A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus Reagan Keeter (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

Liam doubted he’d find anything the intruder hadn’t. But without Rick here to question, he might as well look. A stench—something like rotten meat—crept into his nose. It was enough to turn his stomach and he made a point of breathing through his mouth.

He made quick work of searching the living room and kitchen, and checked out all the same drawers the intruder had. He looked under the toppled furniture and sifted through the takeout cartons, careful not to touch any of the food.

When he came up empty, he went to the bedroom. The door, already opened far enough for him to squeeze through, wouldn’t open any farther. A dresser had been pushed up against it. Rick must have been here when the intruder arrived, Liam concluded. He’d run into the bedroom and pushed the dresser against the door to try to keep him out. Liam looked at the open window. He must have crawled through there to try to get away.

Liam guessed Rick had escaped because the bedroom was also trashed. On the floor in front of the dresser he saw a dozen or so diamond rings. He turned on the light, kneeled to get a closer look. They all appeared to be the same.

He wondered why Rick had them and why the intruder hadn’t taken them. But those questions, like so many others, were ones only Rick could answer. Since they weren’t what he was looking for, he moved on.

Liam looked under the bed, inside the empty dresser drawers, through the stacks of clothes on the floor. At some point, he heard footsteps and he froze. He worried someone—Rick, the intruder, a cop—was coming. Thankfully the footsteps passed by the unit and faded away.

If it had been Rick, he’d realized after the initial alarm, that would have been okay. Liam had come looking for him, after all. But with what had happened here, he was also the least likely of the three to show up.

Liam needed to finish his search and get out of here. Scratch that. He just needed to get out of here. He didn’t know what he was looking for and his search so far had been fruitless.

But as he crossed the bedroom, he saw the corner of a notepad sticking out from underneath a bedside table. Liam had seen that notepad before, or one like it. Rick had been carrying it around in his back pocket at Ava’s. He’d noticed the edge of it protruding from his pocket once in a while much like it was sticking out from underneath the dresser now.

It was probably nothing, but why not be sure? He grabbed the notepad and left. He could examine its contents from the safety of his hotel room. Then, as he was mounting the last step that would take him from patio to sidewalk, his phone rang.

It took Liam by surprise. There were only two people who had his number—Anita and Alice—and he had no reason to expect a call from either. He pulled out his phone and checked the caller ID. He recognized the ten digits as David’s. His number was one of the few he knew by heart.

Liam wondered how David had gotten the number and whether he should answer. He hadn’t wanted to involve his friend in all this, but it seemed like perhaps his friend had involved himself. David wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to track him down if it wasn’t important.

Liam answered.

“Thank God I got ahold of you,” David said.

“What’s going on? How did you get this number?”

“Alice gave it to me. Don’t be mad at her. I’ve got information on your case. I need to see you immediately.”

“What are you talking about? What information?” Liam asked, on the way back to the taxi.

“It’s better I tell you in person. But it’s good news, I promise. It will clear your name. Can you meet me at The Crown in thirty minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

Richard Hawthorne

Rick occasionally looked up at the stage, but he spent most of his time with his eyes on the teenagers four rows down. Three girls and one boy. Alice was on the end. After the opening band finished their set, the lights came up and roadies went to work breaking down equipment, preparing the stage for the headliner.

Alice and the friend with the white Volvo broke off from the pack. They headed down the cement steps and out through the gate they came in through. Rick did the same, hoping the usher wouldn’t remember him.

He followed them to the bathroom where they went in together, came out together, and returned to their gate together. Rick was annoyed. He needed Alice alone, even if for just one minute. He went back to his own gate, made his way across the arena to his seat four rows up from Alice, and continued to wait.

Felix Winkler

Felix packed up his leather briefcase and slipped into an overcoat that was too big for him. It had been a long day. The plumbing had backed up in the public bathroom on Heartland’s first floor for the second time in less than a month. A nurse had quit without notice, leaving his already shorthanded staff spread even thinner. And good old Roland Burris, who had no relationship to the former senator but often joked he was in fact the senator himself in disguise, went into cardiac arrest and had to be taken to Northwestern, where he was in ICU.

Days like this were hard. To unwind, he would go home, have a glass of brandy, and listen to Bach alone in his living room.

Felix turned off the lights to his office, locked the door, and spun around to find himself face-to-face with Nurse Cox. His head jerked back before he realized who it was. “Jesus, you scared me.” Then he added, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” Cox said, looking down