Luther meets Justified combined with Profiler in New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti's exciting Laurel Snow Thriller series, set in the Pacific Northwest, featuringFBI Special Agent and rising star profiler Laurel Snow. For readers who love their thrillers centered around dysfunctional families, and their protagonists threatened by a serial killer.
“Be prepared to stay up all night…Rebecca Zanetti takes you on a thrill-ride, pitting characters you love against impossible odds.” –CHRISTINE FEEHAN, New York Times bestselling author
A string of brutal murders is leaving a grisly trail across the Pacific Northwest—and drawing rising star FBI profiler Laurel Snow back into a treacherous case and a twisted personal drama she can’t escape . . .
The first body is torn apart, blood and flesh discovered across both state and federal lands. As the victims multiply, a pattern emerges—each is related to past cases investigated by Laurel Snow, with the assist of Huck Rivers, Washington Fish and Wildlife captain. When friends and loved ones are targeted, things become even more chillingly personal.
As Laurel and Huck team up again to navigate the gruesome and increasingly bizarre killings, they must also keep a safe distance from Laurel’s half-sister, Abigail, a dangerously clever sociopath. Ever since their father reappeared in town, Abigail has been convinced she must protect Laurel from his malignant narcissism—a scourge she’s sure they’ve both inherited. Huck is not spared either as a shocking development in the case touches his own life.
With the murders, and the suspects, multiplying around them, and the lives of everyone in their orbit at stake, only Laurel’s sharp analytic skills, Huck’s deep gut instincts, and their growing bond will enable them to face the demons within and the threats without—before they’re next on an elusive killer’s hit list . . .
Release date:
October 22, 2024
Publisher:
Zebra Books
Print pages:
432
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
Icicles hung like sharpened spikes along the eaves of the hospital as FBI Special Agent in Charge Laurel Snow ducked her head against the biting wind and strode across the crunchy snow to enter the building. The door shut behind her with a grinding screech. She shivered and brushed snow off her shoulders. Winter had extended her reign into the beginning of April, which wasn’t unusual for the sleepy town of Genesis Valley, and yet the chill factor seemed to be worsening.
Her footsteps echoed hollowly through the vacant waiting area, and she hastened at the sight of the unmanned reception area. The nurse was known to be a barracuda who liked to block people, so Laurel skirted the desk and hustled down the northern hallway.
Her phone buzzed, and she paused, lifting it to her ear. “Agent Snow.”
“Hey, Laurel,” Walter said. “I just got your message. Do you need me at the hospital?”
“No. You keep packing. I’m fully equipped to handle this.”
Walter cleared his throat. As her second-in-command, he’d been injured several times in the last few months, and she was pleased he and his girlfriend had won a vacation to a sunny and relaxing locale.
“I don’t like that Jason Abbott wants to see you in the hospital. Do you have backup?” Walter asked.
Laurel’s service weapon felt snug at the back of her waist. She looked down the empty hallway, noting one of the fluorescent lights buzzing in the far distance. “The Genesis Valley Police are guarding Jason Abbott,” she said. “I have plenty of backup. Please continue your preparations for your time off.”
Walter exhaled heavily through the phone. “I can’t believe he tried to kill himself again.”
Abbott’s actions didn’t fit with his pathology, but perhaps the lack of hope was enough to make the serial killer want to avoid trial. Laurel had gathered enough evidence against him that he would certainly be convicted of brutally murdering successful women, cutting off their hands, and leaving them frozen in icy graves. This was the second time he’d attempted suicide while awaiting trial.
“What did he say when he called?” Walter asked.
The buzzing from the far light increased by several decibels.
Laurel swallowed. “He called our office and said that he wanted to talk about additional victims.” Apparently the hospital had let him use a phone, which was something she would address after she spoke with him. “He waived his right to an attorney as well.”
Walter crunched on something, probably ice. “Isn’t that surprising? He has a good lawyer.”
“He’s an angry narcissist who believes he’s more intelligent than everybody else.”
Walter snorted. “Even you?”
She leaned against the wall, trying to keep herself out of sight of the nurses. The place seemed deserted. “Especially me. I’ll report back what I discover. You continue packing.”
Walter chuckled. “All right, boss. Give me a call after you meet with the lunatic.”
