The Kill

Read The Kill Online

Authors: Jan Neuharth

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Hunting and Fishing Clubs, #Murder - Investigation, #Fox Hunting, #Suspense Fiction, #Middleburg (Va.), #Suspense, #Photojournalists

ALSO BY
Jan Neuharth

Published by
Paper Chase Farms Publishing Group
a division of Paper Chase Farms, Inc.
Post Office Box 448
Middleburg, Virginia 20118
www.paperchasefarms.com
www.huntcountrysuspense.com

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, business establishments, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. The author’s use of names of actual places and streets does not alter the purely fictional character of the work.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010923108

ISBN: 978-0-9841898-2-3

Copyright © 2010 by Paper Chase Farms, Inc.

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

First Edition

Book and cover design by Judy Walker
www.JudyWalkerDesign.com

For
Dr. Dan

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

M
y deepest appreciation and respect go to the talented professionals who worked with me on this book: my editors, Mike Sirota, Nancy Butler-Ross, Lisa Wolff, and Melaina Phipps; photographers, Ruthi David and Susan Whitfield; and my book designer, Judy Walker. You worked with tight deadlines, turned stumbling blocks into solutions, and made the journey fun.

I am indebted to the following folks for lending their expertise to my research efforts and for patiently answering my pesky questions—no matter
how
many times I asked: Ann Heacock, Michael Hoffman, Dave Mazzarella, Keith Meurlin, Will O’Keefe, and Gary Shook; and Janell Hoffman, RN and Dr. Edward Puccio from INOVA Loudoun Hospital Center. Your guidance was invaluable—the fault for any errors or inaccuracies in translating fact to fiction lies solely with me.

Heartfelt thanks to my friends who kept my feet on the ground and kindly gave their time, support, good humor, and sound advice: Janell Hoffman, Fern Kucinski, and Michelle Martinson. I owe you more than dinner for this one.

John Anderson, you went above and beyond the call of friendship, and your keen eye helped smooth out the bumps. Thank you.

Special recognition goes to Michelle Hostler, whose generous contribution to The Fairfax Hunt won her the right to name a character in this novel. Michelle, I hope you enjoy Michelle de Becque as much as I enjoyed brain-storming with you to create her.

Thanks to Al and Dan for their honest feedback and wise counsel, and my mom, Loretta, for her gentle support.

Love, gratitude, and hugs to Joseph, Dani, and A.J., for enduring late nights and long weekends, for tolerating those “absent” moments when my thoughts drifted to the characters living in my head, and for tirelessly helping sort out plot scenarios—especially the rescue scene. You helped in more ways than you can know.

A GLOSSARY OF EQUESTRIAN TERMS
CAN BE FOUND AT THE BACK OF THIS BOOK.

CHAPTER
1

A
shot exploded in the hushed twilight and grumbled through fog in the hollows. The report cracked back through soggy crimson leaves, then faded into a stillness that swaddled the rambling Virginia countryside. On a nearby knoll, a lone buck darted for cover in the surrounding woods. The bite of gunpowder hugged the raw air.

The shooter lowered the rifle and leaned it against the rail. Adrenaline pumped hard, but the shooter curbed the swell of triumph, sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled a cloud that oozed into the dusk.

Focus. Wipe off the prints
.

The stock tie around the shooter’s neck was fixed in a square knot, fastened with a gold safety pin. The shooter flicked the pin open and tugged the tie loose. The white cotton, crisp from the dry cleaner, softened as the gun was wiped clean, extra care taken in rubbing the walnut-burl stock. Squinting at the gun in the dwindling light, the shooter admired how the tiny imperfections added to the beauty of the swirls in the wood. It was custom-made, of course. What a pity to have to leave it behind.

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