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  BAD INTENT

  Heath Overton is missing and his wives want him back…

  When the Overton clan — one husband, three almost-sister-wives, and their eleven children — arrive in Mallard Bay, summer on the Shore heats up. The Overtons and their television show are ready for prime time until the family patriarch disappears. Lightning Strike Films wants their leading man in front of the cameras in two weeks, and Heath Overton’s wives want him home yesterday. Everyone’s upset, even before the murders start.

  It’s been nearly two years since attorney Grace Reagan landed in the touristy little town on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, and so far, every one of her plans to leave has backfired. This time it’s Grace herself who’s holding up progress. She may, or may not, be getting married. Or going to France for her dream vacation. Or starting over somewhere on the far side of The Bridge. She has big decisions to make, but first, the Overtons need her help. As the body count rises, Grace is torn between duty to her clients and the fast-moving changes in her own life. Can she stop the killings before she becomes the next victim?

  — Come on over to Mallard Bay —

  The weather’s fine, the water’s warm and murder is on the menu!

  Also by Cheril Thomas

  Squatter’s Rights

  A Commission on Murder

  Readers’ reviews for the Eastern Shore Mysteries

  For Squatter’s Rights:

  “… Cheril Thomas is a masterful storyteller and had me guessing the whole time.”

  “… The characters are fun and clever… an engaging page turner…”

  “… Attention grabber until the very end.”

  “I loved this book, couldn’t put it down, such great characters…”

  “… I read it straight through to the end without putting it down.”

  For A Commission on Murder:

  “… A witty thriller and great summer read…”

  “… Strongly recommend adding this selection to your summer reading list.”

  “… A real page turner…”

  “… Another great offering in the series…”

  Advance praise for Bad Intent:

  “… Suspenseful, funny and tragic and filled with more mysteries than Grace wants or needs, Bad Intent is Cheril Thomas’s best offering yet.”

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Before You Go

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Publisher

  Bad Intent

  Cheril Thomas

  A truth that’s told with bad intent

  Beats all the Lies you can invent

  WILLIAM BLAKE

  Auguries of Innocence

  Chapter One

  Melanie and Whitney Overton weren’t the strangest clients Grace Reagan had handled in her brief tenure with Cyrus Mosley and Associates, Attorneys at Law. Top honors in the strange category went to a murdered billionaire, with honorable mention to a pair of neighbors in a death feud over a six-foot python and three dead chickens. Grace liked to think she’d learned from both cases, and yet here she was listening to another set of clients who needed a magician, not a lawyer.

  “You should work with the police,” Grace said, keeping her voice even and her words short. The women didn’t look like they could handle complicated. The Overton sisters were trouble, plain and simple, and she didn’t want to represent them in their search for their missing husband. A runaway polygamist would definitely rate a slot on the Strange Client list.

  “We can’t,” Melanie wailed, tears leaking from her brimming eyes. “They already think Heath’s a car thief.”

  Whitney backed her up with a glum nod.

  They favored each other in the way of before and after photographs. Both were on the short side with dark hair and large blue eyes. High cheekbones and oval faces made them pretty, but only Melanie made an effort beyond that. Despite her I’m-on-the-edge persona, she’d taken time with makeup and wore a sundress with wedge sandals. Whitney’s messy bun, loose tank top and yoga pants said she’d gotten dressed, and that was all anybody was getting from her.

  “We want you to do that for us,” Whitney said.

  While Whitney had explained the reason for their appointment, Melanie had listened anxiously, wrapping her stick-thin arms around her bent torso and crossing her legs. Now she gave herself an extra twist by tucking one foot behind the chair leg, locking herself into a pretzel shape. “The police think we’re crazy, but they’ll believe you, Ms. Reagan,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “Our firm doesn’t do this type of work,” Grace tried again. “If you don’t want the police, I can recommend a private detective.”

  “No. You’re the one we need,” Whitney said. “We need to find out everything the police know about our husband. You’re a friend of the Police Chief’s, so you’re perfect for the job.” She reddened slightly and added, “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I should have said our neighbor recommended you.”

  Grace didn’t have to ask which neighbor. The keeper of all gossip in Mallard Bay, Maryland, lived next door to the house the Overtons were renting. Avril Oxley had been talking about the large family for weeks.

  “I appreciate that,” Grace said, trying not to sound sarcastic. “But I’m not sure I can help you.”

