Border Breach

by Darlene L. Turner

  “I’ll stay,” Officer Klein volunteered.

  “Good. Murphy and I will go south. Vivienne, you and Hank head east. I need you, Officer Talbot, to head west,” he directed. He didn’t think anyone would have come north toward the front of the house. “Keep your radio frequency open and if you find someone suspicious, proceed with caution. Perp is likely armed with a gun.”

  “Got it,” Vivienne said as the rest nodded in agreement.

  The three of them split up, he and Murphy taking the path he thought was more likely the one the killer used as an escape route. The Holy Saints Cemetery was located a few blocks to the south of the Emery property, and he thought there was a good chance the “bad clown wearing black” had gone that way.

  A quick glance at the crime scene hadn’t revealed anything left behind by the perp. He wanted to stay to search more closely but couldn’t deny a keen sense of urgency. How much time had passed since the emergency call Willow had made? Five minutes? Seven?

  Too long.

  He and Murphy reached the twin dark gray stone arches of the cemetery entrance in less than two minutes. Entering the cemetery grounds, he examined the soft earth around the tombstones searching for signs of footprints. After the April rainstorm late yesterday afternoon, which had softened the ground and eliminated most of the leftover remnants of winter snow, he was hopeful no one could cut through without leaving evidence behind.

  A partial footprint in the mud caught his gaze. It was wide on top and deep, making him think it was made by a man, maybe even someone running. Expanding his search, he tried to find another one that looked similar, in an effort to provide a direction the perp may have taken. He wanted to use the footprint as a scent source for Murphy to follow, but knew that without a second footprint indicating evidence of running away, he couldn’t be sure it was left by the killer. He didn’t want Murphy to search for the wrong person.

  He searched for another fifteen minutes but came up empty.

  Either the guy had stayed to the paved walkway snaking around the grounds or he hadn’t come this way at all.

  Nate didn’t want to give up, but after more fruitless searching, he cued his radio. “Any sign of the perp?”

  A chorus of negatives echoed from the other officers.

  “Let’s call it off.” He didn’t want to but didn’t see the point of continuing a random search. In his gut he felt the killer was long gone, but he’d hoped for something, anything, to go on. “Thanks for your help.”

  Several ten-fours echoed from the radio.

  Nate and Murphy double-timed it back to the scene of the murders. He slowed to a walk when he came around the Emery house.

  Willow was sitting crossways on the passenger seat of his SUV with the door open, still holding Lucy on her lap. He noticed she was wearing soft blue jeans and a thin pink hoodie in deference to the sixty-degree spring day. There were many vehicles parked on the street, so he wasn’t sure if she’d driven over or if she’d arrived via subway or bus. The little girl was wearing a cheerful yellow top with a flared hem over yellow bloodstained leggings. Officer Klein, the uniform who’d stayed behind, remained standing nearby.

  “Doggy,” Lucy said, pointing at Murphy. “Big doggy.”

  He crossed over to where Willow and Lucy were, dropping to his knees so he was eye level with both Murphy and the little girl. He wondered why the child had been spared. Because she was in another room? Or because the perp drew some invisible line at shooting an innocent child?

  “This is Murphy.” He introduced the K-9 again. “Friend, Murphy.” He touched both Willow and Lucy, while repeating, “Friend.”

  “Hold out your hand for the doggy to sniff,” Willow encouraged.

  Lucy held out her hand, smiling a bit when Murphy’s nose touched her skin. “Nice doggy.”

  “Yes, Murphy is a nice dog. He won’t hurt you.”

  Willow searched his gaze. “Find anything?”

  He shook his head. “I’d like to ask Lucy a few more questions if that’s okay.”

  Willow’s light brown eyes looked concerned, but she nodded. “Can’t hurt to try.”

  Nate waited until Lucy looked at him, with eyes that were mirror images of Willow’s. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were mother and daughter instead of aunt and niece. “Lucy, can you tell me more about the bad clown that wore black?”

  Her tiny brow puckered with fear. “Scary,” she whispered.

  “I know it was scary,” he agreed with a gentle smile. “But you’re a brave girl, aren’t you? I need you to tell me what the bad clown looked like.”

