Nowhere True (A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 11) E-Book

Kate Bold

• Herausgeber: Lukeman Literary Management
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 264

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

When a body is found in a remote location where four U.S. states meet, FBI Special Agent Harley Cole realizes the killer is sending a message about where he will strike again. But can she crack it before he strikes again? "This is an excellent book… When you start reading, be sure you don't have to wake up early!" —Reader review for The Killing Game This is book #11 in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, whose bestsellers have received over 600 five star ratings and reviews. A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured FBI agent, the series is a riveting mystery, packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll, and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love. Future books in the series will soon be available. "This book moved very fast and every page was exciting. Plenty of dialogue, you absolutely love the characters, and you were rooting for the good guy throughout the whole story… I look forward to reading the next in the series." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Kate did an amazing job on this book and I was hooked from the first chapter!" —Reader review for The Killing Game "I really enjoyed this book. The characters were authentic, and I see the bad guys as something we hear about daily on the news... Looking forward to book 2." —Reader review for The Killing Game "This was a really good book. The main characters were real, flawed and human. The story went along quickly and wasn't mired in too many unnecessary details. I really enjoyed it." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Alexa Chase is headstrong, impatient, but most of all brave with a capital B. She never, repeat never, backs down until the bad guys are put where they belong. Clearly five stars!" —Reader review for The Killing Game "Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done." —Reader review for The Killing Game "WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn't put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!" —Reader review for The Killing Game

Leseprobe

N O W H E R E

T R U E

(A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 11)

K a t e   B o l d

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); and the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2023 by Kate Bold. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image CopyrightGalyna Andrushko, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY KATE BOLD

ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)

THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)

THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)

THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)

THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)

THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)

ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER

LET ME GO (Book #1)

LET ME OUT (Book #2)

LET ME LIVE (Book #3)

LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)

LET ME FORGET (Book #5)

LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)

CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT ME (Book #1)

NOT NOW (Book #2)

NOT WELL (Book #3)

NOT HER (Book #4)

NOT NORMAL (Book #5)

NOT AGAIN (Book #6)

NOT SAFE (Book #7)

NOT TODAY (Book #8)

HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)

NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)

NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)

NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)

NOWHERE PURE (Book #8)

NOWHERE SOUND (Book #9)

NOWHERE SANE (Book #10)

NOWHERE TRUE (Book #11)

KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

LAST BREATH (Book #1)

LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

LAST WISH (Book #3)

LAST SHOT (Book #4)

LAST MISTAKE (Book #5)

EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IN HIS BLOOD (Book #1)

IN HIS SIGHTS (Book #2)

IN HIS REACH (Book #3)

IN HIS MIND (Book #4)

IN HIS WAY (Book #5)

IN HIS THOUGHTS (Book #6)

IN HIS DREAMS (Book #7)

DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

OUT OF REACH (Book #1)

OUT OF TOUCH (Book #2)

OUT OF TIME (Book #3)

OUT OF BOUNDS (Book #4)

OUT OF LUCK (Book #5)

LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMETHING KNOCKING (Book #1)

SOMETHING CALLING (Book #2)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

PROLOGUE

The full moon cast an eerie glow over the forest as Theresa clutched Wendell's hand, his fingers intertwined with hers. The rustling leaves and snapping twigs underfoot created a haunting symphony that echoed through the darkness, sending a shiver up Theresa's spine.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Wendell squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Of course, babe. We've been camping here for two days, and we haven't explored the area yet. It's all part of the adventure."

Theresa tried to quell her unease and match Wendell's enthusiasm. He always loved exploring the unknown, seeking out excitement and new experiences. She admired that about him, even if it sometimes led them into uncertain situations.

As they delved deeper into the woods, the trees seemed to close in around them, their shadows stretching across the ground like grasping hands. A cool wind brushed past Theresa's face, leaving goosebumps on her skin. Despite the cold, she couldn't deny the thrill of wandering through the forest at night, hand in hand with the man she loved.

