The Good Daughter Read online

  Courteous, courageous and commanding—these heroes lay it all on the line for the people they love in more than fifty stories about loyalty, bravery and romance. Don’t miss a single one!

  AVAILABLE FEBRUARY 2010

  A Vow to Love by Sherryl Woods

  Serious Risks by Rachel Lee

  Who Do You Love? by Maggie Shayne and Marilyn Pappano

  Dear Maggie by Brenda Novak

  A Randall Returns by Judy Christenberry

  Informed Risk by Robyn Carr

  Five-Alarm Affair by Marie Ferrarella

  AVAILABLE MARCH 2010

  The Man from Texas by Rebecca York

  Mistaken Identity by Merline Lovelace

  Bad Moon Rising by Kathleen Eagle

  Moriah’s Mutiny by Elizabeth Bevarly

  Have Gown, Need Groom by Rita Herron

  Heart of the Tiger by Lindsay McKenna

  AVAILABLE APRIL 2010

  Landry’s Law by Kelsey Roberts

  Love at First Sight by B.J. Daniels

  The Sheriff of Shelter Valley by Tara Taylor Quinn

  A Match for Celia by Gina Wilkins

  That’s Our Baby! by Pamela Browning

  Baby, Our Baby! by Patricia Thayer

  AVAILABLE MAY 2010

  Special Assignment: Baby by Debra Webb

  My Baby, My Love by Dani Sinclair

  The Sheriff’s Proposal by Karen Rose Smith

  The Marriage Conspiracy by Christine Rimmer

  The Woman for Dusty Conrad by Tori Carrington

  The White Night by Stella Bagwell

  Code Name: Prince by Valerie Parv

  AVAILABLE JUNE 2010

  Same Place, Same Time by C.J. Carmichael

  One Last Chance by Justine Davis

  By Leaps and Bounds by Jacqueline Diamond

  Too Many Brothers by Roz Denny Fox

  Secretly Married by Allison Leigh

  Strangers When We Meet by Rebecca Winters

  AVAILABLE JULY 2010

  Babe in the Woods by Caroline Burnes

  Serving Up Trouble by Jill Shalvis

  Deputy Daddy by Carla Cassidy

  The Major and the Librarian by Nikki Benjamin

  A Family Man by Mindy Neff

  The President’s Daughter by Annette Broadrick

  Return to Tomorrow by Marisa Carroll

  AVAILABLE AUGUST 2010

  Remember My Touch by Gayle Wilson

  Return of the Lawman by Lisa Childs

  If You Don’t Know by Now by Teresa Southwick

  Surprise Inheritance by Charlotte Douglas

  Snowbound Bride by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  The Good Daughter by Jean Brashear

  AVAILABLE SEPTEMBER 2010

  The Hero’s Son by Amanda Stevens

  Secret Witness by Jessica Andersen

  On Pins and Needles by Victoria Pade

  Daddy in Dress Blues by Cathie Linz

  AKA: Marriage by Jule McBride

  Pregnant and Protected by Lilian Darcy

  JEAN BRASHEAR

  THE GOOD DAUGHTER

  JEAN BRASHEAR

  is a three-time RITA® Award finalist, winner of an RT Book Reviews Series Storyteller of the Year Award and numerous other awards. Jean believes that love is the most powerful force in the universe and cherishes each opportunity she’s given to share that belief with readers. She enjoys hearing from readers, either via her Web site, www.jeanbrashear.com, Harlequin’s Web site, www.eHarlequin.com, or by mail, P.O. Box 3000 #79, Georgetown, TX 78627-3000.

  To my editor, Beverley Sotolov,

  who honors the heart of each story while toning the muscles. Her challenge to excellence is accompanied by such wit and grace that our writing partnership has become one of my life’s real pleasures.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  In researching this book, I’ve been fortunate to have the help of some wonderful people within the law-enforcement community of Travis and Williamson counties. Sergeant Rory Clarke of the Austin Police Department, Judge Evelyn Palfrey McKee and former Assistant District Attorney Suzanne Brooks—thank you for your time and wisdom.

  Special thanks to Dr. Rick Bradstreet, manager of Psychological Services for APD, for his insights into Chloe’s job and the mind of a cop, and for his generosity in connecting me with others in APD who helped me with research. And my heartfelt gratitude to former FBI Special Agent now Sheriff John Maspero of Williamson County, whose agile mind has more than once raced to the rescue on short notice to help me puzzle through fitting my story elements into the real world of law enforcement. John’s devotion to duty and love of his profession are in the best tradition of the many men and women who daily put their lives at risk, for not nearly enough pay or thanks, to serve and protect us all.

  Any errors or liberties taken are my own.

  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

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Austin, Texas

  BELL NOTES of Baccarat crystal…soft strains from the Steinway grand. Thick Persian rugs resting on gleaming teak floors, heavy damask drapes, priceless antiques…the silken swish of cocktail dresses as tastefully subdued as they were costly. Civilized, intelligent conversation devoid of any mention of sex, controversy or—God forbid—money.

  Such was the scene in her parents’ Tarrytown mansion, a gathering like so many others that had formed the backdrop of Chloe St. Claire’s charmed life. A world of privilege taken wholly for granted, even, until the last eighteen months, by Chloe herself.

