Race Against Time. Christy Barritt

      

      CAUGHT IN A KILLER’S CROSSHAIRS

      Were it not for her cop neighbor, widowed mother Madison Jacobs would be dead. Thankfully, Detective Brody Philips interrupts an attempt on her life in the nick of time. But the would-be killer hasn’t given up, and each tick of the clock brings the madman closer to finishing what he started. Brady vows to catch the serial killer plaguing the sleepy Virginia town…especially when he realizes the danger has followed him from the big city. With everyone around him at risk, it’ll take everything Brody’s got to do his duty and keep Madison and her son safe.

      “I’m going to keep an eye on you, Madison. Make sure you stay safe,” Brody said. “It’s going to be okay.”

      “I wish I felt so certain.” What about Lincoln? What if the man who attacked her came back and tried to harm her son? She couldn’t bear the thought of it. Perhaps she should simply take Lincoln and go somewhere, anywhere.

      “We’ll catch him, Madison.” Brody’s voice sounded confident, reassuring. It was as if he could read her mind.

      Just then, they pulled up to her house.

      With each step she took toward her back door, nausea rumbled in her gut. Could she face this nightmare again? She swallowed as they stepped inside, trying to stay strong. Brody led her to the foyer.

      “I’ve got you,” he said, a reassuring hand on her arm.

      CHRISTY BARRITT

      loves stories and has been writing them for as long as she can remember. She gets her best ideas when she’s supposed to be paying attention to something else—like in a workshop or while driving down the road.

      The second book in her Squeaky Clean Mystery series, Suspicious Minds, won the inspiration category of the 2009 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery. She’s also the co-author of Changed: True Stories of Finding God in Christian Music.

      When she’s not working on books, Christy writes articles for various publications. She’s also a weekly feature writer for the Virginian-Pilot newspaper, the worship leader at her church and a frequent speaker at various writers groups, women’s luncheons and church events.

      She’s married to Scott, a teacher and funny man extraordinaire. They have two sons, two dogs and a houseplant named Martha.

      To learn more about her, visit her website, www.christybarritt.com.

      Race Against Time

      Christy Barritt

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      My God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,

      my shield and the horn of my salvation.

      He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior—from violent men You save me.

      —2 Samuel 22:3

      This book is dedicated to my mom, Louise Mohorn, a beautiful soul inside and out,

      and someone I aspire to be like. I love you!

      Contents

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       EPILOGUE

       DEAR READER

       QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

      ONE

      As soon as Madison Jacobs stepped into her house, the sound of ticking crept from an unknown crevice and reverberated in her ears. She froze at the front door, car keys still in hand, and listened. She usually came home to the solitude of a quiet house.

       So what in the world was that noise?

       She’d only been gone twenty minutes—long enough to drop her son off at preschool and return home. Each tick tightened her nerves, winding them with more tension than a spring.

       Lincoln must have left the timer going on one of his toys, she realized. Didn’t that windup dragon make a similar sound? Yes, it did.

       Madison let out an airy laugh, shook her head and closed the door, shutting out the bright rays of sunshine from outside. Of course, one of her son’s toys was to blame. What else did she think it was? A bomb? She chastised