If I Should Die (40 page)

For seventeen books, the Ballantine team has really shined. Without my amazing editors Charlotte Herscher and Dana Isaacson, I wouldn’t have this book to share with my readers. Gina Wachtel’s enthusiasm and smile are contagious, and I truly appreciate her efforts. Thanks especially to Linda Marrow and Scott Shannon for being supportive from the very beginning. And of course the unsung heroes—the production, sales, marketing, publicity, and art departments.

I am blessed with amazing friends and family. My smart and diplomatic agent, Dan Conaway, who took me on mid-career with both faith and a vision. My blogmates at Murderati and Murder She Writes who keep me sane and focused. My mom and best friend who’s my biggest fan and strongest supporter. My kids, all five of them, who make me love them more each day, even when they drive me crazy. And of course my husband, Dan, who tolerates my hectic schedule, late nights, and wild questions. I couldn’t do any of this without your support and understanding.

And last but certainly not least, I want to thank my readers who have embraced Lucy Kincaid and love her as much as I do. Writing a series character is both new for me and exciting, and I hope you enjoy this and future Lucy and Sean thrillers. To keep up with the latest news about my books, please visit my website at
allisonbrennan.com
where you can read excerpts, watch book trailers, sign up for my quarterly newsletter, and follow me on your favorite social media website.

B
Y
A
LLISON
B
RENNAN

If I Should Die
Kiss Me, Kill Me
Love Me to Death

Original Sin
Carnal Sin

Sudden Death
Fatal Secrets
Cutting Edge

Killing Fear
Tempting Evil
Playing Dead

Speak No Evil
See No Evil
Fear No Evil

The Prey
The Hunt
The Kill

Read on for

LOVE IS MURDER

An original novella

by

Allison Brennan

Published by Ballantine Books

Dear Reader:

Love Is Murder
takes place a year before the events in
Love Me to Death
, the first Lucy Kincaid novel. I hope you enjoy reading this adventure about Lucy and her brother Patrick as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Special thanks to Dr. D. P. Lyle for help on medical questions, and my pal Toni McGee Causey for a quick, early read. My husband, Dan, was particularly helpful this time around with brainstorming. And as always, thank you to the Ballantine and Writers House team.

Happy Reading
,

Allison Brennan

ONE

Twenty-four-year-old Lucy Kincaid had certainly needed a break, but skiing hadn’t turned out to be quite as much fun as her brother Patrick had promised. In fact, Lucy had spent more time
in
the snow than
on
the snow. Snowsuit notwithstanding, she was cold, wet, and miserable.

“I told you I didn’t know how to ski.” Lucy shivered in the passenger seat of Patrick’s truck. She put her hands directly in front of the heater vent.

“You just need more practice. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Wimp.”

“Is it wimpy to not want to freeze my ass off?”

For just a second, Patrick took his eyes off the curving mountain road. “Since when have you been a quitter?”

“It happened the thousandth time I hit the snow.”

Patrick laughed. “You weren’t all that bad.”

“It’s no fun to fail.”

“You’re just cranky because everything usually comes so easy to you.”

“Not true,” Lucy protested, though she wondered if her brother was right.

Patrick grinned.

“You think this is funny?” she asked.

“I think you’re scared.”

“I’m
not
scared.”

“Are too.”

“God, you’re a brat.”

Lucy stared out the passenger window as they carefully made their way back down to the lodge where they were staying for the four-day weekend. The winding mountain road was treacherous in parts, and the increasing wind coupled with the falling snow didn’t help. She found it strange that less than two hours ago, they were skiing under bright blue skies dotted with white clouds, but during the thirty minutes they’d sat at the coffee shop at the base of the ski lifts the sky had darkened, as if a gray, fluffy blanket had been laid over the mountains. The snow flurries had begun blowing almost as soon as Patrick started the ignition.

“I’m glad we didn’t take the snowmobiles this morning,” Lucy said. “We’d be coming back in this.”

“We’re almost there.” Patrick’s expression had grown from light to concerned as he slowed and kicked the SUV into four-wheel drive.

The drive to the Delarosa Mountain Retreat yesterday afternoon had been lovely, with striking scenery and crisp fresh air. Lucy loved the outdoors, though she preferred it at least forty degrees warmer. Now, unfamiliar with the treacherous road, she was as tense as Patrick, and wondering why the weather report had told them a “mild” storm system would be passing overnight, when it was four in the afternoon and this was no mild storm. With every passing minute the snow increased, and Lucy suspected a blizzard would be in full force before sundown.

She trusted Patrick to get them safely back to the lodge and hoped that though fierce right now, the storm would quickly pass.

She closed her eyes, considering Patrick’s comments about how she didn’t take failure well. While she was in great shape from running and swimming, being fit didn’t seem to matter when she couldn’t find her balance on those damn skis. She was more than a little irritated that she’d failed her first day skiing because anything athletic usually came easily to her. In fact, most things came easier to her than to others. She studied in school, but never as much as her peers. She’d been an honors student, received two bachelor’s degrees and a master’s from Georgetown, and spoke four languages fluently. And because her mother had nearly drowned when she escaped Cuba, Rosa Kincaid made sure every one of her seven children could swim. Lucy ended up being on the swim team in high school and college and had been scouted for the Olympics, but she couldn’t commit the time and energy such an opportunity required. After she’d been attacked on the day of her high school graduation, her priorities had changed dramatically.

Lucy came from a military and law enforcement family. Her father was a retired army colonel; her oldest brother, Jack, was also retired army. She had a cop for a sister, a private investigator brother, and another brother who was a forensic psychiatrist. They’d all married into law enforcement in one way or another. Patrick was a former e-crimes cop, and now worked for a private security company with Jack. Joining the FBI seemed not only natural, but what Lucy was supposed to do. She had everything planned—she would submit her application this summer. It could take up to a year to go through the testing and review process. In the meantime, she had plenty of work with her new D.C. medical examiner’s internship and volunteering at a victims’ rights group.

