Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 Karen Whiddon (best fiction books to read TXT) 📖

Luis dropped into a chair, a small smile on his face. “What’s that, sir?”

“Sir,” Sarge echoed. “I like this young man, Julia. He’s a keeper.” Inhaling, he turned back to Luis. “Have you ever served in the military and how do you take your coffee?”

“I have never had the privilege of serving in the military,” said Luis. “And I take my coffee black.”

“Luis is a retired police officer from Denver. He’s consulting on a case,” Julia added.

Sarge poured three cups of coffee and passed them all around before putting the cookies on a plate. “The case you’re consulting on,” said Sarge, as he sat. “Is it about whoever’s living in the woods behind my house?” He lifted a cookie from the plate, then held it out to Gunner. The dog ate the treat in one bite.

“Rose didn’t say anything about someone living on your property, just that you thought someone had trespassed.”

“I don’t want to frighten Rose, now, do I? I didn’t mention that there was a blanket missing from the back of my car, or that I’m short by one box of cereal because she’d be scared for me. Plus, the last few nights, I’ve smelled a campfire.”

Julia sipped her coffee. When she’d first met the older man, she found him charming, energetic and possibly too old to live alone, especially since his house was so far from any family or neighbors. She worried that too soon he’d have to change his living arrangement—either move into town, or better yet, stay with a relative. Was now the time? Still, it was Julia’s job to check out his claims. And if the blanket was misplaced and the box of cereal eaten and then forgotten, she’d have something to share with Sarge’s grown children.

She asked, “Do you know approximately where you smelled the campfire?”

“There’s a trail that runs through the woods. I’d guess it was about a quarter of a mile back. Far enough away that I couldn’t see the light but could smell the smoke.”

Julia sipped her coffee again. “When was the last time you talked to your son? The one who lives in Casper?”

“I spoke to both of my boys last week.” Sarge slipped the dog another cookie. “I know what you’re getting at. Carl Haak thought I was too old be living alone in the middle of the woods, too. And sure, I can’t go through the night without taking a leak. Doc Lambert has me taking pills for high blood pressure and such, but I’m still together up here.” He tapped his temple. “That’s what counts.”

“You’re right, Julia,” said Luis, a cookie in hand. “I do like Sergeant Taylor.”

Julia’s face flamed red and hot. “I hadn’t meant to imply—” she began.

“Sure you did.” Sarge waved away her comment. “But I forgive you. After all, you can’t expect much from someone from the army.” He winked to show he was teasing.

After taking a final sip of coffee, Julia rose from the table. “Let me go look for that campfire and I’ll tell you know what I find.”

Luis got to his feet, too.

“I appreciate you coming out here to check on an old man...and for your concern,” said Sarge as he walked them to the front door. “You see that trail? Right between those two big trees?”

“I do, indeed,” Julia said with a wave as she and Luis headed out.

Less than fifty yards onto the trail, the woods pressed in on either side, and she’d lost sight of the house.

“You know what I want to be when I grow up?” Luis asked. He shoved the last bite of cookie into his mouth. “That guy.”

“Told you that you’d like him.”

“You think he’s confused about all the stuff missing from his house?”

Julia shrugged. “Could be, but we won’t know until we check it out.”

The trail followed the terrain and crested a rise. There, on the other side of the ridge, was a blackened pile of wood. “Looks like the campfire part of his story checks out.” Luis approached the charred logs and held out his hand. “It’s cold, but look at this.” He held up a burned piece of cardboard. Despite the fact that the edges were blackened and brittle, the words full of fiber were clear.

“Looks like his cereal really was missing, too,” said Julia. She turned in a slow circle. “But I don’t see a blanket.”

“You think it’s someone living rough? A transient, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

Sun shining through the branches glinted off something metallic. “What’s that?” Julia asked, traipsing through the underbrush.

There, atop a pile of leaves, was a metal badge. She lifted it from the ground. The wording was unmistakable. The Transgressors. They were a local motorcycle club. Several members had been arrested for drug trafficking and prostitution last year. The leader, Christopher Booth, had escaped during the raid and was still at-large. “Look at this.” She held up the insignia.

“You think it belongs to Booth?”

“I do,” said Julia. “Which means that the Sarge was right. And he isn’t safe out here by himself.”

Julia retraced her steps, ever vigilant for a sign that Christopher Booth was watching. When they got back to the house, Sarge was sitting in a rocker on the porch, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“You find anything?”

“We did. It looks like someone’s been living on your property and has become audacious enough to break into your house. I want to have my deputies patrol this area, but until we catch the culprit, I’d like you to stay with one of your sons. Or another friend. Or relative.”

“If someone’s living in the woods, and they need help,” said Sarge, “they don’t have to steal from me. I’ll invite them in. Give ’em food. A place to stay.”

“This guy isn’t just down on his luck,” said Luis. “He’s actually bad news. You remember anything about the motorcycle club arrested a few months back?”

“The one that held all those young women against their will, you mean?” asked Sarge.

“That’s the one. Julia found a badge