Friday, May 17, 2013

Excerpt - SCENT OF DANGER by Terri Reed

The winners of two of Terri Reed's backlist books are:
Suzie H.
Malissa H.

Congratulations! (I've emailed you. Please email me at camy {at] camytang[dot}com if you didn’t get the email message.)

I know the rest of you are crying in your green smoothies that you didn’t win. Cheer up! Order the book!

Scent of Danger
By
Terri Reed


Risking it all

Detective Melody Zachary is determined to find who killed her nephew in a drug-related murder. She's launched her teen center in his memory, to keep kids off the streets. And she'll prove to narcotics officer Parker Adams and his K-9 drug-sniffing partner, Sherlock, it's not a haven for dealers. As they risk their lives to save others, Melody discovers that Parker and she share the same deep commitment to making a difference. Will circumstances allow them to take the biggest risk yet—on love?

Excerpt of chapter one:

Detective Melody Zachary halted abruptly at the sight of her office door cracked open. Unease slithered down her spine. She'd locked the door last night when she left the Sagebrush Youth Center. She always did.

Pushing back her suit jacket, she unlatched her weapon from the holster at her hip and withdrew the Sig Sauer. She pushed the door wide with the toe of her heeled boot. Stepping inside the darkened room, she reached with her free hand for the overhead light switch and froze.

A shadow moved.

Not a shadow. A man.

Dressed from head to toe in black. Black gloves, black ski mask… Black eyes.

Not just the irises, but the white part of his eyes, as well.

Her heart stalled.

Palming her piece in both hands, she aimed her weapon. "Halt! Police!"

The intruder dove straight at her. She didn't have time to react, to pull the trigger, before he slammed into her chest, knocking her backward against the wall. Her head smacked hard, sending pain slicing through her brain. The air rushed out of her lungs.

The man bolted through the open doorway and disappeared, leaving only the echo of his black, rubber-soled tennis shoes squishing against the linoleum and bouncing off the walls of the hallway.

Ignoring the pain pounding in her head, Melody pushed away from the wall. For a moment, her off-balance equilibrium sent the world spinning.

The exit door at the end of the hall banged shut. She grimaced. He was escaping.

Forcing herself to move, Melody chased after the intruder. As founder and co-director of the youth center, she'd come in this morning expecting to get a little work done before heading to the police station to start her shift. She hadn't been prepared for a smackdown and footrace.

The blood surging through her brought the world into a sharp focus she didn't experience anywhere else in her life except on the job. It had been a while since she'd had to chase a perp. And never from the youth center.

This place was supposed to be safe, for the kids who sought help and for the volunteers who ran the center.

Out on the sidewalk, she searched for the trespasser. Sagebrush Boulevard was empty. There was no sign of a person dressed in black. At seven in the morning on a Tuesday, Sagebrush, Texas, was barely coming to life.

At the end of town, the spire of the white community church gleamed in the early morning May sunlight, like a beacon of hope. A stark contrast to the dark figure who'd assaulted her. She sent up a silent prayer of protection, for herself, for the youth center and for the citizens of Sagebrush.

A cynical voice in her head taunted, Would God listen?

As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't know. He certainly hadn't listened to her pleas when her marriage fell apart and her ex-husband abandoned her to go "find himself."

Holstering her weapon and pulling her tailored jacket closed, she retraced her steps and entered Sagebrush Youth Center's single-story brick building.

She stopped in her office doorway surveying the scene. Irritation raced through her. The place had been ransacked. The filing cabinet had been emptied, the files strewn all over. The pictures of her family had been knocked off the desk.

Her heart squeezed tight at the sight of her sister's face smiling up at her from one of the images. Her arm was slung over her then twelve-year-old son's shoulders. A time when they'd been happy. Alive.

Forcing back the sadness, she continued her perusal. Books ranging from popular fiction to nonfiction teenage psychology had been pulled down from the shelves and lay haphazardly on the floor. The open desk drawers appeared to have been rifled through.

A cardboard box lay toppled upside down, the contents spilling out. Her nephew's name was written across the side in big bold letters. She didn't need a paper inventory of the box. She had the contents memorized. The files full of witness testimonies, and Daniel's effects at the time of his death had been in that box. All that was left of a life cut too short.

