"A Riveting, Intense, and Thought-provoking Murder Mystery"
Reviewed by Monique Daoust
Posted August 11, 2017
Inspirational Romance | Inspirational Mystery | Romance Suspense
When she was five years old in Ireland, Haley Callaghan's
parents and her baby brother were murdered in what was
believed to be a Mafia hit, and the killers were never
found. She escaped, and eventually joined the Elite
Guardians in South Carolina. Life was not perfect,
but everything went well until Haley felt that someone
was watching her. And it doesn't take Haley long to
realise that someone wants her dead. Steven Rothwell,
recently transferred from Chicago because of family
matters, has been investigating a case which looks like
the work of a serial killer right in Haley's
neighborhood when she is shot at, it's Steven with his
partner Quinn Holcombe -- an acquaintance of Haley's -- who
take over her case. Oh wow! What a story and what an aptly chosen title!
Right from the start, the atmosphere of mystery and
secrecy is palpable as Lynette Eason weaves an
exceedingly intricate story where many events and lives
collide. CHASING SECRETS is a carefully crafted story
where the action never stops. The tone is muted and
somewhat hushed, the suspense slowly builds as more
players, events, and murders are introduce to culminate
in an explosive crescendo. I would advise the reader to
plan in advance because you will not want to stop reading
when you reach the last quarter of CHASING SECRETS.
Haley and Steven have both made dreadful mistakes in the
past, which both handle quite differently, and I love how
the author deals with the theme of forgiveness: not by
resorting to syrupy or preachy discourses, but with a
very philosophical and healthy approach. Haley and Steven
have riveting backstories, and their relationship is
built on respect, professionalism, and understanding.
Their romance smoulders a long time, that little spark of
mutual attraction is always present, and for once staying
alive takes precedence to making goo-goo eyes at each
other. But when that spark ignites, you know it's for
real. Given everything that happens in CHASING SECRETS, it's a
wonder that Ms. Eason managed to avoid melodramatic
drivel, but made CHASING SECRETS a very intense, thought-
provoking, and utterly convincing story. CHASING SECRETS
is not your usual light romantic suspense, it's a very
complex murder mystery with characters who act like the
professionals they are, which gives the story so much
more authenticity. A couple of new characters were
introduced, which I hope means that I can look forward to
at least two more books in this series that keeps getting
better and better.
SUMMARY
Elite Guardians bodyguard Haley Callaghan may be in South
Carolina, but when a photo leads investigators in West
Ireland to open a twenty-five-year-old cold case, her
life
is suddenly in danger. Haley knows how to take care of
herself; after all, she's made a career out of taking
care
of others. But after an uncomfortably close call,
Detective
Steven Rothwell takes it upon himself to stay with her--
and
the young client she has taken under her wing. A
protector
at heart, he's not about to let Haley fight this battle
alone. In a sweeping plot that takes them into long-buried
memories--and the depths of the heart--Haley and Steven
will
have to solve the mystery of Haley's past while dodging
bullets, bombs, and bad guys who just won't quit.
ExcerptROCK MORAN CASTLECOUNTY MAYO, IRELAND, 1991 Five-year-old Aileen Burke crouched in the small hidden
room in the big castle she called home. Terror caused her
little heart to beat in her chest like the wings of a
hummingbird. More gunshots rang out and Aileen ducked her
head and covered her ears. She pressed back into the warm
body behind her. “Mam,” she whispered. “I want me mam.” “Shh, child, yer mam canna be here. I’ll keep ye safe.
Just don’ say a word.” Aileen shuddered and clamped her lips shut. She’d seen
the big red stain that grew on the front of her dad’s
chest after the man with the gun had yelled at him. It
had scared her, so she’d run to her favorite hiding
place. The place where Nanny Iona had found her and
crawled inside with her. “Da’s hurt, Nanny, that bad man shot him. He’s bleeding.”
She kept her voice low, barely above a whisper, as the
screams and shouts and loud noises echoed around them.
“Make it stop, please.” “Shh, say no more.” Aileen fell silent. Tears leaked from her eyes, and
someplace deep inside her, she knew she would never see
her dad again. A loud thud just outside the small door made her jump.
More screams raked across her ears and she shuddered.
