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

took a trophy. I looked at the pattern with all her suspected killings.” Wyatt held up the computer. A man’s face, along with a name filled the screen. “This is Sven, her third victim. He had the half bill in his wallet, just nothing taken from his person. It’s the same with the first two victims.”

“Just to clarify,” Julia began, “you’re saying that Darcy taking tokens from her victims evolved over time?”

“Killing is like any other skill. The more murders you commit, the better you get. You finesse your methods. Maybe there was something the fourth victim had that Darcy wanted. She took it and her MO changed. But, with the most recent victim, Tom Dolan, nothing was taken. His brother-in-law, Sean, accounted for all his belongings.”

“It’s interesting,” Luis admitted. “How can that help us find out what happened to Tom?”

“We all agree that this isn’t a simple copycat killer,” said Wyatt. As if a copycat killer would be simple to begin with. “The killer knows about the two-dollar bill, but not the trophy-taking. If they’re replicating Darcy’s crimes, it’s from a time that was early in her development.”

“So it’s someone from her past,” said Julia. “Like, maybe a cousin.”

“Exactly,” said Wyatt.

“Then let’s see if we can find any evidence linking Darcy’s cousin to the Pleasant Pines Inn on Saturday night.” Luis returned to the computer before maneuvering through the internet to the DMV’s site.

“What’re you doing?” Julia asked.

“Checking out if Bethany’s car went through one of a dozen traffic lights on Saturday night—her plates would have been read and recorded.”

“Poking around on her social media is one thing. Can you do this without a warrant?”

“You can’t,” he said, “but I can. Working for RMJ gives me...” He paused, looking for the right word. “Latitude.”

Julia huffed, but she knew he was right. “If this case ever goes to trial...”

“We’ll get you the correct warrant before you ever produce the evidence,” Luis said.

“I don’t like it.”

He’d been a cop. He knew how laws worked. “Do I search or not?”

Julia opened and closed her injured hand. “Go ahead, but just this once.”

Luis entered the information for Bethany Edwards’s car, then set the parameters for Saturday evening through Sunday morning and waited.

Within minutes, a list appeared. No photos.

Beginning at 10:00 p.m., Bethany Edwards had driven from her home to the Pleasant Pines Inn. She stayed for ninety minutes before returning home.

“The timing is perfect to make her the woman in the video with Tom Dolan,” said Julia.

Which meant one thing: Bethany Edwards was certainly their prime suspect.

CHAPTER 9

“We have to talk to Bethany,” said Luis. “She matches the description of the person on the video and the person who broke into your house, Julia. She reads about the cases obsessively. She’s a relative of Darcy’s and might know how half of a two-dollar bill is placed with each of the victims. Plus, according to Robert Carpenter, Bethany was also abused by Darcy’s father.”

Julia looked at Bethany’s address. She lived in an apartment in a town to the east of Pleasant Pines. “Let’s go and talk to her, then. But first, I want to make a stop. There’s an elderly man who lives by himself and called because he thinks someone is in the woods near his house. With everything going on, I want to drop by and make sure he’s okay.”

Since the old man’s house was between Pleasant Pines and the home of Bethany Edwards, Julia decided to stop by and visit the retired vet first. Luis, riding shotgun, agreed to the detour.

In Pleasant Pines, Mr. Taylor was known by many names, including Sergeant Taylor and Sarge. He’d served in the US Marine Corps during the Korean War and now lived in a rambling old house at the end of a dirt road. The Sarge’s wife died more than twenty years ago. His kids were all grown and lived in other parts of the state. It left the older man with nobody to keep him company other than a tick hound named Gunner and a few scrawny chickens.

“You’ll like the Sarge,” she said as she pulled off the paved road.

“I’ll like him,” Luis stated, echoing her words. “Why’s that?”

She gave Luis a sidelong glance. “You’ll see.”

The house, a two-story wooden structure, sat in the middle of a wide lawn. An American flag hung from a flagpole and fluttered in the morning breeze. A long porch stretched across the front of the house. As Julia parked the truck, a brown-and-black dog charged across the grass. The dog pawed at the door, his tail a wagging blur.

Julia jumped down from the truck and the dog began to bellow. The front door opened. Sergeant Taylor, wearing an olive-drab T-shirt and jeans, stepped onto the porch.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite army officer turned police officer,” he said, his smile wide. “Come in. I just started a pot of coffee. You can help me drink it.”

Julia grabbed the bag from the truck. “Rose sent over some cookies. And I brought a friend. Luis Martinez.”

Luis stepped to the ground.

“Well, the cookies will go nice with the coffee, and Luis, you are always welcome here, ’cept that means there’s less coffee and cookies for us, Sheriff McCloud.” He held open the front door. “Come in, come in.” The dog bounded up the steps and ran into the house. “You, too, Gunner,” he said, laughing at the dog.

The lights were off in the small sitting room, yet it wasn’t so dark that Julia couldn’t see the walls. They were covered with pictures of military service, citations and awards. In short, Sarge’s living room was a timeline of duty and honor. Seeing the photos filled Julia with a sense of awe.

The kitchen, floor covered in yellow linoleum, was at the back of the house. A small TV sat on the counter. The screen was filled with a morning newscast with the sound muted. Sarge gestured to a round, wooden table. “Have a seat. And, Luis, tell me the two most