St. Catherine’s International School of Business is a peaceful retreat for the over-privileged children of the Elite, where they are gently guided through a remedial academic program with white-gloved hands, ensuring a prestigious diploma to hang in the family library.  The faculty and students are stunned when someone dares to disturb the secluded peace of the College.

Sean O’Riley is a soft-spoken, cunningly charming security consultant, dispatched by the New York Archdiocese to look into the murder of the young woman at the exclusive Catholic college in the mountains.  Agent Hilary Scott is a stone-cold barracuda, heading up the investigation for the NY State Bureau of Investigations.  She’s suspects the real reason the archdiocese brought in their own man was to whitewash the investigation.  In spite of their conflicting goals, Sean and Hilary can’t deny the sparks of romance that flare from their very first encounter.

Present day tragedy is intertwined with a long-buried, secret shame of St. Catherine’s, and it comes back to haunt the student body.   When an old scandal rears its ugly head, it places the young women of St. Catherine in imminent danger.  

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This excerpt is of the meeting between the two individuals investigating the murders. 

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A sleek brunette parked at a corner table waved him into the seat opposite her, smiling and gesturing at a steaming cup of coffee.
 
He gratefully sank into a plush ginger side chair, the type you always see in cozy coffee shops.  

Leaning forward, she poised the cream pitcher above his cup, raising her eyebrows. 
He nodded and she poured generously.  Bobbing his head at her offer of sugar, he stirred while she added three heaping teaspoons, then tentatively sipped.  It was heavenly.  His brain cells stretched and snapped to attention, all systems go.  “I hope to God you’re Hilary Scott.  If not, I’m prepared to pay a premium for the seat and coffee.”
 
She laughed and he was enchanted by the smooth richness of her voice, like maple syrup pouring from a warm pitcher.  Sean had a huge appreciation for vocal elegance, spoken or sung.
 
He reached across the table and offered his frozen appendage.
 
She grasped it decisively in a firm, warm grip, pumping straight up and straight down, no nonsense.  Smiling, she said in that incredible voice, “Hilary Scott, at your service.  I prefer Hil.”
 
He smiled in return.  “It‘s a pleasure, and thanks for the coffee.  How did you know it was me?” 

“I saw the cab pull up.  I seriously doubt any of the regulars are desperate enough to call a cab in weather like this, no matter how good the coffee is.” 

Sean smiled and acknowledged the truth in her logic.  “So where would you like to start?”
 
She was direct.  “I would like to know a little more about you first, if you don’t mind.”  She chuckled, “Aside from the fact that you’re a snappy dresser, I haven’t had time to learn anything, so be thorough.”  

Snatching off his day-glo orange cap, he stuffed it deep into his coat pocket.  Sean usually shopped at thrift stores.  For winter, warmth was his highest priority, not style. 
Determined to answer her question directly, he drew a deep breath and launched into his abbreviated Bio.
 
“Ok, I’m Sean O’ Riley.  I was born in Queens, son of an Irish cop and a schoolteacher, both first generation American.  My grandparents immigrated to America in the 30’s, both sides.  My father died in the line of duty when I was 11, so I grew up in the shadow of a Hero.  I broke a lot of rules in high school, and spent a lot of time working things out.  I started college late and majored in criminal justice, trying to measure up to a ghost.  I was unhappy as a cop, too sympathetic to the human condition.  I met a man with a plan, he introduced me to Bishop Grant in New York, and the rest is history.  I investigate matters of relevance and importance to the church and it’s affiliates in the Tri-state area, everything from desperate deacons dipping into the tithe box to—well, murder.”
 
She frowned, taken aback by such unexpected candor, then smiled frostily.  “That pretty well explains your presence here.  So, the Archdiocese is pushing its own law-enforcement these days…  Are they going to make this difficult for the state authorities?” 

Sean raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
 
She explained; “It’s highly probable that the killer is local, possibly even in the school’s own administration.  St. Catherine’s is a closed campus, and the placement of the body suggests that the killer has a case of rather extreme moral indignation.  I don’t want someone trying to direct my investigation away from valid suspects just to save face.”