. A short rest once Dave and I checked into the motel would help, and then—

Ms. Taggert?

Uh ... a Mazda. My car’s a Mazda.

Ride with me in the truck, sis.

Dave, the storm isn’t here yet. The roads are passable. And the motel’s just three or four blocks down the street.

More like six blocks, the chief chimed in. If you give me your keys, Ms. Taggert, I’ll have one of my men drive your car to the motel. Best now if you go with your brother. You look exhausted.

The argument wasn’t worth pursuing. I reached in my purse for my keys and handed them to Gunderson. Thank you. That’s thoughtful of you.

It’s nothing. He stared at me a millisecond too long.  I’ll be in touch.

Dave lingered in Gunderson’s office as I headed out the door and came face to face with an older couple in the anteroom. Kim’s parents. Had to be. Other than her gray hair and ravaged expression, Kim’s slender mother might have passed for her older sister. She clung to her husband, as if standing without support had become an impossibility.

My insides twisted.  We haven’t met. I’m Nathan’s sister, Laura Taggert. I’m so sorry for your loss.

Dave came up behind me. My sympathies as well. I’m Nathan’s brother Dave. I can’t tell you how—

Don’t talk to us! Don’t say a goddamned word! His face mottled red, Kim’s father hustled his wife past us into Gunderson’s office as if we were monsters about to pounce.

Dave and I trudged outside to his old Ford F150 in silence, though he kept a tight grip around my shoulders. Once inside the cab, his face contorted. Don’t take their reaction to heart. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost one of my girls.

Leaning over the console, I buried my head against him. Nathan didn’t kill Kim. I’ll never believe he killed her.

Go ahead and cry, Laura. It’s okay. Hell, I cried the whole ride up here.

No. I couldn’t give in to emotion. I needed to stay sharp if I wanted to help Nathan. Pulling away from Dave, I asked. Does Sebastian know?

Our middle brother Sebastian taught mechanical engineering at a university in Malaysia.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him, Dave admitted.

He’ll be furious if we don’t.

I’ll contact him first thing tomorrow morning. Dave peered into my face. Noah doesn’t know anything about this, does he?

No. I sent him on a plane two days ago to go camping with Kevin’s brother and his kids in Arizona.

Good for Noah to spend time with his father’s people, Dave grunted. At least you don’t have to worry about him while you’re here.

You’re right. The timing for his visit couldn’t have been better. I swallowed, the lump in my throat growing even bigger. I’d been away from Noah on work assignments before, leaving him in my mother’s care, but this was the first time Noah had left me.

The night after putting Noah on the plane, I’d fallen asleep on top of his Spiderman comforter, inhaling his little boy scent and clutching the