  “You will help me with the Christmas auction, won’t you?” said one of Chloe’s mother’s oldest friends.

  “Of course,” Chloe murmured, taking a sip of champagne to head off a burgeoning yawn.

  “Bless you,” the woman said, patting Chloe’s arm. “You’re such a good girl. Dolores and John have every reason to be proud.” She glanced around the room and smiled. “And this is a wonderful show of support for Roger. You and he make a lovely couple.”

  “We’re not—” Just then, Chloe’s mother neared, and her protest went unheard as the two women exchanged air kisses.

  “Darling,” said Dolores St. Claire, resplendent in Valentino red. “Your father needs to introduce you to someone. You don’t mind, do you, Helen?”

  “Of course she must go. We’ll talk soon, Chloe, dear.”

  Of course. Chloe saw her father with Roger and one of his banker friends. The political season was in full swing, and the prominent banker’s support in Roger Barnes’s upcoming race for district attorney could make a big difference. John St. Claire nodded at her, a clear invitation to join them and play out her role as Roger’s political asset. She was halfway across the room—

  When the pager inside her Judith Leiber purse buzzed against her hip. Oh, dear. The dispatcher wouldn’t be paging her unless it was an emergency.

  Chloe pressed one hand against a stomach suddenly tight with nerves. Whatever it was, she couldn’t refuse—her supervisor had left her in charge for two weeks. Pasting on a smile and handing her glass to a nearby waiter, she prepared for the disapproval that would be silent but fierce from both her parents and Roger. Even after eighteen months, they were still assuming she’d come to her senses and leave a job they considered both unnecessary and sordid.

&nb
sp; They were baffled at her decision to take the police-department psychologist job her graduate-school adviser had suggested, and she couldn’t explain what she herself didn’t understand. The world in which she worked was completely foreign and should be repellent. She was their good daughter, her life comfortable, her road already mapped out.

  What she learned in this job and what she witnessed was at times raw, heartbreaking and horrifying. But despite her parents’ hope that it was merely a minor detour, this unlikely rebellion had become fascinating and…important.

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Chloe ducked under the stark yellow crime scene tape. Ahead, spotlights cracked the night into a scene she wondered if she’d ever see without feeling the impact.

  In the brightly lit center would be a body and, likely, blood. Where light faded into darkness, too many people would be standing around while the forensics team did its work. A circus, with death as the star attraction.

  Somewhere in the midst of it all would be an officer who’d killed a fellow human being, whether from noble motives or dark. That the motive was likely honorable wouldn’t matter; few people, police included, escaped a psychic shock from the act of taking a life.

  Her job was not to counsel at the crime scene, merely to debrief per police department regulations in the event of a “critical incident”—any situation in which the potential for post-traumatic stress syndrome was high. She’d have her chance to counsel later, but not to care now was hard; not to want to help was impossible. She knew all too well that by the time the officer visited for follow-up, the barriers would be back in place, the mask perfected. The cop who’d suffered, no matter how good his reason for shooting, would be less reachable. Less willing to admit the roller coaster his emotions were riding.

  Detective Vince Coronado would be tougher than most, she already knew. He was a legend in the department, a cop’s cop. He wouldn’t come to her by choice—few of them did. They called it “being sent to the Arctic Circle,” the deep freeze away from the action. Her office had power over when—and if—they returned. None of them liked it, and a lone wolf like Coronado would be worse.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the beefy uniformed officer in front of her, stepping around the last barrier between her and center stage. At the sight of the body, Chloe closed her eyes briefly, then opened them by sheer will. Coronado was around here somewhere, and she could not betray the slightest emotion. This was part of her job, no matter how little she thought she’d ever get used to the odd vulnerability death conferred, the reminder of just how fragile life is.

  She felt a gaze upon her and looked up. Strong jaw clenched, Vince Coronado radiated power—and danger. He was dressed for his undercover role, jeans soft with age clinging to muscled thighs, broad shoulders encased in a loose Hawaiian shirt. Though his clothing might be casual, Chloe could see nothing soft on this man, nothing about his manner that didn’t intimidate, until she glimpsed the dark curls on his neck glistening with sweat, making a lie out of his cold blue stare. He wasn’t unmoved. He was human.

  And his eyes weren’t cold, she saw, drawing closer. They were blanked out, a common reaction. The mind refused to accept the full impact of taking a life, however despicable.

  That would come later.

  It would rattle him—it rattled all of them, whether they admitted it or not. Cops either developed armor to keep the pathos and pain of their jobs at a distance or they didn’t make it. But killing cracked those shields, and the man inside suffered, a cave creature forced into white-hot desert sunshine.

  She noted Coronado’s position. He was set apart, as though no one wanted to be contaminated. Shooting in the line of duty always triggered an Internal Affairs investigation and presentation to a grand jury. It meant time away from the job and being a pariah until the officer was cleared. That was one of the hardest parts of a fatal shooting for a cop: spending time on the other side, being a suspect. No longer automatically one of the good guys. She glanced at his empty holster; one of the first acts by a superior was to take a cop’s gun away, rendering him not only suspect but feeling naked. The roller-coaster ride commenced.