This was, after all, why they'd come out to Coconino National Forest in the first place: to get away from the monotony of their nine-to-five jobs and rekindle the romance that had once crackled between them like static electricity. They'd been married three years now, and for the last two years, Theresa had sensed the honeymoon phase disappearing, replaced by a comfortable routine. But Wendell was always full of surprises, and just when Theresa started to feel like things were getting too predictable, he would whisk her away on another adventure.

"Listen," Wendell said suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

Theresa strained her ears and caught a faint, droning sound, something she couldn't quite place. Was someone…singing? Her heartbeat quickened, and she gripped Wendell's hand tighter. They stood there for a moment, enveloped by the darkness, listening to the strange noise carried by the wind.

"Come on. Let's see what it is," Wendell said, pulling her gently forward.

Theresa hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to turn back. But she couldn't resist the curiosity that also bubbled within her, and she didn't want to disappoint Wendell. So, with her heart pounding in her chest, she followed him deeper into the forest, toward the source of the mysterious sound.

The chanting – for that was what it seemed to be – grew louder and more insistent as they ventured deeper into the forest, making the hairs on the back of Theresa's neck stand up. The eerie noise seemed to echo through the trees, making it difficult to pinpoint its origin. She glanced at Wendell, who appeared equally transfixed by the ghostly melody.

"Wendell, this doesn't feel right," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the chanting.

"Let's just see what it is," he said. "Probably just some kids messing around."

They moved cautiously through the underbrush, following the haunting sound as it wove its way through the darkness. The forest seemed to take on a sinister quality, casting odd shadows that danced in the corners of Theresa's vision. Her pulse raced, a mixture of anxiety and curiosity driving her forward.

"Look," Wendell said, stopping abruptly and pointing ahead. Through the twisted trees, a flickering glow beckoned them closer.

As they approached the source of the light, the scene that unfolded before them was unlike anything Theresa could have imagined. A circle of candles cast an otherworldly glow upon a bizarre assortment of items: bones and feathers arranged in a pattern and a rusty knife lying ominously on the ground.

"Wendell, I really don't like this," Theresa murmured, her unease growing. "Can we please go back?"

"Wait just a minute," he said, squatting down to examine the strange tableau. "It looks like some kind of ritual. Maybe someone's idea of a prank?"

Theresa's stomach churned as she watched Wendell pick up the knife, turning it over in his hands. At that moment, she had never felt so vulnerable or exposed. The chanting continued to reverberate around them, now accompanied by the rapid thumping of her heart.

"Please, let's just leave," she said, her eyes darting between the eerie scene and the darkness beyond. "This isn't right. We need to leave now."

"Okay, okay." But still, Wendell hesitated, curiosity burning in his eyes as he glanced back at the ritualistic setup. "It's just...don't you want to figure out what this is all about? Maybe we can find whoever's making those sounds."

"Absolutely not!" Theresa snapped, shivering involuntarily as the chanting seemed to echo through her very bones. "Are you crazy? This could be some type of...I don't know...Satanic ritual! Whoever's doing this, I don't think they want us poking around."

"Fine, fine." Wendell sighed, relenting but clearly still intrigued by the mysterious scene. "I know you're upset. You go back—I'll catch up in a minute."

With that, he began moving away from her, drawn toward the trees just beyond the circle of flickering candles.

"Wendell, please!" she cried, her voice bordering on hysteria now.

"Hold your horses," he said with an easy chuckle. "I just want to see if I can find whoever is—"

His words cut off abruptly. Then there was a raw, ragged scream of pain, followed by Wendell saying, "No, no, no!" over and over again.

"Wendell!" Theresa shrieked, her voice cracking with terror. "Where are you?"

She took an uncertain step forward. Panic clawed at her insides as she fought to keep herself from hyperventilating.

"Down here!" he shouted, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "I fell into some kind of hole!"

She stumbled through the darkness toward the sound of his voice, her breath hitching as she tried to keep from breaking into sobs. The ground was treacherous, uneven, and slippery with damp leaves, and she cursed herself for venturing so far from their campsite.

Wendell moaned in pain. "Be careful!"

When she finally reached the edge of the hole, she peered down into the black void, barely able to make out the shape of Wendell's body below. His arms were wrapped around his torso as he struggled to keep himself upright.

"Can you move?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I—I don't think so," he gasped. "I think my leg is broken."

