“I wanted to let you know the DA has been able to connect about half of the murders Watson uncovered during the investigation to Tad Marrow so far. She’s still working on the others, but the FBI has plenty of physical evidence to prove he’s the one who killed Del Howe in that cabin. They recovered rope matching the strands used to bind the victim, and the blade dredged from the bottom of the lake matches the lacerations inflicted before death. With all that, Gresham PD has closed their case against you, and they’ve cut me loose as a suspect.”
She shrugged. “We’ll still be required to testify at Marrow’s trial, but you, for all intents and purposes, are a free man.” She slid her hands into her cargo pant pockets, stains of dirt and blood crusted against the dark green fabric. “The bullet they pulled from your side matches a weapon Sergeant Nguyen reported stolen during the break-in at his home two years ago, too. Because of you, Tad Marrow is going away for a very long time. Thought I should be the one to tell you, considering I’m the one who got you into this mess in the first place.”
“I appreciate it.” He didn’t know what else to say. Maybe there was nothing else for him to say. He’d known exactly what had been at risk when he’d joined the marshals to hunt the New Castle Killer. He’d known using her and USMS resources would sever any friendship they’d built over the past three years. What he hadn’t expected was for the disappointment—the betrayal—in her gaze to tear him apart.
Dylan slowly got to his feet, every stitch in his side stretching into discomfort, but he couldn’t stand the distance between them anymore. Not after what they’d survived out in those woods. Any number of officers could’ve been the one to let him know he wouldn’t face charges for what he’d done, but Remi was woman enough to come herself. She deserved the same respect.
He took a step forward, unbalanced and ready to collapse. “You were right to suspend me, Remi. When I applied to the marshals, I had every intention of keeping my distance from you. You’d left Delaware for a reason, and I wasn’t about to push myself back into your life if you weren’t ready. Come to find out, you convinced the other division heads to send me to Oregon, and I’m glad you did.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t even seem to breathe, apart from the slight rise of her shoulders.
He dragged a hand down his face as his legs shook. Exhaustion—mental and physical—had caught up with him, but he’d sustain another hundred stab wounds and lacerations to hang on to the short time he had with her in this room.
“I joined the marshals to finish what we started in Delaware. I thought if I could find the New Castle Killer, I could convince you to stop running from the past, to stop running from me, but what I didn’t expect was this...purpose you gave me in what we do together here. Protecting witnesses, saving lives.” His chest expanded with a heavy breath, and a hint of the citrusy soap she’d used when she’d showered filled him from head to toe.
“I took that for granted, Remi, and I used a perverted version of that purpose to hunt a killer I had no jurisdiction to investigate. I know how much you rely on trusting the men and women under your command to have your back in the field. I broke that trust, and I wouldn’t blame you if you felt cutting me from the team was the right thing to do.” He swallowed around the ache in his throat as the reality of what his suspension meant sank in. Remi had single-handedly calmed the rage and guilt he’d carried all his life, had directed him to do something more, to be better, and he’d thrown it in her face. “I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t exactly sure how long he stood there, exposed and open to what came next, but he never wanted it to end. One more minute of her. That was all he needed, and he’d happily resign from USMS and pack his bags if that was what she required.
“You were hunting the New Castle Killer so I would come back to you.” Disbelief tinted her words, and Remi closed the distance between them. Her body heat combined with the nervous energy clawing through him, igniting an awareness so deep, so pure, he couldn’t seem to look away. “Back at the safe house, you said I was using you to relieve the stress we took on during the original investigation. If that was true, why were you so determined to find Del Howe?”
“Because I loved you then the same as I love you now.” He took the risk, reaching for her. Framing her face, he hung on to her for dear life as though this was his last chance to make up for the past.
In truth, it was. Del Howe was dead. Tad Marrow was in custody. There was only Remi now. “You were more to me than the sheriff who hired me to work the investigation, just as you’re more to me than my chief deputy now. You’re everything I’m not, and everything I didn’t know I needed in my life. You’re confident, intelligent as hell, and more dangerous than anyone I’ve ever known because you don’t rely on anyone but yourself. Except when you’re getting ready to pass out from sheer exhaustion.”
Her gaze narrowed on his.
