BURY ME DEEP an utterly gripping crime thriller with an epic twist (Detective Rozlyn Priest Book 1) by JANE ADAMS (best romantic books to read TXT) 📕

was further than she had expected, her expectation based on just that few minutes’ drive. Walking was different. For one thing the ground was boggy after the rain and the grass long, concealing holes and hollows that opened without warning beneath her feet. Twice, Rozlyn stumbled. She risked an upward flash of the light in order to orient herself and realised that she’d swung too far to the left. Much further and she’d have ended up on the lawn in full view of the house. A flick of the light to the right revealed the outline of the chantry, a darker shadow against a black sky. Rozlyn stared at it. Her feet were wet and she was cold and shivery and had a head that hurt worse than the most acute hangover she’d ever had. Just what did she think she was playing at?

Sighing, feeling that she’d committed herself now, she stumbled the final fifty yards towards the ruined wall and flopped down wearily upon the discarded altar stone and stared down at her wet shoes and soaking, freezing feet.

Somewhere off in the distance she heard dogs bark. Rozlyn frowned. She’d heard none the last time she was here. She hauled herself back to her feet and began to search, swinging the torch back and forth across the space. But the beam of light, though bright, was skinny compared to the area she had to search. She had to be more systematic about this.

Rozlyn chose a wall and, starting at the one end, began to search again, using torch and fingers to probe for gaps in the stone walls.

How high could Charlie reach? Not as high as Rozlyn. He was a good eight inches shorter. Rozlyn restricted her attention to the lower wall, nothing much above shoulder height. She figured that if Charlie had hidden anything here and done it in a hurry, it would have to be in a place that a casual observer would never see.

The grass was long against the wall and climbing, clinging vegetation covered a good third of the exposed stone.

Rozlyn played the light on the thick tendrils of ivy level with her head. There. What was that? A bird’s nest?

The dogs were barking again and, to Rozlyn’s alarm, they sounded closer. Peering round the safe haven of the wall, Rozlyn could see a light moving from the side of the house and round onto the drive. As they passed the newly bright window at the side, Rozlyn could discern a man, then another, the second moving as though something tugged at his arm. The barking was louder now.

“Shit!”

She hesitated, wanting to go back and investigate that bird’s nest. If she did, if she delayed, she’d never reach the wall before the dogs reached her. Rozlyn hesitated no longer; she turned and ran, holding the torch so that the beam lit the ground ahead, not caring now that she could easily be seen. A shout went up telling her that she had indeed been spotted. Would they loose the dogs?

The thought that they might cleared her head and gave speed to aching limbs. She tried to recall what little she knew about dealing with dog attacks . . . about how fast a dog could run. She wished she’d brought a bigger torch; maybe one she could use to whack the dogs with.

The wall was just ahead. She could see it looming, dark but comforting in its proximity. Rozlyn leapt for the top, the Maglite falling from her hand as she scrabbled with both hands for purchase on the coping stones.

“Damn!” She heaved her body onto the ridge and looked back down. The torch gleamed in the grass, pointing back towards the pursuers. Rozlyn spared them only the swiftest of looks, appalled at just how close they were. Two men, two dogs. A voice that shouted, “Stop where you are or I’ll bloody shoot.” Rozlyn rolled off the wall, praying for a soft landing. Praying she had climbed close to where she’d parked her car. She landed on a bush, bounced and rolled onto the road, regained her feet and made a dash for the car, praying again that she’d make it before they climbed the wall.

Her keys were in her coat pocket. She pressed the pad to unlock the doors. The beep and little flash of lights as it responded were the most welcome sight and sound Rozlyn could imagine. She hauled on the door and fell inside, slamming and locking it then fumbling for the ignition. In her rear-view mirror she saw that one man at least had scaled the wall and was pounding along the narrow road. The engine fired and she crashed the car into gear, redlining as her foot clamped the pedal to the floor. The engine screamed . . . and so did Rozlyn. In her rear-view she saw the man halt and raise his arm. The flash, then the shattered screen as the bullet hit.

CHAPTER 36

If Ethan was surprised to have Rozlyn show up at his home at six in the morning, he didn’t show it. He took one look and then took charge. “You’re burning. Come on, get into bed and I’ll bring you something cool to drink.”

“Bed?”

“I’ve a spare room. You never know when people will arrive, so I keep it made up. Come along now.”

He sounded like a bossy nanny, Rozlyn thought. She wondered about the “never know when people will arrive”. Used to folk landing on your doorstep unannounced, are you? She asked, or at least she thought she did. She might only have posed the question in the confines of her own head.

Ethan had directed her through the door from his living room and up the narrow, enclosed stairs. Rozlyn suddenly sat down, legs giving way and a cold sweat momentarily replacing the fever and chilling along her spine.

“Christ, Ethan, someone shot at me.”

“Shot at you?”

She