Nanny’s arms tightened around her and she felt the
woman’s lips touch the edge of her forehead. “May the God
of peace bring peace to this house,” she whispered. The siege seemed to go on forever as the castle, her
home, shook with violence. She must have fallen asleep,
her ear next to Nanny’s heartbeat, because the next thing
she knew Nanny was shaking her, whispering that they
needed to go. “Close yer eyes, leanbh. I’m goin’ to carry
you out of here. Promise me. Promise ye won’t look.” Aileen didn’t answer and Nanny opened the small door that
was barely big enough for the woman. If she’d been any
bigger, Aileen figured she’d have gotten stuck just like
her dog Henry did when he tried to come in the doggy
door. Her mam had had to open the door and pull him out,
then her da had made the door bigger for Henry. But no
one had been able to convince Henry to use the doggy door
after that. She yawned. She wanted to go back to sleep, but mostly
she wanted her mam and da. But Da was hurt . . . Aileen swallowed the lump in her throat and grimaced at
the gritty feeling. She tried to be brave. She wished
she’d gone to school today. She was supposed to have gone
on a field trip to the zoo with all of her friends, but
Nanny had kept her home because she had a little fever
and a sore throat. Aileen had been very upset about
missing the trip, but when Nanny had brought her chicken
broth and let her watch her favorite cartoon with a
promise to take her to the zoo as soon as she was well,
Aileen had cheered up and then fallen asleep. And then the loud bangs had awakened her and scared her.
She’d heard running footsteps, mean shouts, and lots of
bad words. So she’d hidden. Nanny slipped past her and out the door. She turned and
held out her hands. Aileen let Nanny help her out of the
hiding place and pick her up. “Close your eyes, love.” Aileen obeyed. Her nose twitched. Her home smelled funny.
Bad. Like the time her dad had killed a deer and let her
watch him dress it. She hadn’t liked it then and she
didn’t like it now. But she kept her eyes shut.
Nanny moved quickly, her steps sure and steady. “Are yer
eyes closed?” she whispered. “They’re closed, Nanny, they are.” Nanny walked and Aileen bounced against her shoulder. The
woman pressed a hand against the back of her head and
shoved Aileen’s nose into her neck. Too hard. She
couldn’t breathe. “Can I open them now?” “Not yet.” Nanny’s voice sounded thick, like she had
something in her throat and was trying to talk around it.
“Not yet.” Nanny’s chest heaved and Aileen heard her
sniffle. She struggled against Nanny’s hold and broke
free. She leaned back to look at Nanny in spite of Nanny
telling her to keep her eyes closed and was shocked to
see her face wet with tears. “Nanny, I want me mam.” Nanny renewed her grip on the back of her head and pushed
her back into her shoulder, trying to keep her from
seeing. “Don’t look. Don’t look.” But Aileen struggled free of the hold and looked. She saw
her da on the floor, the stain on his chest still a
bright red, his eyes empty yet staring at the ceiling.
“Da! Da!” She reached for him, but Nanny was moving her
farther and farther away. “Leanbh, don’t look, don’t look.” “Daddyyyyy—!” PRESENT-DAY IRELAND ROCK MORAN CASTLE, COUNTY MAYO SEPTEMBER The knock on the door jerked ninety-year-old Ian Burke
out of his afternoon nap. He sat up and blinked at the
shadow moving toward the foot of his bed. It took him a
moment to realize it was Hugh McCort, his faithful
assistant. They didn’t call themselves servants these
days. “What is it?” “How is your headache?” Ian pressed a hand to his temple. “It’s eased a bit. Is
that why you woke me?” “Of course not. There’s a visitor here to see you.” Ian frowned. “I don’t do visitors, Hugh, you know that.” “I do know that, but I’m making a judgment call on this.
He’s a member of the Gardaí.” “The Gardaí?” The Irish police. “What does he want with
me?” Ian slid out of bed and pulled on the robe Hugh held
out to him. He might be ninety years old, but he still
commanded respect, with his straight shoulders and razor-
sharp mind. “I believe it has something to do with your
granddaughter.” Ian froze. “Aileen?” he whispered. “Indeed.” “What kind of news does he have?” “I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me. He said he would only
speak to you. I allowed him to wait in your office. I
hope that’s all right.” “Of course.” Curiosity and old grief ate at him. Ian
threw off the robe that covered the lounge pants and T-
shirt that he found himself wearing more often than not.
