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

the case. Her fingers pressed against her lips, remembering the feel of his kiss, wishing she could get it out of her head.

She hadn’t dated since Juan had died. Not really. Sure, she’d gone on a few “you’d get along so well; what’s the big deal; give it a try” kind of setup dates. The kind where she’d met a guy for a drink, tried not to feel uncomfortable as he asked her what it was like being new to Alaska, what it was like being a police chief, then finally gone home. A couple of times, the guy had called for a second date and she’d let him down easy.

She’d told herself it was just too awkward to date in a town where she was the top law-enforcement official. She’d told herself that one day this would feel more like home and the timing would be better. But maybe that was an easy excuse. Because somehow, here it was, six years later, and Desparre did feel like her home. Yet, she hadn’t gone out on a single date since those early setups.

Maybe it was pure bad luck, because she’d also never felt a connection to anyone like she’d been feeling with Jax over these past few days. At least, not since her husband.

The thought made her fingers drop away from her mouth and her stomach cramp up. Why did the first man who’d made her think about moving forward have to be one who was also forcing her to face her past?

Spinning away from the glass wall that gave her a view into the bullpen where some of her officers were working, Keara stared through the small window at the back of her office. The view was relaxing, the edge of a dense forest that butted up against this part of town. On the rare occasions that she opened the window, it filled her office with the chirping of birds and occasionally the call of a wolf. Once, she’d spotted a bear off in the distance.

When she’d first walked into this office, knowing it was going to be hers, she’d felt like she could breathe deeply for the first time in a year. Alaska had given her solace, a place to start over and hopefully, to heal.

Now, for the first time, she wondered if her family was right. Maybe she wasn’t here to move on. Maybe she was here to escape the constant reminders that had been everywhere in Houston. The home she’d shared with Juan, their favorite restaurant, the streets they’d once patrolled together. Even the shared friends, the family who meant well but cringed and didn’t quite meet her gaze when someone mentioned Juan’s name.

Being in Houston, knowing Juan’s killer was out there somewhere, walking free while Juan was gone, had filled her with a constant rage on top of the grief. And then there’d been the weight of failure, the knowledge that she—a police officer, a detective—hadn’t been able to get Juan justice.

Coming here had made it all fade into the background. But it was returning now, that familiar weight that seemed to suffocate her from the inside.

She couldn’t run forever. Maybe the bombing wasn’t connected to Juan’s murder. But whether it was the key or not, regardless of the fact that she had no jurisdiction, she was going to investigate.

The thought made the grief and anger and frustration burning inside her coalesce into something more powerful. Determination.

Keara glanced at the picture she kept framed in a corner of her office, almost hidden behind stacks of paper. Juan stared back at her, serious and proud in his police uniform from when they’d first started dating.

“I promise you,” she whispered to that picture, her voice cracking, “this time I’m not giving up. I’m not running away. I’m going to figure out who killed you.”

CHAPTER NINE

“Has there been any progress in the FBI’s investigation? Are we any closer to knowing who did this?”

Justin Peterson’s questions were full of frustration, but far less anger than when Jax and Patches had last visited the man. Maybe that was because today the visit was in his home, instead of the hospital.

“Absolutely,” Jax said, leaning forward even as Patches continued to do her work.

She’d sat beside Justin as soon as the man led them into his living room. He’d been absently petting her ever since. His three-year-old daughter, Lily, was sprawled on the floor, chatting nonsense to Patches.

Every few minutes Patches would suddenly drop to her belly, full of puppy energy, and Lily would burst into giggles and pet her.

“What is it?” Justin asked, but this time he cracked a smile as Patches did more of her antics and Lily laughed again.

“I know it seems like a slow process, but doing it the right way now means we won’t damage evidence that might help us later. It means that we’re checking everything carefully so we get the person responsible. And we will. The FBI has a lot of experience with this kind of crime. And the lead agent managing this case, Agent Nez, has investigated a lot of bombings in his career.”

Justin nodded slowly, finally seeming to believe the words Jax had been repeating for five days now. “Someone should pay for this.”

His gaze dropped to his leg. He’d pulled up the fabric of his pants on his right side to show Jax before Lily had come into the room. A nasty scar traveled all the way from his ankle to his knee, where doctors had dealt with the large piece of metal that had been lodged there. “It ain’t pretty. But at least they saved my leg. At least I’m still here.”

Tears filled his eyes that he quickly swiped away as he glanced at his daughter, oblivious as she rolled over and Patches did the same.

A laugh burst free and Justin muttered, “Maybe we need to think about getting a dog.”

“Yes, Daddy!” Lily screeched, leaping up and throwing her arms around Patches’s neck. “A dog like Patches!”

Woof! Patches jumped to