Justin looked from Chase to Maisy and back again. “What happened to her?”
“I hit her with a chair,” Maisy said.
Justin snorted. His deep laugh seemed to rumble through the warehouse. “Well, this afternoon our tech team traced the IP address of the person who’d sent Canyon’s anonymous blogger those pictures and story about you to her office computer. Unfortunately, the blogger themself changed servers before we could track them down.”
Chase hoped that meant they were one step closer to figuring out who was running the blog and shutting it down.
Justin straightened his uniform.
“Airman Chase McLear, you’re free to go,” he added. “I’ll also be speaking to the K-9 unit shortly and letting them know my recommendation that you and Queenie be reinstated to the K-9 program immediately.”
Gratitude bubbled like a fountain inside Chase’s heart. But Maisy’s arms crossed against her chest.
“Not so fast, what about the pictures of Chase and Allie with Drew Golosky and Boyd Sullivan?” Maisy demanded. “They must be fakes.”
“They’re very well-made fakes.” Justin’s mouth twitched slightly and suddenly Chase had a suspicion that someone within the investigation had created them to tip Preston’s hand. “But nevertheless fakes, I assure you.”
A thousand questions filled Chase’s mind that he suspected he’d never get answers to no matter how many times he asked. Instead, he straightened himself up to his full height and saluted. “Thank you, sir.”
Justin returned his salute. “Thank you, Airman.”
Chase stood back and called Queenie to his side. He watched as Preston and Captain Reardon were arrested, and an officer took the laptop from Maisy. Then he felt Maisy step to his side and her fingers brush his. He took her hand and held it tightly.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go get Allie.”
They walked out, hand in hand, with Queenie. He drove back to Linc and Zoe’s house in comfortable silence, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding Maisy’s fingers gently and never wanting to let her go. They found Allie, curled up at one end of the couch, with Freddy on the other end and Star lying on the floor between them. Maisy walked over and quietly filled Zoe in on what had happened and promised to tell her more in the morning.
Chase reached for his daughter. “Hey, Sweet Pea.”
“Hi, Daddy.” Allie smiled sleepily, raising her hands toward him as he pulled her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest. He ran his hand over her head.
“We found out who the bad man is and how to stop him,” he whispered. “We also found the bad lady who grabbed you and that loud rude man from earlier. Some very good men and women are going stop all of them and make sure they never hurt anyone ever again, thanks to you.”
“That’s good, Daddy.” She yawned. Her eyes closed. “Is Maisy here? I made us a new house, with blocks, for you, and me, and Queenie...” She yawned again. “And Maisy, all together.”
He looked down. There on the floor was a small house made of wooden blocks. Inside, she’d propped up the figures of an airman and a blonde in a sparkling white dress. The two figures were holding hands. A little blonde girl and a tiny dog stood beside them.
He looked up over the top of his daughter’s head. Maisy’s beautiful eyes met his.
“Come on,” he whispered. They walked outside of the house into the warm Texas night. The sky was a wash of deep blue-black above their heads, dotted with the bright light of what felt like a thousand stars. He slid Allie into her car seat. She’d already fallen back asleep by the time he’d buckled her in. He held the door long enough for Queenie to leap into the back seat after her. She lay down, her small snout resting protectively on Allie’s arm.
Chase shut the door quietly. Then he turned to Maisy, reached for both of her hands and held them in his. Her eyes sparkled and the light in them was brighter and more beautiful than every star that spread above them in the sky.
“That was a very pretty house Allie built for us,” he said softly. “It’s a bit too small for us. But I liked her idea of us all being a family together.”
She stepped toward him. “I do too.”
He took both her hands in his and pulled her in closer to him.
“Captain Reardon was right about one thing. You might be a target of Boyd Sullivan’s. I’d feel better knowing I was there keeping you safe. Plus, Allie loves you so much.” He took a deep breath and felt the words he’d been dying to say for longer than he could remember. “And I’m in love with you, Maisy. I love your eyes and your smile. I love the way you think and the way you care for others. I love you in a way that I never knew it was possible to love. And I’m hoping very much you’ll consider marrying me and becoming my wife, Allie’s mother and a member of our family.” The smile that lit up her eyes was all the answer he needed. But still, he couldn’t wait to hear her say the words. He pulled her closer. “You’re something special, Maisy. I’m sorry if this seems sudden, but I feel like I’ve been waiting to say these words ever since the day we met.”
“I feel the same way about you,” Maisy said as she ran her hands up around his neck. He slid his arms around her waist. “I love you, Chase, and yes, I would really love to marry you and be Allie’s mother.”
He lifted her up into his arms and his lips met hers in a kiss for one long and beautiful moment, as a greater happiness than he ever expected to feel filled his heart. Then he set her back down and held her to his chest, as he raised his eyes to the sky and whispered a prayer of thanks, under a canopy of dazzling Texas stars.