A sense of violation cramped her chest. She was used to investigating this sort of vandalism, not being the victim herself.

She was no one's victim. Her fist clenched.

She would find the person who broke in, and discover what they'd wanted. She tapped her foot, impatient to get in there and see what had been taken.

But protocol had to be followed.

Yanking her cell phone out of the backpack-style purse she always carried, she dialed the Sagebrush police dispatch non-emergency number.

"Sagebrush Police Department." Cathy Rodriquez, the day dispatch operator answered in her no-nonsense tone.

"Cathy, it's Detective Zachary. I need a crime-scene unit at the youth center. My office has been broken into."

"Were you hurt, Melody?"

"I'm fine." She wouldn't mention the throbbing headache. The last thing she needed was to be coddled. She'd find some pain reliever in the nurse's station once things settled down. "I surprised the intruder, but he got away."

"I'll let the higher ups know what's going on."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Melody hung up and leaned against the doorjamb. Despite the doubts that at times tried to rob her of faith, she sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that the intruder hadn't been armed. This scene could have gone down very differently.

The sound of footsteps sent a fresh wave of adrenaline pumping through her veins. She whipped around, her hand going to her weapon.

"Melody?"

At the sight of her volunteer co-director and fellow Sagebrush police officer coming toward her, she let out a tense breath. Jim Wheaton always wore the navy blue Sagebrush Police Department uniform, claiming the visual reminder of authority helped keep the kids in line.

Nearing fifty and single, Jim spent more time at the center, whether he was on duty or off, than any other volunteer. He claimed it was because he didn't trust the teens not to cause trouble, but Melody suspected he liked the company even if he wouldn't admit it.

"You're here early again today," he said, coming to a halt a few paces away.

She usually stopped by Arianna's Diner for a pastry and cup of coffee before heading to the station, but ever since her nephew's grave had been desecrated last month, she hadn't had much of an appetite. Keeping herself occupied gave her less time to think.

Besides, the diner was closed now that the owner, Arianna Munson, had been killed after being linked to the crime lord, known only by the police as The Boss.

For the past several years, a crime wave had terrorized the citizens of Sagebrush. The mastermind behind the crime syndicate was a faceless, nameless entity that even the thugs who worked for The Boss feared.

This man was at the top of the police department's most-wanted list. Especially after the crime syndicate kidnapped Rio, the three-year-old German shepherd partner of the K-9 unit's captain. The whole department was on high alert looking for the canine.

She could have used a dog like Rio today. Maybe she should look into getting a K-9 partner for the center. A nice big dog with sharp teeth. "Hey, Jim. I interrupted someone breaking into my office. They made a mess of things."

His gray eyes clouded with concern. "You okay?"

"Just a bruised ego." And a knock to the noggin. Nothing she couldn't handle.

"Let me see." He tried to push past her.

Her arm shot out and blocked him from entering. "I'm waiting for the CSU team."

He scowled. "It was probably a kid looking for some loose change."

Melody shook her head. "Guy was too big, too strong to be a teen."

"You get a look at his face?"

"I didn't."

The center's front door opened. A small dog with his black nose pressed to the ground entered. Melody recognized the beagle as Sherlock, part of the K-9 unit. He wore a vest with the Sagebrush Police Department emblem over his light brown and white coat. A harness attached to a leash led to the handsome man at the other end. Melody blinked.

What were Narcotics Detective Parker Adams and his K-9 partner doing here?

The dog was adorable with his floppy ears and big round eyes.

Much like his handler.

She didn't know the narcotics detective well. She worked for the homicide division, mostly cold cases, while he was part of the Sagebrush's elite K-9 unit. Their paths hadn't crossed much, though she'd noticed him at the police station.

Hard not to take notice when he filled out his uniform nicely with broad shoulders and trim waist. She liked the way he wore his dark hair swept back from his forehead and his warm brown eyes appeared kind whenever he glanced her way.

He wasn't much taller than she, but he had a commanding presence that she found disconcerting. Though why, she wasn't sure. Growing up the daughter of a cop, there were few people who intimidated her. But something about the handsome officer made her pay attention.

