Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Carol Ericson (short books to read TXT) 📖

months. But the man she’d slowly fallen in love with over the course of this investigation.

The man she knew. The one who’d followed her to the safe house when he’d learned she was a possible target of a killer. The one who’d made mouth-watering mac and cheese that’d magically taken the emptiness inside her away. The one who’d held her under the shower when she couldn’t stand on her own. That man would never resort to inflicting the kind of pain he despised on another human being.

She swallowed around the dryness in her throat as the road ahead of her came into focus. “Yes, I believe him, and I’ll believe and stand up for any one of the marshals in my division who finds themselves in a similar situation.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” Foster said. “Reed, Watson and I are headed your way now.”

The call ended, throwing her into an unsettling silence between her own thoughts and the hum of the tires against cement. The GPS on her phone pinged, signaling she was almost to Annabell Ross’s home, but she had to assume the woman herself had become another victim of the madman behind this game. Annabell would’ve been a loose end, a witness, and the killer would’ve gone out of his way to ensure she never talked. Remi only hoped she made it in time to keep Dylan from meeting a similar end. “Just be alive.”

She pulled into the small, quiet neighborhood, and slammed on the brakes. The small blue house and bright yellow door did nothing to ease the racing panic threatening to tear her apart from the inside. Grabbing Dylan’s weapon and badge from the console, she hit the pavement and rounded the bumper of the SUV. Hauling the cargo door open, she quickly strapped into her Kevlar. She shoved his duty weapon down the back of her cargo pants before clipping his badge to her vest. Didn’t matter Dylan wasn’t a US marshal in her division anymore. She wasn’t going to lose him. Not again.

The pounding of her boots against the driveway bounced off the overhang above the garage door as she sprinted for the front door. Testing the handle, Remi backed off a few feet. Locked. She shifted her weight onto her back leg and slammed her heel into the space beside the dead bolt. Wood splintered under the pressure, and the door swung back into the wall behind it. Weapon up, finger beside the trigger, she breached. “US Marshals! Is anybody here?”

No answer.

She swung her attention to her left, clearing the living room as she crossed the small entryway toward the dining room and kitchen behind three large archways carved into the wall.

A wall of odor slammed into her. She stepped under the main arch into the kitchen. Nothing looked disturbed or out of place, but she couldn’t ignore the sickeningly-sweet smell of death in the air. Remi stepped into the hallway, fighting the urge to cover her mouth and nose with her hands. She couldn’t afford to compromise her position. No matter the situation.

Her boots dragged against old carpeting that silenced her approach toward the back bedroom where the odor seemed to originate. Ignoring her reflection in the mirror in the bathroom to her left, she nudged the door open. Empty. Same for the second bedroom, which contained nothing more than a single twin-size bed.

Dylan had called her less than twenty minutes ago. Even if he’d been killed, he woudn’t have decomposed this quickly. Remi braced herself for the worst as she pushed open the door.

Annabell Ross stared back at her. Nausea churned in Remi’s gut as she took in signs of strangulation. Dylan had been right. The hiker who’d left traces of volcanic rock in his footprints outside Del Howe’s cabin had been their killer all along. He’d used Annabell as an alibi then killed her when she wasn’t of any use.

The faces of the New Castle Killer’s victims had been engrained into her head, over and over. She would’ve recognized him at the scene. She was sure of it. Remi lowered her weapon. But now that she thought about it, the male witness had put his back to her when she’d left the cabin with Captain Paulson and Sergeant Nguyen. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time the hiker had been giving his statement, but it’s possible he’d avoided facing her on purpose.

She took a single step forward, and the crunch of metal and glass tore her gaze from the young woman sprawled across the bed. Thickness coated the edges of her throat as she realized what she’d stepped on. A phone.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall from the main living space. “Chief, you in here?”

Watson’s voice penetrated the ringing in her ears. She crouched down and collected Dylan’s phone. He’d been here. Backup had arrived, and now she had to find him. “Back here! Inform Gresham PD we need a crime scene unit.”

Three deputies crowded into the room one at a time. Finnick Reed, Jonah Watson and Beckett Foster all covered their noses and mouths in one move. Her team.

“Where’s Cove?” Foster asked.

A deep-throated scream answered in response.

BLOOD TRICKLED DOWN his inner thigh as his attacker retracted the blade.

Dylan struggled against the ropes keeping him tied to the chair and pressed his toes into the ground. The muscles in his jaw ached from the pressure of holding in his screams. In vain. Four lacerations, all of varying lengths and depths. Just as the New Castle Killer had done to his victims. Sweat built on his upper lip as the pain receded, and he dropped his head back.

“Don’t give up on me now, Cove. We still have so much to talk about.” A lean, muscular frame escaped from the shadows cast by the trees surrounding them from every side. Tad Marrow, the New Castle Killer’s third and last victim, stepped into the beam of moonlight coming through the trees. Miles of forest expanded in each direction, ensuring