  “Detective, I’m Chloe St. Claire, department psychol—”

  “I know who you are.” Each word was a bullet. Coronado stared into the distance, hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, hard cop firmly in place. “Where’s Bradley?”

  “He’s out of town.” Senior staff psychologist Rick Bradley had left for a much-needed vacation, avowing confidence that Chloe could handle herself despite being relatively new on the job. Refusing to let him down, she tried again to return to her script. “Detective, our conversation is not part of the investigation into this incident. It is confidential and intended only to assist you in dealing with what has happened and with the days to come.”

  One curt nod. “I know the drill.”

  She’d heard that he’d been involved in a fatal shooting once before in his career and had been exonerated. Pretending it didn’t affect him was the natural instinct for a cop, but the healing would only go harder. She suspected that this man felt things more deeply than he’d ever admit. No matter how much he’d wanted the person on the ground dead, he couldn’t like what would happen from here.

  Just as she was about to speak, a blond man, medium height, stepped up to his other side. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

  Coronado jerked his head in her direction, and the second man noticed her for the first time. “Oh— Sorry, Doc.”

  “Hello, Mike. Good to see you.”

  Mike Flynn, Narcotics veteran and confirmed bachelor, had never been one of Chloe’s clients, but his reputation for doing solid work while seemingly never having a serious thought was widespread in the department. He had helped her a few months back in an intervention with a troubled cop on his detail, and she’d been impressed with the brain behind the playboy facade.

  Right now his eyes spoke of concern for a friend. He nodded at her and squeezed Coronado’s shoulder. “Catch you later, man. Bye, Doc.”

  “Goodbye, Mike. Detective?” She eased back from the bright circle and held her breath to see if Coronado would follow. He had no choice, really—debriefing after an incident was standard department policy—but she wouldn’t underestimate this man. His walls were thick and very, very high. Perhaps he understood that she was trying to give him privacy, though, because he took the necessary steps to close the distance between them.

  She kept her voice soft and calm. “I know you’ve been through this before, but I’d like to go over a few items for you to think about, then hear what you have to say.”

  He stood there like a solid block of granite, gaze stoic.

  Chloe pressed on, remembering the cauldron of feelings she’d barely glimpsed before he’d slammed a lid on them. “It’s human nature to second-guess yourself, particularly in reaction to extreme consequences. You may ask yourself what you could have done differently, how you could have prevented this. It’s normal for emotions to be volatile, to range from anger to sadness to anxiety, because you know you’re under scrutiny, no matter how convinced you are that this incident was unavoidable.”

  A flicker, so quick she might have imagined it, at the mention of scrutiny. For a man of action, as Vince Coronado certainly was, to be answering the phone, hearing complaints over traffic tickets would be torture. This was a man who was used to chasing the bad guys, to street action, and plenty of it.

  “You may feel guilty—”

  “Not a chance,” he interrupted. “Krueger deserved far worse. He murdered a child. Made his last moments hell.”

  “But that wasn’t your fault.”

  His head whipped around. “No? Think again.” If anything, his jaw clenched tighter. “I waited too long for proof, and now a boy is dead.” His eyes were the blue of cold fury. “My only regret is that I didn’t make this bastard suffer more.”

  “You feel responsible, protective of a child—”

  “Don’t try to crawl inside my
head, Doc,” he snapped. “You might not like what you see.”

  “Detective—” She placed a hand on his forearm, felt his muscles tense. The move was pure instinct to comfort, yet she knew it was a mistake the moment she did it. But because he’d feel like a pariah already, she wouldn’t draw back.

  That didn’t mean he hadn’t unnerved her. Chloe swallowed. “I’m not naive. I’ve heard a lot. Seen a lot.” Yes, her life had been sheltered until she’d taken this job, but in these eighteen months, she’d learned more than she would have dreamed about the darker side of human nature.

  Coronado scanned her attire, then pinned her with a stare as merciless as a laser. “You sure as hell don’t look like you belong here, Doc.”

  Wishing that she’d had time to change from her cocktail dress, she stepped back. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  He leaned closer. “Can they?”

  Chloe fought to stand her ground. “I’d like to see you again.”

  A second perusal of her body was slow and sure. Intentionally insulting. “Me, too.”

  He was itching for a fight, and he’d use whatever it took to make her back away. Very well, she’d done what was required tonight. The rest would have to wait.

  “Tomorrow morning, in my office. Nine o’clock.”

  “Five o’clock, and we’ll adjourn to this little place I know.” A dimple flashed in a cocky smile sure to break hearts. The smile stopped short of his eyes.

  Clearly her window of opportunity had vanished. There’d be no more revelations, and he wouldn’t accept comfort. “Ten o’clock, Detective. It’s my final offer.”

  “Offer?”

  “I can make it an order if I have to. You said you understand the procedure.” She exhaled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He gave one curt nod, his gaze already shuttered, his shoulders braced against what was to come.

  With an inner sigh, Chloe left. At the edge of the crowd, she glanced back. He stood alone in the darkness, an invisible circle keeping everyone at bay. Help might be available—