  The silence grew as Grace waited to see if her words were sinking in. Billable minutes ticked by. The screensaver on her computer monitor changed from a vineyard in Bordeaux to a lavender field in Provence, and she wondered if it would be in bloom when she arrived in France in six weeks.

  Whitney Overton broke the impasse. “We haven’t been in town long, and we don’t have any connections here, except our neighbor. You have to help us. When the police came to our house yesterday morning, they said Heath stole a rental car. I was only trying to protect the family, and now I see that was a mistake.”

  “She lied,” Melanie said.

  Flicking her sister an irritated glance, Whitney said, “I made a mistake.”

  Grace rechecked her notes. Between tree pollen and Benadryl her head felt like a hot, soggy sponge. She was still adjusting to the sisters’ tale and assumed her slowed reflexes had caused her to miss a vital piece of information. Such as the part of the Overtons’ story that would make sense. “What kind of mistake?” she asked.

  “As I said, unfortunately, we had to lie — ”

  “You lied,” Melanie corrected in a whispery voice.


  Whitney briefly squeezed her eyes shut, then started again. “I lied about knowing where my husband — ”

  “Our husband,” Melanie said.

  Grace wanted to slap duct tape over the woman’s mouth just so her sister could finish a sentence. “What did you lie to the police about?” she asked, looking at both sisters to cover her bases.

  Whitney looked exasperated. “I told them we knew where Heath was when we really have no idea because he’s missing.”

  “Since last Monday, May 7th. Got it.” Grace circled the date on her legal pad.

  Whitney’s top knot had been sliding loose as she talked. Now she yanked on the elastic holding it together and resumed her story while finger combing the mass of hair that fell past her shoulders.

  “Heath flew into Baltimore a week ago Sunday, rented a car, and drove over to see us. He went back to Atlanta on Monday. On Wednesday, the rental car company called me because they had my number as an emergency contact. He hadn’t returned the car before he flew back home. The daily charges were still being paid by the credit card, so they’d let it slide for forty-eight hours, but he wasn’t answering their calls, and they wanted their car back. I smoothed things over and authorized an extension to the lease.”

  “That was the first lie she told,” Melanie said and dabbed at her eyes. “We have to protect the family, but if they’d called me, I might have handled it differently.”

  “By crying and handing me the phone?” Whitney snapped, then colored. “Sorry, we’re both very upset. Anyway, except for us being worried to death, and not being able to reach Heath, nothing else happened until the police showed up yesterday. Without saying anything to me, the rental company reported the car stolen despite the extended lease.”

  Both women looked expectantly at Grace.

  “Why did you lie about knowing where your husband was?” Grace asked.

  The sisters looked at each other in surprise, and Grace hoped they were reconsidering their choice of law firms.

  Whitney scraped her hair back up and began twisting it while Melanie nervously fiddled with a perfectly coiled curl of her own. Neither of them answered Grace, who was thinking the Overtons’ bathroom drains must be perpetually clogged with all that hair flying around.

  Topknot secured once more, Whitney said, “I had to lie because of who we are. The Overton family? The Plurals Next Door? I’m sure you’ve seen the promo ads on the Different Lives channel? We can’t risk the press getting wind of Heath’s disappearance. It’s totally counter to our family’s mission statement.”

  Grace was trying to remember the last time she heard anyone refer to a family mission statement with sincerity when Melanie untwisted herself and stood up.

  “We need you to find our husband. Can you do it?”

  Grace meant to say no. She even opened her mouth to say no. If the billionaire’s murder and the snake case had taught her anything, it was that some clients aren’t worth the money. Cyrus Mosley had barely recovered from the newspaper headlines generated by those clients. Two sister wives searching for their husband would probably kill the old coot.

  She’d be leaving Mallard Bay in less than six weeks. When — if — she returned, it would only be as a visitor. There was plenty of work to occupy her until she left. Good, steady, boring work.

  Whitney said, “We’ll pay double your regular hourly rate.”

  France was expensive.

  Grace said, “Where would you like me to start?”

