Paper Dolls by Kara R. Hunt

Chapter One ...

Kite Tanner leaned forward to get a better look at the small crowd that had gathered across the road from her.

She was a good distance away and the windshield needed a good cleaning, but the target was easy to spot.

Five-foot-ten. Lanky build. Untamed black curls. Boyish good looks. The client profile listed his age as forty-one. She squinted and leaned in a bit more. The guy in her line of sight could easily pass for half that age. That was also in the profile.

She grabbed the Canon Mark III from her lap and double-checked to make sure it was still in silent mode. She tossed her purse on the van floor and began rapid shooting just as the target jogged toward a group of kids, who were running toward him. He lifted a young blond boy about the age of seven before the rest of the kids collided with his long legs.

An Asian girl stomped to the side, folded her arms, and pouted. Without letting go of the boy, he scooped her up with his free arm. She flung her arms around his neck and smiled.

The kids ranging in age from about five to twelve, wore dark green T-shirts with the name Gideon’s Club emblazoned in white across the front. They followed the subject down the street to a small red brick building with a steeple but no name on the outside. The man set the boy on the wooden railing that lined the walkway, then turned to open the door. The kids filed in, one after the other, a few stopping the line to talk with him. After the last one stepped inside, the boy jumped off the railing and ran into the church. The target continued to hold the door open, chatting with the girl in his right arm until four other adults—three women and one man— approached from the side of the church wearing the same style T-shirts. He handed the girl to one of the women.

Kite zoomed in on the women to see if any of them fit the “Botoxed bottle blonde” description the client gave. None of the women even came close.

She lowered the camera and sat back. From the looks of it, her client’s husband wasn’t cheating on her. Apparently, the four hours every Tuesday night that he disappeared were not spent with another woman but with a group of kids. A group of kids who were excited to see him.

The question was, why was he keeping this from his wife?

Follow @christianbookstoday on Instagram!

Kite retrieved her phone from the dashboard mount. A quick internet search described The Gideon’s Club as a local Christian organization that reached out to kids in crisis. That explained it. She’d had the unfortunate privilege of meeting his wife, the outspoken assistant district attorney, Lauren DeMint, at the office a few days back. Not only was Mrs. DeMint a proud atheist, she also didn’t hide her disdain for children.

Kite flicked her eyes from her phone back to the windshield and wondered why a guy who obviously loved working with children—and from the way they reacted, the feeling was mutual—would stay married to a woman like that?

She tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and laid her head against the headrest. Working for Jack Eagle and Eagle Eye Investigative Services the past eighteen months had her asking questions she’d never before thought to ask. Wasn’t her business to ask. She glanced at her opened purse on the floor. Her recently delivered P.I. license stared back at her and reminded her that now it was.

She placed the camera next to her purse and started the ignition while more T-shirt wearing adults entered the building. She knew Jack would want her to stay longer, to make sure that, when the meeting was over, the target didn’t leave with a Botoxed blonde, but her gut told her that Mr. DeMint was just taking the coward’s way out. By not disclosing his Tuesday night activities, he was avoiding what was sure to become one heck of an argument. Kite had seen his wife in action on the local news. She wasn’t the type one looked forward to getting into a cage with.

As the last person entered the building, her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but she also knew that J.S., their office intern, sometimes called from a phone at his high school. She pulled out of the parking space then tapped the answer button.

“This is Kite.” “Come and get me.”

Kite eased her foot off the accelerator. The voice on the other end sounded like it belonged to her twin sister, but Windy always called her personal cell, never the agency mobile.

“Wind, is that you?” “I need your help.” Her sister’s definition of needing help meant helping her pick out a new shade of eyeshadow.

“I can’t, Wind.” Kite looked around her then made her way through an intersection. “I’m heading to the office to wrap-up a case.”

She then steeled herself for the flurry of angry protests Windy would throw her way. When none came, she pulled the phone from her ear to make sure they were still connected. They were.

She pressed the accelerator, blazed through a stop sign, and took a quick right to get to the highway. Windy was used to getting her way. When it didn’t happen, she’d make you regret it. But when she went silent, that was bad. Real bad.

“Where are you?”

“Corner of Adams and Lincoln.” Windy’s voice was shaky. “I need to get out of here before they find me.”

“Who?” “Hurry!”

Kite clicked off the phone, turned onto the highway, and veered the agency’s surveillance minivan into the fast lane. Her boss, Jack Eagle, kept at least ten different types of surveillance vehicles in the company parking lot. She’d chosen the beige minivan because it wouldn’t stand out at the small church, but apparently this make wasn’t known for its speed. She barely stayed ahead of the bright yellow Volkswagen riding her tail.

She switched into the middle lane, and hit the redial button on her phone. She was still at least fifteen minutes from Windy’s location. She didn’t know if her sister was on foot or planning to switch cars, but if she was able to meet her at a location closer to the highway, Kite could get to her faster.

No answer. A second redial went straight to voicemail.

Kite floored the minivan and said a silent prayer that the traffic would remain light, and that she wouldn’t attract police. Or maybe the police were exactly who she needed. If it weren’t for Windy’s history of multiple brushes with the law, she’d call and have them meet her there. But chances were nine out of ten that that’d end in her sister’s arrest. Still, she had to take that chance.

She slowed to merge into the right lane and had pressed the first of the three digits for the police when the phone vibrated in her hand. She clicked the talk button. “Windy, what’s going on?”

“I started walking south. I’m heading toward Monroe.” “That’s even better. I can be at the Federal Credit Union on Monroe in less than five minutes.

I’m in a beige minivan. I’ll pull up to the steps in front, and you can jump in.”

She let out a loud breath. “Thanks, sister. You’re by yourself, right? You didn’t contact the police, did you?”

Kite turned onto the exit ramp and stopped at the light. “I was about to when you didn’t answer. What’s going on, Wind?”

“The police are who I’m trying to avoid. They’re coming for me. Or soon will be.” Kite tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Why? What did you do this time?”

“It has to do with Michael.”

Figured. Her boyfriend for the last ten years. Michael was a liar, a thief, and a cheat. Kite was also pretty sure he was married. A one-hour investigation by Jack Eagle could’ve proved that, but Windy wouldn’t have it. Every person who tried to talk her into leaving Michael, she broke communication with. To preserve their sisterhood, Kite kept her opinions to herself and prayed that soon enough Michael would be exposed for the rat he was.

“What did he do now?”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

Her fingers tightened on the phone. “What do you mean, he’s dead?”

“He’s dead, Kite. D.E.A.D. I killed him. Stabbed him straight through the heart.”

She quickly wiped the phone against her jeans as the sweat on her hand threatened to make it slip. A moment passed before Windy let out a soft chuckle. “Do you know he even had the nerve to look surprised? Like he had no idea of the heartache he’d put me through. Well, he knows now.” She took in a quick breath. “Where are you?”

Kite loosened her grip on the phone as the steps to the credit union came into view. “I’m here.”

She waited for a gray sedan to pull out of the space directly in front of the building. Her sister, dressed in tight jeans and an oversize dark blue sweatshirt—which she was pretty sure used to belong to Michael—turned in her direction, bounded down the concrete steps, and smiled.

Copyright © 2022 by Kara R. Hunt Published by Take Me Away Books, an imprint of Winged Publications