“Let’s get this part out of the way,” she suggested. “You call me Naomi and I’ll call you Casey. We can’t pretend all this formality. Not after what we shared.”

  He stroked his chin as if considering her offer. “All right, Naomi.”

  “Drive safely.”

  She reached for her door.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Why? I have a security detail. Is it really necessary to have two right outside my door?”

  He considered the deputy in the cruiser then turned back to her. “I don’t really care for motels. I’m more at home in my SUV. I’ll be fine.”

  He started down the steps.

  “No.”

  He looked back. “No?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t have anyone to relieve you. You can stay on my couch. Get some sleep, like you said. If anyone tries to get to me, you’ll be right there on the couch.”

  “As long as you’re okay with the arrangement, ma’am.”

  “Naomi,” she reminded him as she unlocked and opened the door.

  “Naomi,” he amended.

  THE BONE ROOM

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Debra Webb

  Debra Webb is the award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author of more than one hundred novels, including those in reader-favorite series Faces of Evil, the Colby Agency and Shades of Death. With more than four million books sold in numerous languages and countries, Debra has a love of storytelling that goes back to her childhood on a farm in Alabama. Visit Debra at debrawebb.com.

  Books by Debra Webb

  Harlequin Intrigue

  A Winchester, Tennessee Thriller

  In Self Defense

  The Dark Woods

  The Stranger Next Door

  The Safest Lies

  Witness Protection Widow

  Before He Vanished

  The Bone Room

  Colby Agency: Sexi-ER

  Finding the Edge

  Sin and Bone

  Body of Evidence

  Faces of Evil

  Dark Whispers

  Still Waters

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Naomi Honea—She left the hills of Tennessee to pursue her dream in Hollywood. When her father passed away and she returned home to take care of the family farm, she never expected to end up playing the most important role of her life.

  Special Agent Casey Duncan—Casey’s never forgotten the young girl who stole his heart almost twenty years ago. He can’t allow his memories of her to get in the way of a homicide investigation with multiple victims.

  Arlene Beck—She’s been the trusted agronomist for Honea Organic Farms for more than two decades, but when bodies start turning up, she’s suddenly missing.

  Elmer Cotton—Though he seems like a harmless hermit, he’s hiding something more than the motive for his most recent conspiracy theory.

  Donnie Brooks—He’s Naomi’s uncle but can’t seem to remember any truly useful information.

  Rowan Dupont Brannigan—Also known as the undertaker’s daughter, Rowan is now the county coroner.

  This book is dedicated to my readers! I adore you! Thank you for following the journey of my characters through nearly eighty Harlequin Intrigue novels!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Excerpt from Christmas at Colts Creek by Delores Fossen

  Excerpt from Texas Baby Conspiracy by Barb Han

  Chapter One

  Winchester, Tennessee

  Tuesday, October 19, 8:30 a.m.

  Thirty.

  Thirty.

  It sounded old.

  She looked old.

  Naomi Honea stared at her reflection and grimaced at the beginnings of crow’s-feet around her eyes.

  “Too much time in the sun without a hat,” she muttered. She knew better. It was the curse of pale skin.

  It was true. But there was nothing she could do to prevent spending time outdoors. She was a farmer now, after all. Just like her dad. At least she had been for the past year. She reached up and bundled her wild red hair into a sleek ponytail, then looped a band around it. Had the calluses on her hands like he’d had, as well. She searched the blue eyes she had gotten from her mom—the eyes, the hair and the freckled pale skin she’d inherited from the woman who had taught her about being strong and stubborn and utterly independent.

  Naomi sighed and turned away from the mirror.

  It was her birthday. The first one she’d spent entirely alone.

  That was the thing about being an only child. When the parents were gone, there was no one else.

  Well, there was her mother’s brother, Donnie, but he wasn’t exactly known for keeping in touch. At seventy, he still considered himself a sort of playboy. She could count on seeing him at funerals and the occasional holiday. But hearing from him on her birthday? Highly unlikely.

  It wasn’t entirely his fault. She’d been gone for all of a decade. He and everyone else she’d once known around town had gone on with their lives. Her reappearance was scarcely a blip on their radar.

  She walked into the kitchen in search of her boots. Found them by the back door. The neighbors and a few of her old school friends made an effort in the beginning when she first moved back. But everyone was busy these days. Besides, she really didn’t know anyone her age around town anymore. Plenty of acquaintances but no true friends. Too much time and distance. No fault but her own. Her mother had warned her about scurrying off to California to follow her dreams.

  You’ll be all alone, Naomi. You won’t know a soul.

