Free A Whisper in the Dark by Linda Castillo

mean ‘not exactly’?” He looked at the book. “Can you think of any reason why this book might upset someone? Why they would take that anger out on you?”
    She nodded. “I can think of several.”
    “Is it controversial? What?”
    Heat rose in her cheeks. She could feel the guilt on her face, the rise of panic in her chest, her brain scrambling for a lie. But she knew there was no way she could keep her secret and still hope to find the person responsible. As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, the two were as intertwined as the blood and paper of the pages inside the book.
    John closed the book and turned stormy gray eyes on her. Within their depths, Julia saw questions, cool suspicion, and an impatience that was tempered with the resolve to satisfy both.
    “You’re not telling something,” he said. “Come on, Julia. Talk to me. Who is Elisabeth de Haviland?”
    She met his gaze levelly, refusing to drop her eyes or look away first. She didn’t have anything to be ashamed of, she told herself. Damn it, she didn’t. But she could feel the burn of a blush rising into her cheeks . . .
    “Me,” she said and tried not to think about what the confession would set into motion.

FIVE
    John hung back and watched the single CSI work the scene. Big city police departments were invariably stretched tight with regard to manpower. Dispatch had sent only one investigator. At his brother’s prodding, no doubt. John didn’t miss the politics or the bullshit, but he sure missed being a cop.
    It had been over two months since he’d worked a crime scene. In the past he’d always felt at home among the chaos, the pain and death and bad jokes. Tonight he felt like an outsider. A civilian. But then standing on the sidelines had never been his cup of tea. John figured he’d better get used to it. In his current state of mind there wasn’t a police department in the country that would hire him.
    Julia sat at her desk, looking pale and frazzled even through the smile she’d worked up for his younger brother, Mitch. But John knew from experience the facade wouldn’t last much longer. She might put up a brave front, but he’d seen the fear in her eyes. She was scared—and rightfully so.
    Why had she been so reluctant to tell him about the book she’d written?
    He liked to read as much as the next guy—thrillers and police procedural mostly—but for the last few years his life had been too busy for such indulgences; it had been months since he’d read a novel. He wondered what kind of book she’d penned. More to the point, he wondered why some sick son of a bitch had seen fit to slink into her shop after hours, put a knife through the cover and drizzle it with blood.
    “You got a sec?”
    John turned to find his younger brother standing behind him. An unexpected frisson of pride swept through him at the sight of the uniform. Mitch Merrick might be a rookie, but you couldn’t tell by looking at him. John had watched him work the scene, and his younger brother was as competent as any veteran detective.
    Both he and Mitch came from a long line of law enforcement. It was in their blood. Both boys had wanted to be cops as long as John could remember. Their father, Carter, had tried to break the tradition by urging them to pursue other careers. But John and Mitch had no interest in anything but police work. After their father was killed in the line of duty when John was eighteen and Mitch was sixteen, there was never any question as to which profession they would choose.
    “Sure,” John said.
    Taking a final look at Julia, he followed his brother to the front door.
    “So what do you have?” John asked.
    “I thought we were dealing with a simple B and E and vandalism until the CSI told me the blood is human.”
    “Damn.” He hadn’t wanted to hear that. “You think someone’s been hurt?”
    “Tech said there’s not enough blood to indicate serious injury or death.”
    “Guy definitely made a