If you’re just joining us, you should know that Not Your Usual Suspect authors are treating our fans to an eight-part mystery round robin, Her Fatal Valentine. We started on February 4, so it’s easy to get caught up!
We continue our Valentine mystery round robin with Part 2 of Her Fatal Valentine by Marcelle Dubé
Darn it. Kyle knew she was coming—couldn’t he have left the porch light on? Especially since the street light by his house was out. She’d almost stepped in a puddle of oil in his driveway.
Lauren rang the bell and waited. So typical. The small discourtesy strengthened her resolve. Tonight she would finally break it off with him. Then she sighed. Really, Lauren? Breaking it off because he hadn’t turned the light on?
It was more than that, of course. No matter how hard she tried, she didn’t love Kyle.
She just hoped she remembered that when the time came.
She stuffed her bare hands in her coat pockets, shivering in the damp February night. When he didn’t answer, she tried the doorknob. Unlocked. Huh. That wasn’t like Mr. Security Conscious Kyle.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Hello? Kyle?” The house was dark except for a light at the back of the house, in the kitchen. What the heck was he making that it took all his concentration?
She was about to call his name again when the smell hit her.
Copper. And something far less pleasant.
Swallowing against an urge to retch, she fumbled for the light switch just as her shoe made a small splashing noise on the carpet. With a gasp she stepped back, her shoes making a sucking sound.
What the heck…?
She finally found the switch and light flooded the entrance.
The scream escaped before she could stop herself and her purse dropped to the bloody carpet with a wet thud.
Kyle lay splayed out just beyond the reach of the door, his eyes wide open, an expression of fear transforming his lean, handsome face into a caricature of itself. A tiny hole in the middle of his chest had ruined his favorite sky blue polo shirt.
And the blood. So much blood. She looked down at her black leather pumps, saw the toes limned with blood, and started to shake.
She controlled the compulsion to run. Instead, she picked up her purse with trembling hands and dug through it to find her cell phone. She finally pulled it out and punched in 911.
“911,” said a woman after one ring. “What is your emergency?”
Lauren opened her mouth to answer. Then something clattered in the kitchen and she froze.
Don’t forget to come back for Part 3 of Her Fatal Valentine on Friday, February 8.