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

her reporter senses had tingled. Besides the possibility of a fake witness, evidence against Charlie, in the form of the fingerprint on a suitcase full of opioids, had been handled by none other than Randall Bowe. She knew GGPD was up to its neck in work with the confluence of a serial killer on the loose, the increasingly powerful opioid cartel and the recent kidnapping of a young child who’d been thankfully found safe and sound. All separate incidents. It would be unrealistic to expect GGPD would get answers on Charlie’s case with any sensible timeliness.

Charlie had provided her with all of what he knew, and she’d taken copious notes. He’d believed that a cartel kingpin was at the heart of his wrongful imprisonment. When she’d pressed Charlie for names, he’d balked, claimed that “the drug ring in this town is nothing for a lady like you to worry about.” Charlie had always maintained that he was in recovery for his own heroin addiction and was a reformed part-time dealer, as well. His goal was to help others and he’d claimed that’s all he’d been doing when the event went down that got him in jail this time. Dominique wasn’t a novice and knew that addicts were often gifted liars—it was a dark side of the disease. But Charlie was unlike any other addict or dealer-turned-legit she’d ever interviewed. He’d had such a positive outlook, even while imprisoned. If only she’d pushed harder, Charlie might still be here. She still struggled to accept he was gone.

Charlie Hamm had been found dead in his cell from internal bleeding suffered during a prison fight. Some of her students told her that they suspected the fight was staged—Charlie was targeted by the drug cartel’s boss because Charlie had specific information pertaining to the drug ring, including the names he never provided her—but they wouldn’t tell her more, wouldn’t give her one iota of information. They were afraid for their lives, too. Which led her to wonder if Charlie knew the actual kingpin, a name that so far had eluded law enforcement, as far as she knew.

To make matters worse, she’d uncovered facts that made it appear that Grave Gulch PD hadn’t done all their homework when Charlie was arrested. Point in case was the faulty evidence, processed at GGPD’s small but highly capable forensics lab. Dominique wasn’t certain, or convinced, that Randall Bowe’s reason for planting the fingerprint against Charlie had anything to do with the cartel. But GGPD wasn’t letting her in on their findings, so she had no choice but to follow the drug cartel lead.

Charlie never should have been brought to trial. Her heart ached for him, as much as her fury gnawed at the possibility of his fatal injuries being a premeditated murder. His suspicious death and all he’d told her previously triggered her reporter instincts into rapid-fire, and fueled her quest to solve Charlie’s case.

“Please don’t go to Dad, Soledad. Not yet. You know that this story is vital not only to my career, but for the Grave Gulch Gazette, as well.”

“No offense, sister of mine, but I don’t give a beaver’s butt about the Pulitzer Prize. I want you safe. Alive.” More clatters sounded over the connection as Soledad worked. Dominique didn’t bother to correct her sister. Sure, she wanted to one day win the coveted journalism award for her paper as much as anyone, but her first allegiance was to the story. The truth. She’d add justice in there but knew that the local courts would handle that part. If she could make sure the bad eggs at GGPD were called out and meted punishment. First she had to get some evidence that Charlie’s jail time was for a crime he might never have committed.

“Are you making any of your snickerdoodles today?” Her stomach grumbled at the thought of the buttery cookies, cinnamon baked into their crisp outer edges.

“Remember what I said about patronizing, sis?” Soledad wouldn’t be sidelined by Dominique’s distraction technique.

“Sorry. Trust me, sis, I’m good. I’ve got to go, but I’ll stop by later if I can.” She enjoyed all of the confections her sister created but had to limit herself as her sweet tooth was a serious downfall. As she passed a too-familiar apartment building, the memory of eating hot cinnamon rolls in Stanton Colton’s bed flashed in her mind. The deep pang of regret it triggered was immediately followed by frustrated annoyance. She’d split from the dangerously attractive bodyguard two years ago. Ever since she’d taken on Charlie’s story, though, Stanton had been occupying more space in her head. Probably because she’d always relished sharing her research with him, getting his perspective as a security expert. Memories of him and their short-lived—but passionate—relationship belonged in the past.

“You sound distracted.” Darn Soledad’s ability to read her, even over the phone. Dominique got it; she was equally able to sense where Soledad was emotionally, sometimes physically. They definitely had the twin connection.

“I was for a minute. This traffic is nuts. I’m good, though, no worries. I should probably let you go. We both have work to do.”

“We sure do. I’m proud of you, sis. But for the record? It’s my prerogative to worry about you. Know I love you and nothing is worth any fancy journalism prize.” Soledad’s sincerity infused Dominique’s center with a sense of peace. It wasn’t the first time she’d realized how blessed she was to have her sister in her life.

“Love you, too.” She disconnected and continued to drive down Main Street, passing all of her favorite haunts, including a used bookstore and nearby coffee shop. Her description of where she was headed hadn’t been completely honest. She was well into the east side now, where in a matter of a block the cheery storefronts gave way to run-down buildings and littered sidewalks. Making sure she was as close to the desired cross street as possible, she parallel parked in front of a dilapidated building that had splintered plywood