Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Carol Ericson (bill gates best books TXT) 📕

sharing the stories with bloggers and reviewers. My sister, Caroline Heiter, brought her beta reading magic to this book, and my husband, Andrew Gulli, kept me fed and working! A special shout-out to my #BatSignal writer pals, especially Tyler Anne Snell, Nichole Severn, Regan Black, Louise Dawn and Janie Crouch, who brought motivation and inspiration during virtual writing sessions.

K-9 Cold Case

Elizabeth Heiter

Elizabeth Heiter likes her suspense to feature strong heroines, chilling villains, psychological twists and a little romance. Her research has taken her into the minds of serial killers, through murder investigations and onto the FBI Academy’s shooting range. Elizabeth graduated from the University of Michigan with a degree in English literature. She’s a member of International Thriller Writers and Romance Writers of America. Visit Elizabeth at www.elizabethheiter.com.

Books by Elizabeth Heiter

Harlequin Intrigue

A K-9 Alaska Novel

K-9 Defense

Alaska Mountain Rescue

K-9 Cold Case

The Lawmen: Bullets and Brawn

Bodyguard with a Badge

Police Protector

Secret Agent Surrender

The Lawmen

Disarming Detective

Seduced by the Sniper

SWAT Secret Admirer

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Keara Hernandez—When a bomb goes off near Desparre, the police chief discovers a possible connection to her husband’s unsolved murder. Investigating this case could bring her the closure she’s wanted for seven years—or it could destroy her future happiness.

Jax Diallo—The victim specialist comes to Desparre to help the bombing victims, but he quickly becomes embedded in a side investigation with Keara. Falling for the intriguing police chief wasn’t part of his plan, but he thinks solving the case could help her move on—until the bomber fixates on Keara.

Patches—The FBI therapy dog’s job is to help the bombing victims, but she’s just as effective with the FBI and police investigators.

Ben Nez—The FBI agent wants Jax to stick to his role—and out of the way of investigators.

Juan Hernandez—Keara’s husband was killed seven years ago and when his case went cold, Keara fled to Alaska.

Rodney Brown—He might have been a witness—or even a suspect—in one of Juan’s last cases, but he disappeared shortly after Juan was killed. Could that murder have been just the beginning?

This book is for my husband, Andrew, who gives me my own HEA every single day.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

You have to be the calm in their chaos.

Jax Diallo repeated the mantra in his head, the words he always reminded himself of when he was sent to the scene of a tragedy. Being an FBI Victim Specialist wasn’t for the faint of heart.

As the FBI vehicle he was riding in slammed to a stop, Jax closed his eyes for a few seconds, tried to center himself. Tried to prepare to walk into the aftermath of a bomb.

“Let’s go!” one of the Special Agents said, hopping out of the vehicle with his partner, two Evidence Response Technicians on their heels.

With the doors open, the bitter Alaskan wind penetrated the vehicle. So did the unnatural quiet of nature, as if all the animals had taken off. The silence was punctuated by staccato bursts of sobbing, from victims or family members still on the scene. Or maybe a first responder or law-enforcement officer who’d never seen anything like this.

In the distance a phone rang and rang, before going silent and then starting up again. A friend or family member searching for a loved one, desperately hoping for an answer to a call that would never be picked up.

“You ready, Patches?” Jax asked quietly.

His Labrador retriever stared up at him steadily, the soft brown eyes that always reassured victims also working their magic on Jax. She’d transitioned fast from a scared, abandoned puppy into one of the FBI’s best therapy dogs. Right now she could read his mood as well as any victim’s she’d been sent to help.

He gave her a reassuring pet, then climbed out of the SUV. Twenty feet ahead the beautiful greenery of a park was littered with the twisted metal skeleton of what had probably once been a park bench. Pieces of metal had blown into the street, and were still smoldering. Directly beside the park, a small freestanding building—maybe a bathroom—had collapsed, the front wall gaping open. Crumbled concrete, support beams and insulation spilled out of it. Around the edges of the park, one tree was pierced with a metal fragment, like a spear. Others were singed black and missing huge limbs.

As Jax got closer, he saw the detritus from first responders: abandoned needle covers, wrappers and blood-soaked gauze. The concrete walkway was stained a deep red.

The scent still lingered, too, burned metal and charred trees, and something worse underneath. A scent Jax recognized from too many other crime scenes.

The bomb had gone off just over an hour ago in the sleepy town of Luna, Alaska, on an otherwise peaceful Saturday morning. When it happened, Jax had been four hundred miles away, sipping his morning coffee on his back deck, with Patches asleep at his feet. Then his FBI phone had gone off and he’d grabbed his go bag and raced to the tiny nearby airfield, where a jumper plane was waiting.

The briefing on the plane had been short and information-light. A single bomb had detonated. At least six were dead and thirteen more injured. Right now the tiny Luna Police Department had no suspects, no obvious motive and no idea whether to expect more bombs.

Jax looked around the small park, with butterfly-shaped benches around the edges and a couple of trails leading into the woods. It wasn’t an obvious spot to set off a bomb. There’d been no events here, except for an impromptu soccer game. All locals, no news coverage. If the bomber had a specific target, the park seemed like an odd place to go after them, because a bomb here was too likely to miss that person and take out others. If he hadn’t been targeting a specific person, it still seemed like a strange