Hot Trick by Patricia Rosemoor | NOOK Book (eBook) | Barnes & Noble
Hot Trick

Hot Trick

by Patricia Rosemoor
     
 

Shelley Caldwell's career as a Chicago homicide detective is complicated by her city's supernatural underground, her abilities as a sensitive and her half-vampire lover, Jake DeAtley.

Meeting a crazy banshee with visions of someone drowning in a trunk is the latest strange incident. Shelley ignores the warning—until famous illusionist Sebastian Cole

Overview

Shelley Caldwell's career as a Chicago homicide detective is complicated by her city's supernatural underground, her abilities as a sensitive and her half-vampire lover, Jake DeAtley.

Meeting a crazy banshee with visions of someone drowning in a trunk is the latest strange incident. Shelley ignores the warning—until famous illusionist Sebastian Cole reveals his new trick: escaping from a locked trunk submerged in the Chicago River. Sebastian gets out alive, but a woman across town isn't so lucky. Then another person is found killed in circumstances eerily similar to one of Sebastian's acts.

Shelley is certain there's a link between the magician and the murders. Even more unsettling is the way Sebastian invades her mind and stirs her senses. Not to mention Jake's negative reaction to the man. Can Shelley fight off Sebastian's supernatural influence to determine if he's the killer...or another victim?

69,000 words

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781426892417
Publisher:
Carina Press
Publication date:
10/10/2011
Series:
A Detective Shelley Caldwell Novel
Sold by:
HARLEQUIN
Format:
NOOK Book
File size:
1 MB

Related Subjects

Read an Excerpt


A crimson streak bleeding into a rising full moon held me mesmerized outside the Area 4 office of the Chicago Police Department. On my way to the parking lot after a seventy-two-hour stint working a homicide, I couldn't for a moment move. Though I wanted to believe this was no dark omen, simply a phenomenon of nature—strange cloud cover extending a colorful sunset across the western evening sky—a shiver coursed through me.

Already late, I shook off the odd feeling.

Rushing toward my red Camaro convertible, I was unprepared for the scrawny man who popped up in front of me and stopped me cold in my tracks. Though the evening was warm, he wore a tweed suit with vest and a Donegal tweed cap.

"You must be Detective Caldwell," he said, his accent faintly Irish.

That would be me—Detective Shelley Caldwell, Homicide. "Who wants to know?"

His narrow face spread into a wide grin, showing off a gold tooth, and his sandy eyebrows wiggled. "The name's Casey Brogan."

"What can I do for you, Brogan?"

"'Tis not what you ken do for me, but what I ken do for you."

"Which would be…"

His grin faded, leaving a serious expression on his wizened face. "To tell you of the murder, of course."

Another shiver. "You have information about the White case?" I'd thought we'd solved it. Did he have new information to add?

"Na, na. I'm here to tell you someone is about to die."

My gut clenched as it always did when I was about to investigate a murder. "About to… Who?"

"I wouldn't be knowing the name."

But he obviously knew something. My exhaustion faded as adrenaline pumped through my veins. "What would you be knowing?"

He went all glass-eyed and a long, eerie moan escaped him. "I see a trunk…bound hands…" Another moan. "Water…deep water…"

"Seeing?" I interrupted, having a moment's doubt. "As in psychic?"

"Not psychic, not exactly, 'tis my heritage as a banshee to know these things."

Banshee. Uh-huh. I raised my eyes to the full moon and wondered why it always brought out the kooks. They came to the district office on a monthly basis with stories that spanned the city and beyond. Really beyond, as in alien arrivals. I played him along.

"Now why would you tell me if you were a supernatural creature?"

"Because you're a sensitive." His forehead wrinkled. "You would know soon enough. I'm figuring 'tis best to start out with truth between us."

I ignored the chill that shot up my spine at the word sensitive. The only person I was sensitive to was my twin, Silke. We'd always had kind of a radar which I generally chose to ignore. The curse of being an identical twin, I figured. But how would Brogan know about that?

"As far as I recall from my childhood books," I said, "banshees are young women with long fair hair, wearing flowing white dresses—"

"Not very PC of you in this day and age, Detective." Brogan sounded mildly indignant. "Why can a man not be a banshee? Sexual discrimination is against the law, you know."

Part of me wanted to laugh, but with the adrenaline gone, most of me was simply exhausted and all of me wanted out of here. Circling the man to get at my car, I said, "Only if I were denying you work or some kind of financial dealings."

"Well that you are," Brogan insisted, following on my heels. "You're in need of an informant—I know how the last one died a horrible death in an alley, his poor body broken."

He knew about Junior Diaz, who'd been left in a garbage can by his murderer. Only, again…how? Junior's death hadn't made the evening news.

Meet the Author

Patricia Rosemoor loves bringing a mix of thrills and chills and romance to Harlequin Intrigue readers. She's won a Golden Heart from Romance Writers of America and a Reviewers’ Choice and Career Achievement Awards from RT Book Reviews. She teaches courses on writing popular fiction and suspense-thriller writing in the fiction writing department of Columbia College Chicago. Check out her website, www.PatriciaRosemoor.com.

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