  “Big. Mean.” Lucy scrunched up her face. “Clown face with blue hair on top.” She lifted a hand to her own hair as if to describe what she meant.

  Blue hair? His chest tightened at her description. Twenty years ago—today—there had been a double murder in Brooklyn. Two of his colleagues, a brother and a sister, Bradley and Penelope McGregor, then just kids, had lost their parents. Bradley, fourteen, had been at a friend’s house, and four-year-old Penelope, left unharmed like Lucy, had been the only witness. She’d described the killer as a clown—with blue hair. He’d been thinking about the cold case today, as he knew the entire unit was, because of the anniversary. Twenty years unsolved. “You’re sure the hair was blue?”

  She bobbed her head. “Blue like my dolly.”

  Her dolly? He lifted a brow and glanced up at Willow, who nodded.

  “Yes, she has a doll with bright blue hair.”

  “Okay, blue hair on the top of the clown face,” he repeated. “Did you notice anything else about him?”

  She shook her head. “Too scary.”

  He imagined she’d hid her face and hoped that she hadn’t seen her parents being murdered in cold blood. He thought again how odd it was they’d both been shot in the back. As if they’d been heading out of the kitchen, toward the living room. Is that where Lucy had been? Or were they going there for some other reason?

  No way to know for sure. The place was a mess, but it was difficult to tell if it had been searched by the killer. After making a mental note to tell the crime scene techs to make the living room a priority when looking for evidence, he turned his attention to the little girl. “What else, Lucy? Were you in the house when he came inside?”

  Lucy shook her head, reaching out to pet Murphy’s sleek fur.

  “No? Where were you?” Willow asked.

  “Outside playing.” Lucy looked over toward the front of the house. “Mommy and Daddy were inside.”

  Nate’s gaze sharpened. “He came up the sidewalk and into the fenced-in front yard?”

  “Yes. He gived me a toy and told me to stay outside.” Her lower lip trembled, and Nate was concerned she might cry.

  “It’s okay, Lucy, you’re safe with us,” Willow said, gently hugging her. “What kind of toy?”

  “A monkey.” Lucy’s face crumpled. “I don’t want it anymore.”

  A monkey? He sucked in a breath. The McGregors’ killer had also given Penelope a stuffed monkey. What was going on here?

  “Are you sure?” he asked hoarsely. “Was it a stuffed monkey?”

  Lucy bobbed her head up and down. “I left it outside when I heard the loud noise, but I don’t want it anymore. I want my mommy!”

  “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here, Lucy.” Willow cuddled her close.

  Nate rocked back on his heels, stunned speechless. The clown face with blue hair on top, two bullet holes in Lucy’s parents and a stuffed monkey.

  The exact same MO as the twenty-year-old unsolved McGregor murders. The brutal slaying of the parents of fellow Brooklyn K-9 detective Bradley McGregor and his sister, desk clerk Penelope McGregor.

  Down to the very last detail.

  The idea that a killer from twenty years ago was still out there concerned him.

  The
y needed to get this guy, and soon. Before anyone else ended up hurt, or worse, dead.

  Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  Return to River Haven where a mysterious stranger will bring two lonely hearts together...

  Amish quilt shop owner Joanna Kohler treasures her independence. But, when she finds an injured woman on her property, she is grateful for the help of fellow store owner Noah Troyer, who feels it’s his duty to aid, especially when dangers draws close.

  Read on for a sneak peek of

  Amish Protector

  by Marta Perry

  Home again. Joanna Kohler moved to the door as the small bus that connected the isolated Pennsylvania valley towns drew up to the stop at River Haven.

  Another few steps brought her to the quilt shop where she paused, gazing with pleasure at the window display she’d put up over the weekend. Smiling at her own enthusiasm for the shop she and her aunt ran, she rounded the corner and headed back the alley toward the enclosed stairway that lead to their apartment above the shop.

  A glow of lamplight from the back of the hardware store next door allowed her to cross to the yard to her door without her flashlight. Noah Troyer, her neighbor, must be working late. Her side of the building was in darkness, since Aunt Jessie was away.