She clicked off and slid the phone into her pocket before looking in both directions and hurrying toward the end of the hall. Evading that nurse had become imperative. Laurel turned the corner in time to see a uniformed police officer step into room 113. Irritation clocked through her. As a dullard, the local sheriff might not be teaching his officers proper procedure. Unbuttoning her coat just in case she needed to reach for her weapon, she strode toward the doorway and walked inside.
“Officer, return to your post,” she said to his broad back.
He stood looking down at the figure in the bed, his shoulders wide and his fists clenched at his sides. She could comprehend his anger. Jason Abbott was a brutal killer, and many people wanted him dead.
“Officer,” she said.
He pivoted suddenly.
She recognized him, but it was too late.
He slammed her against the wall and shut the door, one hand clutching her throat, the other covering her mouth.
Jason Abbott.
She gulped several times, her hands loose at her sides, and then looked beyond him to the figure in the bed.
“The officer,” he affirmed.
“Is he deceased?” she said against the palm over her mouth. He had her backed up to the wall, close enough that she couldn’t quickly reach for her gun. The heavy metal bit into her back, just waiting for her to move into action.
He shook his head. “Not yet, but he’s full of sedatives.”
Jason stood at least a foot taller than she, and his dark blue eyes sparked with anger. Even furious, he was a handsome man, with his closely cut beard and his broad shoulders. Solid, with a high percentage of muscle mass compared to fat, he’d obviously been working out these months in jail.
She swallowed, refusing to show fear. He needed the fear and wanted it desperately. So she rolled her eyes.
He blinked and then slowly removed his hand.
Her throat ached, but she kept calm, glancing at the bandages covering his wrists. “You didn’t cut very deeply.”
“I didn’t really want to die.” He smiled. “However, you are going to meet your maker.”
She considered viable plans of action and pivoted her hips twenty degrees, driving her knee up to his groin, impacting soft tissue. He instinctively bent over and emitted a low groan. She struck toward his eyes, trying to blind him. He dodged to the side, and she hit his mouth, his teeth scraping her knuckles with a painful slice.
Taking advantage of his movements, she retrieved her gun from the back of her waist.
He punched her wrist, and her hand smashed against the wall, pain careening up her entire arm. She dropped the gun.
Grunting, she rotated and punched him in the eye, and he fell back. Then she kicked him in the groin again. She started to yell, but he smashed her in the cheek. She flew toward the bed, impacted the side, and crashed down, screaming for help. Then he kicked her under the jaw. Her head snapped back against the bed again, and darkness fell across her vision.
“What is going on here?” a female voice yelled.
A body landed next to Laurel. She couldn’t see. Her vision blurred.
“We aren’t done.” Jason Abbott’s voice came from very far away.
A high shriek next to her made Laurel jump, and she blindly scrambled for her gun. Jason kicked her shoulder, and she careened across the room, slamming into the wall head first.
Then darkness fell.
“I’m relatively unharmed,” Laurel protested again, sitting on the hospital bed as Fish and Wildlife Captain Huck Rivers ducked to look into her eyes.
The doctor tapped notes on a tablet while leaning against the wall. “You’re going to be a little sore.” He looked up, his blue eyes bloodshot and his grizzly gray eyebrows bushy. “You took a good hit to the cheek and the jaw, and your shoulder and forehead are bruised, but from the look of your knuckles, you inflicted damage as well.”
She had kicked more than she’d punched, so her foot should hurt more than it did. She made a mental note to buy more of these type of boots. “How is the nurse?” Thank goodness the woman had arrived and screamed so loudly for help.
The doctor’s lips tightened. “She has a broken jaw, unfortunately. Nurse Wallentrout isn’t going to like that.”
Huck winced. “No, she isn’t.”
“I owe her gratitude for her intervention.” Laurel stared down at her phone, fighting panic. “We have a felony arrest warrant out for Jason Abbott, and all agencies are on the lookout for him.”
Huck stood tall in front of her, his expression calm, but his eyes a glittering brown. Heightened color showed along his cheekbones, and his shoulders appeared an inch higher than usual, showing extreme tension. “Do you think he’ll leave the state?”
Laurel rolled her neck from side to side in an attempt to ease the residual pain. “I’d like to think so, but he’s angry. He’s been locked up for months, and he wants revenge.”
“On you?” Huck asked shortly.
She nodded. “On me, and most certainly on Abigail.” On any professional woman who’d crossed him, which included Abigail, Laurel’s half sister, who had experimented on Jason Abbott and probably pushed him into killing sooner than he would have otherwise.
