by Cindi Myers
“Excellent work,” the dispatcher praised. “Now, we’ll stand by and wait for orders. You doing okay?”
“No,” she whispered, her limbs beginning to shake severely. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Ms. Kind,” the woman on the other end of the line responded, patiently. “I’m sure you feel that way right now, but from what I hear, you can do anything. I’ve been told you’re a fighter, a survivor and the reason those men are out there. Reports coming through our office this morning say you called someone when you suspected an intruder, and you gave Phillip Cranston’s name to the police before he took you. You’ve been stabbed, choked and probably concussed. You’re currently drugged, yet you found a way to call me. And it’s because of you we now know the gunman’s position. So, whatever Jerry wants you to do, I am certain enough for the both of us that you can and will get it done.”
Gwen’s knees buckled, and she cried. She didn’t hold back. Didn’t have the strength left to fight the tidal wave of emotions. And more than anything, she just wanted to lie down and close her eyes. Just for a minute.
“Ms. Kind?” Jerry’s voice boomed again in her ear. “We’re ready for you. I’m going to count to three, then instruct my men to open fire in the direction of the shooter. Twenty-five yards to the east of the cabin. Right?”
She pulled her eyelids open, unsure when they’d shut. “Yes,” she whispered, her limbs going slowly numb from the drugs.
“When you hear the first shots fired, you’re going to open that cabin door, and you’re going to run. One foot in front of the other. Northwest. That’s behind the cabin and away from the shooter. We’ll do the rest. Don’t stop running until you reach us. We’re moving into position for your recovery now.”
The line went quiet.
“Phillip Cranston.” The strike team captain’s voice echoed strong and loud through the world outside, possibly through a bullhorn. “This is the Jefferson County Sheriff’s department, and you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Gwen Kind. Lay your weapon down, and come out where I can see you, or we’ll be forced to open fire.”
Another shot rang out, and Gwen knew that was Phillip’s response. He wouldn’t give up or surrender, and someone was likely to die today.
It couldn’t be her.
She pushed onto her feet once more and reached for the cabin door.
The forest exploded in a hail of gunfire.
And she ran.
Gwen’s feet pounded loud and awkward against the wooden planks outside the cabin, shaking the platform beneath her. She gripped the wall at the corner as she leapt into the forest and bumbled quickly away, leaving the cabin door agape behind her.
Her legs were weak and noodle-y, her breaths coming loud and fast. And her head split with the continuous sound of gunfire.
Still, she stumbled forward, gripping trees for support, then pushing off them for momentum. One foot in front of the other, she told herself. And then she saw him.
A blurry silhouette in black raced confidently through the trees before her, his presence instantly familiar and more comforting than anything she’d ever known. Her guardian angel, her personal protector, the only man she’d ever love. Lucas Winchester.
EPILOGUE
Gwen hurried to answer the door at Lucas’s home for the fifth time in an hour. His brothers, parents and half the local police force were already gathered in the kitchen, laughing, chatting and generously splattered in paint. The party had been Lucas’s idea. The painting part was Gwen’s, though she’d yet to pick up a brush. “I’ve got it,” she called, padding back across the layered sheets of plastic protecting restored hardwood floors.
It had been two months since her personal testimony, along with Lucas’s professional one, had helped put her abductor, rapist and stalker away for twenty-six years. When something went that right in life, she had to agree, it was cause for celebration. So, she’d ordered eighty gallons of carefully selected custom paints, enough local takeout to feed an army and invited all their friends.
As for Phillip’s testimony, it had been an unfortunate one. He was raised in a dark, twisted place by a dark, twisted man, and while Phillip had gotten some distance by moving out for college, the serious long-term damage had already been done. And it deeply tainted his every encounter with the women on campus. He wanted them to want him, but he also wanted to hurt them. And his frustrations became obsessions. Gwen had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time when she asked for help in the library. When she’d taken his advice and visited the computer lab the next day, he’d seen it as their first date.
He’d testified that he regretted hurting her so badly back then. He didn’t, however, regret that he’d done it, because for six years afterward, things had gone well in his mind. She’d broken the engagement like he’d wanted, and she’d stopped seeing anyone but him.
Gwen shook her head at the memory. Even on the stand, Phillip didn’t fully accept that his relationship with her was totally in his mind. Or that hurting people wasn’t the way to show them he cared.
She smiled at the sounds of laughter echoing through her home, then pulled herself back to the moment and opened the door.
“Surprise!” a chorus of female voices called.