"Okay," she said, trying to stay calm. "Stay still. I'll find something to help pull you up."

She scanned the area frantically for anything that might serve as a makeshift rope. Her eyes fell on a sturdy branch lying nearby. Grabbing it, she lowered it down into the hole, stretching her arm out as far as it would reach.

"Can you grab it?" she called down to him.

"Almost…just a little farther," Wendell grunted, his hand reaching for the branch.

But even as she strained to extend the branch closer to him, Theresa could see that it wouldn't be enough. The hole was too deep, and Wendell was in too much pain to lift himself out. Despair washed over her, leaving her feeling weak and helpless.

"Theresa," Wendell said, all trace of humor gone, "you need to go back to the camp and get help. I can't get out of here on my own."

"But—"

"Please," he interrupted, his voice pained. "I don't want you to get hurt, too."

Tears streamed down Theresa's face as she reluctantly nodded. She knew that he was right, but the thought of leaving him alone in the dark sent a shiver down her spine.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I'll be back as fast as I can."

"Be careful," Wendell urged, his eyes full of worry.

Theresa turned away from the hole, her mind racing as she tried to remember the way back to their campsite. Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat accompanied by a desperate prayer that she would find help in time.

And then, behind her, came the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping underfoot. At the same time, she became aware of the fact that the chanting had stopped.

Every hair on Theresa's body stood on end, and she froze in place, her breath catching in her throat. The forest had suddenly become a living nightmare, full of unseen dangers lurking in the darkness, waiting to pounce.

Theresa's heart skipped a beat when she caught sight of the figure charging toward her. It was a man, completely bare-chested, with antlers rearing from the top of his head and paint smeared all over his body.

As the terrifying figure drew closer, Theresa could see the details of his appearance more clearly. His wild eyes were wide and bloodshot, filled with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. In the dim moonlight, she could see his teeth were unnaturally sharp, like those of a predator ready to tear into its prey. The symbols painted on his chest and arms seemed to writhe and twist in the shadows, forming eerie patterns that made Theresa feel as if they held some dark, arcane power. She couldn't help but stare at them, even as fear gripped her chest and threatened to suffocate her.

She felt transfixed, unable to move as the figure bore down on her. It was as though she had stepped outside her body and was merely a spectator, waiting to see what would happen.

"Run!" Wendell shouted. "Run, Theresa!"

But still, Theresa's legs refused to obey, frozen in place as the man drew nearer, his breaths coming in ragged gasps that seemed to echo through the trees. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, leaving her unable to think or focus on anything but the nightmare unfolding before her.

The man's wild eyes locked onto Theresa's, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might pause, might reconsider his path of destruction. But then, with a guttural roar that filled the night air, he lunged toward her, antlers gleaming menacingly in the moonlight.

CHAPTER ONE

"What really happened, Kelly?" Cole murmured, studying the old newspapers scattered across the desk.

She was in her father's house, the house of her childhood, in a room she had been forbidden throughout much of her childhood to enter: her father's study. He'd been a miner, and so he hadn't needed the room for work purposes but instead had treated the space as his "man cave," adorning the shelves with empty whiskey bottles, old books, framed pictures of people Cole didn't recognize, and old mining tools.

Somewhere in this dusty room, Cole hoped, was a clue that would help her understand the cold case for which her sister, Kelly, had been accused of murder.

Eighteen years had passed since Kelly's disappearance during a camping trip, and Cole had recently uncovered some of the truth of what had happened: Kelly had been kidnapped by traffickers. When Cole tried to free her sister, however, Kelly refused to go with her, behaving as if the very idea terrified her. Only after speaking with their brother, Greg, had Cole begun to understand why.

Cole's attention turned to the snubnosed revolver resting in an evidence bag at her elbow. According to Greg, Kelly had come home one night – this was shortly before her disappearance – with this very weapon clutched in her hands, talking about having killed someone. Greg had never learned the details, and since their father's lung cancer had finally proven too much for his body to fight, there was only one person left who could explain what had happened.

Kelly.