* * * * *
The hunt for the Red Rose Killer continues.
Look for the next exciting stories in the
MILITARY K-9 UNIT series:
MISSION TO PROTECT—Terri Reed,
April 2018
BOUND BY DUTY—Valerie Hansen,
May 2018
TOP SECRET TARGET—Dana Mentink,
June 2018
STANDING FAST—Maggie K. Black,
July 2018
RESCUE OPERATION—Lenora Worth,
August 2018
EXPLOSIVE FORCE—Lynette Eason,
September 2018
BATTLE TESTED—Laura Scott,
October 2018
VALIANT DEFENDER—Shirlee McCoy,
November 2018
MILITARY K-9 UNIT CHRISTMAS—
Valerie Hansen and Laura Scott,
December 2018
Keep reading for an excerpt from Gone by Shirlee McCoy.
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Dear Reader,
Have you ever felt like an outsider or been outside a group looking in? Eight years ago, I stood in a hotel lobby at the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference, trying to get up the nerve to go talk to a group of Love Inspired authors. There they were, sitting in a line under the escalator, typing away and talking about poison. I summoned my courage and admitted I wanted to write books like theirs. Lynette Eason invited me to sit with them and ask questions.
That day my life changed. I met my wonderful editor, Emily Rodmell, who edited this Military K-9 Unit series, that afternoon. A year later, I submitted a book, and while it wasn’t accepted, Emily provided me with helpful notes and Lynette encouraged me to try again. I did and one year later, Emily called to tell me Love Inspired would be publishing Killer Assignment.
Being part of this K-9 series, which includes books by some of my own writing heroines, is a dream come true. I really identified with Chase and Maisy, who both felt like outsiders, and I loved watching their romance unfold. I hope you enjoyed it too.
If you want to find out more abo
ut writing for Love Inspired, visit www.soyouthinkyoucanwrite.com, follow Emily on Twitter at @emilyrodmell or find her on Facebook at Emily Rodmell, Editor for tips and advice. You can find me on Twitter at @maggiekblack or at www.maggiekblack.com.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me.
Maggie
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.
You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.
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Gone
by Shirlee McCoy
ONE
She woke to darkness so thick she thought she’d been buried alive. She shuddered, listening to the silence, trying to remember where she was, what had happened, who she was. Her mind was as dark as the place she lay.
She shifted, trying to ease a throbbing ache in her shoulders. Movement was difficult; her wrists were bound behind her back, her ankles bound, too. She should be terrified. She realized that, but all she felt was a strange numbness and the need to close her eyes and sink back into oblivion. Frigid air seeped through her clothes and settled deep into her bones, making her teeth chatter and her body shake. She’d freeze if she didn’t move. Even that didn’t scare her like it should.
If Ruby were here, she’d tell you to snap out of it.
The thought flitted through her head, and a million memories flooded in. The late-night phone call from the Damariscotta police telling her that Ruby had died. The frantic trip to Maine to identify her cousin’s body. The hours spent praying desperately that the police were wrong. The realization that they weren’t.
The grief that was still lodged beneath her sternum, throbbing in her heart.
She’d buried Ruby in North Carolina, and then she’d driven back to Newcastle to clean out Ruby’s apartment. Two trips to Maine in two weeks, seeing the place her cousin had loved too late to share the experience with her.
It’s inexpensive. Beautiful. Everything I’ve ever wanted. When are you coming to see it, Ella?
How many times had Ruby begged her to make the trip? Too many to count. Ella had always had an excuse. She’d always had a deadline to meet or research to do or some random obligation that kept her close to home.
Ruby, on the other hand, had never missed an opportunity to visit Ella. Christmas, birthdays, random trips just because.
She’d loved wholeheartedly and without reservation, and she’d never wanted Ella to feel alone. They’d been as close as sisters, the only living relative either had. Best friends, confidants and coconspirators in life.
And now Ruby was gone.
And Ella...
She was here. Wherever here was. Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Alone in a way she’d never been before. There’d be no one looking for her back at home. Her next article wasn’t due for several weeks. Her neighbors barely knew her. Maybe, eventually, they’d notice her mailbox overflowing and contact the police for a well-check. If not, someone at church might wonder why she’d missed so many Sundays. By that time, Ella would be well and truly gone. A late-night docudrama—The Disappearance of Ella McIntire—watched by people all over the country.
She pushed the thought away, forcing herself to move. Her knuckles scrapped cold metal as she shifted to a sitting position. She trailed nearly numb fingers over the cold smooth floor. Not cement or carpet. Metal? Her brain was working sluggishly, but it was working again, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, taking in shadowy details of her prison. Silver-gray walls. No windows. No door. Just a dark alcove across from her that could have led to a hallway or an exit.
