Love Inspired Suspense April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Laura Scott (free e reader .TXT) 📕

about two weeks before he died. I remember. And that’s the same time frame he had a wad of green and those tickets. Plus, he was secretive about them. Even his sister, Amber, wasn’t sure where they came from.” Coincidence? Doubtful. “Someone gave him serious incentive to play for Ole Magnolia.” Granted, Georgia couldn’t prove it—yet. But it was enough to speculate over on her podcast and toss out her theory.

“It’s not a bad theory. I assume you’ll be moving forward?” Susan asked and collected her purse.

“I have to.” For Dandy and Jared. If she was right and one of those men killed Jared, they deserved to answer for their crime.

Susan glanced outside. “I’d ask you to go get dinner next door, but I know you won’t.”

Dinner led to personal discussion, which led to emotional connection, which led to caring, which led to anxiety.

Nope, not pulling any triggers today.

“I gotta walk the dogs before the rain hits.” The sky’s last shades of pink and blue were sinking into darkness, and the forecast called for a soggy night.

“Fair enough.” Susan pushed open the door. “Hey, you never answered my Would You Rather question.”

Georgia grinned. “I’d rather die a violent death. I wouldn’t want to be selfish. A killer not caught means the possibility of more needless victims and no justice.”

Susan arched an eyebrow. “That’s a commendable answer. On a serious note—you might be opening a can of worms when you don’t have solid proof yet—I know. I know. You said it was all speculation, but if you nailed the truth, someone’s gonna be furious. Having said that, when you do get hard facts, it’ll be worth taking to Buck.”

Georgia had every intention of informing the sheriff, who happened to also be Susan’s big brother. “I will.”

“You said it yourself. A killer not found is a killer roaming free, and on the off chance one of those names gets wind and recognizes it’s them—or it hits too close to home about an illegal recruiting ring—you might be in trouble.”

Georgia’s chest tightened and her throat swelled, but she had a duty as an investigative reporter.

Susan winced at the wind picking up. “Just be careful. Maybe I’ll grab dinner to go instead.”

“Smart. I’m over the rain.” Rain had been the wet theme to ominous news in her life—the day Jared was found dead, the evening she’d been informed that her parents had died in a car accident when she was only twelve, and the day she’d buried Grandma in the dreary, cold rain. Storms still sent a wave of panic into her chest, but she was learning to cope better.

“See you tomorrow.”

Georgia collected her things and locked up. The dogs heeled to her Ford Fusion. They jumped in the back seat, and she drove the ten miles to the twenty-acre piece of property Grandma had willed her.

Up the gravel road on the hill sat her sanctuary. A house built to look like a cabin. A place she had trouble leaving at times for fear of all the danger everywhere else.

She unlocked the door and instead of the warm, enveloping freedom of safety, a chill slithered down her spine. Susan’s words had dug under her skin and rattled her. Georgia’s identity would come out, and everything she said would be out there. What was the worst that could happen?

She might get sued for slander. Defamation of character. She might have to go on record and retract something she said, and a lot of the town might ostracize her. Can I live with that? If it brought about justice for Jared, yes.

She relaxed as she quizzed herself with the coping questions Celeste had incorporated into her life. The fear of something bad happening was her biggest battle. The what-if question. It could potentially snowball until she was incapacitated in sobs on the bathroom floor over her child who died in a drowning accident. She didn’t even have a child! Her imagination could quickly elevate to terrifying places.

So she had to ask: What evidence do you have to support this thought? What is the worst that could happen? After she figured out the worst, the next question was: Can I live with that?

Once the negative thoughts were dealt with, they had to be replaced with something positive.

Philippians 4:8 had become another life verse. Instead of frightening or anxious thoughts, she focused on things that were good, lovely and worthy of praise. If it was noble or pure, she let it in to take root.

Anything else had to go.

Some days were bloody wars.

The good in investigating would be justice served. Lies hidden in darkness revealed. Closure for families. She could live with that.

But the nagging feeling something was wrong needled her.

“Okay, boys, let’s go out before it’s too dark for me to see.” She opened the door, and they bounded out, barking at squirrels and at nothing. Typical.

Another set of chill bumps raised on her arms. She scanned her dimly lit living room and sniffed. What was that smell? Was she making it up, or was there a foreign scent in her home?

Her imagination was running wild, and she tried to shake the feeling that something wasn’t right as she walked outside. She watched the dogs play for about ten minutes, then hollered for them to come inside. The full moon hung in the dark sky like something out of a werewolf movie. An owl hooted.

She rubbed her arms. “Come on, boys.” Usually her blue merle, Doc, had perfect recall. Her tricolor was different story. “Let’s go!”

The awareness that she was not alone didn’t give her time to brace herself. A hulking man in black rushed her and knocked her to the cold hard ground. The dogs barked wildly as they rushed to her side, but they weren’t guard dogs! They could get hurt!

The man’s meaty hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed. “You had to go and stick your nose in where it didn’t belong with that stupid podcast,” he growled.

She couldn’t catch a single breath. Couldn’t