Memory Of Murder (Colby Agency: The Next Generation), page 1
About the Author
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.
Booklist
Books by Debra Webb
Mills & Boon
Colby Agency: The Next Generation
A Colby Christmas Rescue
Alibi for Murder
Memory of Murder
Lookout Mountain Mysteries
Disappearance in Dread Hollow
Murder at Sunset Rock
A Place to Hide
Whispering Winds Widows
Peril in Piney Woods
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
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
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Memory of Murder
Debra Webb
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN-13: 9780008947484
Memory of Murder
Copyright © 2025 by Debra Webb
Published in Great Britain 2025
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises ULC.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Cover
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Reader
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Chicago
Monday, July 7
Colby Agency, 9:30 a.m.
Jamie Colby waited in her grandmother’s office, the package sitting in her lap. Her fingers tapped out a tune on the box that had gotten slightly battered in transit. The package and its contents had been in Jamie’s possession for a mere three days, but already she was convinced of what needed to be done. Quickly, she reminded herself. This had to happen as soon as possible.
Somehow she would make the indomitable Victoria Colby-Camp see that her plan was a good one. A necessary one that had to be carried out, even if pro bono. The agency did pro bono work all the time. Did it really matter that the actual client was deceased?
Not in Jamie’s opinion. The woman deserved to have her reputation restored. Some things transcended death.
The door opened, and Victoria breezed into the office and settled behind her desk. “Good morning.” She smiled brightly as she always did whenever she saw Jamie for the first time each day.
Jamie adored her grandmother. Her entire life Jamie had always known she wanted to be just like her.
No matter that she and Jamie had been working together now for nearly seven months, each day was like the first with her grandmother. Calling Victoria Grandmother almost always put off anyone who met them for the first time. Primarily because Victoria looked far younger than her seventy-two years. The silver threaded through her black hair spoke of sophistication and wisdom rather than age. But it was her keen eyes that warned she was no little old lady.
Jamie smiled. “Good morning, Grandmother.”
Victoria eyed the package in Jamie’s lap. “I understand you have a special case under consideration.”
So, Ian had spoken to her already. Jamie wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t as if she had told him not to tell Victoria. Perhaps he’d hoped to grease the wheels, so to speak. Ian Michaels was one of her grandmother’s closest friends and colleagues. His recommendation would go a long way—assuming he leaned in Jamie’s favor, and she suspected he would.
“Yes.” Jamie stood. She placed the box on the edge of her grandmother’s desk and removed the contents piece by piece. First the handwritten journal. Then the photos, the newspaper clippings, a locket, Polaroid-type photos and the baby blanket—the sort of receiving blanket given at birth, usually by a hospital. A detailed letter from the accused killer had accompanied the box.
As Victoria shuffled through the photos, Jamie explained, “Mary Morton was charged with first-degree murder thirty years ago. She was sentenced to life in prison. At the time she was pregnant, and the baby—a girl—was later born and subsequently taken from her. Since Mary had no other family or close friends able or willing to take the child, she was introduced into the foster system.”
Victoria moved on to the newspaper clippings. “Has the child—woman,” she amended, “been contacted about her mother’s death?”
Jamie nodded. “I spoke with the warden. He gives his best, by the way.” Her grandmother knew everyone who was anyone in key positions in the state and no small number of VIPs across the country. “A notification was sent to her last known address. I checked out the address, and she does live there. There’s every reason to believe she’s aware of the situation.”
Victoria reached for the journal. “Tell me why we should be interested in this convicted murderer’s history.”
Jamie resumed her seat. “At the time of the murder, Mary Morton was twenty-four years old. She had just completed her master’s in teaching, and she was already employed at an elementary school in Crystal Lake. On a personal level, she was engaged to a law student set to graduate the upcoming year. His name was Neil Reed. Both Mary and Neil grew up in Crystal Lake. Her parents were deceased, but his still lived in the area.”
“Reed was the victim in the murder case.” Victoria placed the journal with the other items.
Obviously her grandmother had already looked into the details. Possibly a good sign.
“Yes. Mary insisted throughout the trial that she was innocent, but the preponderance of evidence was overwhelming. Her prints were on the murder weapon. She had blood on her clothes. Her court-appointed attorney—a man swamped with cases—didn’t stand a chance against the newly elected hotshot district attorney determined to make a name for himself. My impression is that the case was decided even before a jury was selected.”
Victoria picked up a newspaper clipping, considered it a moment. “Why are we talking about this case, Jamie? The poor woman, guilty or innocent, is dead. I really don’t see how we can help her.”
“We can,” Jamie countered. “Mary’s greatest regret was that she couldn’t clear her name to prove to her only child that she was not the daughter of a murderer. According to her letter, Mary didn’t care if she was ever released. She only wanted to clear her name for her daughter’s sake. Her attorney promised to appeal her conviction, but his meager efforts proved futile. Still Mary never gave up. No matter how earnest her efforts, it was as if whatever legal maneuvers she attempted were doomed from the outset. Every single time she was met with defeat. No reporter ever showed interest in her story. Fate simply turned a blind eye to her. I feel strongly that the justice system let her down.”
Victoria studied Jamie. “Or she was simply guilty and no one wanted to help change a righteous verdict.”
“That’s possible, yes. However, everyone—even the guilty—has the right to petition for an appeal. But guilt is not the sense I’m getting from what we have here.” Jamie gestured to the contents of the box spread over her grandmother’s desk. “Just before she died, Mary had lost all hope. She saw an article about you, Grandmother, and the story gave her hope that there were still good people in the world who might be able to help her. She put together this package and asked that it be mailed to our office. An indifferent guard never bothered to see that it was done. But after her death, there was some question about why all her personal items were missing, and another guard discovered the box in an office. She checked the contents and then hand delivered it here.”
