What Laurel Sees: a love story (A Redeeming Romance Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

doubt it had been canceled. Thank you. She dared not breathe those words, but she thought them just the same.
    Laurel rolled the food cart up the ramp, toward the service door.
    “Who do you think you are?” a surly detective shouted.
    Laurel snapped his way. But the question hadn’t been directed at her. Rather, it had been addressed to a darkly attractive man, attempting to enter the building just ahead of her.
    The man raised his credentials to the detective. “Joe Hardisty. Kickerton Press .”
    The detective flashed his badge. “Yeah, well, I’m Detective McTier, and my pass trumps yours. If you hadn’t noticed, Mr. Hardisty, this is a crime scene.”
    “Could I get a quick statement about the councilman’s condition?” the man asked.
    “No statement. No nothing. Go!” The detective hurried the reporter away from the door, right past her.
    This diversion wouldn’t last long. Quickly, Laurel slipped through the door with her cart. She glanced back at the detective. He was too busy barking at an underling to notice her.
    “Check the food truck and hold every one on the wait staff for questioning,” the detective said. “Nobody else gets in or out from now on, got me? And sweep the media!”
    Her heart pounding, Laurel abandoned the cart inside the door and ducked into a stairwell.
     
    Shana faltered as the coroner estimated the time of death. Frank had been killed sometime between two and three that morning. The scene was all too familiar. The crush of police, the dizzying sight of EMTs, hovering over a body too cold to respond. How could that be Frank lying there? Not when she still loved him so.
    Shana dried her eyes. It would be different this time. It had to be. She had been the victim as a child. She had lost both her parents and her own anonymity to the ever-ravenous press. They had dogged her for months as long-lost relatives battled for custody. They weren’t real family. They had cared nothing for her. It hadn’t been pity. It was the fortune she was destined to inherit.
    For the press, it had been all about the papers it would sell. Shana knew that for a fact. They’d reduced her parents’ demise to a financial windfall. Even as a schoolgirl, they’d hounded her until their readers’ appetites had been sated. Then they’d unceremoniously moved on, flitting back in turns with the waxing and waning of public interest. During Frank’s campaign for office, Shana had declared an uneasy truce with the media. Frank had only encouraged her to speak to them when it had served their political agenda.
    She just had to read people. It would have been reckless to open the door to just anyone who tried to wheedle into her confidence. Growing up in the public eye had taught her that much. Virtually all of her life she’d been surrounded, constantly it seemed. For the most part, she consciously chose to distance herself, to remain at arm’s length. There were precious few she could genuinely trust.
    Only one, really.
    And now he was in a pool of his own blood.
    It was impossible to accept. How could Frank be gone forever? Just the thought threatened to overwhelm her. Shana could not let that happen. As deeply as Shana’s heart ached, as much as she longed to sob uncontrollably at the feet of her slain husband, she could not allow herself that luxury—not while anyone else was present, let alone Grace.
    Absolutely not. She would not break down. She would be there for Grace the way no one had ever been there for her. Shana drew in a deep breath. She wiped her face and turned from the coroner. Remember who you are, she coached herself. You can get through this.
    With as much dignity as she could muster, Shana approached Frank’s assistant, where she stood to the side, attending to Grace. “Rene, I realize this is well outside your job description, but if you could take Grace home for me—”
    “Of course, Mrs. Fischer.” Clearly beside herself, Rene took Grace’s small hand to go.
    Grace looked up,