“If you consider constantly having vivid flashbacks and nightmares fine.”
“They will pass in time.”
He exhaled loudly. “It’s almost been a month.”
“Hardly enough time to recoup from an experience like that.”
“You make it all sound so positive.”
Sophie laughed and flicked his nipple.
“Hey!” He squeezed her hand and then rubbed where her nimble fingertip had grazed.
“It’s your life, you know,” she said, becoming serious again. “It’s up to you what you do with it.”
Cal thought back on his life before Matthew. He had survived on a paycheck-to-paycheck basis and was deep in debt with student loans. He couldn’t afford a car and he’d lived in a low-rent building where the landlord tracked the comings and goings of any visitors he had.
In addition to material freedom, Matthew provided Cal with adventure and satisfied his lust for action. It was more stimulating not knowing what each day had in store. If given the option between a calm and peaceful existence and a fight for survival laced with adrenaline, his choice would easily be the latter.
He glanced at the clock again: 5:20.
“I’m getting up, babe.” He kissed her forehead and maneuvered his arm out from under her.
Sophie let out a moan. “It’s so early.”
“Yes, but you can go back to sleep.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Sophie sat up, putting her back against the headboard. “That’s the problem. I do.” Her face contorted in a way he was very familiar with. Her left eyebrow was jacked up, and her eyes held a deep intensity. If that wasn’t enough to give away her agitation, she tousled her short, dark dreads before crossing her arms.
“There’s nothing to worry about. You just said I’m fine.”
“I was trying to make you feel better, but people were shooting at you and you jumped off a cliff—”
“I was actually push—”
“There you go,” she interrupted as she unfolded her arms and kneaded the comforter. “Either way, things are out of your control when you…” She rolled her hand, searching for the right words.
He knew what she was doing because she didn’t like the term treasure hunting and did her best to avoid it. Even the Indiana Jones movies were not her thing, and while she supported Cal in his “outings” or “adventures,” she far from encouraged them.
“Gather historic objects,” she finally said. “I know it makes you happy, for the most part anyway. I just don’t like seeing you having nightmares and waking up in the wee hours.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Wee hours? I would think that applies to two or three or—”
“You’re missing the point.” She threw the comforter off her and got out of bed, then gathered her clothes from the floor and tossed them onto the mattress.
“And what point is that?” They rarely fought, but when they did, they tended to revolve around his expeditions and treasure hunting.
She pulled her sweater over her head. “You might be in danger, you know. What if the men from India tracked you back to Toronto? They could know where you live.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Now you sound like you’ve been watching too many movies.”
“Do I?” She plucked her skirt from the bed and pulled it on.
Faced with the direct, two-worded question, his inclination was to back down. It was packed with fervor, and paired with her tone, it had the potential to set the room ablaze.
“Even Matthew operates under an alias,” she continued. “If it’s not because of risk, then why would he do that?”
“You know why.”
“Uh-huh. His father, the mayor? You’re still buying that? He’s a twenty-eight-year-old man who can’t be straightforward enough with his own father to let him know what he does for a living. Although I’m not sure how much of a living it provides when you put your lives at stake to do it.”
“Why are you being like this?” It wasn’t like they were married, or even living together for that matter. She had no right to tell him how to live his life. No one had permission to do that.
“Are you sure you want to know?” she snapped.
“I asked, didn’t I?” He put his hands on his hips and realized he was standing there in his boxers. The lack of clothing somehow seemed to take away his power. He put on the pair of jeans that had been lying at his feet.
“All right, well, here it is. And so help me God, if you snicker or make fun of what I’m about to say, it’s over, Cal. Do you hear me?”
And they were back to this. While he liked to believe that what they had was the real deal, whenever it came to verbal blows, her strike was always an uppercut to the jaw. She always pulled out the “I guess we’re over” and “We had a good run” crap. At least they didn’t fight often.
“Do you promise?” Her question was accompanied by a glare.
“I promise.”
“I feel like someone’s watching us.”
He had made a promise not to jest about what she had to say. Hearing her voice her fear made him want to scoff, though. Was she serious?
He cleared his throat. “Why do you think that?”
“Don’t patronize me, Cal Myers.” She pointed a finger at him. “I see it written all over your face.”
“Come on, baby. I just didn’t expect you to say that, that’s all.” He found his legs taking him to her now. He reached for her arm, but she pulled it out of reach.
“Have you been listening to me at all? And you promised not to make fun of what I was going to say.”
He held up his hands. “I’m not making fun. I swear.”
She tilted her head to the left and studied his face. “Fine. You gonna listen?”