“Do we have to warn her?” Huck asked wryly.
An unwilling smile tickled Laurel’s lips. “I’ve already notified FBI Special Agent in Charge Norrs from the Seattle office.”
Huck’s dark eyebrows rose. “Are they still dating?”
“According to him, yes, they are. He unfortunately believes they are becoming serious and once again requested a dinner date with us.”
Huck shoved his hands into his Fish and Wildlife jacket, his rugged face set in harsh lines. Tall and powerful, he looked ready to take on all attackers. “Not in a million fucking years.”
She could not agree more but focused on the doctor. “I’m ten to eleven weeks pregnant, but I wasn’t hit in the abdomen or lower extremities tonight. I feel well, except for an ache in my face. We have an appointment with an OB-GYN in two weeks to hear the heartbeat.”
The doctor made another notation. “We can schedule you for an ultrasound tomorrow if you like, but if you’re not spotting or feeling any ill effects, it probably isn’t warranted. But peace of mind does matter.”
She had a serial killer to catch. “Thank you, Doctor, but we’ll wait for the regular appointment.” She felt fine, and at this early stage, if something went wrong, there wasn’t much that could be done about it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Huck placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, swiping his thumb along her jawline and the slight ache there. As the father of the child, it was natural he’d be concerned.
“I am, and we need to find Jason now.”
Huck looked over at the doctor. “How’s the officer Abbott put into the hospital bed?”
The doctor shook his head. “Still out. The prisoner punched him several times and then somehow acquired a vial of sedative. We’ve performed blood tests, but I don’t know which sedative was used yet. The officer’s breathing is strong, so he’s not in any danger, but it may take him awhile to wake up.”
Laurel nodded. “We’ll need to secure the CCTV from the hospital.”
“Nester’s already on it,” Huck said. “I called him while you were being examined.”
Nester served as the computer guru for Laurel’s team, the Pacific Northwest Violent Crimes Unit. “Good.”
Huck ran a hand through his hair. “You really think Abbott’s going to stay in the area, don’t you?”
“I do,” she said softly. “He’s been cooped up for too long. He’ll want to kill again soon.” Plus, he’d be very angry that he’d had to run when the nurse screamed and hadn’t gotten to take his revenge on Laurel. So he’d be both furious and desperate to show how much more brilliant he was than all of the women he hated.
She stepped down and reached for her coat. “We have work to accomplish.”
“I’m driving,” Huck said.
“You always drive,” she murmured, walking down the hallway and outside into a blistering wind.
“That I do,” Huck said, opening his truck’s passenger-side door for her.
Laurel climbed up into his truck and clipped her seat belt in place, her mind calculating details she’d memorized about Jason Abbott. Where would he stay? Where would he go? She had investigated him fully, and he didn’t own real property. He’d be hiding out somewhere he felt safe.
“I’ll need to interview Abigail. I’m certain he confided in her more than she admitted,” she said.
Huck grunted in response.
Dr. Abigail Caine had experimented on Jason Abbott, encouraging him to engage in violent fantasies that ultimately led to his kills.
Laurel glanced back to see the dog crate that usually held Aeneas, Huck’s Karelian Bear Dog. “Where’s the dog?”
“I left him at home,” Huck said. “He seemed content snoozing by the fire.”
They made the remaining drive in silence, and Laurel sighed, her eyes heavy. The doctor didn’t think she had a concussion, so she allowed herself to drop into a dreamless sleep. Jolting awake when Huck stopped the truck, she fumbled for her door to step out onto the crunchy ground and plod into his cabin.
“Are you hungry?” Huck asked, shutting the cottage door behind her.
“Not even remotely.” She headed into the bedroom, ditching her clothes and crawling into bed.
His chuckle followed her. “I’ll be with you in a little while.”
Later, she instinctively felt the heat when he slipped into the bed, and she rolled over to let herself be warmed. Just before midnight, his phone trilled, and his office called him out to investigate a poaching case.
She snuggled deeper into the warm bed, letting her body heal. He returned sometime later, pulling her close, reporting that he hadn’t found the poacher. Her dreams flashed a kaleidoscope of fist fights, chilly nights, dead women, and blistering storms. They both groaned when his phone alerted him again, and his office called him out to find a missing person. As an F&W captain, Huck normally took point on any search and rescue or poaching operation. He also served as the department’s diving expert.