Two crime-scene-unit techs filed in behind Parker carrying in their equipment. Considering the police station was at the other end of the block, Melody wasn't surprised how quickly they'd arrived. She just didn't understand why Parker had responded to her call.

The CSU team approached, each member wearing a dark blue Sagebrush Police Department windbreaker. Parker hung back, letting his dog sniff the floor, the thresholds of the closed classroom doors, the lockers.

"Hey, Melody," said Rose Bigsby, a stocky woman with short blond curls and wire-rimmed glasses perched on her short nose. "Report came in that you had a breakin."

Melody gestured to the open door of her office. "In there."

Clay Gregson nodded to Jim and then smiled shyly at Melody as he moved past her to enter her office. The tall and lean CSU technician wasn't much on small talk, something the officers of SPD were used to. Rose, on the other hand, made up for her partner's lack of conversation just fine. Rose followed him in and started the process of looking for anything that would lead them to ID the intruder.

"Any idea who broke in?" Parker asked as he and his dog approached. "What was he looking for?"

Melody frowned. "I have no idea who the guy was or what he was after."

"What are you doing here, Adams?" Jim asked.

"Captain McNeal thought it'd be a good idea for Sherlock here to check out the center," Parker replied evenly. "Considering."

Her defenses stirred. "Considering what?"

He met her gaze. His dark eyes intense, probing. "The rumors of drugs being dealt out of here."

Her hackles rose like the feathers of a peacock on high alert. She'd been battling that particular thread of gossip since the center opened. She routinely searched the building and kept a close eye on the kids. She was certain there were no drugs on the premises. "We have a strict no-drugs policy. Any offenders will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law."

Parker shrugged. "Then there's nothing to worry about. Sherlock shouldn't find anything. He's got the best nose in the state, and it's never wrong."

"I've got to go to the station," Jim said abruptly and headed for the exit.

Watching him hustle out the door, Melody frowned. He'd just arrived. She shrugged off her coworker's strange behavior. Even though she was fond of Jim, she'd long ago decided she would never figure out the male species.

Or teenagers. Starting the youth center had been her attempt to help the kids of Sagebrush so they wouldn't end up like her nephew. At sixteen, Daniel had gotten mixed up with drugs, dealing and using, by all accounts. He'd ended up dead because of it. During a standoff with the police, he'd been wounded in the leg by Captain Slade McNeal and then shot in the heart by an unknown sniper. The assassin was never caught.

Saving other teens from Daniel's fate had become her mission in life.

However, that didn't mean she understood the teens or their thought processes. Thankfully, there were tons of books on the subject. If she could prevent even one teen from ending up addicted to drugs like Daniel, she'd feel she succeeded.

Her gaze strayed back to the mess in her office. Rose knelt beside the lamp and dusted black powder over the surface. The flash of a camera momentarily brightened the room as Clay photographed the crime scene.

What had the intruder been looking for?

"Did you get a look at the perp?" Parker asked, drawing her attention.

"No, he wore a ski mask."

"With blacked-out eyes?"

Surprise washed through her. "Yes. Very freaky. How did you know?"

"We've had a run-in with a guy wearing a ski mask and some kind of eyewear that blacks out the whites of his eyes. Did he take anything?"

Absorbing that information, she turned her gaze once again to the box labeled with her nephew's name. Would she find something missing? Did the vandalism to her office have anything to do with last month's desecration of Daniel's grave? A lump of anxiety lodged in her chest.

It had been five years since Daniel's death. Five years of searching for answers and coming up empty. What had recently changed to make someone dig into the past? And Daniel's grave?

The questions intensified the headache pounding at her temples. She didn't believe in coincidence. Daniel's grave, now her office. Were the two events connected? Maybe it was time to re-question some of Daniel's old buddies. Someone had to know something useful.

Her heart squeezed. Five years wasn't nearly long enough to have healed some wounds, though.

Realizing Parker was waiting for her to respond, she said, "I only did a cursory look, but I didn't see anything obvious missing. Perp rifled through all my files, drawers and books. Seemed to be searching for something."

"Interesting." He seemed to be thinking about something. "I wonder if this was the same guy who searched the station last night."

