The Light Catcher Murders (Kate Atherton Mysteries Book ) by Jo Cassie McRae ➱ Book Tour with Giveaway
Excerpts from The
Light Catcher Murders
Excerpt 1:
Tessa Boatwright leveled eagle-sharp eyes upon
B. D. Jackson as he ambled toward her appointed position near Lucy’s
mural-sized photograph, which filled the back wall of the gallery. Ostensibly there to answer questions, Tessa
also made it her duty to keep inquisitive children and unthinking adults from
touching the expensive photograph. As a
painter who had struggled for years before achieving critical and financial
success, she was keenly aware of the thin edge between amateur and professional
status that Lucy teetered upon. Tessa
wanted to help her friend, and she was determined that every visitor appreciate
what was special about Lucy Celek’s photographs. And B. D.’s air of indifference to the art
around him made Tessa suspect him of needing to be educated.
For his part, B. D. hardly noticed Tessa
who—to his boorish young eye—was merely an older woman with graying hair. Though he had no interest in the gallery
aside from its convenience as a place to duck the attention of the sheriff’s
deputy, the mural, which was scaled so that B. D. almost felt he could
step from the gallery into the scene, had captured his interest the moment he
had spotted it. The photograph showed an
iconic Hill Country scene—a live oak tree, stately and alone on a distant hill
that was carpeted with bluebonnets, Indian paintbrush, and pink evening
primrose. The sun was setting behind the
tree, bathing the scene in glorious luminous hues. B. D. removed his sunglasses so he could
see the mural more clearly. He stood
staring, his frown deepening as the realization dawned that he had been
mistaken. The sun had to be rising, not
setting. B. D. knew what direction the
photographer had been facing because he knew this place.
“She makes wonderful use of light, doesn’t she?”
Tessa asked.
“Huh?”
B. D. barely heard the question.
With his attention riveted by the mural, he managed a sideways glance in
Tessa’s direction.
“It’s what sets her photographs apart,” Tessa
persisted. “It’s what, in my view, makes
them art instead of just pretty pictures.
See how the brightest light starts as a point just at the horizon and
then spreads out to touch everything with the full spectrum of new light? You can almost see each ray, each with its
own particular hue.” When B. D. did
not respond, she gestured toward the mural like a prize model on a game
show. “Here,” she indicated with a
graceful wave of her hand. “It’s as
though everything in the world starts here, at this point, at this moment of a
new day. Like the hope of a new birth
rendered upon the landscape.
Photographers have often been called ‘light catchers,’ and it’s such a
good name for them, I think. Especially
for Lucy.” Tessa glowed with pride as
she gazed upon the mural.
B. D. turned his full attention to Tessa now,
his expression saying that he wondered what this crazy old woman had been
smoking.
Tessa, who was in full steamroller mode, did not
notice the look. “And, see here,” she
directed as she pointed to the portion of sky filling an upper corner of the
mural. “See how she caught that
exquisite moment when the sky explodes into daybreak hues? And see how she brings us the diaphanous play
of light and color on the streaks of cloud?”
Tessa stepped back, admiring the clouds.
“Her inclusion of the distinctive clouds is a wonderful touch, I
think. They lift the composition out of
the ordinary.”
B. D. was staring at the clouds, too, though
not because he had any particular appreciation for their aesthetics. He took a step closer to the mural, focus
narrowed, and then stepped back again. It
can’t be, he thought.
Tessa clasped her hands over her bosom and stood
beaming at the young man. “You see it,
don’t you?” she asked, the pleasure in her voice barely controlled. Her effort at instruction had not been
wasted.
B. D. looked at her as though startled. “See what?” he demanded. “What do you see?”
The smile melted from Tessa’s face, and she
blanched at the sharpness of his tone.
“Well, the artful use of light, of course.”
“You’re a crazy old woman,” B. D.
snapped. “Get away from me.” He scowled at the mural. “Goddamned picture. Goddamned photographers!” Red-faced with agitation, he turned on his
heel and stormed away.
Tessa stared after him. “Well, screw you and the horse you rode in
on!” she muttered a bit too loudly. A
young mother glared at her and quickly steered her children away.
Excerpt 2:
Picking her way through the broken glass again,
Kate slipped up behind Lucy. She gave
the beleaguered deputy a sympathetic smile and gently took hold of Lucy’s
elbow. “Lucy, dear. Do you think you might want to calm
down? This officer is going to do his
best to find out who did this and why.
He isn’t the bad guy here.”
Lucy wheeled on her. “He doesn’t have to look far to find out who
did this. If he’d just listen to me and
quit asking irrelevant questions! I’ve
been telling him that it has to be Stewart Wilson. You saw how Stewart behaved after the
festival. He’s a horrible, angry,
vindictive man! Did you see how he
ripped into my mural? The bastard! If I could get my hands on him, I swear I’d
rip into him the same way!”