He nodded. The option was either that or hitting up a florist at some point during the day. Hell, he might end up doing that anyway.
“When we were out last night, I kept seeing this one guy. Whenever I’d look in his direction, he’d turn away really quickly.”
Cal sensed her energy and saw it in the softness her features took on and in the way her eyes changed. She was afraid.
“You have nothing to worry about.” He attempted to touch her again. This time she allowed it.
“Can you promise that? Because I don’t think you can. I didn’t like the way this guy looked.”
“And how was that?”
She gazed into his eyes. “Like Liam Neeson.”
“Liam Neeson?”
“Yeah, you know, the actor? Taken, Clash of the Titans, The A-Team?”
He dismissed her with a wave. “I know who he is. I would like to know what you have against him.” Her face fell, and he felt like a heel for causing that reaction. “I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve been hunting treasure for two years now. I’m still alive. I’m not going to lie and say that it’s the safest profession.”
“If you did, I wouldn’t buy it anyway.”
“So? Liam? What made you suspicious of him?”
“You said that when you were in India, the person commanding all those men who were chasing you spoke English and was likely from North America.”
Now he regretted having said anything to her about the trip. “Yeah, but that could describe a lot of people, Sophie.”
“I’ll give you that. It’s just… What if he tracked you down? I don’t want you to go tonight.”
Tonight was the exhibit opening and gala to celebrate the Pandu statue they had recovered in India. He wanted to be there. He couldn’t believe she was asking him to sit it out. “You what?”
“It’s just that… I don’t think you should go. Something’s going to happen.”
“And you’re psychic now?” He put up with her feelings, her h
unches, her suspicions, but if she was starting to foresee the future, it might be time to give her the “We had a good run” speech himself. And mean it.
She shook her head. “Of course not.”
He let out the breath he had been holding. He’d grown accustomed to having her around.
“I just know that he was watching us and trying to act as if he wasn’t,” she went on. “I can feel it. He left the restaurant at the same time we did. When we were waiting at the curb for the valet to bring your car around, he was standing there and he lit up a cigarette.” She stopped talking, but he sensed there was more.
“And?” he prodded.
“When we were pulling away, I saw him get into a black SUV.”
The laugh erupted on its own.
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he could almost feel the daggers landing in his skin. “That’s it, I’m outta here,” she clipped. “I have a busy day ahead of me. Houses don’t sell themselves.”
He reached for her hand, but she swatted him away and kept moving.
“Babe, are you sure you haven’t watched too many movies?” he called after her.
“Shove it, Cal.”
The door slammed behind her.
Cal wanted to punch a wall. His fist was balled and ready, but somehow, he had mustered the control not to go through with it. Self-preservation, maybe. Instead, he drew back the blind and watched her drive off. He was about to retreat from the window when he saw a dark-colored Escalade parked on the other side of the street. And a man was silhouetted behind the wheel.
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Overview of Remnants
All that remains are whispers of the past…
When multiple body parts are recovered from the Little Ogeechee River in Savannah, Georgia, local law enforcement calls in FBI agent and profiler Brandon Fisher and his team to investigate. But with the remains pointing to three separate victims, this isn’t proving to be an open-and-shut case.
With no quick means of identifying the deceased, building a profile of this serial killer is more challenging than usual. How are these targets being selected? Why are their limbs being severed and their bodies mutilated? And what is it about them that is triggering this person to murder?
The questions compound as the body count continues to rise, and when a torso painted blue and missing its heart is found, the case takes an even darker turn. But this is only the beginning, and these new leads draw the FBI into a creepy psychological nightmare. One thing is clear, though: The killing isn’t going to stop until they figure it all out. And they are running out of time…
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About the Author
CAROLYN ARNOLD is an international bestselling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series—Detective Madison Knight, Brandon Fisher FBI, McKinley Mysteries, and Matthew Connor Adventures—and has written nearly thirty books. Her genre diversity offers her readers everything from cozy to hard-boiled mysteries, and thrillers to action adventures.
Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark: POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.
Carolyn was born in a small town and enjoys spending time outdoors, but she also loves the lights of a big city. Grounded by her roots and lifted by her dreams, her overactive imagination insists that she tell her stories. Her intention is to touch the hearts of millions with her books, to entertain, inspire, and empower.
She currently lives just west of Toronto with her husband and beagle and is a member of Crime Writers of Canada and Sisters in Crime.
Connect with CAROLYN ARNOLD Online:
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Acknowledgments
Note to Readers
Preview of City of Gold
Overview of Remnants
About the Author
Remnants Page 24
