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

She’d been out in her town every day since the bomb had gone off, reassuring citizens and doing the same kind of low-key investigative work as her officers. But right now the question of Rodney Brown’s involvement was still messing with her focus.

Jax’s claim that Rodney’s leaving was just coincidence could be right. Twelve years in law enforcement had taught her that stranger coincidences happened. The problem was, it had also taught her to always be suspicious of them, because too much of a coincidence usually meant it wasn’t actually a coincidence.

Then again, maybe something bad had happened to Rodney, too. But what? And why?

Rodney Brown killing Celia Harris and then killing Juan was a real possibility she couldn’t drop. But the bombing connection felt more tenuous.

What if they were two different people? The idea made Keara jerk straighter in her chair, making it roll slightly backward and bump the credenza behind her.

Two different people didn’t mean they weren’t connected.

The theory made her heart rate pick up, sent a familiar rush through her body. The thrill of the chase, when her gut was screaming she’d hit on something. She’d felt it regularly as a detective. As a chief, she had less opportunity to be in the center of a case in the same way.

Grabbing her cell phone, she hit redial on a number that had started to appear constantly on her list of recent calls.

“Jax Diallo.”

The deep, relaxing tone of his voice sent a little thrill through her that Keara tried to ignore. “Jax, it’s Keara.”

“Keara.”

The way he said her name, the way she could practically see his slight smile, made her stomach clench. Pushing forward, she told him her new theory. “What if you’re right about Celia Harris’s murder being personal? What if the person who killed her is still out there, but it’s not Rodney Brown?”

“I don’t—”

She kept talking, adrenaline pumping, her words spilling out faster as the idea continued to take shape. “What if the killer knew Rodney, knew the symbol he liked to use, and spray-painted it above Celia’s body to lead police in the wrong direction? Or maybe they’d had a falling out and it was a ‘screw you’ kind of move?”

“So you’re suggesting Rodney is the bomber?” Jax asked, not sounding anywhere near as excited by the theory as she felt.

“Yes! When Juan came to talk to him about the murder, he was pissed because his symbol was used. He killed Juan to keep him from connecting it to his own crimes. Then he left town.”

“So you think Juan is the one who let it slip about the symbol? But what about Rodney’s car being near the murder scene?” Jax asked, still sounding confused.

“We know Rodney was near there at the time of the killing. Maybe it really was coincidence. Or maybe he knew what was going to happen and drove by, but he wasn’t the killer.”

“Then, the real killer told Rodney he was going to murder this woman? Why would he do that?”

“Maybe they had a sick friendship. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen criminals connect before, give each other ideas, trade stories about what they’ve done, even cooperate with each other. Maybe give each other alibis. Maybe play a one-upmanship game.”

“Well, sure,” Jax said, his tone still skeptical.

“Maybe that’s what happened here,” Keara said, holding in her frustration. “And whether or not Juan mentioned the symbol, Rodney knew about it. So maybe that was his real worry. He wouldn’t know that Houston PD isn’t like the FBI. We don’t have bomb databases. We wouldn’t know if he’d used that symbol before, not if it was outside our jurisdiction.”

She blew out a heavy breath, tried to slow her adrenaline along with the speed of her words. “What I’m saying, Jax, is that maybe the killer and the bomber aren’t the same person. But maybe they know each other, even schemed together at one point. And Rodney killed my husband because he was onto something bigger than a single murder.”

Jax sighed. “It’s a good theory, Keara, but there’s a problem.”

“What?”

“The FBI ran the bombing details through our database, specifically that symbol. They finished reviewing everything today and confirmed it. We’ve never seen a bomb with this symbol before. Not in Houston, not anywhere.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

With every large-scale crime scene, Jax found at least one person whose resilience awed him. From the Luna bombing, that person was Gabi Sinclair.

The young woman was a fighter. She’d lost a leg, lost a fiancé. She was definitely angry, grieving and in pain, but she was also strong. She had a lot still to get through, but he knew she’d come out the other side of it.

He went to see Gabi at her mom’s house in Desparre, where she was staying while she healed. He was hoping she might remember something more, since she’d been at the edge of the park, maybe at a good vantage point to see the bomber leave the scene. But she had nothing new to offer him, just like he had nothing new to share about the investigation. The most he was able to do was return her fiancé’s watch, which had been processed by the FBI.

“They told me in a month, I’ll get a preparatory prosthetic,” Gabi said, fighting through the pain as she settled herself on her mom’s couch, with Patches beside her good leg. “After a few months I’ll be able to get fitted for something permanent. Then I’m going to learn to run again.”

She said it all with her chin tipped high, with her mom clutching her hand and fighting tears. Gabi only broke down once, when he handed her the watch and she told him about her fiancé’s funeral, which had been put on hold long enough for Gabi to be released from the hospital.

As Jax and Patches climbed into his rental SUV, Gabi’s broken words echoed in his head. “I thought Carter and I had so much