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

the dark. At some point over the past few years, he’d become part of it, but she wouldn’t lose Dylan to the shadows. The muscles around her stab wound ached the longer she held her weapon shoulder-height, but she wasn’t going to be caught by surprise this time. “Where are you, Dylan?”

“Chief, you’re...want...this.” Reed. Damn it. Their signal was losing strength. “Chief...hear...me?”

Her skin chilled as she scoured the trees ahead for a sign of Reed’s and Watson’s flashlights, but pitch blackness had consumed their position. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of Foster a few yards to her left. She pinched the radio in her grip. “Reed, say again.”

“Signal’s weak,” Foster said. “A few more meters and the radios are going to be useless. We have to keep going. Maybe the closer we get to their position, the better we’ll be able to stay in contact.”

“Chief!” A gunshot exploded from nearby, drowning Watson’s voice over the radio, and every cell in Remi’s body caught fire.

She darted in the direction she’d last seen Reed and Watson, her heart in her throat. Foster followed close on her heels. Branches reached out and caught the skin along her neck and face, and tangled with her hair, but she wouldn’t stop. Not until she knew every member of her team was alive. Sweat built between her palm and her weapon, and she tightened her grip. Mud, fallen branches and patches of leaves fought to trip her up. Slowing, she glanced back to calculate how far she’d run. She battled to steady her breathing. Running a hand through her hair to get it out of her face, Remi spun. No sign of Reed or Watson. No other flashlights. No movement. “They were right here.”

“Chief.” Foster kicked through a pile of foliage. A beam of light spread across the dirt and highlighted the marshal’s black boots. It arched up the base of a large pine beside him, reflecting off something embedded in the bark.

“One flashlight. Where is the second?” She bent to examine the metal stuck in the tree. She secured her weapon and pulled her pocketknife from her ankle holster. She pried the metal loose, and it fell into her palm. “It’s a slug. 9mm.”

“One of ours.” Foster studied the surrounding trees. “Reed or Watson got a shot off, but not before they were taken out. He’s out here, picking us off one by one.”

“He’s comfortable in the dark. He uses it against his victims and feeds off their terror of being alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he scouted the area before tonight to memorize the landscape.” She cut off the shiver working up her spine as memories from the caves escaped the box at the back of her mind. They’d faced killers as a team. Amateurs, apprentices, veteran serial killers. None of them compared to the monster hunting them now. Remi pocketed the expended slug and holstered her knife. Drawing her sidearm, she hit the power for her flashlight.

They couldn’t win this. Not directly. To catch a killer, she had to start thinking like one. She had to use the predator’s strengths against him. “Turn off your light. Rely on your hearing, and keep your movements to a minimum. Our priority is recovering our team, but if you find the suspect at the end of your weapon, you sure as hell better take him down. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Foster killed his flashlight, his outline blending into the shadows closing in around them.

“Good.” They moved as one, slowly at first, as their vision adjusted to the lack of light. Buzzing insects quieted the deeper they treaded through the woods. Her own shallow breaths filled her ears, but she felt more than saw Foster to her left. An owl made its presence known somewhere overhead as low bushes and leaves swayed with the wind. The rain had stopped, but puddles of water still sloshed under her boots.

“I know you’re out here, Sheriff,” a deep, overly familiar voice said. “I’ve already taken care of three members of your team. You wouldn’t leave them to die as you left me to face Del Howe alone, would you?”

Remi stopped. Reed, Watson, Cove. The killer hadn’t only come for her and Dylan, he’d attacked her team. Holding her breath, she searched the trees for the source of the voice, for something to give away the killer’s position. Movement registered to her left, and she realized Foster was working his way toward the voice. With any luck, they could cut the killer off before he even realized what was happening. No. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“You weren’t able to protect the officers involved in the New Castle Killer case, Sheriff.” The voice had somehow changed position without warning, just as it had in the lava tubes. “What makes you think you could protect anyone else?”

He was right. How could she protect her team when she didn’t know who the hell she was protecting them from?

A struggle reached her ears from where Foster had been standing a few seconds before, and Remi raised her weapon. She clicked on her flashlight and scanned a few feet out, giving away her position. He’d vanished. Leaves bounced as though they’d been disturbed, but he wasn’t there. “Foster!”

No answer.

Damn it. Her weapon shook with the tremors working through her hands. Was he still alive? Were the others? She killed the light and ducked behind the cover of a large bush to her right. Crouching, she aimed her weapon down between her knees and settled back against a tree large enough to conceal her size. She pressed the crown of her head into the bark, focusing on the sting of pain instead of the doubt clawing up her throat. She’d spent her entire life fighting to survive. First, after losing her family and growing up on the streets of her hometown. Second, to prove her gender had nothing to do with her ability to run a USMS division. But this...this was different. This was her team, the