  Chapter Two

  Whitney produced a business card from a Detective Sergeant Desiree Marbury of the Maryland State Police and one from Mallard Bay’s Chief of Police Lee McNamara. As Melanie described their family, Grace made notes and added Marbury’s information. She was having lunch with Lee McNamara in an hour and could get his take on Heath Overton then. With any luck, she could avoid the State Police officer. They’d met last year, and Grace wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

  Handing the business cards back to Whitney, Grace said, “You must be very worried. I’ll try to help you, but I need to understand your situation better.” She’d already learned that the sisters, the husband they shared, and their nine children were making a TV series for a Baltimore based independent film company. The show had just been picked up by a large cable syndicate, a deal that would fall apart without Heath.

  “You need to use the right terminology when you talk about us,” Melanie said. She dabbed at her eyes and the steady trickle of tears that dripped down her face. “We aren’t polygamists, and Heath isn’t a bigamist. There’s only one legal marriage. Be sure to refer to us as a plural family or as committed polyamorists. Do you know what polyamory is?”

  “More than one lover,” Grace guessed.

  “No, but that’s one reason we’re making this show,” Melanie said. “We have a message to share that will help so many people find the families they need. It isn’t a new concept, of course, but most people don’t understand the value of this lifestyle. Everyone knows about polygamists, but we’re different. ‘Polyamory’ means being in love with more than one person at the same time, and we believe that’s how nature intended it to be for the man in the family. We, Whitney and I, are in separate committed, moral relationships with Heath, and soon Felicia will be, too. Did I mention Felicia? She’s our fiancée.”

  Grace wondered if she could live without antihistamines. Somehow, she’d missed a third sister wife.

  Melanie seemed to gain energy from telling her story. “The show’s about how we’ll live as three couples, sharing our love for our children and the responsibilities that come with family life. We aren’t sealed in a religious sense, the way the husband and wives are on some of those other families you see on TV.”

  “In fact, religion doesn’t play a part in our decision to have a plural marriage,” Whitney added. “We stay away from that topic on the show. No sense alienating any viewers. Especially when we’re advocating for a quality of life most traditional marriages lack. Heath says we should share what we’ve found and show the world how happy we are.”

  “It’s a modern, middle-class, communal way of living,” Melanie said. “We’re devoted to raising happy, productive families in love and peace.”

  Grace wondered how the sales pitch would stand up to their husband’s apparent defection. And car theft.

  Melanie said, “Since the police showed up yesterday saying that the car rental agency had reported the car stolen, we’ve been frantic with worry. And the children are scared. The three oldest boys are at a camp for child actors, but we have Felicia’s two kids in addition to the other six of ours. They’re wound up like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “To recap,” Grace said, hoping to get the women back to the issue that had brought them to see her. “You haven’t heard from your husband in over a week, and a rental agency is accusing him of stealing their car, but you don’t want to involve the police. Are you sure? Knowing he is missing could mitigate the theft charge, at least for the time being, and the police have the resources to find him.”

  “No! We’ve already lied,” Whitney said. “We can’t go back and tell them Heath’s been gone a week or it’ll look like the family’s falling apart. Lightning Strike Films is very sensitive to adverse publicity.”

  “But you’re okay with them thinking he stole a rental car?” Grace decided she hadn’t missed anything that would make these women sound reasonable.

  Whitney looked offended, but Grace thought she saw a corner of Melanie’s mouth quiver. It might have been a smile, or she could be getting ready to cry again.

  “I paid the lease through Saturday,” Whitney said. “The rental company refused to renew again unless Heath contacts them, but if he returns the car, all they can do is charge the penalty rates. So, that’s what has to happen.”

  Something was off. Something basic. “Did Detective Marbury tell you why she was there with Chief McNamara? As you say, your husband is technically only a few days late returning the c
ar, and the rental company thinks you know where he is. I guess I can understand them calling the local police department to check you out, but why are the State Police involved?”

  “How would we know why they do anything?” Melanie said. “Please, just get them to leave us alone. We’ll keep paying the rental charges, and Heath will show up soon.”

  “Where do you believe he is?” Grace asked.

  Melanie wailed, ‘I don’t know’ at the same time Whitney said, ‘with Felicia’ and handed her sister more tissues.

  “Felicia says she hasn’t heard from him since he left Atlanta, but I think she’s lying,” Whitney said.

  “We can’t risk violating the terms of our contract with Lightning Strike Films,” Melanie said as she dabbed her face. “It took over a year to set everything up with them and we’ll be broke if we can’t meet our obligations.” She paused and gave her sister a dead-eye stare. “Felicia is fine and onboard, and so are we. Right, Whitney?”