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

the ground. The screen was cracked, yet the recorder was still running. He replayed the last five seconds. There was a clatter as the phone hit the sidewalk. And then Julia’s voice—“I’m done with your freaking questions. You stay out of my investigation, you hear?”—followed by the sound of footfalls on the concrete.

Journalistically speaking, things could have gone better. But as far as having something to print, Peter was in luck. He turned toward the newspaper’s office and opened the door. After starting a fresh pot of coffee, he sat back at his desk. Finally, he’d found a story worth telling.

* * *

Julia saw nothing but red. She ground her teeth together and muttered every curse word known to humankind. Feet pounding on the pavement, she tried to focus. But there were too many questions jumbled in her mind to think.

How had the reporter found out about Luis? And his history?

And even as she ran, there was one question she couldn’t outpace.

Did Luis really have an addiction to gambling? And if he did, why had he never said a word?

She left the downtown business district behind her. Her pulse raced and her side cramped. Long ago, Julia learned to ignore the discomfort and simply breathe. Air went in through the nose, and then, out through the mouth. Once and once more. She raced past streets filled with large homes with wide porches and scrollwork on the eaves. The houses became more modest block by block until she rounded a corner and sprinted up her street. Julia’s home was little more than a bungalow. There were two small bedrooms, a half bath in the hallway and a full bath in the master bedroom. Kitchen, dining area and living room all combined to fill a single space.

Her current house was humble when compared to the large mansion she’d grown up in as a child. But she didn’t miss the cavernous rooms that were filled with artwork too expensive to touch. Stopping at her front gate, Julia shook her head.

Had she really slapped the phone from the reporter’s hand? No, he wasn’t simply a reporter—Peter Knowles was the newspaper’s editor. Good Lord, she cringed at the possible blowback from her actions.

Then again, the bastard had deserved her enmity. How dare he try to expose Luis. Then she recalled the editor’s wide-eyed look of shock. For the first time in months, Julia chuckled to herself and smiled.

* * *

The Watcher exhaled before standing. Of course, the computer had been password protected. And despite everything he tried, the device remained locked. It was disappointing, yet inconsequential. Julia kept hard copies of everything. The Watcher had taken pictures of each and every page.

The countdown continued: five minutes, forty-eight seconds remaining.

It was plenty of time to look around.

The Watcher sauntered into the kitchen and opened the cabinets. The food, all healthy, was lined in rows. Cans on the top shelf. Boxes in the middle. Bags on the bottom. The dishes had been washed, dried and put away. The sink was cleaned to the point that it gleamed.

The Watcher’s eye was drawn to the hallway and the bedroom beyond. There really wasn’t anything to learn about Julia in the neat and tidy kitchen. But the bedroom? That’s where the best secrets were kept.

The shades were still drawn, leaving the room dim. Still, the Watcher could see everything—the bed, soft and unmade. The dresser—drawers closed, with photos on the top and arranged in a semicircle. The closet—the door slightly opened, yet everything inside neat and orderly.

In the top drawer of the dresser, there were rows of socks, rolled into balls. Several cotton bras, in shades of black, white and gray, sat next to panties in the same fabric and dull colors.

And yet, at the back of the drawer, there was a flash of red.

It was a thong made of sheer fabric. Running it between finger and thumb, the Watcher wondered when it had last been worn, or if it had been laundered before being put away.

No, that wasn’t right. There was the sound of footsteps on the concrete outside. Moving to the window, the Watcher peered through the crack in the drapes. Julia strode up the sidewalk.

Damn it. Now what? There was no way to sneak away without being seen. The Watcher shoved the door closed and stepped into the adjacent bathroom. There was a linen closet, large enough for an adult. After stepping inside, the Watcher pulled the door closed.

CHAPTER 7

Julia pushed open the front door of her house. After kicking the door closed, she stepped out of her shoes and made her way to her bedroom. What she needed most of all was a shower. After turning the taps on full blast, Julia stripped out of her running gear—leggings and long-sleeved shirt—as steam began to swirl around the room.

She moved to the vanity. For a moment, she studied her own reflection. Blue eyes. Blond hair in need of a trim. Julia had never been a pretty girl—nothing so delicate as that—but she’d grown into an attractive woman. Hadn’t she?

Handsome, she’d heard some say, as her reflection disappeared behind a bank of fog. Wiping the mirror clean, she leaned close. There, from the corner of her vision, she saw it and turned.

The linen closet door was ajar.

Julia pushed it closed. But it wouldn’t shut. It was stuck on something. The corner of a towel maybe?

She pulled the door.

A person, clad in dark clothes and a hood, lunged toward Julia.

She had no chance to scream. Or fight. Or even think. She was shoved backward, stumbling toward the toilet. She lost her balance and tumbled to the side. Her head connected with the marble vanity and a flash of white filled her vision. On hands and knees, she drew a breath. The pain in her head was like a fire, yet in the distance, she heard footsteps, the slamming of a door. Seconds later, a car engine revved and tires screeched as the vehicle drove away.

Slowly, Julia stood. She