The Scargill Cove Case Files

Teaser for SECRET SISTERS

Keep reading for a special preview of Jayne Ann Krentz's upcoming suspense novel Secret Sisters Available December 8, 2015 from Berkley.

Chapter Five

Tom Lomax was dying. Blood and other matter draining from the terrible head wound soaked the threadbare carpet. His thin, wiry body was crumpled at the foot of the grand staircase that once upon a time had graced the lobby of Aurora Point Hotel.

He looked up at Madeline with faded blue eyes glazed with shock and blood loss.

"Maddie? Is that you?"

"It's me, Tom. You've had a bad fall. Lie still."

"I failed, Maddie. I'm sorry. Edith trusted me to protect you. I failed."

"It's all right, Tom." Madeline held her wadded-up scarf against the terrible gash on Tom's head. "I'm calling nine-one-one. Help will be here soon."

"Too late." Tom struggled to reach out to her with a clawlike hand that had been weathered and scarred from decades of hard physical labor. "Too late."

The 911 operator was asking for information.

". . . the nature of your emergency?"

"I'm at the Aurora Point Hotel," Madeline said, automatically sliding into her executive take-charge tone. "It's Tom Lomax, the caretaker. He's had a bad fall. He needs an ambulance immediately."

"I've got a vehicle on the way," the operator said. "Is he bleeding?"

"Yes."

"Try to stop the bleeding by applying pressure."

Madeline looked at the blood-soaked scarf she was using to try to stanch the flood pouring from the wound.

"What do you think I'm doing?" she said. "Get someone here. Now."

She tossed the phone down on the floor so that she could apply more pressure to Tom's injury. But she could feel his life force seeping away. His eyes were almost blank.

"The briefcase," he whispered.

Another shock wave crashed through her.

"Tom, what about the briefcase?"

"I failed." Tom closed his eyes. "Sunrise. You always liked my sunrises."

"Tom, please, tell me about the briefcase."

But Tom was beyond speech now. He took one more raspy breath and then everything about him stopped. The utter stillness of death settled on him.