  Until her nineteenth birthday she’d never been farther out of the state of Tennessee than LA—lower Alabama. Growing up her family had taken vacations to Gulf Shores, Alabama. At the ripe old age of eleven she’d met a boy on their annual trip to the beach who turned her world upside down. He wasn’t just any boy, mind you. A boy from the real LA. His mother was the lead in a movie being filmed in Fair Hope. Naomi had soaked up his every word about living in California and having an actress for a mom. She’d even been allowed to visit the set and watch a scene filmed—four different times. Who knew that acting was such difficult work? The actors carried out a scene over and over until the director was happy. Her new friend’s mother said that some directors simply could not be pleased. Many years later, Naomi learned this firsthand. The hard way. The acting gig was not the romanticized life she’d grown up believing it would be. It turned out to be terrifying and frustrating and unforgiving. But when things occasionally went right, there was immense joy and fierce satisfaction. Like the high of an intensely addictive drug, the wannabes struggled over and over to find and hang on to that moment again.

  For several months after that sultry couple of weeks on the sand when she was eleven, this incredibly interesting boy and she wrote to each other. Eventually he’d lost interest and the emails had stopped coming. Or maybe he had moved. Who knew? Regardless, she had been smitten with the life he had described so vividly. The life she had witnessed ever so briefly that one summer. She could hardly wait for the years to pass. Living in Winchester was the most boring thing in the world, and she wished the time away.

  She was going to be an actress and live in LA and maybe find her old pen pal and live happily ever after.

  Well, she had lived in LA rightly enough. After a brief attempt to be a good daughter and go to college first, she’d dropped out—to her parents’ dismay—and driven away from home in her ancient convertible (the one she’d inherited from her daddy’s sister after she passed). She’d found a room to rent over a garage and snagged a job as a stand-in dog walker and part-time waitress. Her story was cliché at best, but it was hers and she was determined to live it to the fullest. She’d spent the next ten years struggling to find her big break in the world of television and movies. There had been a good many commercials, even a few appearances on a reasonably popular sitcom and one dramedy. Enough to keep her hopes alive.

  Six years into her adventure her mom had died suddenly. She’d come home for a month to help her dad. Not only had she learned that he’d been keeping her mom’s terminal illness from her, he also begged her to stay, but she couldn’t. At twenty-five she still believed that her dream could come true, and on some level she felt betrayed by him and her mom—both of whom had made the decision to hide the truth from her. It had taken some time, but she’d forgiven her dad. A brief visit here and there had mended the hurt and Naomi had thrown herself fully back into the struggling actor role. The rejections continued to far outweigh the callbacks. She was too Southern-sounding (despite having worked so hard to lose her Tennessee drawl). She was a redhead who refused to go blond. Too thin. Too this. Too that.

  Then only four years later her dad had died. This time it was truly unexpected. No one had known his heart was failing him. By that time he
r dream had dimmed, and the loss of her dad had finished breaking her heart. She’d come home to prepare her parents’ beloved organic farm to be sold, but somehow, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to follow through.

  This was the home where she’d grown up. The house where she’d been born, since her mom had waited too late to say she thought the baby was coming. Naomi had gone to school in Winchester, had her first taste of acting in a middle school play and lost her virginity in the back seat of the class president’s car during a high school football game.

  For all its ordinariness, this was home.

  Her parents had poured their lives into this farm and she owed it to them to carry on that legacy. Owed it to herself, too. After ten years of struggle it was fairly clear that she wasn’t actress material. She simply didn’t have that special something the casting directors were looking for.

  But she had no regrets for trying.

  As her grandmother once told her: if she hadn’t gone after her dream, she would still be wanting to.

  Maybe this was her way of hiding from failure. That wasn’t true. But she hadn’t exactly come home with her tail between her legs. She’d survived in Hollywood. Paid the rent and other necessities. So she hadn’t exactly failed, she just hadn’t soared as she had hoped.

  Not the end of the world, just the end of that goal. Now she had a new goal. Take this organic farm to the next level.

  She pulled on her boots and walked out the back door to start her morning chores. Now she was more popular than she’d ever been back in high school or in Hollywood, for that matter. With the help of Arlene Beck, the agronomist, who had begun working with her parents before Naomi was born, the two of them had turned the struggling farm into a thriving enterprise. The CSA—community supported agriculture—deliveries had boomed. They made deliveries all over the county and many more folks had signed up for next year. Watching the growth was exhilarating. It wasn’t like the high of acting but it was amazing in its own way.

  If the growth continued Naomi would need to hire more full-time hands. The two full-time employees along with the part-timers she employed now would never be enough at this rate of expansion. Her parents would be thrilled. She certainly was. It was the oddest thing. She’d wanted so badly to be far away from Winchester and now she was so grateful to be back and to carry on with the dream her parents had worked so hard to do.

  It was far more satisfying than she’d expected. Her only regret was that it had taken her so long to see that ultimately this was where she belonged. She’d missed the final years of her parents’ lives and that made her sad when she allowed herself to dwell on the thought.