"What?" She hadn't heard about that.

"Someone searched the station house, concentrating mostly on the K-9 unit and Captain McNeal's office."

"Do you have any idea why? What were they looking for?"

His expression turned cagey. "We think it has something to do with the crime syndicate plaguing Sagebrush. But the station house wasn't broken into per se. The culprit came from within."

Surprised, she widened her eyes. "You think a fellow officer is working for the crime syndicate?"

"That's one theory. Though I can't help but wonder if the two incidents somehow connect to Captain Mc-Neal's missing dog, Rio."

"Last month, K-9 Officer Jackson Worth spotted a masked man clad in black who was walking a dog matching Rio's description. We also have a witness who saw someone dressed like you've described kill a man in cold blood."

A shiver of dread worked its way over Melody's flesh. She was thankful the intruder had decided to just knock her down rather than kill her.

What was he searching for? And would he be back? Maybe this break-in had nothing to do with her nephew's grave. Or maybe it had everything to do with it.

She intended to find out, regardless of the danger.

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Excerpt - SAFE HARBOR by Hope White

The three winners are:
Jill M.
Kellye S.
Dacia B.

Congratulations! (I've emailed you. Please email me at camy {at] camytang[dot}com if you didn’t get the email message.)

I know the rest of you are crying in your Grapenuts that you didn’t win. Cheer up! Order the book!

Safe Harbor
By
Hope White


"No one's going to hurt you."

When he finds Nicole Harris cowering in a closet—a terrified witness to murder—Detective Alex Donovan's only priority is keeping the beautiful redhead alive. But Nicole is harboring a deep, dark secret—a childhood trauma that stops her from counting on anyone. Haunted by the violence in his own past, Alex knows he shouldn't get personally involved, but his own feelings blindside him. With a killer targeting Nicole as his next victim, Alex's toughest road is still ahead. Somehow, he's got to convince her to trust him with her life…and her heart.

Excerpt of chapter one:

Personal assistant Nicole Harris dropped her messenger bag on the floor next to Mr. Lange's desk and answered her cell phone. "This is Nicole."

"Thank you so much for covering for me this weekend," her boss, Ruby said. "I owe you."

"Big time." Nicole smiled, logged into Outlook and sorted piles of papers on the computer magnate's desk. Edward Lange may be a tech genius but he had the organizational skills of a five-year-old on a sugar high.

"I just can't do weekends, not with the boys' soccer and baseball and—"

"Hey, no problem." Nicole didn't have a husband or family so she didn't mind working on the weekend, especially if it meant helping out her boss, who'd also become a good friend.

"What can I do to repay you?" Ruby asked.

"It's my job, remember?"

"And you're seriously good at it or Edward wouldn't have requested you. Did you get the passcodes I texted you earlier?"

"Yes, ma'am. Committed them to memory and ate my phone."

"Very funny."

The front door slammed.

"He's back from his run. Gotta go." Nic pocketed her phone and checked Mr. Lange's Outlook calendar to make sure he wasn't missing anything crucial by escaping the city on a whim. Nic was a natural at her job as a personal assistant, but then she'd spent her childhood keeping her younger sister and brother organized.

Voices echoed down the front hallway. Odd, considering she was told they weren't expecting guests this weekend. She blocked out the voices and focused on checking messages on Mr. Lange's smartphone.

"It's borderline criminal!" Mr. Lange shouted.

Shouted? He was usually such a soft-spoken man. Nic felt guilty eavesdropping, so she refocused on his voice mails. "Mr. Lange, this is Audrey Ross from Tech Worldwide. I'm on a deadline and I need a statement about the Tech-Link software failure—"

"I said no!"

Her shoulders jerked.

"It's okay, it's not him," she coached herself, as post-traumatic panic skittered across her nerve endings.

Something slammed against the wall, rattling the books in the mahogany case next to the door. She slowly backed up toward the closet.

"Get out of my house!" Mr. Lange bellowed.

Her pulse raced as buried memories of her abusive father rushed to the surface.

"I said out!"

She darted into the closet and shut the door with a soft click. Scrambling to the far corner, she hid behind a stack of boxes.