If only I could go talk to her again, Cole thought. She knew, however, that getting such a chance was unlikely. Besides, Kelly had already made it clear that she was afraid of going to prison, so the only realistic path forward for Cole was to investigate the cold case, prove her sister's innocence, and then set her sister free.

It was a long, convoluted journey, but the opportunity to be reunited with Kelly again was worth any effort.

As she continued rummaging through the cluttered mess of her father's personal papers, Cole's thoughts drifted back to the past, wondering what she could have done differently and how she might have saved her sister from the nightmare she had endured. This cold case had started consuming her every waking moment, a constant reminder of the injustice that had befallen her family.

"Damn it," she muttered, tapping her pen against the desk in frustration. "There has to be something here."

Then she spotted a yellowed newspaper clipping, and she slipped it free of the disarray on her father's desk. The headline sent a shiver down her spine: "Jay Fletcher Plunges to Death at Family Christmas Party." The accompanying photograph depicted the Fletcher family mansion, its exterior lights twinkling in the night like stars.

"What'd you get involved with, Kelly?" she whispered, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

As she read the article, Cole's memory of the case came flooding back. Jay Fletcher, a high school senior, had been found dead after falling off the roof of his three-story mansion during the annual family Christmas party. He'd been shot, but according to the coroner's report, it was the fall that had killed him.

Most troubling of all, however, were the eyewitness accounts claiming that Kelly had been the only person on the roof with Fletcher when the incident happened.

She's not a murderer, Cole thought. I know my sister. So how did she get involved in this, and where did the gun come from?

She tried to picture the scene, the frigid air biting at her sister's cheeks as snowflakes danced around them, the festive sounds of laughter and music floating up from the party below.

Was it self-defense? Or was Kelly framed?

The weight of her father's recent passing and her sister's disappearance bore down on Cole's shoulders like an unbearable burden. She needed justice for Kelly, as well as closure for their family. And yet, the answers seemed to slip through her fingers like grains of sand.

As Cole continued to search her father's desk, she found a file buried at the bottom of the lowest drawer on the righthand side. A police report.

How'd you get your hands on this, Dad? she wondered. He must've had a friend on the force.

She opened it and began reading about the death at the Fletcher residence. Most of the information was familiar since she'd already read about it in the newspaper article. She should've been able to learn more, but much of the file had been redacted, leaving her with nothing but a disjointed puzzle—one that seemed nearly impossible to solve.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, staring down at the black lines that obstructed her path to the truth. She knew she needed to find a way around these redactions to uncover the missing pieces that would finally set her sister free. But despite her determination, the answers remained hidden—locked away behind a wall of silence and secrecy.

"Maybe talking to someone will help," she mused to herself.

Pulling out her phone, she typed in the phone number for the lead detective on Fletcher's case, a man named Detective Sanders. She heard the line ring once, twice, before a gruff voice answered.

"Sanders."

"Detective Sanders, this is Agent Harley Cole. I'm calling in regards to the Jay Fletcher case from twenty years ago. I'd like to request permission to interview some of the key players involved."

"Jay Fletcher," Sanders repeated softly. "Wait a minute. He was that kid who was shot and fell off a third-story roof, wasn't he?"

"Good memory," she said, impressed by his quick recall. "Listen, I have the file in front of me and—"

"What did you say your name was again?"

Her heartbeat quickened. "Agent Harley Cole. With the FBI."

Sanders' tone turned frosty. "You're Kelly's sister, aren't you?"

"That's correct."

He sighed, sounding suddenly tired. "Listen, Agent Cole, that case has been cold for years. The people involved have moved on, and as callous as it may sound, so should you."

"I have reason to believe there's more to the case than anyone initially thought. I just need a chance to speak with some of the witnesses—"

"Agent Cole," Sanders interrupted again, his impatience clear. "You're not hearing me. We did everything we could at the time. Your sister's involvement was...sensitive, and I see no reason to reopen old wounds."

"Detective," Cole insisted, her voice growing desperate. "I know my sister didn't kill Fletcher. There has to be something we missed. I can't just throw up my hands and forget about the whole thing."

The line went silent. Just as Cole began to suspect that Sanders may have hung up, however, he spoke again, his voice low and musing.

"You found her, didn't you?" he asked.

