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

He saw it then. The cosmetics were thick and expertly applied. But the scarf had slipped, exposing the throat and an Adam’s apple.

“You?” Peter asked. “You’re Robert Carpenter?”

Robert tsked. “I’m not Carpenter—he’s gone.”

“Where’d he go?” Peter’s gaze was fixed on the gun.

The man’s finger rested on the trigger guard. “It’s almost like he never existed.”

“But where...?” And then Peter knew. “You? You’re Darcy.”

“She’s been locked up for too long and had to break free. It was the only way.”

Peter’s heart began to race, and his mind was filled with a swirling mess. It was impossible to come up with a decent thought, much less make a decision. Then a small voice whispered in his ear, giving Peter one piece of advice. Keep him talking.

“You don’t need that gun,” said Peter.

“Oh, don’t I?” The man extended his arm, shoving the gun forward.

“You don’t,” Peter repeated. He lifted his palms to show that he wasn’t a threat. “I know that you want to tell your story, otherwise you wouldn’t have come to me.”

Robert sneered. “That’s where you’re wrong. I never wanted anyone to know anything about me. I had the perfect plan that your most recent story ruined. Now you have to die.”

“Killing me won’t change anything that I’ve published,” said Peter.

“You’re right,” he said. “It won’t. This isn’t about fooling the police anymore. What I’m after is good old-fashioned revenge.”

Peter had been around long enough to know crazy when he saw it. There was no talking to this man and if he wanted to survive, then he was going to have to fight. Rising to his feet, Peter hurled his laptop at Robert’s face.

The other man lifted his arm to deflect the blow. Peter was already on the desk and he launched himself at Robert. In that moment, he recalled all those months he’d spent as an embedded reporter with the troops. How during a firefight, time slowed, and one second expanded until it filled hours and hours.

As he sailed through the air, time began to creep.

Robert stood erect. A pop filled the small office. A tendril of smoke wafted from the gun’s barrel.

The pain was immediate and blinding with intensity. He toppled to the floor and gripped his shoulder before realizing that he’d been shot. Hot blood flowed through Peter’s fingers and pain radiated through his body with each beat of his heart. As Robert Carpenter loomed over him, Peter knew that his story was about to end.

* * *

Without concern for the speed limit, Julia made it to Sergeant Taylor’s house in record time. Skidding around the corner, Julia said a silent prayer. The EMS crew was already on site.

Parking on the lawn, Julia turned off the ignition and raced to the house. The door was open. She stopped short on the threshold.

Travis was lying on the floor, his skin a pasty white. The wall was painted red with blood. A team of EMS workers kneeled at his side and provided medical care. One was an African American man in his late twenties. The other was a gray-haired Caucasian woman of around fifty.

The male paramedic looked up as Julia entered the house. “We’re trying to get the deputy stable enough for transport. Then we’re meeting a medevac unit for transport to the hospital in Cheyenne.”

Julia had been flown to the trauma center before, though she didn’t recall a second of the flight. She nodded.

The EMT continued, “He’s been given some meds for pain. It’s going to make him groggy.”

Travis was lifted onto a gurney. The legs were still collapsed, and sat flush with the floor. She kneeled next to Travis and his eyelids fluttered open. “It was Booth,” he croaked. One shoulder was tightly bandaged, but with his other hand he pointed toward the sitting room. She immediately saw it—the gun cabinet with the shattered glass. “I think he broke into the house after Sarge left. He had a gun.” He wheezed.

Julia placed her hand on his. “You save your strength for getting healthy. We’ll find Booth.” And make him pay for what he’s done.

“Do me a favor. Tell Cassidy...” Travis’s eyes drifted closed, the meds finally taking effect.

“You just get better and you can tell her yourself,” said Julia, though she wasn’t sure if he’d heard anything.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” said the female. “We have to get the patient into the ambulance. The helicopter is on the way.”

Julia stood, making certain that she wasn’t in the way. “I’m coming with you.”

The house needed to be searched and the woods had to be scoured for signs of Booth. But first, Julia needed to make sure her deputy was safely on the helicopter. Besides, she could make calls in her truck as easily as she could while standing on Sarge’s lawn.

Following the ambulance, Julia placed her first call to Rose at the sheriff’s office.

“I need an APB on Christopher Booth,” she said as Rose answered the phone. “He was last seen at Sarge’s house and it looks like he’s armed. He shot Travis, who’s in an ambulance, ready to be transported by air to Cheyenne.”

“Another APB?” Rose echoed. “That’s two in as many days.”

“Whoever said that small-town life was boring has never lived in Pleasant Pines,” said Julia.

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

“Text me with Cassidy’s phone number. I need to call her and let her know what happened.”

“Sure thing,” said Rose, and then Julia ended the call.

Before Julia called Travis’s girlfriend, she needed to get in touch with the rest of the crew. She was more than a little thankful for RMJ. Without them, her department would never be able to handle all of the open and active cases.

She placed the call, and Luis answered.

“Anything new on the search for Robert Carpenter?” she asked.

“Nothing. No reports of home invasions. Or stolen cars. If Robert is still in the area, he’s found a hole to hide inside and isn’t planning on coming out.”

It was one of Julia’s fears that they’d never find him...or bring him to