He kissed her cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
Two calls in one night? She blinked. “Maybe you should come work with the FBI. We get more sleep.”
His chuckle as he exited the room lightened her spirits, and she smiled, almost immediately dropping back into her dreams.
The buzzing of her phone jerked her awake early in the morning, and she lifted it to her ear, noting that Huck hadn’t returned yet. Then she took a quick moment to hope that Jason Abbott had been found.
“Agent Snow,” she whispered sleepily.
“Hey, boss,” Walter said, his voice somber. “We have a body.”
The body lay yards from Iceberg River at the base of Snowblood Peak, face down, frozen to the unforgiving ground. Standing at the edge of the parking area, Laurel shivered and stared up at the mountainous peak with its jagged edges rising high into the fierce gray clouds. “We seem to have come full circle,” she murmured.
FBI agent Walter Smudgeon shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, his gaze on the body. “The way up and the way down are one and the same.”
Laurel looked over at her partner. “Heraclitus?”
Red tinged his broad cheeks. In his midfifties, he had intelligent hazel eyes and thinning gray hair that he’d lately begun to style with gel. “I’ve been reading a lot these days. Ena likes philosophy.”
Fascinating. Walter had been shot in an earlier case, and he’d decided to invest in a longer existence, exercising his wounded body to a healthy muscle mass, dedicating himself to a new romantic interest, and apparently studying philosophy. Ena was a Fish and Wildlife officer who worked under Huck, and Walter seemed to adore her.
Laurel noted the state crime scene techs setting up a tent over the body, close to the broken ice. “Heraclitus also said that one cannot step twice in the same river.”
“Huh,” Walter said. “Haven’t read that one. Those thoughts seem to contradict each other.”
“They’re compatible statements.” Laurel angled her head for a better view. The victim had longish blond hair and was still fully dressed in a short black wool coat, dark jeans, and scuffed brown boots. She appeared to be a female in decent shape. “Everything flows and nothing stays.”
Walter reached into his back pocket to draw out a pair of thick gloves. “Who said that?”
“Plato, but I believe he paraphrased Heraclitus.”
Walter settled shiny and unscuffed snow boots on the icy ground. “So it’s about the river? The movement of the water beneath the ice versus solid ground?”
Her current proximity to the victim prevented a detailed analysis of the possible crime scene. “Our perception is subjective, as is any conclusion when becoming philosophical.”
He gestured for her to precede him. “Who said that?”
“Me.” Having been given a wave from the crime scene tech dressed in thick white coveralls, Laurel gingerly picked her way across the rough terrain, her rugged boots finding purchase on the ice. “Philosophy involves asking questions with few true answers.” Which had always irritated her to no end.
Every question should have an answer. In fact, each one most certainly did, even if she couldn’t find it. She slipped, and Walter instantly grasped her arm, straightening her. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You’d think we’d be finished with the snow and ice, considering it’s April first,” he grumbled, walking closer to her now.
She shrugged. “We’re thousands of feet above ocean level, Walter.” At least the snow might melt soon down in the town of Genesis Valley. “We’re fortunate snowmobilers found the body.”
“Huh. The body is just a short distance away from the parking area. Somebody would’ve found her.”
They reached the now-tented area just as the wind increased in force, blowing Laurel’s hair away from her face. Her breath caught from the cold as she crouched to better study the body. “There are no obvious signs of murder, and she still has her hands.” Jason Abbott had liked to cut off the hands of his victims, but he’d had an ax easily available each time.
Unlike now.
Fish and Wildlife Captain Monty Buckley stepped out of a rig in the parking area and strode toward them, his countenance pale from recent cancer radiation treatments. “I radioed Huck to fill him in as he drove. He’s on his way now.” Monty walked gingerly, his movements jerky.
Laurel stood. “Did Huck find the missing person?”
Monty shivered in the cold, even though he wore a heavy jacket and gloves. “Yeah. They found the old guy not too far from the retirement home, with hypothermia and possible frostbite. He’s alive at least.”
So Huck would be in a good mood. The man blamed himself when he couldn’t save a victim, and even though that was irrational, Laurel could empathize.
Monty gestured to the body. “Her head and torso are on federal land, and her waist and legs are on state land. This is a weird one, for sure. So I figured we’d share jurisdiction.” He motioned toward a younger Fish and Wildlife officer taking photographs near the tree line. “Tso, get over here.”