She opened her eyes to see if the landscape had changed. The snow continued to stream down at a forty-five-degree angle, the wind rocking the sturdy truck.

It didn’t look as though they’d get another opportunity to ski this weekend. Secretly she was pleased. She didn’t like being so cold her teeth chattered, though at the same time she wanted a second chance. She didn’t want to return home a failure at the one new thing she tried and didn’t get immediately.

A bright green flash to her right, up the mountainside, caught Lucy’s eye. She leaned forward and immediately recognized that a person was rolling rapidly down the steep, tree-dotted slope. As she said, “Patrick! Someone’s in trouble!” she saw the tumbling figure smash into one of the trees. The person grabbed the trunk and tried to stand, but that only sent him falling again, trailing a streak of pink behind him.

“I see him.” Patrick stopped the truck as quickly as he dared on the icy road. He turned on his emergency lights and they both got out of the car. The icy, damp air hit Lucy’s lungs before it registered on her skin. She trudged to the back of the SUV and grabbed the first aid kit, then followed her brother, fighting the wind-driven snow.

Above them, the man grabbed at a sapling, caught it, and stopped. He was still twenty feet from the road.

“That’s Steve,” Lucy said, recognizing the lodge owner’s twenty-year-old son now that they were closer. It seemed to be getting darker by the second, the blinking lights in the front and rear of the car turning the snow alternately red and yellow.

Patrick called out, “Lie on your back and slide!”

At first Lucy didn’t think Steve had heard, but then he turned around and lay back. The snow was stained red where his head had rested. She couldn’t see an injury, but as she watched, blood seeped from his scalp.

“Let go!” Patrick commanded.

Steve complied and slid down until he hit the slush on the roadside. He tried to stand, but stumbled and fell, unmoving.

Patrick reached him first. “Lucy, get the first aid kit—it’s in the back.”

“Got it.” She knelt next to Steve and unlatched the red emergency kit.

“What happened?” Patrick asked Steve, brushing the snow from his face.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“We saw you hit your head on that tree up there. Lie still a minute.” Patrick began inspecting the young man’s body for breaks. “Tell me if it hurts anywhere.”

The cold could send him into shock, especially if he had internal damage. Lucy wanted to get Steve inside as quickly as possible, but they had to make sure moving him wouldn’t make any injuries worse.

“I’m fine,” Steve repeated.

“Can you move your legs and arms?”

“It’s just my head.”

Lucy handed a thick gauze bandage to Patrick, who pressed it on Steve’s still-bleeding wound. “Head injuries can be serious,” Patrick said. “You need to lie still for a moment. I’ll tape this up, then we’ll get you in the truck.”

Lucy handed Patrick pieces of tape and he affixed the bandage. Steve didn’t protest. Other than the gash on his head from hitting the tree, he had only a couple of minor scratches on his face. His body was well protected with a GORE-TEX jacket and pants over layers of clothing.

“I’m freezing my ass off,” Steve said. “Let me up.”

Patrick helped Steve sit up, watching his eyes carefully. “Just hold it right here for a minute. Are you dizzy?”

“I was just stupid.”

“What were you doing going up that slope?” Lucy said. “It’s too steep.”

“I didn’t walk up the slope,” he said, as if she were an idiot for asking. “I slipped at the top.”

“So you decided to take the fastest way down to the road?” Patrick joked, helping Steve to his feet.

“Ha-ha.” Steve rolled his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t in pain, but his hand clutched his stomach.

Lucy said, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snapped. “Are you going to give me a ride or do I have to walk?”

Patrick helped Steve to the truck, and Lucy put the supplies back. She made sure the heater was at maximum, and handed Steve a blanket while Patrick started back down the mountain.

“I don’t need it,” he said.

“Humor me.” Lucy smiled. Steve probably felt stupid and clumsy, which contributed to his foul attitude. He grumbled, but took the blanket and closed his eyes.

They’d met Steve briefly yesterday afternoon when they first arrived at the Delarosa Mountain Retreat. He was young, didn’t talk much, and seemed conscientious in his considerable duties running the lodge. It didn’t seem likely that he’d make a dumb mistake like getting too close to an unstable ledge.

“Steve,” Lucy said, “what were you doing up there?”

“I was coming back from inspecting our outlying cabins—we close them in the winter—and checking for animal tracks. We have been having some problems with four-legged predators, and I wanted to make sure they hadn’t returned. I knew the storm was going to get bad as soon as the sky turned, so I took a shortcut. Stupid.”

“Why didn’t you take a snowmobile?” Patrick asked.

“They were all out when I left, and I can’t get to two of the cabins with my truck. I do this all the time,” he said defensively. “I just lost my balance. And my favorite skis.”

He didn’t open his eyes, and Lucy couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth.

She said, “I checked the weather report this morning. They said light snowfall overnight, clear tomorrow. I can’t believe they were so wrong.”

Steve laughed once. “Weather systems change often, especially in the winter. I’ve lived here my entire life and when I saw the report this morning, I knew the system was going to shift as soon as the wind shifted. Weather reports are more reliable now with satellites and historical data all computerized, but minor changes in one location can have a chain effect, especially in the mountains.”

“How long do you think it’ll last?” Patrick asked.

Steve looked out the window. “I think we’re in for the weekend.”

“What?” Lucy exclaimed.

“We can get you off the mountain if you want, but tonight is going to be a blizzard and I don’t advise it.”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” Lucy said.

Patrick grinned. “What did you do, Luce? Send a prayer up for a blizzard to get you out of learning to ski?”