Her coworkers stood on the doorstep, each with flowers or a bottle of wine. “Housewarming gifts,” Marina said, passing a bottle of merlot from her hands to Gwen’s.
Her boss, Victoria Noble, shot a knowing look at her, then handed over a bouquet of flowers. “I’m not here to paint, but you know I can’t miss an opportunity to tour a home like this one.”
“Come in!” Gwen said, pulling them all inside. Victoria had told Gwen not to hurry back to work after her abduction, but Gwen had been back in her place as quickly as possible. Eager to get it over with. Answer all the uncomfortable questions, field the rampant gossip and adjust to the pitying looks. Instead, her coworkers had been impressively understanding. No gossip. No pity. Just lots of warm hugs and a “Welcome Back” cake. “I’m glad you could all come.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Victoria said, admiring the history all around her. “This home is stunning.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said, feeling immediately proud. She and Lucas had made a thousand plans for the home over late-night glasses of wine and old movies they barely watched. She wanted to pinch herself every time she thought of how lucky she was to be here with him now.
Except, he wasn’t there now. She checked the grandfather clock in the corner and frowned. Lucas had gone to run an errand more than an hour ago, and logical or not, she was beginning to worry.
Marina and Debbie hurried toward the kitchen, eager to join in on the chatter and laughter.
Victoria followed more slowly, her eye for design and love of history giving her pause at every glorious detail. “The two of you talked about living in this home together some day, back when you were in college?”
Gwen nodded, biting her lip and feeling impossibly blessed. “Yep. And even after all that had happened to me, to us,” she corrected, “he bought the place as planned and began the renovations himself.”
“Now, here you are together, as planned,” she echoed Gwen’s words. “Romantic.” Victoria dragged a fingertip over the intricately detailed woodwork along the staircase. “And absolutely stunning.”
Gwen’s smile eased as something else came to mind. “Have you heard from Collin?” She posed the question every day and usually received the same response. He was recovering nicely, but not feeling like visitors. She couldn’t help blaming herself for what he’d been through, and she knew firsthand what he might be feeling.
“I did,” Victoria said, turning on her toes with a grin. “Collin called around dinner last night and caught me at the office. It seems he’s fallen head over heels for his physical therapist and has officially resigned from his position at my company.” She arched
her brows. “He’s moving to the therapist’s town, about ninety minutes away, and he asked me for a letter of recommendation. I agreed, of course, but oh, to be young again,” she mused.
Gwen laughed, and the doorbell rang. “I’ll be right back,” she said with a small sigh, eager to spend more than a few minutes with each guest and dying to actually paint something.
The music quieted behind her as she opened the door once more, hoping it would be Lucas and knowing he wouldn’t have rung the bell.
She froze at the sight of two people she hadn’t seen since the trial, then smiled immediately in response to their bright faces. “Mom? Dad?”
They engulfed her in a hug, pulling her into the house with them and closing the door.
“We missed you, sweet baby girl,” her mother cried.
“I missed you, too.” Gwen squeezed them tighter before letting go. She wished she could keep them with her forever. “What are you guys doing here? Is everything okay in Florida?”
Her dad stepped back with a huff. “Everything’s hot in Florida. Lucas picked us up from the airport.”
Gwen smiled. “So, that was where he went.”
“He’ll be right in,” her mom assured her. “We were thrilled to get his call and invitation.”
“Lucas invited you to our painting party?”
Her mom laughed and slid in close to her husband’s side. “Not exactly. Lucas wanted to talk to us in person.”
“About what?” she asked, mystified.
“About asking you to marry me,” Lucas said, his voice breaking the sudden silence all around her.
Gwen spun to find him and all their previously chatty guests in a loose crowd behind her, silent and grinning from ear to ear.
Lucas lowered onto one knee, and the air left her lungs.
He started by telling her he loved her, and she picked up other words here and there. Teammates. Soulmates. Lovers. Friends. But louder than all his sentiments and promises was the look in his eye and the answering response of her heart.
She accepted the ring he presented with a kiss and plenty of tears. Because it wasn’t just any ring. It was her ring. The one he’d given her six years ago. The one they’d found together at an estate sale. Probably as old, and definitely as beautiful, as their home. And she promised again that she would cherish it forever. The same way she cherished him, for all of the days of her life.
* * * * *
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Seek thrills. Solve crimes. Justice served.
Dive into action-packed stories that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Solve the crime and deliver justice at all costs.
6 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
Love Harlequin romance?
DISCOVER.
Be the first to find out about promotions, news and exclusive content!