  Joanna fitted her key into the lock, and the door swung open almost before she’d turned it. Collecting her packages, she started up the steps, not bothering to switch on her penlight. The stairway familiar enough, and she didn’t need—

  Her foot hit something. Joanna stumbled forward, grabbing at the railing to keep herself from falling. What in the world...? Reaching out, her hand touched something soft, warm, something that felt like human flesh. She gasped, pulling back.

  Clutching her self-control with all her might, Joanna grasped the penlight, aimed it, and switched it on.

  A woman lay sprawled on the stairs. The beam touched high-heeled boots, jeans, a suede jacket. Stiffening her courage, she aimed the light higher. The woman was young, Englisch, with brown hair that hung to her shoulders. It might have been soft and shining if not for the bright blood that matted it.

  Panic sent her pulses racing, and she uttered a silent prayer, reaching tentatively to touch the face. Warm...thank the gut Lord. She...whoever she was...was breathing. Now Joanna must get her the help she needed.

  Hurrying, fighting for control, Joanna scrambled back down the steps. She burst out into the quiet yard. Even as she stepped outside, she realized it would be faster to go to Noah’s back door than around the building.

  Running now, she reached the door in less than a minute and pounded on it, calling his name. “Noah!”

  After a moment that felt like an hour, light spilled out. Noah Troyer filled the doorway, staring at her, his usually stoic face startled. “Joanna, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  A shudder went through her. “Not me, no. There’s a woman...” She pointed toward her door, explanations deserting her. “Komm, schnell.” Grabbing his arm, she tugged him along.

  By the time they reached her door, Noah was ahead of her. “We’ll need a light.”

  “Here.” She pressed the penlight into his hand, feeling her control seeping back. Knowing she wasn’t alone had a steadying effect, and Noah’s staid calm was infectious. “I was just coming in. I started up the steps and found her.” She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking a little.

  The penlight’s beam picked out the woman’s figure. It wasn’t just a nightmare, then.

  Noah bent over the woman, touching her face as Joanna had done. Then he turned back, his strong body a featureless silhouette.

  “Who is she?”

  The question startled her. “I don’t know. I didn’t even think about it—I just wanted to get help. We must call the police and tell them to send paramedics, too.”

  Not wasting time, Noah was already half-way out. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve called. Yell if...” He let that trail off, but she understood. He’d be there if she needed him.

  But she’d be fine. She was a grown woman, a businesswoman, not a skittish girl. Given all it had taken her to reach this point, she had to act the part.

  Joanna settled as close to the woman as she could get on the narrow stairway. After a moment’s hesitation, she put her hand gently on the woman’s wrist. The pulse beat steadily under her touch, and Joanna’s fear subsided slightly. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  The darkness and the silence grew oppressive, and she shivered. If only she had a blanket...she heard the thud of Noah’s hurrying footsteps. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

  “They’re on their way. I’d best stay by the door so I can flag them down when they come. How is she?”

  “No change.” Worry broke through the careful guard she’d been keeping. “What if she’s seriously injured? What if I’m to blame? She fell on my steps, after all.”

  “Ach, Joanna, that’s foolishness.” Noah’s deep voice sounded firmly from the darkness. “It can’t be your fault, and most likely she’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  Noah’s calm, steady voice was reassuring, and she didn’t need more light to know that his expression was as steady and calm as always.

  “Does anything get under your guard?” she said, slightly annoyed that he could take the accident without apparent stress.

  “Not if I can help it.” There might have been a thread of amusement in his voice. “It’s enough to worry about the poor woman’s recovery without imagining worse, ain’t so?”

  “I suppose.” She straightened her back against the wall, reminding herself again that she was a grown woman, owner of her own business, able to cope with anything that came along.

  But she didn’t feel all that confident right now. She felt worried. Whatever Noah might say, her instinct was telling her that this situation meant trouble. How and why she didn’t know, but trouble, nonetheless.

  Don’t miss what happens next in...

  Amish Protector

  by Marta Perry!

  Available April 2020 wherever HQN books and ebooks are sold.

  www.Harlequin.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Martha P. Johnson

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  ISBN: 9781488061080

  Border Breach

  Copyright © 2020 by Darlene L. Turner

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at CustomerService@Harlequin.com.

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  er, Border Breach