A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus by Reagan Keeter (best e book reader txt) 📕

“Yeah, sure,” Liam said halfheartedly. He didn’t have much interest in food right now.

David washed his hands. He cracked two eggs into a small plastic bowl and beat them with a whisk. “How are you holding up?”

Liam took a sip of his wine and placed the glass down on the kitchen island. While David worked, mixing the eggs with a variety of cheeses and cooking a pound of ground beef in a skillet, Liam talked about his time in jail. He was terrified of losing at trial, of going back, of—dare not think it—spending the rest of his life there. Eventually he worked his way around to the witness Bash had mentioned.

“The detective told me I was the only one seen going in or out of her apartment, but it’s not possible. It’s just not. The building doesn’t have any cameras on Elise’s floor, and nobody was there to see me. I mean nobody. I even tried knocking on the neighbors’ doors after I found her body. No one was home.”

David, who was sprinkling Parmesan cheese on top of the lasagna, looked up from his dish. “You haven’t seen the article in the Tribune, have you?”

“What article?”

David wiped his hands on his apron. He looked up something on his phone, then hesitated. “Huh. Looks like they’ve already got a story out about your release.” He tapped the screen, presumably to navigate to a different page, and handed the phone to Liam. “Anyway, read that.”

Liam took the phone and read:

Suspect Arrested in Logan Square Murder

Elise Watson, a twenty-eight-year-old female, was found dead in her Logan Square apartment on October 2. While Ms. Watson’s murder could be seen as just one more in a series of killings that has already topped 300 this year, the circumstances surrounding it and the only suspect are noteworthy.

According to unnamed sources within the Chicago Police Department, lead detective on the case Sebastian Wyatt has arrested and charged local businessman Liam Parker with the murder.

Mr. Parker, co-owner of downtown advertising agency ConnectPlus, is the last known person to have had contact with Ms. Watson and was found on the scene when the police arrived. There was bruising on the victim’s neck, leading investigators to believe Ms. Watson had been strangled.

“There was a lot of noise coming from next door,” said neighbor Ashley Carlson.

Ms. Carlson went on to say that she looked through her peephole and spotted Mr. Parker outside the apartment. “He was the only person I saw come anywhere near [Ms. Watson’s] apartment that night. He was covered in blood. He looked crazy.”

Mr. Parker’s fingerprints were the only ones found on the body. His fingerprints were also found on her phone, from which his text messages were deleted. It is believed these messages were deleted to conceal any communication Mr. Parker and Ms. Watson had before her death.

Ms. Watson’s wrists had been slit post-mortem which, also according to unnamed sources within the department, was an attempt to disguise the murder as a suicide.

Liam put the phone down on the island and took another sip of wine. He didn’t know what to say. That had to be the witness Bash was talking about.

“That article was making the rounds at the office on Wednesday. I had to hold an all-hands to quell the alarm. I told the staff not to worry and to direct any questions concerning your”—David hesitated, looked down at the lasagna—“situation to me.”

His situation. Liam found a dark humor in the euphemism. David had made it sound like he was dealing with an ailing parent or any of a hundred other things that might go wrong during his life. This was nothing like that. If anything, “giant shit show” would’ve been more accurate.

“How’d they take it?” he asked.

“They’re shaken. No surprise. How would you feel if you found out your boss was charged with murder? But they’re working.”

“That’s good.”

David slid the lasagna into the oven and set the timer. Then he leaned forward, gripping the edge of the kitchen island. “This isn’t an easy thing to say.”

Liam’s pulse quickened. Oh, God. What now?

“I think you should stay away from the office for a while. Let me run things. Your presence there isn’t going to do anyone any good, is it?”

That’s it? Liam thought. Perhaps because of everything he’d been through lately, he was expecting worse. If anything, Liam might have suggested the same thing, had he thought of it. “Sure. I mean, of course.”

David looked pleased. He nodded toward the phone. “So what are you going to do about that woman?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? You need to talk to her, Liam. You need to straighten her out, make her understand why you were knocking on her door. She needs to see the situation from your point of view. You think the police are going to help her do that? There’s no way she can reliably say you were the only one at the apartment that night. But she seems to think she can, and you need to find out why.”

“Shouldn’t Patricia do that?”

“Your lawyer?”

“She’s got a PI—”

David threw his hands up. “Oh, that’s even better, isn’t it? What would you think if you were her and some private dick came around asking questions? I can tell you, if it was me, I’d be more suspicious. No, Liam. You need to do this yourself.” He took a breath, then came around the island and put a comforting hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Speak to her from the heart. Trust me. It’s the best way to handle this.”

Christopher Bell

Emma and Chris had come from different worlds. In high school, Chris kept his nose in his books, while Emma rarely opened hers. Chris kept an eye toward Harvard. Emma didn’t think any further than the next party. Chris had few friends, but they were carefully selected and principled. Emma hung out with anyone and everyone, and still had phone numbers of people Chris would have called “morally flexible.”

One such individual was