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

“Is anything wrong?” Jax asked, keeping his voice neutral.

Patches took the more direct route. She went to Keara’s side of the booth and put her head on the seat.

From the surprise and amusement on Keara’s face, Patches had looked up at Keara with her soft puppy eyes, a tactic that rarely failed.

The smile twitching at the corners of Keara’s lips burst into a true grin as she pet Patches. “She really knows how to put on the charm, doesn’t she? Is that something you taught her when you trained her to work for the FBI?”

“Nah, she came by that naturally. I was biking home from work one day and—”

“You biked to work in Anchorage? Must have been summer.”

“This was almost a year ago. I was working in DC then. Getting to and from FBI headquarters took forever in traffic, so I bought a bike. Anyway, I was on my way home and I saw something moving in the bushes and then this tiny little puppy jumped out. She gave me this look like she wanted me to take her home.”

He’d had to swerve his bike, had almost tipped it. But he’d always felt like she’d been waiting for him to come along.

Growing up, he’d had a dog, so he’d known instantly that Patches was too young to be away from her mother. But she’d been totally alone, so he’d scooped her up, walked his bike the rest of the way home and then taken her to a vet.

Keara’s smile curled downward. “Someone left her out there?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head, still petting Patches. “Kids and animals,” she muttered. “Those are the worst calls, because they’re trusting, relying on someone to care for them. Not that I want to get called to any scene where someone is hurt, but at least as an adult, you’ve seen enough of the world to know. If you’re paying attention, there are threats everywhere.”

She was staring at his dog when she spoke, letting Jax study her more closely. He’d worked with law enforcement long enough to know how terrible their jobs could be. He wondered how being a chief in Desparre compared to being a detective in Houston. The latter was surely bloodier, but the former put a lot of responsibility on her shoulders.

Deciding to keep the conversation light, he continued, “It’s lucky I found Patches when I did. The vet thought she was about six weeks old. But she was feisty and determined from the start. I’d been working for the FBI for two and a half years by then and there are a few Victim Specialists who have therapy dogs in DC. I immediately thought she’d be good at it. She officially started at six months. Youngest dog they’ve ever used.”

He heard the pride in his voice as Keara’s gaze finally swung back to him. There was something pensive in her gaze, something that made him want to lean across the table and get a little closer.

“Can I get you anything?”

The nasally voice startled Jax and he realized the waitress was standing next to their table.

“Just a coffee would be great.”

“Make it two, please,” Keara said.

“And for her?” The waitress nodded at his dog, then smiled. “Does she want a bowl of water? Or we can bring her a dog c-o-o-k-i-e.”

Woof! Patches’s head appeared over the top of the table, swiveled toward the waitress.

The waitress laughed. “I see she spells. Okay, two coffees and a dog cookie it is!”

When she left, Jax returned his attention to Keara. But whatever he’d seen in her eyes was gone now, replaced by a seriousness that told him they were about to get to work.

“So the woman who was murdered seven years ago? Celia Harris? Apparently, Juan, my husband, and his partner, Fitz, had a possible suspect. I mean, they looked at a lot of people and I guess this guy didn’t stand out more than anyone else, at least not initially. But then, a week after my husband was murdered, Fitz went to talk to him again. I think it was kind of a distraction assignment, honestly, to reinterview any witnesses or suspects that Juan had talked to alone. You see, Fitz wanted to be part of the investigation into Juan’s death and the chief wouldn’t let him.”

She didn’t have to tell him that she’d also tried to insert herself into the investigation of her husband’s murder. Just talking about it was making her eyes narrow and her lips tighten.

“What happened to your husband, Keara?”

“He was murdered.” Her expression became even more pinched. “In our own backyard.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” She straightened, and he saw her game face come on. “It was never solved, which is why...” She took a visible breath, shook her head and started over, her voice calmer. “So about a week before he was killed, Juan went to talk to Rodney Brown. His car was pictured close to the scene near the time of Celia’s murder. Fitz said Juan returned from that interview without feeling like he’d gained much, but the guy lied about the car being near the scene. And when Fitz went back—a week after my husband’s throat was slit—the place was totally cleared out.”

Jax felt himself cringe at Keara’s description of how her husband had died. He could tell from the anger and pain wrapped up in those few words that she’d been the one to find him. An ache formed in his chest as he watched her, trying to be clinical. How much worse must it have been, as an officer of the law, knowing the person who’d killed him had gotten away with it?

“Fitz spent a lot of time trying to track down Rodney Brown. Apparently, he worked as an orderly at a hospital in Houston, but he just stopped showing up. His work history before that was a little spotty, so it wasn’t totally out of character. And his family told Fitz that he was flighty and not great about staying