Read Online Random Acts of Murder: A Holly Anna Paladin Mystery, Book 1 (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries) by Christy Barritt - Free Book Online
Authors: Christy Barritt
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wasting the police’s time. That they’d be investigating something that wasn’t integral. But now that the killer left his own mop and bucket, that’s not really the case.”
Jamie sat cross-legged on the couch wearing utility -style khakis and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. “The guilt is eating you alive, Holly. I can see it on your face.”
I shook my head, knowing I was spiraling down into a pit I might not get out of. For a moment, this had all made me forget about my terminal illness, and that was a feat within itself.
I sighed and flipped on the TV. The news should be on, and I wanted to hear if there were any updates on the investigation.
As I expected, this story was front and center. A possible serial killer in the city grabbed headlines.
“The victim has been identified as twenty-one-year-old Anthony Stevens, who lived in the 2800th block of Hawthorn Avenue.”
I froze. Again. I didn’t know why I didn’t think anything could shock me, but life continued to do just that.
“That’s one of my clients ’ houses,” I mumbled. “I was a caseworker for that family.”
Jamie put her hand on my knee. “Girlfriend, are you serious?”
I nodded.
Why did I suddenly feel like I was being framed? I’d walked into the middle of a murder, and now my life was inevitably woven with the real killer’s.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Who would be coming over now?
I pulled the door open. When I saw Chase standing there, I knew I’d been discovered.
CHAPTER 9
“Holly.” H e nodded stiffly. “Sorry for stopping by unannounced. You mind if I come in for a minute?”
He was being awfully kind, especially considering he was about to arrest me. I glanced beyond him. I didn’t see the flashing lights of any police cars. At least he hadn’t brought the entire squad with him.
I pulled the door open. “Of course. Come in. Can I get you coffee?”
I wasn’t sure why I sounded so calm. I’d fallen back into my old habits of being a polite and proper hostess without even trying. My etiquette book would be proud, but my conscience . . . not so much.
“I will take some coffee, if you don’t mind. I’ve been up all night working this case.”
A lump formed in my throat. “It sounds like a real doozy.”
I closed the door and directed him to the couch, introducing him to Jamie and letting the two of them chat for a moment while I both cleared my head and started a pot of java.
Everything would be okay, I told myself. Despite what felt like the impossible, I’d get through this. Eventually my family might forgive me. I might even forgive myself. I’d been praying every day, over and over, that God would forgive me.
Maybe it was simply time to face the music, so to speak.
I poured a mug of steaming liquid and carefully set it on the table beside Chase. He and Jamie were talking merrily, as if they’d known each other for years. Of course, Jamie was like that. She could talk to anyone, which really came in handy as a reporter.
I lowered myself into a chair across from Chase, trying to accept my fate. Maybe owning up to all of this would really be the best thing for me. Jamie was right—I was on the brink of a breakdown.
I wiped my hands on my dress, disguising the action as smoothing the wrinkles of my skirt. “So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
He looked very stiff and proper in his seat—l ike he wasn’t comfortable. And Chase Dexter always looked comfortable.
This wasn’t a good sign.
“You’ve heard about who the media is dubbing as the ‘Good Deeds Killer’?”
I nodded, willing myself to breathe so I wouldn’t pass out. “I have.”
“In the course of my investigation today, I discovered that you were a social worker for both families who were affected by the crime.”
I nodded slowly. “I just saw that on TV and realized I was connected with the second family as well.”
“When I realized that— ”
I braced myself, imagining putting my
Jamie sat cross-legged on the couch wearing utility -style khakis and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. “The guilt is eating you alive, Holly. I can see it on your face.”
I shook my head, knowing I was spiraling down into a pit I might not get out of. For a moment, this had all made me forget about my terminal illness, and that was a feat within itself.
I sighed and flipped on the TV. The news should be on, and I wanted to hear if there were any updates on the investigation.
As I expected, this story was front and center. A possible serial killer in the city grabbed headlines.
“The victim has been identified as twenty-one-year-old Anthony Stevens, who lived in the 2800th block of Hawthorn Avenue.”
I froze. Again. I didn’t know why I didn’t think anything could shock me, but life continued to do just that.
“That’s one of my clients ’ houses,” I mumbled. “I was a caseworker for that family.”
Jamie put her hand on my knee. “Girlfriend, are you serious?”
I nodded.
Why did I suddenly feel like I was being framed? I’d walked into the middle of a murder, and now my life was inevitably woven with the real killer’s.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Who would be coming over now?
I pulled the door open. When I saw Chase standing there, I knew I’d been discovered.
CHAPTER 9
“Holly.” H e nodded stiffly. “Sorry for stopping by unannounced. You mind if I come in for a minute?”
He was being awfully kind, especially considering he was about to arrest me. I glanced beyond him. I didn’t see the flashing lights of any police cars. At least he hadn’t brought the entire squad with him.
I pulled the door open. “Of course. Come in. Can I get you coffee?”
I wasn’t sure why I sounded so calm. I’d fallen back into my old habits of being a polite and proper hostess without even trying. My etiquette book would be proud, but my conscience . . . not so much.
“I will take some coffee, if you don’t mind. I’ve been up all night working this case.”
A lump formed in my throat. “It sounds like a real doozy.”
I closed the door and directed him to the couch, introducing him to Jamie and letting the two of them chat for a moment while I both cleared my head and started a pot of java.
Everything would be okay, I told myself. Despite what felt like the impossible, I’d get through this. Eventually my family might forgive me. I might even forgive myself. I’d been praying every day, over and over, that God would forgive me.
Maybe it was simply time to face the music, so to speak.
I poured a mug of steaming liquid and carefully set it on the table beside Chase. He and Jamie were talking merrily, as if they’d known each other for years. Of course, Jamie was like that. She could talk to anyone, which really came in handy as a reporter.
I lowered myself into a chair across from Chase, trying to accept my fate. Maybe owning up to all of this would really be the best thing for me. Jamie was right—I was on the brink of a breakdown.
I wiped my hands on my dress, disguising the action as smoothing the wrinkles of my skirt. “So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
He looked very stiff and proper in his seat—l ike he wasn’t comfortable. And Chase Dexter always looked comfortable.
This wasn’t a good sign.
“You’ve heard about who the media is dubbing as the ‘Good Deeds Killer’?”
I nodded, willing myself to breathe so I wouldn’t pass out. “I have.”
“In the course of my investigation today, I discovered that you were a social worker for both families who were affected by the crime.”
I nodded slowly. “I just saw that on TV and realized I was connected with the second family as well.”
“When I realized that— ”
I braced myself, imagining putting my
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