Book Description:
Not believing won't make the ghosts go away.
New Orleans' homicide cop Maggie York is at the top of her game until a
sniper's bullet changes everything. She flatlines, comes back. But not quite
the same. She sees and hears things...ghostly things. And she blurts out enough
to her doctors to end up on medical leave with a diagnosis of PTSD. If only.
Six months later, the voices have faded and the ghostly sightings are less
frequent. The department still won't let Maggie return to the job. Oh, she's
quit talking about ghosts, except to a few friends and the loony relatives who
believe she's a witch, but Maggie doubts herself. Since inactivity is making it
worse, she sets out to track down her shooter, only things get complicated...a
ghostly witness wants his own murder solved, and sexy homicide cop, Josh
Brandt—who just happens to be her replacement—wants her to butt out of his
case.
After Josh catches her at the murder scene of a key witness, he wonders how the
attractive redhead is staying one step ahead of him and how deeply her
involvement goes. She doesn't appear as unstable as he's been told, but she's
hiding something. He recognizes the signs...because he has secrets of his own.
Unraveling her case soon draws them down twisted but intersecting paths.
And failure may cost Maggie her life.
Excerpt:
Maggie’s
gaze sharpened as the old crime scene routine fell into place. Discarded
clothing near an old washing machine, empty beer cans. Hurst and his girlfriend
hadn’t been especially tidy, but she’d seen worse. The kitchen was clutter-free
except for an empty pizza box on the counter. Large. Smelled like pepperoni.
The fridge contained three takeout cartons of leftovers—gumbo, red beans,
something indefinable—a quart of milk, half used, and three beer cans in the
plastic holder from a six-pack. Apparently no one cooked.
She
entered the hallway. A check of the guest bedroom and a glance in the living
room yielded nothing unusual, only the expected drawer or cushion out of place
due to the police search.
She’d left
the main bedroom for last.
The
bodies were gone and the bed stripped. She knelt to look under the bed, but
anything on the floor and nightstand had been bagged and removed to the lab.
Otherwise, it was much as she remembered. Ten by ten, holding a full-size bed
and one dresser. She moved across the room to check the closet…and heard a
floorboard creak in the hallway.
Maggie
froze, her heart hammering. Someone was in the house. She hadn’t been
particularly silent, so they must know she was there. Why so quiet? She glided
back to the door, the SIG Sauer already in her hand. When the hardwood floor
emitted a second small sound, she whipped around the corner, pointing her gun
at the intruder.
And faced
the deadly end of a Beretta, held by a tall man with compelling, steel-blue
eyes. The air vibrated with energy…and for one long moment, they stared at one
another.
“Who are
you?” she demanded.
“Police.
And you?” The voice was cool, richly masculine.
She took
in the dark blue jacket over a white shirt open at the collar, a loose tie
slightly askew, and his black hair just long enough that an unruly strand
curled over his forehead.
“Show me
your badge.” She was stalling for time. Maggie didn’t doubt the confident,
intense man on the other end of the gun was a cop. A very good-looking cop who
wasn’t the least bit happy to find her there. How could she explain her
presence?
He flipped
open his jacket with one hand, revealing the badge clipped to his belt.
“Detective Brandt. Now put down your gun and back away from it.”
He hadn’t
raised his voice, but the or else was loud and clear. She nodded,
slipped the safety on, and set the weapon on the floor, keeping her hands where
he could see them.
“What are
you doing in here?” he asked.
She
figured he’d soon find out anyway, so she told him the truth—albeit a limited
version. “Assessing the murder scene. The male victim was involved in my own
shooting.”
The cop’s
eyes narrowed, but the gun didn’t waver. “Should I know you?”
She
shrugged. “I’m Maggie York.”
Bio:
Ally Shields is a Midwestern writer with a love
for mystery and the paranormal. Following a career in law and juvenile justice,
she took up full-time writing in 2009. In 2012 her first paranormal was
published, and she has two completed urban fantasy series. Ally loves to travel
and includes many of those settings in her novels. Readers are welcome—and
encouraged—to contact her through her website or track her down on Twitter.
(@ShieldsAlly).
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