“I need to dress.” Fifteen minutes later, Ian stepped out of his bedroom,
dressed in his favorite pair of khakis and a crisp
collared shirt, to walk down the stone-lined hallway to
the other end of the house. He stopped at the entrance to
his office to whisper a prayer. Please let this be good
news. He breathed in, then out, and entered his office. A young man dressed in full Gardaí uniform set down his
tea and stood from his perch on the love seat. He pulled
his cap from his head and gave a slight bow. “Thank you
for seeing me.” Ian motioned for the man to sit. “I hear you have news of
my granddaughter?” “I think so.” “She’s been dead for twenty-five years. What kind of news
could you possibly have?” “Let me start with an introduction. My name is Duncan
O’Brien. I work in the cold case department and I’ve come
across something that I thought you might find
interesting.” “So my dear Aileen is a cold case.” He sniffed. Of course
she was. Her murderer had never been found. O’Brien cleared his throat. “And I asked for this case in
particular because I’ve had an interest in it since I was
very young.” “Why is that, lad?” “Because I was supposed to be on the bus for that field
trip.” Ian felt himself pale but stood statue still. The young officer cleared his throat. “The flu had been
going around me class. I’d fallen ill with it the night
before the trip and Mam kept me home. I remember Aileen
clearly. She was my friend.” Ian fell silent for a moment as he felt the emotions of
that long-ago day wash over him. It had been twenty-five
years since the bus carrying his granddaughter and her
nanny had exploded and killed all twenty-seven people on
board. Twenty-one five-year-olds and six adults. Yet
right now, it felt as though it had happened yesterday.
Like he was reliving the news of that horrific moment all
over again. He drew in a deep breath and tried to ignore
the renewed pounding in his head. “I see.” “My sergeant honored my request to work the cold cases.
’Tis the one I’m most interested in. The one I’m most
desperate to solve.” Ian made his way over to the wingback chair next to his
desk and seated himself. “What do you have on the people
who killed Aileen?” O’Brien reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic
bag that contained a picture. He passed it to Ian. Ian
pulled his glasses from the desk and set them on his nose
for a closer look. He frowned. “What’s this?” “It was taken the day of the bombing.” “Who took it?” Ian asked. “A mother whose wee one was on the bus. She brought her
daughter and took the picture, and then got in her car
and drove off to head to work. She heard the explosion
moments later, but didn’t stop.” Aghast, Ian started. “Why not?” “There was some construction going on across the street
from the school. According to the report, when the Gardaí
interviewed her, she said she thought the loud noise came
from there. It was only when they showed up at her
workplace that she learned the explosion was the bus her
child was on.” Ian shuddered. “Poor woman.” He knew exactly what she’d
felt at that very moment. He shut his mind to the memory
and focused on the innocent faces in the picture. He
remembered quite a few of them. They’d been at the castle
for Aileen’s fifth birthday only a few weeks before
they’d died. “Do you notice anything interesting about the photo?” Ian slowly realized what O’Brien was getting at. He
removed his glasses with suddenly shaky fingers. “My
Aileen’s not in there. She’s not in the photo.” “And neither is the nanny. If you’ll turn the photo over,
the mother had listed all of the names of the children.
Then below, it says, ‘Blessed to have escaped’ and lists
the four children who weren’t there. Meself, Liam
O’Reilly, Bailey Parker, and Aileen Burke.” Dizziness hit Ian and he leaned back to shut his eyes for
a brief moment. “Are you all right?” O’Brien asked. “I’m fine. Fine,” Ian said. He turned his focus back on
the officer. O’Brien nodded. “I know ’tis a bit of a shock for you,
but I think you’re probably wondering the same thing I
am.” Ian looked down at the picture once again. “Where were
Aileen and her nanny?” “Because it was impossible to identify every person, due
to the fact that the bus and everyone on it was
practically incinerated, it was assumed that Aileen and
the nanny were there—especially when they were never seen
again.” Ian nodded. “A reasonable assumption.” “But all indications point to the fact that they weren’t
there because they’re not in the picture. So how did they
manage to escape the explosion?” Ian refused to allow himself to feel the hope that wanted
to spring alive. He shook his head. “There has to be an
explanation. Maybe they were late, maybe—” “Sorry to interrupt, but they weren’t late.” “All right. Can you possibly start at the beginning?” O’Brien ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not
doing a very good job with this.” “You’re fine. Just keep going. How did you get the
picture?” “The woman who took the picture had another daughter
named Megan, who was ten at the time of the bus
explosion. Fifteen years ago, the woman committed
suicide.” “Suicide?” He nodded. “Megan said her mam had been battling
depression since the explosion—” “Understandable,” Ian muttered. He’d battled it himself.