Some part of her brain realized how ridiculous it would look when Mr. Lange found his personal assistant huddled in the closet, but her reaction was automatic. She couldn't make another choice if her life depended on it.

"You need to reconsider," a second man said, his voice higher pitched and more clear.

They'd entered the office.

"Nothing is going to change my mind," Mr. Lange said. Something slammed against the closet door. She bit back a squeak and hugged her knees to her chest. "Why are you still here?" Mr. Lange accused. "Because you haven't called the cops."

"The only reason I haven't called the cops is because of my—"

A soft pop made her gasp. Then another. A gunshot? No, it couldn't be.

Silence rang in her ears. She focused on breathing so she wouldn't pass out.

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the door, then swearing, and more crashing. She hugged her knees tighter, fisted her hands.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Waited.

It was just a matter of time before he opened the closet door.

Flashes of her childhood paralyzed her, rendering her unable to think clearly.

Hide in the corner. Be quiet and still, she'd coach Beau and Addy.

She had to do something, call the police, a friend, someone. Instead, she huddled in tighter, losing all sense of time and place as the memories closed in.

Then the door opened…

Detective Alex Donovan knew something was off the minute he entered Edward Lange's study. Instinct twisted his gut as he scanned the room.

"Chief Roth and the coroner are on the way," officer Mark Adams said, standing in the doorway.

Alex crouched to look at the room from another angle, wrestling with the frustration building in his chest.

Edward Lange. Dead.

The entrepreneur-philanthropist often came to Waverly Harbor to get away from the intensity of the city, demands of his work and the relentless media. When he bought the lake house three years ago, he'd asked for a meeting with Chief Roth and his staff to discuss his residing in their small town. Although community members knew about the purchase of the lake house, they'd agreed to give Lange his privacy and help him avoid the spotlight. In return he'd generously donated money to build a new community center and library. He didn't have to make those donations. Folks of Waverly Harbor were nothing if not protective, and they had embraced Lange as one of their own without expecting anything in return.

"His driver is outside," Mark Adams said.

"He called it in?"

"No. He claims he was outside in the car and didn't hear anything. The call came from Lange's cell."

Alex went to the body, careful not to disturb the crime scene. Not easy with the clutter of papers littering the floor. Someone was looking for something.

Alex crouched again, eyed the area around Edward's face, and down to his hands. "There's no phone near the body."

"Maybe the intruder took it?"

Alex studied Edward Lange's face. "Where's your security?" he whispered.

No bodyguards and the alarm wasn't set? Which meant what? That Edward knew his attacker. Was the killer a personal friend or staff member?

Alex scanned the immediate area and spotted a gold chain-link bracelet, a man's wallet and pair of sunglasses on the floor near the body.

"You want to talk to—"

Alex put up two fingers to silence the cop. He thought he heard something, a faint whimper, but he couldn't be sure.

He closed his eyes, blocked out his surroundings, and listened.

A muffled cough-gasp echoed from across the room. The closet.

Alex withdrew his firearm, slowly crossed the room and motioned for Mark to open the door on the count of three. One, two, three.

Mark whipped the door open and Alex heard a squeak. Aiming his firearm into the dark closet, he reached up and pulled the light chain. He spotted a female, Caucasian with flaming red hair, cowering behind a stack of boxes. He holstered his gun and stepped closer for a better look. Her face was buried in arms folded across her knees. She was a trembling mass of red from her hair to her red blouse, down to her red tennis shoes.

"Miss?" He crouched in front of her. "It's okay, I'm Detective Alex Donovan."

She didn't look up.

"Can you tell us what happened?" he tried. She shook her head no. "Can you tell me your name?" She shook her head no again.

Alex glanced at Mark. "Look for a purse or briefcase with ID."

Mark disappeared from the doorway.

Alex spotted a cell phone clenched in her hand. She must have made the 911 call.

"Are you a friend of—" He was about to say the deceased and caught himself. "Edward Lange?"

Another negative head shake.

"Do you work for him?"

She nodded affirmative.

"Were you here when he was attacked?"

