Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (interesting books to read for teens TXT) 📕

least a hint?” Peter asked. “Hey, who’s the big guy I saw? The one with the crew cut?”

The deputies exchanged a narrow-eyed glance. For a reporter, that look was the death knell for any source. Still, something important had passed between the two men. What was it? Or, more importantly, how could Peter find out? “Can I at least talk to the sheriff? I know she’s up there—I saw.”

Deputy Cooper shook his head, saying nothing.

“One comment?” Peter asked, trying again.

“Move along.” Deputy Cooper waved his arm, ushering Peter back the way he’d come.

“Sure thing,” said Peter, then he headed back across Main Street and returned to the office. He’d given in to the deputies, yet he was undeterred. Taking a camera from the photographer’s desk, he took up a position near the front window, prepared to watch and wait. Maybe standing at the window with a camera was a bit conspicuous, and he considered switching it out for his cell. Then again, the telephoto lens would get him better pictures than any he’d capture on a phone—and he was only conspicuous if he was caught. Stepping back into the room, Peter knew he wouldn’t be seen from the street. He waited as an observer—a recorder of events—playing no role in the stories he told.

Within minutes, he was rewarded with action from the park. Julia and the dark-haired male descended the stairs and turned up Main Street. He snapped several pictures of the pair, focusing on the unknown male. A moment later, the coroner’s van arrived. Two orderlies emerged, then they pulled out a stretcher, complete with an orange body bag on top, from the back of the van.

A body in the park?

Pressing his finger on the shutter button, Peter took several pictures of the orderlies maneuvering the gurney toward the gazebo.

Returning to his desk, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. Scribbling furiously, he made a list of notes. Dead person in gazebo? Identity? Sheriff McCloud had given the dark-haired male access to the scene. That wasn’t typical. Who was he? What role did he play? He paused, looking at the paper. Did he dare to make the link? Would it be ethical to assume a connection before having enough facts?

Then he thought about the increased readership. The online subscribers. The advertising accounts that were growing, alongside all the other regional papers that had already gone out of business and were long forgotten.

He wrote two words. Darcy Owens?

Staring at the notepad, Peter knew that he needed to follow up on the story about the dead guy in the park. And, really, it wasn’t just about selling newspapers or even writing a decent story. Peter owed it to the town of Pleasant Pines to discover the truth about this newest death...and he’d walk through hell to find it.

* * *

The Watcher stood in an alleyway as the scene at the park unfolded. All the important players had arrived. The town doctor. The deputies. As a bonus, the editor of the Pleasant Pines Gazette had been snooping around. Even the sheriff was on hand—Julia McCloud.

A breeze blew around the building and ruffled the Watcher’s hair. And there was a whispered voice in the wind.

She’s the one to blame, said Darcy. Julia McCloud.

The Watcher pulled the phone. The screen was black, but in the reflection, they saw not their own face...but that of Darcy’s.

Julia McCloud, the breeze repeated, as it pushed along a wayward leaf. Start with her—and finish the rest.

The Watcher entered Julia’s name into a search engine. It didn’t take long to find out everything there was to know about the sheriff of Pleasant Pines.

Julia McCloud—the middle daughter of three—had been born to a successful real-estate attorney and a socialite. The McCloud family owned homes in Nassau and Lake Tahoe but resided in coastal Connecticut.

Julia had excelled in both sports and academics as a high-school student, often having nice write-ups in the local paper. She’d turned down admissions at both Yale and Vassar to attend the US Military Academy at West Point. As a newly minted second lieutenant, she’d been accepted in the Army Ranger program, a feat for any soldier. She served in the military for ten years before attending one year of law school.

That was where the public trail for Julia McCloud ended, and it didn’t pick up for several years, when she rematerialized as the sheriff.

It had been years since the Watcher had murdered anyone. And, in all honesty, the rush that came from killing had been forgotten. It was a power that throbbed into the core as the life force seeped from another.

The Watcher smiled at the perfection of the tableau.

How long would it take for them to make the connection? How long before they saw that this murder was like all the others committed by Darcy Owens?

And then what would the mysterious sheriff do?

* * *

Striding down the street, Julia tied the tail of Luis’s shirt before tucking the ends into the newly formed waist.

“Look at you,” said Luis, his tone teasing. “Taking a simple flannel shirt and turning it into high fashion.”

She smiled, nudging him with her elbow. “Smart ass.”

“Smart ass? Now I’m hurt. I gave you a compliment, and you call me names. I thought we were friends.”

Friends. The word struck a chord in Julia’s chest. They were friends, weren’t they? That meant she owed him an explanation for what had happened at the firing range. “Listen,” she said, rerolling a sleeve. “About yesterday. I overreacted. I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive.”

He waved away her almost apology. “I shouldn’t have smothered you with offers of help. Let’s just forget about yesterday and start over now.”

“Sounds good,” she said as the business district of Main Street ended and the road rose, ascending with the terrain. “And speaking of today, you think you can get some of the operatives from RMJ to look around the park? Give my deputies a hand?”

Luis removed a phone from the front pocket of his jeans. After typing out