Some days he wasn’t sure he’d won. “Anyway, she left a note that said, ‘I’m so sorry. I
can’t fight anymore. Please forgive me.’” “Awful. So much pain, so much grief.” “To be sure. Megan’s father died last month, and when she
started cleaning out his house, she came across some
pictures. The date on the back said they were developed
about three weeks prior to her mother’s death. Megan said
something nagged at her. She thought Aileen had died in
the bus explosion, so she wasn’t sure why she wasn’t in
the picture, but thought it significant enough to bring
it to me.” “As well she should.” “Megan feels like the pictures brought back all of the
grief and her mother simply couldn’t fight it anymore—as
she stated in her note. Now as you can imagine, the
picture immediately caught her attention, it being her
sister who was killed.” Ian drew in another breath. It seemed terribly hard for
him to get the air he needed at the moment. Finally, he
pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped it
across his eyes. He only just realized tears were leaking
down his cheeks. Hugh, who had been standing silently to the side, stepped
forward. “Ian, let me—” Ian waved him away and the man stopped, then stepped
back. Ian turned his attention to the officer. “So they
might not have been on the bus.” “I don’t believe they were.” “You do realize that the day the bus exploded, most of my
family members were killed in what I believe was a Mafia-
related hit? My son and daughter-in-law, Aileen’s two-
year-old brother . . . all of them,” he whispered. “All
gone. Slaughtered like they were worthless.” His heart
thudded. “A two-year-old!” The young officer swallowed and blinked. “I know. And I
believe the two incidents are related.” Ian snorted. “We all believe that. The problem has been
finding the people responsible.” After all these years .
. . “Wait a minute. Wouldn’t the woman have heard about
the attack on the castle and, as soon as she noted that
Aileen wasn’t in the photo, brought it to someone’s
attention?” “You would think so. I asked the daughter that very
question. She said she wasn’t sure that her mother ever
heard anything about the attack. She was too lost in her
grief and too sedated to even be aware of her
surroundings for a long time. And she never had the
photos developed until shortly before her death. The
headlines had long faded by then.” He shook his head. “If
she hadn’t decided to develop that roll of film and then
compare it against a class picture, we never would have
known.” Ian swallowed and paused, gathering his thoughts and his
strength. “I should have been here, you know.” “Why weren’t you?” “My wife was having chest pains. We’d left around four in
the morning to drive to the hospital. It’s the only
reason we were spared.” He glanced at Hugh. “You drove yourself?” “I did. Hugh wasn’t living here at the time and I didn’t
want to wake anyone.” He ran a shaky hand across his
eyes. How he wished he’d awakened someone. He drew in a
deep breath. “All right, young man, if they weren’t on
the bus, then where were they?” “That’s what I was hoping to figure out.” Ian leaned back in his chair. “It’s been so long. If she
were still alive, don’t you think she would have found a
way to let me know?” “I don’t know, but she wasn’t on that bus that day and
neither was her nanny. Somehow she escaped the bus and I
want to know if my friend is still alive.” “I want to know that too.” He leaned forward and drew in
a deep breath. “I’ve been hiding, so I have.” “What do you mean?” “I mean I’ve been a hermit for the past twenty-five
years. I don’t go out and I have more security than the
president of Ireland. I work from my office.” “I’d heard you’d yet to retire.” He huffed. “Retire? And do what? Twiddle my thumbs all
day? No, working keeps me on my toes and makes the days
not seem quite as long.” “I understand.” Duncan paused. “The people who tried to
kill you and yer family were never caught. You think
they’re still out there?” “I don’t know about that, but there’s no doubt in my mind
we were all supposed to die that day.” Duncan nodded. “Every last one o’ you.” “Every last one.”
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