Cavanaugh Vanguard. Marie Ferrarella
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the case is what homicide detective Brianna Cavanaugh O’Bannon and major crimes detective Jackson Muldare are up against. As the story progresses, Jackson finds he has a far better chance of solving the forty-five-year-old cold case than getting Brianna to stay out of his life. Read this to find out who wins—and who killed all those people.
As always, I thank you very much for taking the time to read one of my books, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
All the best,
Marie Ferrarella
To
Sherry & Rick
Congratulations!
Fifty Down,
Fifty To Go
The First One Hundred Years
Are The Hardest,
After That, It’s A Piece Of Cake!
Contents
“Hey, boss man, I think you’re going to want to see this!”
Javier Hernandez, head foreman of Preston, Butler & Cowan Construction, which had, after an intense bidding war, wound up submitting the winning bid to tear down the Old Aurora Hotel, the city of Aurora’s oldest landmark still in existence, emerged out of the building in a dead run. The tall, sinewy foreman was searching for the company’s owner.
Warren Preston was just about to get into his silver-gray 4x4. The freshly waxed, newly purchased truck had been Preston’s gift to himself after landing the contract.
It was Preston’s habit to visit a site on the first day that work was to begin. He’d done it with his very first project, and over the years what had begun as a display of involvement for his men had turned into a superstition, one that he had never taken lightly or ignored. No matter how busy he was, Preston made a point to show up on that crucial first day and remain for at least a few hours. After day one, his visits were sporadic at best—unless there was a problem.
Turning away now from his new pride and joy, he left the door of his truck open as he looked at the foreman rushing toward him.
Judging by the expression on Javier’s face, there was definitely a problem.
How could there be a problem? Preston wondered. The workday was barely a couple of hours old.
This morning the demolition ball had mightily swung into the rear wall of what had once been an elegant structure. When the Old Aurora Hotel had first gone up, it had been the first of its kind, not just in the newly formed town, but in the county as well. George Aurora was said to have worked on the building himself.
A great many people in and around Aurora had fought the historic hotel’s demise, wanting to preserve the sprawling three-story structure for a host of reasons.
But, as was often the case, money trumped history and sentiment. The land on which the old, boarded-up hotel stood was worth a fortune. Aurora had grown from a small, three-traffic-light town surrounded by farmland to a thriving, ever-expanding city. A city where, it seemed, everyone wanted to live.
Land