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

of as a detective to become the police chief in a sleepy little town where she might spend six months of the year snowed in.

But she’d never actually found the peace she’d desperately searched for, the peace she’d almost convinced herself she’d achieved. Not if the sight of one smeared bloodstain could bring it all rushing back like this.

She’d never found her own closure. Not with her husband’s killer still out there somewhere.

CHAPTER TWO

Desparre’s police chief walked away from him at a pace that looked purposeful, rather than desperate, the stomp of her boots echoing behind her.

Jax stared after her, intrigued. Even dressed down, she looked like someone who was used to being in charge. The dark hair she’d pulled back into a severe bun highlighted the sharp lines of her face, the thick eyebrows and exaggerated Cupid’s bow of her lips. She looked like she had Mediterranean heritage, with perhaps a hint of Irish. It was hard to downplay beauty like hers, but she was obviously trying, with little to no makeup. Probably an attempt to get people to take her seriously. Women in law enforcement were the minority; women in high-level law-enforcement jobs even more so.

She was young for a police chief, although a place like Desparre probably didn’t get a lot of crime. It was the sort of town where people came to disappear. Usually, those people weren’t dangerous. They were running from a tragedy in their lives or from someone who meant them harm. Hiding out in the vast Alaskan wilderness, in somewhere like Desparre, which rarely rated mention on a map, would be a good option.

Keara probably didn’t see much crime of this scale. When a tiny town like Desparre—or Luna—faced a threat, they often didn’t have the resources to handle it. Their police forces were small, too; their training often less than ideal.

But Alaska could be tough. With the constant threat of natural dangers, like blizzards or avalanches, frostbite or even wild animals, the people here learned to get tough, too, or get out, Jax had discovered.

Until six months ago Jax had lived in DC, working on the FBI’s Rapid Deployment Team. Victim Specialists on that team worked a three-year term responding to mass casualties all over the country. When his time was up, Jax had been more than burnt out. Working as a private therapist for trauma victims had been intense in its own way, but it couldn’t compare to the sheer volume of victims he could see in a single day, at a single site, with the FBI.

Moving to the Anchorage field office had felt like his chance to slow down. A chance to relax in Alaska’s wild open spaces instead of DC’s city center. He’d just finished training the puppy he’d found abandoned and scared, teaching her to work with victims. Coming to Alaska had felt like the right time to get her started as an official FBI dog.

He was the first Victim Specialist in the Anchorage office. Although they’d been unsure what to do with him initially, that had changed fast, putting him and Patches in high demand. Still, he hadn’t been to any mass casualty events in Alaska until today.

Shaking off his exhaustion, Jax turned away from Keara Hernandez’s retreating form as two agents jogged his way.

Ben Nez was a couple of years older than Jax’s thirty-eight, with years of experience working in Alaska, since he’d spent most of his FBI career here—and before that, a good chunk of his life. His partner, Anderson Lync, was four years younger than Jax, and the office’s designated “FNG.” As Ben had explained it the first time Jax heard the term, Anderson was the “effing new guy.” Because even though Anderson had been at Anchorage six months longer than Jax, they only gave agents the FNG designation, not mere Victim Specialists.

“We’ve got seven dead,” Ben announced without preamble.

Anderson knelt down and pet Patches, probably as much to comfort himself as to be friendly. The younger agent looked worn out, his normally perfectly styled blond hair sticking up, exhaustion leaving half-moons under his eyes.

“Six died at the scene, one more at the hospital,” Ben continued, speaking rapid-fire like he’d been mainlining coffee all day.

Or maybe after more than a decade with the Bureau, an agent just gained the ability to set aside the horror and exhaustion and be fueled simply by the desire to find those responsible. Whether it was getting numb after seeing a huge volume of tragedy or knowing from experience that pushing through was the only way to find answers, Jax wasn’t sure.

“Twelve others are being treated in the hospital, and some are critical. Given the location choice...” Ben paused to gesture around them meaningfully, and Jax realized how serene this park must have been before the bomb. “We’re probably looking at an intended target—or maybe targets—rather than someone trying to create fear or make some kind of statement. We’ll need to get a lot deeper in this investigation to be sure, though. What have you heard from the victims, Jax?”

“Not much about a possible motive.” Besides Akna and her mom, he’d spoken to a pair of locals who’d come by to see for themselves if it was really true, the parents of a victim who’d already been transported to the hospital and a handful of people who’d been near the park when the bomb exploded. Then he’d fielded calls from various family members asking for updates on the case’s progress and collected as many details as he could about the victims so he could follow up with them personally. “So far all I’m hearing is shock. No mention of anyone with enemies. But right now my focus is getting them help.”

“What about the soccer game?” Ben asked, not sounding surprised.

Normally, when Jax got called to a scene, he’d go with the investigators to interview victims, not do it himself. But often information came out when victims or family members were talking to Jax about details they didn’t think