The deputy’s eyebrows shot up, and he shifted
uneasily, his pen hovering over his notepad.
Kate’s grip on Lucy’s elbow tightened, as did the smile she showed the
deputy. “I’m sure Ms. Celek didn’t
mean that, Deputy Green,” she said. When
Lucy started to disagree, Kate squeezed her arm so tightly that Lucy let out a
little yelp of pain. “She’s
understandably distraught. If you have
more questions for her, might I suggest that you give her some time to collect
herself? I’m sure she’ll be more helpful
when she’s feeling a bit more rational.”
“Rational?”
Lucy flinched again under the renewed fierceness of Kate’s grip and did
not finish what she had been about to say.
“Actually,” Deputy Green said, “I think that’s all
I need for now.” He closed his notebook
and turned his attention to the crime scene photographer who had just arrived.
Kate pulled Lucy a few yards away, putting some
distance between her and the scene, then turned a mildly reproachful look upon
her fuming friend.
Breathing audibly, Lucy glared right back at
Kate. The expression on her friend’s
face aroused all of Lucy’s defensiveness, and she folded her arms across her
chest. “What?” she demanded.
Kate sighed.
“Do you have to work today, Lucy?”
“No. I
scheduled a vacation day because I thought I’d be wiped out after the
festival. Little did I know I’d be destroyed.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you
think? I can see where this would upset
you—”
“I’m pissed, Kate.
Thoroughly, absolutely, completely pissed. Don’t start giving me that ‘be reasonable’ or
‘keep perspective’ stuff because I’m so not in the mood!”
Kate pursed her lips. “You’re huffing like a steam engine,
Lucy. If you don’t calm down, you’re
going to explode.”
“You’re an odd one to be telling me to calm
down. Of all the people I know, you’re
the least patient with ineptitude, and he’s as inept as they come!” She had shifted her glower back to Deputy
Green.
“Yes, well, at this moment, I’m more concerned
with keeping you out of trouble than anything else. Besides, Deputy Green isn’t inept, just
inexperienced with this sort of thing.
And you certainly weren’t helping the situation with your ranting. Instead of being helpful, you flustered him.”
A storm cloud settled on Lucy’s face. “Fine,” she said, though it was clear she was
anything but.
“Oh, do stop behaving like a petulant child,” Kate
said impatiently.
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. She felt as if she had been slapped, which was
just what Kate had intended.
Excerpt 3:
“Tell me, if you can, Chief Deputy, has there been
any progress regarding the investigation into the vandalism at Olivia Zavala’s
gallery?”
Sheriff Stoker had dictated that all such queries
were to be met with the standard “no comment pending further investigation,”
and Chief Deputy Vela knew he should stick to that. Nonetheless, Vela was harboring a great deal
of frustration in connection with that case, so the truth came out despite his
better judgment. “Sheriff Stoker has
assigned that case a low priority.
Extremely low. He feels all of
our resources should be focused on the shooting.”
“I understand that. Still—”
He interrupted her. “There’s no point arguing with me about
it. He’s the boss.”
Kate’s face became pinched with distaste. “Has he moved it to the back burner, or
completely off the stove?” Though Vela
did not respond, the expression on his face suggested that the sheriff would do
no more than wait for a solution to the vandalism case to land in his lap. “Very well, then.” Sighing, she handed the document folder to
him. “I wanted to show these to you.”
Vela opened the folder and removed a handful of
enlarged photos clipped in two groups.
One group contained photos of a man; the second group contained photos
of a woman. He quickly flipped through
the two stacks. “All of these photos are
of the same two people?”
“Yes. The
man is someone we noticed at the gallery on the day of Lucy Celek’s
exhibit. He seemed particularly
interested in the mural, even somewhat agitated by it. The woman caught my eye on two separate
occasions that same day. I mentioned
both of them to the deputy who investigated the vandalism. At the time, I thought one of them could be
responsible for the vandalism. Now we
wonder if one of these people might have something to do with either the
defacement or the shooting. Or, possibly
both. We hoped you might consider them
worth taking a closer look at, assuming you can identify them.”
“We?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said ‘we wonder’ and ‘we
hope.’”
“Yes. That
would be me and several of my friends.
We inspected every photo we could find that was taken on the weekend of
the photography festival and came up with these. They were all obtained from social media
pages that are public. We captured all
the metadata and the entire profile of the source accounts. If it comes to it, the photos should be
admissible as evidence, although you have to go back and retrace our steps
yourself. Of course, we didn’t have
access to any available security footage from shops along Main Street that day
like you undoubtedly will.”
Vela arched an amused eyebrow. He imagined a group of eager, graying women
poring over photos with magnifying glasses.
“You and your friends haven’t decided to become a bunch of Miss Marples,
have you?” he asked puckishly.
Kate smiled.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Chief Deputy Vela.
Though, I award you points for knowing who Miss Marple is.”