Victoria continued to study her, waiting, apparently, for her to go on.
“After a thorough examination of all you see, and a review of the available public information on the case, I feel compelled to open a case and assign an investigator.”
“Who do you have in mind?” Victoria leaned forward and placed the items back in the box.
“Jack Brenner. He has extensive experience with cold cases. I believe if there is something to be found, he can find it.”
Victoria sat back once more and resumed her analysis of Jamie. “Jack is an excellent choice.”
Anticipation flared. “Is that a yes?”
“On one condition,” Victoria pointed out.
Hesitation slowed Jamie’s mental victory celebration. “What condition?”
“The daughter will be notified and asked to participate in the investigation. We’re not going to do this without giving her an opportunity for input. In fact, I would prefer she be actively involved.”
Jamie nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Brief Jackson,” Victoria went on. “When he’s ready have him reach out to the daughter and make an appointment to discuss the possibility.”
Jamie stood. “Very well.” She placed the items back into the box and picked it up. “Thank you. You won’t regret your decision.”
“I’m sure I won’t.”
* * *
VICTORIA SMILED AS the door closed behind Jamie. For a while Victoria had worried about her. Jamie was so young. The commitment here at the agency was different from her previous work with the government. It was far more personal. Often, the inexperienced in the field of private investigations poured their hearts and souls into the work on a level that was impossible to maintain for any length of time. Victoria knew that her granddaughter would do this. The best investigators always gave their all but paced themselves for the long haul. That skill came with time. Surprisingly, Jamie had found a good balance very quickly.
Having Jamie here had fulfilled Victoria’s longtime dream that her grandchildren would one day take over. Both Jamie and her brother Luke had seemed intent on different career paths. To have Jamie make this leap had been an incredible joy. Particularly since Jim, Victoria’s son and Jamie and Luke’s father, was still helping their mother, Tasha, recover from her horrendous illness, and quite frankly, he had no desire to take the position as head of the agency. He had made himself clear on that point some time ago and had not changed his mind. The need for Jamie to come onboard had never been more apparent, but Victoria had not wanted to push the idea on the girl—young woman.
Jamie was here now and seemed immensely happy with her work. The fact that she had taken the initiative on a somewhat delicate situation warmed Victoria’s heart. Jamie was going to make an amazing leader for this agency one day.
Victoria could not wait to share this news with Lucas. Her husband had insisted all along that Jamie was happy at the agency, but Victoria had allowed a few doubts to seep in. Lucas remained convinced that having Kenny—Kendrick Poe—on board at the agency with Jamie had helped to ensure her continued happiness. Kenny, too, was a great asset. Victoria often wondered how long it would be before Jamie and Kenny took their relationship to the next level. Victoria’s heart thumped faster at the idea of a Colby wedding.
There were times when her seventh decade of life seemed to fly by so very fast that she couldn’t help but wonder about all she would miss when she was gone. But then she reminded herself that it was far more important to stay focused on not missing anything today than to worry about what she might miss tomorrow.
She pushed back her chair and walked to the window overlooking the street below. The Chicago weather was particularly warm, even in July.
She smiled. The future looked exactly as she had hoped it would.
Chapter Two
Aurora, Illinois
Tuesday, July 8
Griffin Residence
Borkshire Lane, 1:30 p.m.
Anne Griffin smiled as she ended the call. The job was hers!
Her smile stretched into a happy, relieved, grateful grin. “I got the job!”
She tossed her cell phone onto her desk, set her hands on her hips and walked to the window that overlooked her small, enclosed backyard. A celebratory cocktail and a few minutes of relaxing was in order, she decided. The weather was perfect, and that new chaise lounge on her little flagstone patio was calling her name.
With a deep breath, she padded to the kitchen and prepared her favorite drink. Three fresh strawberries went into the glass, along with a generous serving of lemonade and then a splash of vodka. Just a little. It was early for a cocktail, but it was nice to celebrate now and then. After all, this was her first really big contract since going out on her own at the beginning of the year.
These last few months had been a bit of an uphill climb, professionally speaking. Thankfully she’d been prepared for a period of little or no income. But recently, knowing her savings would soon be gone had her a little nervous. Luckily, she had also braced herself for the doubts that would arise.
How many times had she second-guessed her decision? Far too many. It was the curse of a worrier.
She lifted her glass in a silent toast. But all those uncertainties were behind her now. Griffin Interior Concepts was officially off the ground and running. Her scant client list was expanding. So far most of the work had been smaller scale—a kitchen or bath remodel, the occasional principal bedroom and one over-the-top screened-in porch. But this contract was big. Really big, as in a whole-house renovation. The owners had narrowed their choices to three designers, and Anne had been one of them. Two weeks ago, all three designers had submitted fully developed plans and cost estimates. To be honest, she’d been incredibly thankful to even be in the running.
And now the job was hers.
She did a happy dance and then sipped her drink. A little sun was in order. Far too much time was spent behind her desk lately so she wandered out to her patio. Her home was an end-unit town house, with a patio slightly larger than most. She had a square of flagstone for entertaining and a little patch of grass. Shrubbery and flowers formed a pleasing border against the fence. It was really quite lovely. She couldn’t complain. Frankly, any more than this would take up too much of her time in maintenance. Building a business, she needed every available minute to keep the momentum going. One day, when she had more employees to do the leg work, she wouldn’t mind having a larger home and garden.