The man let his camera hang over his neck and walked toward them, his black eyes intense. Frozen chips of ice dotted his longish black hair, showing he’d been photographing the area within the trees. He wore an F&W jacket over jeans and thick boots. “I shot the full scene and took extra photographs of the cracked ice over the river. There’s blood on the edges, and the techs captured samples before the ice melted.” He smiled at Laurel. “You must be Laurel Snow. I’ve heard about you.”
“I am.” She held out a gloved hand to shake. Huck had mentioned the new officer, but she hadn’t met him.
Monty provided the introductions. “Laurel Snow, please meet Qaletaga Tso, fresh from Arizona. You know? Where there’s actually some sun and not constant winter?”
That might possibly be sarcasm, but Laurel couldn’t read the tone. Perhaps Monty was dreaming of a trip to a warm beach resort. She and Huck had planned to vacation in Cabo, but work kept interrupting. The new officer appeared to be Native American, and if she remembered correctly, Qaletaga was a Hopi name. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Officer Tso released her and held out a hand to Walter. “You as well.”
“Walter Smudgeon,” Walter said. “I bet you miss the sun. Like Monty, I’m seriously tired of the gray skies but am going to have to put my vacation on hold.”
“Yeah.” Walter sighed. “My girlfriend won a sunny two-week vacation from her church’s raffle a week ago, and we had planned to leave this afternoon.”
Laurel studied the victim. “You are maintaining your departure schedule.” The man was recovering from multiple gunshot wounds, and although he appeared healthier than ever, he needed this break from murder. “I have backup, and if I need you, I’ll call.”
Walter frowned. “Fine. Welcome to the team, Qaletaga Tso.”
“Thanks.” Officer Tso stared up at Snowblood Peak. “I’ve recently taken up snowmobiling, so I’m enjoying myself in Washington State so far. I have my diving certification but have never plunged into icy waters like this.” He looked over his shoulder at the frigid water. “I suppose since we found blood on the ice we’ll need to do a dive?”
“That’s up to Huck.” Monty straightened as two of the techs brought over small flat shovels. “Good. They’re going to turn her over. Let’s see what we can find.”
Laurel’s stomach rolled. As the head of the FBI’s PNVCU, she was accustomed to crime scenes. However, because she was eleven or so weeks pregnant, HCG and estrogen hormones were causing unexpected nausea. She drew in several frigid breaths and exhaled through her mouth, attempting to calm her autonomic nervous system to prevent her from vomiting all over Walter’s new boots.
“You okay, boss?” Walter asked.
She must’ve paled. “Yes. The wind is chilly.” She and Huck hadn’t informed anybody about the pregnancy other than Laurel’s mother. They’d agreed to keep the pregnancy a secret until she reached the safer second trimester. Although Huck’s paternal overprotectiveness would probably alert the ones closest to them soon. She accepted that characteristic in him.
The team moved a foot away from the body to allow the techs to gingerly scrape away ice. “Monty? Detail the scene for me, please,” Laurel said.
“The first is the cracking of the ice over the water with blood found on the edges,” Monty said. “The action was deliberate, which could indicate that the deceased broke the ice and tried to jump in, but in that case . . .”
“Who pulled the body to the bank and away from the river?” Walter finished for him.
Monty nodded. “Exactly.”
Laurel bent to study the body. Jason Abbott had been furious the night before—he might’ve killed the first victim he could find. “We’ll proceed as if this is a homicide considering the blood on the ice and the fact that somebody dragged the body away from the water.”
A truck rumbled from behind her, and she turned to see Huck pull to a stop and jump out. He opened the back door and let out his Karelian Bear Dog. Aeneas leaped gracefully to the ground, still wearing his search and rescue vest, his black-and-white markings adorable. Then the two walked toward them, both slightly wild and very sure-footed.
Huck’s gaze swept her from head to toes, no doubt making sure she’d properly dressed for the weather. His protectiveness toward the female carrying his progeny was no doubt strongly rooted in biology and evolutionary psychology. Or perhaps that was just Huck.
He stood tall and broad, filling out his Fish and Wildlife jacket with natural muscle. His hair was a dark brown, his eyes a mellow topaz, his bone structure strong and symmetrical. He wore faded jeans and black boots, and the dog looked natural at his side. “You said we share jurisdiction with the FBI?”