It was Cole's turn to be silent. How had the detective guessed?

"I was wondering why you'd be looking into this after so many years," he continued an unmistakable note of enjoyment in his voice. "You're not trying to clear your sister's name just for posterity's sake—she's alive and well, and you know where she is."

Cole's throat had gone dry. "Are you going to help me or not?" she asked.

He sniffed hard. "Tell you what. You bring her in, let me sit down with her, and I'll do everything in my power to get to the bottom of what happened."

"And if you still conclude she's guilty, well, at least you tried, right? No skin off your nose."

"Ah, so you do know where she is?"

"I didn't say that." Cole took a deep breath and let it out slowly, weighing her options. She couldn't turn Kelly in, not even if she found her again. But how was she supposed to get Sanders to help her?

Sanders took the decision off her hands. "As fun as this has been," Sanders said, "I've got work to do. If you change your mind, you're welcome to bring Kelly down to the station any time. Or you can just let me know where she is, and we'll go pick her up. You don't even have to be involved."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cole said, shaking her head as she hung up the phone.

Her hands shook as she set down the phone. Anger and frustration coursed through her veins like fire, but beneath it all, she could feel the icy tendrils of fear beginning to take hold. If she couldn't find a way around these redactions if she couldn't convince those who held the answers to share them, then how would she ever find the truth?

"Kelly, I promise you," she murmured, running her fingers over the blacked-out lines on the page before her, "I won't let this stand in my way. I will find out what really happened that night, even if I have to tear down every wall myself."

She pushed back her chair and rose. She wasn't officially investigating the case, so she couldn't demand anyone's cooperation, but she could speak with the Fletcher family. Detective Sanders might not like it, but he didn't have to know, did he?

Just as she turned away from the desk, however, her phone began to ring. She answered it quickly, wondering if Sanders had had a change of heart.

"Agent Cole," she said.

"Harley, it's Agent Newbury," came the reply. The weariness in her superior's tone was apparent, even over the phone. "I've got a situation that requires your immediate attention."

Cole's heart sank as she realized this would only further disrupt her investigation into Kelly's case. "What's going on?"

"A ranger over in Coconino National Forest came across two dead bodies," Newbury explained, getting right down to business. "The forest is over in Arizona, next to Sedona, in case you're not familiar with the area. Anyway, their deaths appear to be some kind of strange ritual. It's..." He paused as if steadying himself. "It's bad, Harley. There's no other way to say it. We need you there as soon as possible."

"Ritualistic?" Cole echoed, troubled.

"You'll understand when you see it for yourself," Newbury answered cryptically. "And before you ask, yes, I do need you specifically. You're one of our best profilers when it comes to these sorts of cases. I know you've been dealing with some personal matters recently, and I hate to drag you back so soon, but we could really use your expertise."

The only personal matter Newbury knew of was her father's death. He knew nothing of her investigation into her sister's disappearance. Still, she'd taken several days off already, and she knew Newbury well enough to understand he wouldn't be enthusiastic about her missing any more work.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles turning white. It felt as if the universe itself was conspiring to prevent her from finding the truth about Kelly.

"Understood, sir," she managed to say, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Thank you, Harley," Newbury replied, his voice softening slightly. "I'm sure the loss of your father is still weighing on you, but we have a duty to the living as well. Catching whoever did this will prevent more innocent lives being lost."

Cole nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I've already spoken with Agent Callaway—he'll meet you there at the crime scene. I'll expect regular updates on your progress. Good luck, Agent Cole."

"Thank you, sir," she said before hanging up the phone.

She stared at the now-silent device, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, she was eager to bring justice to the victims of this bizarre new crime. Yet, on the other hand, the thought of leaving Kelly's case unresolved, even for a short time, clawed at her heart.

"Damn it all," she muttered under her breath, forcing herself to take a deep breath and shake off the paralyzing indecision.

"I'm not forgetting about you, sister," she promised. "I'll prove your innocence, and then I'll free you—for real this time."

With that, she left the room, closing the door of her father's study. As she walked the familiar hallway and descended the familiar stairs, her mind began to turn with the few details of the case Newbury had given her.

Ritualistic murders. What did that mean? Some kind of cult?

