Killer Exposure. Jessica R. Patch

of making me come in the house.

      Special thanks to my agent, Rachel Kent, who’s always in my corner and a joy to work with. To Shana Asaro, for her excitement about weather disaster plots and for always being a rock star editor; to Emily Rodmell, for her help early on in the story; to Susan Tuttle—the other half of my author brain and human shovel always ready to dig me out of a plot hole; and to Jill Kemerer, for helping me burrow into my heroine’s and hero’s hearts to find their fears.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Dedication

       ONE

       TWO

       THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       EPILOGUE

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       ONE

      Spring wasn’t the only thing in the air. Storms were rolling in, and if Greer Montgomery didn’t need the money she wouldn’t be standing here in the middle of a field on an April evening taking photos for the upgraded Goldenville Chamber of Commerce website. Nope, she’d be home snuggled up with her own little Stormie Lin, listening to her suck a pacifier and inhaling that sweet baby scent—a mix of innocence and baby powder. But Greer would work three more jobs, if necessary, to provide for her nine-month-old princess.

      The Stellar Entertainment traveling carnival had spent most of last night and early this morning setting up for the week-long spring-fest. Greer had been by earlier to catch some of the action and meet with the Chamber of Commerce’s executive director—and her friend—Cindy Woolridge to discuss the vision for the website.

      Most of the patrons tonight would be donning ponchos and rain boots. Alabama’s springs could be wet and soggy. But that didn’t stop families from coming out in droves to indulge in corn dogs—or, as everyone around here called them, Pronto Pups—pretzels, rigged games, a Ferris wheel and cotton candy. Greer peered into the sky. The sun had been eclipsed by thunderheads that looked a lot like spun cotton candy piled high on a stick. Breaking through the dappled clouds, lightning flashed in the distance. The scent of rain rolled in, which brought a whole different flood of emotions.

      She clicked a few photos of the lit-up Ferris wheel. Perfect for the chamber website. Tourists would want to come and visit; folks moving to the area would see how family-friendly Goldenville was. Southern hospitality at its best. When she returned home a year and a half ago, she’d been welcomed with open arms. One set of feeble arms had belonged to her mother. Greer had expected to come home temporarily to help her after a mild heart attack, but Mama never completely recovered and three months ago, she’d passed into the strong arms of Jesus after a severe heart attack. Greer missed her daily. Missed that Lin wouldn’t get a chance to know her grandmother.

      Another flash of lightning, accompanied by a peal of thunder, revealed the storm was fast approaching. Maybe less than thirty minutes. Greer had already taken a ton of photos this morning after her shift at the sheriff’s department. She normally worked days, but they were short a few deputies, so she’d taken the overtime and worked the night shift last night. Not much in town too sinister. Other than those thunderheads.

      Locke would call them by their proper name—cumulonimbus clouds. Her tummy flip-flopped at the thought of him. But she’d been thinking about him all afternoon. She’d have never experienced a storm in all its terrifying glory if she hadn’t chased dozens with him over the few years they were together. Seen them through his shockingly blue eyes—blue like tropical waters with limbuses as black as a tempest.

      She wandered through the maze of rides, games and food stands. Carnies worked to get set up. Music blared through speakers, and she gravitated toward employee campers and then to the field that widened into the woods—which gave her some unique photo opportunities to capture storms, clouds or any wild weather through the treetops. Locke taught her that, too. But their dreams of exploring the world and capturing it on film had shattered like glass in a hailstorm.

      She had planned to come home and nurse Mama back to health while Locke went on with the research team, documenting storm systems and tornadoes. Then she would meet back up with him and the team, helping with photography needs.

      But upon arriving back in Goldenville, she discovered a shared moment of weakness with Locke—that she sorely regretted—had left her pregnant. But God had been faithful to forgive and to provide for her and Lin, whom she did not regret one iota. Lin was the good in the whole messy situation.

      Greer had quickly secured a job as a crime-scene photographer and sheriff’s deputy. Law enforcement was in the blood. From her mama’s side of the family—the Buchanan side. Dad hadn’t been one for enforcing anything. That was Mama’s job. Then he’d flown the coop decades ago, only coming back to