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Instagram.com/HarlequinBooks
Pinterest.com/HarlequinBooks
ReaderService.com
EXPLORE.
Sign up for the Harlequin e-newsletter and download a free book from any series at
TryHarlequin.com
CONNECT.
Join our Harlequin community to share your thoughts and connect with other romance readers!
Facebook.com/groups/HarlequinConnection
ISBN-13: 9781488072673
SVU Surveillance
Copyright © 2021 by Julie Anne Lindsey
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 [email protected].
Harlequin Enterprises ULC
22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor
Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada
www.Harlequin.com
A shot rang out, hitting the police cruiser.
“Get down!” Jackson shouted and laid a hand across her back to push her down.
Rhea’s heart thumped loudly as she struggled with her seat belt. Another shot sounded. She finally got her belt free and sank even lower, hoping the dashboard would provide cover.
Jackson had thrown his door open and knelt behind it for protection as he scoured the area. Another shot rang out, coming straight at them, and Jackson grabbed his radio.
“Shots fired. Aspen Ridge Road.”
Another bullet pinged against the door by Rhea.
“Identify yourself,” the dispatcher asked.
“Detective Whitaker. Regina PD. We’re pinned down. Shots fired.”
“Sending backup,” the dispatcher said.
Jackson reached for his own weapon and shouted out to their assailant. “Police! Backup’s on the way!”
The response was the roar of a car engine starting up and the squeal of tires...
Cold Case Reopened deals with topics some readers might find difficult, such as sexual assault and domestic violence. If you or someone you love is the subject of domestic violence, please consider contacting the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233.
Cold Case Reopened
New York Times Bestselling Author
Caridad Piñeiro
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Caridad Piñeiro is a Jersey girl who just wants to write and is the author of nearly fifty novels and novellas. She loves romance novels, superheroes, TV and cooking. For more information on Caridad and her dark, sexy romantic suspense and paranormal romances, please visit www.caridad.com.
Books by Caridad Piñeiro
Harlequin Intrigue
Cold Case Reopened
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Rhea Reilly—An artist who has done quite well for herself. She is a twin, and her sister is named Selene because their mother had a thing about Greek mythology.
Jackson (Jax) Whitaker—He served in Afghanistan as a marine before joining the Regina police force. He is in line to become police chief when the current chief retires.
Selene Reilly-Davis—Rhea’s twin sister, who disappeared in Regina, Colorado. Her marriage was troubled and she was the victim of domestic abuse.
Matthew Davis—Selene’s husband has a contracting business that is faltering. He seems charming to others, but has a violent temper.
Josefina (Sophie) and Robert (Robbie) Whitaker, Jr.—Jax’s cousins who develop games and apps, as well as do ethical hacking. They often assist the Liberty Agency in Miami with their skills.
Mercedes Gonzalez—Married to Robert Whitaker, Jax’s uncle, and works for the NSA as an analyst. Her family runs the Liberty Agency in Miami.
Robert Whitaker—Works for the NSA and occasionally with the Liberty Agency.
To my absolutely fabulous and amazing agent Michelle Grajkowski. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for being such a beautiful person who can always bring a smile to my face and make me laugh. May we share many, many more slices of cheesecake together in the future!
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
CHAPTER ONE
It was hard to believe that such beauty possibly held unspeakable evil.
Rhea Reilly stood on the shore of the mountain lake where six months earlier her twin sister, Selene, had disappeared on a cold fall night.
Rhea’s artist’s eye took in the scene before her. The waters of the lake sparkled like diamonds beneath a sunny cerulean sky. At the farthest end of the lake, the waters tumbled over a spillway for the dam that held back a rush of water during a spring thaw or heavy rain. In the distance, ragged mountains leaped into the sky, still frosted with the remnants of winter snow at the highest elevations.
Normally she would have savored painting such a lovely sight, but not today, when it might be her sister’s watery tomb.
Rhea hugged her arms tight around herself, closed her eyes and listened to the soft lap of the water against the rocky shores of the lake. Imagined Selene standing there that fateful night, tapping out the message she’d sent to Rhea.
I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. I’m finally going to do something about it.
The police had taken that text to mean that Selene had decided to end her life that night, right there on the shores of those stunningly beautiful mountain waters. But Rhea wasn’t convinced.
Although her sister had been troubled the last few months, Rhea was certain that Selene would never take her life. If anything, it was more likely that Selene’s husband had killed her, but the police in Selene’s hometown had been unable to find enough evidence to charge him. No-body homicides were apparently very difficult to prosecute.