She didn't know. All she knew for certain was that if these murders had been bad enough to unsettle a man as grizzled as Alex Newbury, they had to be truly horrific.

CHAPTER TWO

It sure is remote out here, Cole thought as she drove along the winding dirt trail in Coconino National Forest, the tires of her rental car crunching over fallen leaves and twigs. The dense forest on either side of the road seemed to close in around her, creating an atmosphere that was both peaceful and oppressive.

That does seem to be one of the prerequisites of a cult. Gotta have some distance from rational society so you can brainwash your followers.

Much of the area was bare red rock, canyons and mesas, and deep ravines, but here and there were conifer forests, the needles of the trees so thick that they almost seemed to soak up the late morning sunlight. This was one such forest, a place both beautiful and mysterious, a striking contrast to the open scrubland she'd driven through on her way here.

As she rounded a bend, she spotted a figure standing by the roadside. He was tall and lean, with a dark stetson on his head and a belt with a large buckle that overlapped his checkered shirt and faded jeans. He was leaning casually against the side of his old Ford pickup, hands in his pockets, calmly watching her approach.

Cole felt a strange mixture of excitement and unease at the sight of Anthony Callaway, her partner in "crime and punishment," as he liked to joke. It was good to see him – he had attended her father's funeral and left a bouquet of flowers, but otherwise, she hadn't seen him for nearly a week now – but it was also troubling because the last time they'd been together, they had kissed and all but declared themselves a couple. Immediately after, however, Cole had received a call about her father's passing, and so she had left in a hurry, unable to even discuss with Callaway the consequences of what had happened between them.

Has anything changed for him? she wondered. Does he still want to be together, or has he changed his mind?

Callaway pushed himself away from the truck and waved to her. She pulled up beside him and stopped the car.

"Hey, Cole," he said, flashing her that familiar lazy grin as he rested a hand on the frame of the door. "You can leave your car here. We'll have to walk the rest of the way to the crime scene." He gestured toward a narrow trail that snaked into the woods.

"Alright," she said, nodding. She hesitated, sensing she should say something but unsure what. She wanted to go back to the way things had been before, the certainty and safety she'd felt in her presence, but she didn't know how.

Callaway cleared his throat. "Don't worry about bug spray—the flies aren't too bad."

She nodded again, sensing he was speaking just to fill the silence. Did he feel as awkward as she did?

Cole parked the car and got out. She joined Callaway, and together they began following the narrow trail into the woods, neither speaking.

As they walked, the trees seemed to lean in closer, casting dappled shadows on the path ahead. The scent of damp earth and decay hung in the air, a reminder of the impermanence of life.

Cole couldn't help but steal glances at Callaway every now and then. She knew she should put aside her personal feelings and focus on the case, but she couldn't stop thinking about their kiss.

"So," she said, trying to sound casual. "How've you been?"

"Busy," Callaway answered, his voice somber. "Seems there's no end to the savagery human beings will perpetrate on one another."

"Any leads?" Cole asked.

"Nothing solid yet," he admitted. "But wait till you see the crime scene. You'll have plenty to think about."

As they continued on, Cole pushed thoughts of their past relationship to the back of her mind. She needed to stay focused on the task at hand—finding the killer responsible for the ritualistic slayings.

The forest loomed ahead as Cole and Callaway trudged through the underbrush, the branches tugging at their clothes like skeletal fingers. Shafts of sunlight pierced the thick canopy above, casting eerie patterns on the damp ground beneath them.

The ground sloped gently downward, the ground hard and brittle beneath their feet. To their left, a small creek gurgled softly, its water clear and brisk. Despite the beauty, an unsettling energy filled the space, a sense of malevolence that made the hairs on the back of Cole's neck stand on end.

"Up ahead," Callaway murmured, gesturing with a nod of his head. She followed his gaze and saw the fluttering yellow tape that marked the boundary of the crime scene.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice low and tense. His eyes met hers briefly before flicking away, the unspoken history between them hanging heavy in the air.

"Always," she replied, steeling herself for what lay ahead. As much as she wanted to resolve their personal issues, she knew they had a job to do. And with each step closer to the crime scene, her determination only grew stronger.