She needed to get up and get out, because someone had brought her here. Whoever it was could return. Probably would return. She’d been asking too many questions. She’d been talking to too many people. She’d been trying to find the truth, because she hadn’t believed the coroner’s report—that Ruby had died of an accidental drug overdose.
Ruby didn’t take illegal drugs. She hated to take prescribed ones. She preferred holistic approaches to illness—meditation, healthy living, exercise. She rarely took an aspirin for pain and, as far as Ella knew, hadn’t been sick with more than a cold in years. Her mother had died of a drug overdose when she was fourteen, and Ruby had vowed never to follow in her footsteps.
Ella had told the police that. She’d told the coroner that. They hadn’t listened because Ruby had been found in her car, drug paraphernalia on her lap. Toxicology test had proven what had been obvious to the officers who’d found her—she’d died of an opioid overdose. That was a fact Ella didn’t dispute. What she questioned, what she absolutely could not believe, was that Ruby had administered the drugs to herself.
So, while she’d worked on cleaning out Ruby’s apartment, she’d talked to people who’d known her cousin. A social worker, hired by the county to work with recovering addicts, Ruby had met a lot of people. Ella had wanted to speak with all of them. In the few days she’d been in town, she’d done everything she could do achieve that goal. She’d talked to coworkers, to neighbors, to members of Ruby’s church.
One of those people must not have liked the questions she was asking. Or, maybe, word had gotten out that she was making visits to the police, insisting that her cousin’s death wasn’t an accident. Newcastle was a small town. People knew each other. They talked.
Whatever the case, Ella had been at the medical clinic, waiting for a key to Ruby’s office. She’d needed to remove her cousin’s personal belongings, and she’d wanted to look for anything that might help her make sense of the tragedy. She’d heard footsteps behind her, turned and...
That was it. All she remembered. Her mind was blank. Just a black void that she was frantic to fill with knowledge, because she had no idea what had happened, how she had gotten here or who had brought her.
She only knew that she had to escape.
Something scuffled in the darkness. Fabric against metal or feet shuffling against the floor. She tensed, terror finally slipping through the numbness. Someone was there, she could feel the presence like an icy finger running up her spine. Whoever it was moved almost silently. Just those soft scuffling sounds mixing with the frantic pounding of her heart.
She managed to get to her feet, her ankles so tightly bound she could barely shuffle backward. Even if she could have run, there was nowhere to go. Just the dark alcove and the deeper, darker shadow moving through it. Her heart thumped painfully, her attention riveted to the person walking toward her. Tall. Broad. A man, she thought. But it was too dark to make out details of his face or features.
She yanked at her bonds, trying to shuffle farther away as if, somehow, she could disappear into the darkness.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said so suddenly, so unexpectedly, she jumped.
“Said every serial killer who ever tried to convince a victim she was going to be okay,” she responded, her mouth cottony with fear.
“If I were a serial k
iller, I don’t think I’d be worried about comforting you. Not when you’re already bound and helpless.”
“I’m not helpless.” She glanced around, looking for a weapon, because she was helpless. Tied up. Alone. Probably far away from civilization.
“You are, but you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He was close now.
So close she could see his chiseled features—hard jaw, prominent cheekbones, light hair. Eyes that were looking straight into hers.
“What do you want?” she asked, still twisting her wrists, trying to loosen what felt like duct tape. If she could free her hands, she could fight. If she could fight, she had a chance of escaping.
“To get you out of here,” he said.
“And take me where?” she asked. Not because she believed him. Because she needed to buy time. The tape was loosening, the edges cutting into her skin but slowly giving.
“Somewhere safe,” he responded, grabbing her shoulder so quickly she didn’t realize he was moving until he had her.
She yanked away, tumbling back and crashing into a wall.
“Calm down,” he said, his voice low and soothing. As if that would make her more likely to cooperate. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that because...?”
“Lady, if I wanted to harm you, it would already be done.” He grabbed her shoulder again, and this time he held tight when she tried to pull away. “Turn around. I’ll cut you free.”
She didn’t plan to cooperate, but he pulled something from his pocket. She heard a quiet click, saw a blade jump out and tensed.
“I’d rather not be stabbed in the back,” she managed to say.
He sighed, swinging her around so effortlessly she barely had time to realize what he was doing before she was free. Her hands hung limp at her sides, pieces of tape still dangling from the skin, blood flowing back into her fingers.
He crouched, cut the tape at her ankles.
She tried to dart away, but her feet were numb, her movements clumsy. He snagged her hand and tugged her back. Not hard. Not with enough force to make her stumble. Just enough to pull her to a stop.
Standing Fast Page 18
