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) 📖

A bus came. All but two of those waiting for it got on.

Liam froze in his tracks. At other bus stops, that wouldn’t be unusual. Many served more than one line. This one served only Line 82. There’d be no reason to pass up one bus for another, especially in this cold.

Liam was suddenly sure he wasn’t being paranoid—he was being set up. David hadn’t uncovered any evidence. He was working with the police to bring Liam in.

He turned around and started walking back the way he’d come.

Stop thinking like that. David wouldn’t do that to you.

No, he wouldn’t. Liam had to be making a mistake. If David had evidence that could exonerate him, Liam needed to see it. Then again, if David had evidence that could exonerate him, why hadn’t he taken it to the police?

Liam ducked into the next shop. Collectables and Collections. It sold rare stamps, old comic books, ceramic figurines. A sign by the register said “Best price for your rarities.”

The shopkeeper, a woman in a peplum dress with white hair pulled back in a ponytail, was leaning over a glass case looking at something another shopper had brought in. She glanced at Liam and said, “Let me know if I can help you.”

“Thank you,” Liam said, “I’m just browsing.” He pulled out his cellphone and dialed David’s number.

“You close?” David asked.

“I’m not going to be able to make it,” Liam said, watching The Crown through the shop’s windows.

“What? Why not? This is important.”

“Can’t you just tell me what it’s about?”

“It’s not something I can explain. You have to see it.”

“Take it to the police, then. Ask for Detective Wyatt. If it’s something that will clear my name, you should give it to him.”

“Liam—”

“I have to go.” Liam hung up and continued to watch the restaurant. As he feared, David stepped outside and the two men loitering by the bus stop approached him. So did the couple with Starbucks cups. Then a car door opened and Bash got out. He glanced over his shoulder, seemed to look right at Liam, and joined the others.

For a second, Liam was sure he’d been made. He thanked his lucky stars he had listened to his instinct. Bash’s car was parked perhaps twenty feet from where he’d turned around. If he’d gone much farther, he might not have been able to slip away.

He knew he couldn’t stay here and wait for the group to disperse. The shopkeeper was already looking at him funny. No wonder—even if she hadn’t heard him mention the police, his behavior had to seem strange. But he couldn’t go back out on the street either.

“Do you have a back way out of here?” he asked the shopkeeper.

She stammered through a series of “ums” like she was unsure what to say. As she did, the pudgy man in the sweater vest on the other side of the counter turned to look at Liam.

“Never mind.” Liam charged through the shop, found a backdoor just beyond the one that separated Collectables and Collections private and public spaces. It dumped him into a dark alley. Turning right would lead him toward The Crown, so he turned left. He moved fast, past dumpsters and stacks of discarded boxes, hoping he wouldn’t encounter an undercover officer at the end of the alley.

Richard Hawthorne

Fresh Sync performed “Here and Now,” “I’m Back,” and “Forever You.” Strobes flashed in time with the music, while smoke machines puffed and massive digital displays projected an endless and nauseating stream of video.

They’re like pack animals, Rick thought with disdain as he watched the teenagers four rows down dance with a carefree jubilation he had never known.

He wondered if he’d missed an opportunity to separate Alice from her friends. But when would that have been? At the McDonald’s? At the mall? When she and Ms. Volvo had gone to the bathroom?

Rick was starting to think that wasn’t going to happen when—God bless her—Alice tapped the shoulder of her friend, said something to her and, after all four briefly huddled, descended the cement stairs alone.

Rick kept his distance. Alice went to the concession stand closest to her gate and Rick meandered up behind her, pretending not to notice her. He cleared his throat a few times, hoping she would say something first. When she didn’t turn around to look, he said, “Excuse me, Miss?”

When she did turn around, her expression suggested she didn’t recognize him.

“Didn’t I run into you at the mall earlier today?” He waited. There it is, he thought when her face changed.

“You were the guy at Urban Outfitters.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Alice nodded, seemingly pleased with herself for remembering who Rick was. “All right, well, nice to see you.”

She was about to turn away. Rick could tell Alice wasn’t interested in having a conversation with him. That wouldn’t do. He had a question to ask, but because he felt like he first needed a segue, he said, “Good band, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, pausing briefly.

“My friend, Joe, couldn’t make it, so I’ve got an extra backstage pass. You interested?”

The line in front of Alice moved forward. Her gaze cut to her gate and back.

“May I take your order?” shouted a man in a white bowling shirt with Bowards Arena emblazoned on the breast pocket.

Rick glanced over Alice’s shoulder and saw the arena employee was talking to her. “Once in a lifetime opportunity,” he said with a smile.

“I’m sorry. My friends are up there. I can’t.”

Rick didn’t think this was about her friends. If he was younger, perhaps better looking, she’d have gone with him. It would have made everything so much easier.

Alice stepped back, spun on her heel, and approached the concession stand. She ordered sodas and popcorn. Four Cokes—one diet. The arena employee handed them to her in a disposable cup carrier.

Rick ordered a bottle of water, dropped a five on the counter. With Alice