“My point is, I need you, Sheriff. I need you to keep me balanced when obsession for justice gets out of control. I need you to be the example I look up to when I’m too deep into a case,” he said. “I just need...you.”
Her smile filled the room and rocketed his pulse into overdrive, and suddenly the pain had lost its grip. Her gaze brightened as she stepped closer to him. She reached into her pants’ pocket and extracted something metallic and engraved. “Then I guess I can give you this.”
His badge? Confusion warped through him and he nearly gave in to the urge to back away if it hadn’t been for the addictive sensation of having her close. “I’m not a deputy anymore. You—”
“Didn’t have time to file the paperwork between learning the man I fell in love with had used me and trying to keep him from dying in the middle of the woods at the hands of a psychopath we’d created together.” She reached for his hand, turned it over and set the heavy metal in the center of his palm. Curling his fingers around the steel, Remi raised her gaze to his. “I didn’t leave Delaware because of you, Dylan. If anything, you were the one person who made my choice all the more difficult. But I couldn’t face staying in the same county I’d failed. And I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”
“I know.” He curled his fingers around the symbol that had done more than given them each careers. It had set them on an undeniable course as friends, teammates, partners, and he’d never take this bond between them for granted again. Her words slowly registered through the last remnants of sedative and pain medication he’d needed during surgery. “Wait. I’m the man you fell in love with, right? We’re not talking about Reed or Foster here.”
“Nothing gets past you, Deputy Cove.” She pressed her mouth to his, entangling her arms around his neck as though trying to make them one, and a backdraft of heat burned through the numbness clinging to his muscles. “You’re going to wish the painkillers lasted longer after we’re discharged from this place.”
He deepened the kiss, healing the hollow ache in his chest that’d widened since he’d left her in that safe house.
And this time, the darkness couldn’t grab hold.
This time, Remi had positioned herself between him and the void of guilt until he hardly recognized the man standing in front of her.
He’d made a mistake by not listening to Tad Marrow three years ago and failed to catch the killer responsible, but focusing on the past had been how he’d lost Remi in the first place. It was time to build the future. With the team. With her. “Believe me, Sheriff, I already do.”
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781488072765
The Suspect
Copyright © 2021 by Natascha Jaffa
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].
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www.Harlequin.com
“We’re onto him,” Jax said, grinning.
“There’s just one problem,” Keara told him.
“What? That we probably haven’t found everything?” There was one time gap big enough that they’d agreed there was probably at least one more connected crime. “I’m sure another one will surface eventually.”
“Not that,” Keara said. “Every single one of these cases is in a different jurisdiction. Hell, every case is in a different state.”
“Okay, but—”
“Jax, he set off this bomb in Luna, left behind this symbol. This pattern suggests he commits one crime and then leaves. He’s probably already gone.”
He stared back at her, his grin slowly fading.
Beside her, Patches whined and nudged her leg.
They’d found the criminal’s trail, but had it already gone cold here?
Boom!
A sound like thunder directly overhead exploded. Then the silence following the loud noise was replaced by screaming.
A special thanks to everyone at Harlequin for helping me bring my K-9 Alaska series to life, especially my editor, Denise Zaza, assistant editor Connolly Bottum for managing all the details and publicist Lisa Wray for sharing the stories with bloggers and reviewers. My sister, Caroline Heiter, brought her beta reading magic to this book, and my husband, Andrew Gulli, kept me fed and working! A special shout-out to my #BatSignal writer pals, especially Tyler Anne Snell, Nichole Severn, Regan Black, Louise Dawn and Janie Crouch, who brought motivation and inspiration during virtual writing sessions.
K-9 Cold Case
Elizabeth Heiter
Elizabeth Heiter likes her suspense to feature strong heroines, chilling villains, psychological twists and a little romance. Her research has taken her into the minds of serial killers, through murder investigations and onto the FBI Academy’s shooting range. Elizabeth graduated from the University of Michigan with a degree in English literature. She’s a member of International Thriller Writers and Romance Writers of America. Visit Elizabeth at www.elizabethheiter.com.
