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) 📖

That somewhere was the small yacht on which he’d considered proposing to Emma. Chris shifted in his seat and cracked his knuckles. He was sitting on one of two sofas in the cabin. Arkin sat on the other.

The boat, which Chris had named Course Correction, was docked at the Belmont Harbor. He had no interest in taking it out on the open water right now. As things stood, the heater was working as hard as it could to keep the cold to a minimum. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to add wind to the equation.

Besides, there’d been nobody around when they arrived at the docks and Chris hadn’t seen a soul since. It was too cold out here for anybody who wasn’t looking to stash a body.

Neither Chris nor Arkin had spoken in a while. They were listening for signs of life. Rick was locked in an exterior closet, normally used for storing life jackets and inflatable rafts. Although Chris had said even in here they would hear him banging on the hull when he woke up, he wasn’t sure that was true and had only said it because it was too cold to wait outside. He suspected Arkin knew that, which was why he was listening just as intently as Chris was.

That had been a while ago. Chris had thought Rick would have regained consciousness by now. Figuring he better check on him, he got up and was about to announce his intention when his phone rang.

Chris glanced at the Caller ID. He was expecting to see Emma’s name on it. He had been gone for several hours and she was probably getting worried. But it wasn’t her. The number wasn’t associated with any of his contacts. He wasn’t wild about answering a call from anyone, friend or stranger, under the circumstances. But considering how the last call from a stranger had gone, he decided he better.

A nerdy voice said, “I’m looking for Christopher Bell.”

Chris had half expected it to be the same person who had called him earlier and given him Rick’s location. He could tell right away that it wasn’t. “I’m Chris.”

“I have your ID. Well, not yours. This is clearly a forgery, but it has your name on it. I was going to call the police in the morning and let them know I found it. Then I started poking around the Internet and found your number and, I don’t know, I guess I thought you should know.”

Chris had a suspicion it was Rick’s. “Where did you find it?”

“Oh, I guess I should have started with that, huh? My name is Felix Winkler. I’m the nursing home administrator over at Heartland. One of my nurses found it. She could tell it was a forgery right away because the picture on it was that of a resident’s son.”

“What’s his name?”

Felix hesitated. “I’m not sure if I should—I mean, that might violate my resident’s privacy and, well, isn’t that up to the police?”

Arkin gestured as if to ask what the call was about and Chris waved him off. “Was his name Richard Hawthorne?”

Felix made a sound like he was about to say something, but didn’t. Chris was pretty sure that was a yes. “Skinny guy. Spiky black hair.”

Then Felix spoke, and what he said was not what Chris was expecting. “No. I mean, yes, that was his name. Richard Hawthorne. But that’s not what he looks like. Richard has blond hair. Parted. Brushed to the side. He’s very plain looking.”

While Chris knew Rick had dyed his hair, the answer still bothered him. If he was just getting a call now about the fake ID, it must have been found at the nursing home recently. How long would an ID sit on the floor at a nursing home before somebody turned it in? Not long. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Earlier today. He came by to drop off a check for his mother’s care.”

“Was he wearing an army jacket?”

“I’ve never seen him in anything like that.”

“What time did you see him?”

“Sometime around three, I think. Why?”

Something was wrong. That was hours after Rick had stopped by his office. He had spiky black hair and an army jacket then. He had spiky black hair and an army jacket now. That could only mean one thing: whoever they had locked in the boat’s small storage closet wasn’t Richard Hawthorne.

As if on cue, he heard a series of thumps.

Liam Parker

Chris dragged Liam out of the storage closet and into the cabin. He pushed Liam onto one of the sofas. Liam was scared and confused, but also glad to be somewhere warm.

On the sofa across from him sat Chris’s friend. He had Anita’s gun in his lap, aimed at the ground.

Chris stayed on his feet. “Who are you?”

Liam wasn’t sure which name to give them. He was certain these men believed he was Rick. That was probably what they expected him to say. Denying it could only lead to trouble. But they also wanted something he couldn’t give them, and if he said he was Rick, things might get even worse. Before he could settle on the answer that would be best for him, Chris added, “Somebody called from the Heartland Nursing Home. They found an ID with my name on it. They say the person in the picture is Rick. His mother is a patient there, so I guess they know what he looks like pretty well, and it’s not you. I’ve been through your wallet. You have an ID and credit cards for Liam Parker. Is that your real name?”

Liam was glad he wouldn’t have to lie. Maybe these men had realized their mistake and were going to let him go. “Yes.”

“How do you know Richard Hawthorne?”

Alice. “He’s got my daughter. Or had my daughter. I don’t know anymore. I need to see if she’s okay.”

Chris crossed his arms over his chest. “Why did you