Monty nodded. “Yeah.”
Huck’s focus had already moved to the cracked ice, and he headed toward the river.
Laurel shifted into motion, noting he slowed his pace until she reached his side. “What do you see?”
“The ice.” They reached the edge of the bank, and he put his body slightly between her and the river. “Watch your step.” Then he dropped to his haunches as Aeneas sat at his side. “Something sharp cut through this part.” He pointed to several jagged edges. “There’s blood.”
“The techs collected samples.” Officer Tso came up behind them. “Do we need to dive?”
Huck stood. “I don’t want anybody going beneath that ice. The river is moving faster than you think.” He turned to face Monty. “Let’s use Polar Paul first, and then if it finds something, I’ll consider a dive.”
“Polar Paul?” Officer Tso asked.
Huck gestured Laurel ahead of him on the small trail, no doubt so he could catch her if she slipped. “Yeah. Our autonomous underwater vehicle which we just redesigned with enhanced insulation to deal with ice-cold bodies of water.”
Laurel had never understood the need to name objects, but she appreciated the alliteration of “Polar” and “Paul.” She strode across the ground to the tent covering the body. So far, they didn’t have a cause of death. The bloody ice covering the woman’s face was beginning to fall off in chunks.
Huck stepped up to Laurel’s side. “You think Jason Abbott killed her?”
“It’s certainly possible.” Laurel squinted to see better. The victim’s eyes were closed. “Is that foam around her mouth?”
Officer Tso leaned in and began clicking photographs. “It appears so. Isn’t that a sign of drowning?”
Laurel looked back at the cracked ice. So the killer had brought the woman to the river, broken through the ice, and then drowned her in the freezing water? Abbott had been locked up—first in jail, and then in the hospital. Those situations could be suffocating to a man like him. Had he found a new way to kill? “I’d like to have Dr. Ortega at Tempest County perform the autopsy.” The coroner was as meticulous as any she’d ever seen, and she trusted his judgment.
“Gotcha,” Monty said.
More ice fell off the victim’s face. She appeared to be in her early sixties or so with pale blue skin that could’ve resulted from the cold or drowning. Or both. “Is there any ID on the body?” Laurel asked.
The nearest tech shrugged. “The water on her clothing has frozen, so we should get her to the lab before trying to find a wallet.”
Huck took a step closer to the body, his shoulders stiffening.
“Huck?” Laurel focused on him. His posture had gone rigid and his gaze intent. “Do you see something?”
Aeneas whined, ducking his head against Huck’s knee, no doubt catching the captain’s tension.
Huck swallowed. “I—I think I know her.”
Laurel looked back at the woman. “How?”
His rugged face went slack. “I think that’s my mother.”
Huck parked his truck to the far right of the lot fronting the Fish and Wildlife building to allow Aeneas to jump out and run along the trees. The snow had finally started to melt, leaving the ground damp with a few crocuses poking up here and there. He turned to stare at the building. Not too long ago, he would’ve fought coming to the office with every fiber of his being, but Laurel Snow had brought him out of his self-imposed exile. Mostly.
The two-story brick building held Staggers Ice Creamery in the center of the ground floor with its huge sign, newly replaced in bright yellow, fluorescent letters. Laurel and her FBI team occupied the second floor above the creamery.
The Washington State Fish and Wildlife offices staffed the two levels to the right. To the far left, the first floor was now being rented by Laurel’s mom as a new storefront for her herbal teas. He figured Laurel wanted to get her mom out into the world a bit more, and with her tea subscription business becoming so lucrative, the next logical step was to create a storefront.
He didn’t want to look above the tea shop, where Rachel Raprenzi now held her podcast, The Killing Hour. She was an ex-girlfriend, current reporter, and a constant pain in his ass.
Aeneas bounded out of the forest.
“All right, boy, let’s deal with this.” Huck strode forward and opened the glass door to the small vestibule shared by the Fish and Wildlife and FBI offices. He walked by the door to his office to reach a new, locked metal door. Squaring his shoulders, he pressed the red button to the side.
“Hey, Huck,” Kate said through the intercom, and a buzzing sound echoed. He pulled open the door and let the dog run up the stairs before him. The new security system was very much needed.
He walked up the stairs slowly, ignoring the girlish cancan wallpaper on each side of him. . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