He looked at the photos, going back and forth
between them, and then paused over one picture of the man. In most of the images, the man’s face was
partially obscured by the shadow of his ball cap. Then, in the background of a photo someone
had taken of a group of teenaged girls, the man’s face was visible. “I think I recognize this guy.” He pulled his keyboard toward him. “Give me a moment.” He logged into his computer and spent several
seconds typing and clicking his way to the information he sought. “Ah-ha.
Hello, Billy Doe Jackson.” He
angled his computer monitor so that she could see the screen.
“Billy Doe?
Good heavens. What could his
mother have been thinking?” She put on
her reading glasses and took a good look at the photo on the screen. “Yes, I believe that’s him.”
Excerpt 4:
They were on the ground. Lucy wanted to raise her head. Kate was holding her down, though, pressing
her face into the rocky soil, and all Lucy could do was turn her head
sideways. That was how she knew that
Jack had tackled Parker in much the same manner as Kate had tackled her. They heard another shot, and Lucy felt a rain
of debris kicked up by the bullet’s impact with the ground. “What’s happening?”
“We’re being shot at.” Kate stated the obvious without a touch of
irony in her voice. “Keep your head
down.”
“But—”
“I said, keep your head down! For all we know, it’s you they’re shooting
at!”
“But, Stewart—”
“Let’s worry about us for the moment, shall
we?” She looked at Jack, who lay about
ten feet away with Parker pinned protectively beneath him. “Suggestions?” she asked.
“See if you can get a signal. Call the sheriff and report an active
shooter.”
“Seriously?
It will take them an hour to get here!”
“Do it anyway.”
She fumbled her phone out of her pocket and looked
at the screen. “Damn. No signal.”
She rolled over onto her back and felt Lucy shift her position. “You raise your head, Lucy, and I swear I’ll
knock you senseless.” Kate held the
phone up as high as she dared and waved it back in forth, desperately peering
at the screen in the hope that those tell-tale little gray bars would
appear. “No joy,” she called out to
Jack. “I can’t get a signal.”
“It’s a dead zone out here,” Lucy said into the
dirt. “You have to go about five miles
back up the highway to get a signal.”
“Great.”
Kate tapped her phone lightly against the back of Lucy’s head. “New rule, Lucy. You don’t go where you can’t get a cell
signal!”
Lucy momentarily considered pointing out the
impracticality of such a rule, especially in the Hill Country, and then decided
it was not the best time to provoke Kate.
Though the firing had stopped, they still didn’t
dare raise their heads. Looking for a
way out that didn’t involve going back up the slope, Jack surveyed the
situation. The ravine wall to their left
was even steeper and rockier than where they were now, while to their right, a
stone outcropping jutted from the ravine wall.
Neither alternative would be viable without climbing gear. Behind them—or, below them, as it was—the
ravine wall dropped off several hundred feet and was so steep and littered with
obstacles that he doubted their ability to reach the bottom in one piece. Besides, what would they do when they got
there?
“Uh, Mr. Atherton?” Parker’s muffled voice rose from beneath
him. “I think you’re cracking my ribs or
something. Could you maybe get off me?”
“Just so you keep your head down, son.”
“Yes, sir.
I promise. I’m really having a
hard time breathing down here.”
Jack rolled to one side, freeing Parker, who
turned onto his back. He drew several
gasps of air and then turned his head to face Jack. “I think you saved me, sir.”
“Possibly,” Jack agreed. “Probably.”
“Well, thanks.”
He felt around his body, taking stock.
“I don’t think my ribs are broken, after all.”
“Well, that’s good then,” Jack said. He was too distracted by their predicament to
care much about the boy’s ribs.
“So, what do we do now?”
The question made Jack focus on Parker. “That’s the $64,000 question, isn’t it?” He could tell by the kid’s blank look that he
had no idea what Jack was talking about, and sighed. To his surprise, Parker was still clutching
the iPad, cradling it to his chest like a protective shield. “Can you launch that thing from here?” He indicated the iPad. “Your drone, I mean.”
Parker frowned, thinking. “Possibly.
It’s not a clear line of sight.
It might still receive the signal, though.”
“Can you try?
I want you to fly it up to the parking area to see if our shooter’s
still there.”
“No way! If
he is still up there, he might shoot it down!”
“If he shoots it down, I’ll buy you another damned
drone,” Jack snapped. “At the moment, I
think our lives are a little more important, don’t you?” The look on Parker’s face made Jack regret
his harshness. “Look,” he said in a
milder voice, “the moment the drone gets off the ground, fly it fast as you can
in that direction.” He pointed
west. “If the shooter’s still up there,
he’s watching for us. He probably won’t
even notice your drone taking off. Once
you’ve got it in the air, go as far as you can, and then loop up toward the
road and back to the parking area.
Hopefully, you’ll come up behind the shooter.” When Parker looked skeptical, he added, “Son,
it’s your turn to save us.”
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