Books by Elizabeth Heiter
Harlequin Intrigue
A K-9 Alaska Novel
K-9 Defense
Alaska Mountain Rescue
K-9 Cold Case
The Lawmen: Bullets and Brawn
Bodyguard with a Badge
Police Protector
Secret Agent Surrender
The Lawmen
Disarming Detective
Seduced by the Sniper
SWAT Secret Admirer
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Keara Hernandez—When a bomb goes off near Desparre, the police chief discovers a possible connection to her husband’s unsolved murder. Investigating this case could bring her the closure she’s wanted for seven years—or it could destroy her future happiness.
Jax Diallo—The victim specialist comes to Desparre to help the bombing victims, but he quickly becomes embedded in a side investigation with Keara. Falling for the intriguing police chief wasn’t part of his plan, but he thinks solving the case could help her move on—until the bomber fixates on Keara.
Patches—The FBI therapy dog’s job is to help the bombing victims, but she’s just as effective with the FBI and police investigators.
Ben Nez—The FBI agent wants Jax to stick to his role—and out of the way of investigators.
Juan Hernandez—Keara’s husband was killed seven years ago and when his case went cold, Keara fled to Alaska.
Rodney Brown—He might have been a witness—or even a suspect—in one of Juan’s last cases, but he disappeared shortly after Juan was killed. Could that murder have been just the beginning?
This book is for my husband, Andrew, who gives me my own HEA every single day.
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
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
You have to be the calm in their chaos.
Jax Diallo repeated the mantra in his head, the words he always reminded himself of when he was sent to the scene of a tragedy. Being an FBI Victim Specialist wasn’t for the faint of heart.
As the FBI vehicle he was riding in slammed to a stop, Jax closed his eyes for a few seconds, tried to center himself. Tried to prepare to walk into the aftermath of a bomb.
“Let’s go!” one of the Special Agents said, hopping out of the vehicle with his partner, two Evidence Response Technicians on their heels.
With the doors open, the bitter Alaskan wind penetrated the vehicle. So did the unnatural quiet of nature, as if all the animals had taken off. The silence was punctuated by staccato bursts of sobbing, from victims or family members still on the scene. Or maybe a first responder or law-enforcement officer who’d never seen anything like this.
In the distance a phone rang and rang, before going silent and then starting up again. A friend or family member searching for a loved one, desperately hoping for an answer to a call that would never be picked up.
“You ready, Patches?” Jax asked quietly.
His Labrador retriever stared up at him steadily, the soft brown eyes that always reassured victims also working their magic on Jax. She’d transitioned fast from a scared, abandoned puppy into one of the FBI’s best therapy dogs. Right now she could read his mood as well as any victim’s she’d been sent to help.
He gave her a reassuring pet, then climbed out of the SUV. Twenty feet ahead the beautiful greenery of a park was littered with the twisted metal skeleton of what had probably once been a park bench. Pieces of metal had blown into the street, and were still smoldering. Directly beside the park, a small freestanding building
—maybe a bathroom—had collapsed, the front wall gaping open. Crumbled concrete, support beams and insulation spilled out of it. Around the edges of the park, one tree was pierced with a metal fragment, like a spear. Others were singed black and missing huge limbs.
As Jax got closer, he saw the detritus from first responders: abandoned needle covers, wrappers and blood-soaked gauze. The concrete walkway was stained a deep red.
The scent still lingered, too, burned metal and charred trees, and something worse underneath. A scent Jax recognized from too many other crime scenes.
The bomb had gone off just over an hour ago in the sleepy town of Luna, Alaska, on an otherwise peaceful Saturday morning. When it happened, Jax had been four hundred miles away, sipping his morning coffee on his back deck, with Patches asleep at his feet. Then his FBI phone had gone off and he’d grabbed his go bag and raced to the tiny nearby airfield, where a jumper plane was waiting.
The briefing on the plane had been short and information-light. A single bomb had detonated. At least six were dead and thirteen more injured. Right now the tiny Luna Police Department had no suspects, no obvious motive and no idea whether to expect more bombs.
Jax looked around the small park, with butterfly-shaped benches around the edges and a couple of trails leading into the woods. It wasn’t an obvious spot to set off a bomb. There’d been no events here, except for an impromptu soccer game. All locals, no news coverage. If the bomber had a specific target, the park seemed like an odd place to go after them, because a bomb here was too likely to miss that person and take out others. If he hadn’t been targeting a specific person, it still seemed like a strange choice, without the volume of spectators that mission-oriented bombers favored.
Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 36