  The work was physically demanding but it was unexpectedly fulfilling. Now she understood what her mother loved so about the soil. While Naomi was growing up her dad had tried charming her with the planting of seeds and nurturing of the tiny sprouts. But she’d only had eyes for the stars. Back then she hadn’t been afraid of anything. She’d wandered all over this farm alone, daydreaming.

  There was little time for daydreaming these days.

  The air was cool this morning. She shivered, wishing she’d pulled on her sweater. The rain had kept them out of the fields for the past four days. As soon as the soil had dried out enough it would be time to get back to work. There was a good bit to be done this time of year. They’d finished a second greenhouse for growing the salad mixes folks typically picked up at the supermarket this late in the year. In fact, the variety they offered was the envy of the local supermarkets. For now, they focused solely on selling to families who signed up for the program. In time, the goal was to open up a new revenue stream through local supermarkets. Keeping the product top-notch quality was the most important aspect of their forward momentum. Expansion and all else had to be secondary.

  A cow lifted her head and watched as Naomi passed.

  “Morning, Gertie.” She couldn’t help smiling. Naomi only had a few head of cattle so far. By spring she hoped to offer designer cheeses as part of their biweekly delivery. She passed the goat pen. As the herd grew that pen would need to be expanded. The goats and the cows kept her on her toes. But it was the chickens that soothed her soul. Honea Farm was very close to needing a second chicken house. One small local restaurant, the Good Earth, was already buying eggs from the farm.

  The CSA subscribers loved the fresh eggs. She’d decided to move forward with the second chicken house over the winter when certain other work was slower. Sean Riley and Joe Jones, her only two year-round, full-time employees, would do much of the construction on the new chicken house. The concrete work and metal roofing would be subbed out.

  By spring she hoped to be ready to add to the flock. She already had her eye on new Rhode Island Reds, leghorns and Sussex chickens. When she really thought about it, it was strange how she’d moved so far beyond the glitz and glitter of the west coast world. The best laying hens and spring planting were her primary obsessions now. She headed for the place she and Arlene called “the lab.” It was where Arlene performed all her soil and plant testing with new foods and organic fertilizers.

  Besides the lab, there were two barns, a hay shed and her dad’s old workshop. She hadn’t been in the workshop in ages. The last time she’d walked in she’d inhaled the scent of wood and oils, grease and gasoline. It had reminded her so much of him that it literally hurt. Her right boot suddenly sank into the mud.

  “Well, hell.” She made a face at the sucking sound as she pulled her boot free of the dirt. This is what she got for journeying into the past rather than paying attention to where she was stepping. She swiped her boot, one side, then the other, against the nearest fence post.

  With the worst of the clumped soil gone, she unlocked the door and walked in. A flip of a switch had light filling the dark space. The smell of organic fertilizer concoctions and clean soil made her smile. Arlene was quite the chef when it came to creating organic enhancements for the crops. Naomi’s mom had spoken of Arlene as if she were a goddess of science. Naomi’s dad had, as well. The three of them had been more like a family than coworkers. The farm had gone through some rough times after Naomi’s mother passed away. She wasn’t sure of all the details as to how things went so far downhill, but Arlene had been instrumental in helping Naomi’s dad pull it back together and into forward momentum once more.

  In the lab, Arlene had a setup not unlike a high school chemistry lab. She gathered organic materials from all over the country—occasionally the world—to create the finest foods (aka fertilizer) for their plants. She also worked hand in hand with the veterinarian to ensure the animals received no hormones or other unnecessary substances. She truly was a bit of a magician in all things natural.

  In truth Naomi felt a bit guilty for invading Arlene’s territory without her this morning. This really was the older woman’s domain and she was more than a little territorial, but Naomi needed the invoices for yesterday’s delivery. Generally, Arlene dropped off the invoices on her way home each evening. But she hadn’t last night and Naomi hadn’t heard from her this morning. At any given time there was far too much going on to allow the paperwork to get behind. Naomi stayed on top of it. The others called her overly picky, but she had her way and they had theirs. Truth was, the lack of control she’d had over anything during her California days had kind of turned her into a bit of a control freak. She was working on relaxing and going with the flow. Easier said than done.

  She surveyed the tabletops and file cabinets. No invoices.

  As she circled the room once more the small flashing red light on one of the freezers snagged her attention. She frowned as she moved closer and leaned down to check the temperature status on the control panel. Forty degrees Fahrenheit.

  Her frown deepened. The temp was too high. Had Arlene somehow bumped the panel and caused the discrepancy? Naomi tapped the necessary keys until she’d lowered the desired temperature to a more appropriate setting. Since she couldn’t be sure how long the temperature had been that way, she opted to open the lid and check the contents. Again, this was Arlene’s territory and she hated to invade but this was necessary. If there were items already thawed, to refreeze them would not be a good thing.