She nodded yes, her body trembling slightly. He wanted to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, tell her it was going to be okay, but he wasn't one to make promises he couldn't keep. If she was hiding in here that meant she might have seen or heard something that could help them find the killer—and consequently put her life in danger.

"Alex?" Mark said, stepping into the closet. "Found this by the desk." He placed a messenger bag next to Alex and handed him a purple leather wallet. Alex pulled out a driver's license that read Nicole Desiree Harris.

Voices echoed through the house. The coroner must have arrived, and then some. Alex had a feeling everyone would want to be involved in this investigation, including state and county law enforcement. Edward was an influential man, a celebrity of sorts.

"Can you keep them out of here for a few minutes?" Alex asked Mark.

"I'll do my best."

Alex put the wallet in the messenger bag and redirected his attention to Miss Harris, pushing back the temptation to pick her up and carry her to a safe, quiet place.

"Miss Harris, it's going to get awfully loud in here as more police personnel show up. How about I take you to another room where it's quiet?"

She slowly raised her head and pinned him with brilliant amber-colored eyes. He stopped breathing for a second, so affected by the devastation he read there.

"Nice to meet you," he recovered, and extended his hand, figuring he had to try.

She studied it for a second, then reached out and accepted his gesture. Her trembling fingers were cold and fragile as she clasped his hand. And he prayed to God that he could do right by this one.

She searched his eyes as if wanting to say something but couldn't get the words out.

Male voices boomed from the outlying office and her fingers squeezed his hand.

"Let's get you out of here." He stood and helped her up. She was petite, probably five-three, and a floral scent drifted from her hair.

"It's okay. No one's going to hurt you." He positioned her on his left side so when they walked out of the closet she wouldn't be assaulted by the bloody image of Edward Lange.

She hugged her midsection with her free arm, but wouldn't let go of his right hand. He put his left arm around her shoulder to shield her from the frenetic crime scene.

"Is this okay?" he said.

She nodded that it was, grabbed her messenger bag and flung it over her shoulder.

Someone barked an order from the office and her shoulders jerked.

"See what I mean? Loud," he said.

As he led her out of the closet, the half dozen men froze at the sight of Alex and Miss Harris deliberately crossing the room.

"Detective Donovan, I think—"

"Don't," Alex snapped.

He didn't know who'd spoken and didn't care. Alex needed to get the witness out of this room and away from the violent scene as quickly as possible. As they passed, all eyes were on the red-haired, traumatized beauty. She kept her head down, eyes focused on the carpet a few feet in front of her.

They crossed the threshold into the hallway and he spotted pocket doors. Hopefully he could find another room with pocket doors so he could close her off from the chaos.

He escorted her down the hall to a TV room in the back of the house and slid the pocket doors shut.

"How's this?" He led her to a thick-cushioned sofa.

She sat down, still clinging to his hand, so he sat next to her.

He wanted to be out there assisting with the crime scene, but he wouldn't leave her alone. Maybe they could call a female sheriff's deputy to keep her company. Surely a woman would be better at comforting a terrified female witness.

Clutching his hand, she sighed and leaned against his shoulder. For a brief second it reminded him of Jessica, how she'd leaned against him when they'd watched movies. Despair ripped through Alex's chest, followed by guilt.

Get your head in the game, Alex.

This woman's life could be in danger, which meant the sooner they found the killer the sooner she'd be safe.

"Is he…dead?"

Her voice was throaty, deeper than he'd imagined. "Yes," he answered.

She shook her head and a tear trailed down her cheek. He nearly reached out to wipe it away, but caught himself.

"Was there anyone else in the house besides you, Mr. Lange and the intruder?"

"Not that I know of."

"No bodyguards?"

"No."

Which puzzled Alex because he thought bodyguards followed Lange everywhere.

"Can you talk about what happened, Miss Harris?" he asked.

She shook her head. A few minutes passed in companionable silence. It had been a long time since Alex held a woman like this. He didn't have much interest in romance after Jessica's death.

"Nicole," she said, breaking the silence. "Please call me Nicole." She clung to her messenger bag in her lap. "I wasn't supposed to be here."

"Then why were you here?"

"I'm a personal assistant. I was filling in for a friend."

"Had you worked with Mr. Lange before?"

"Yes."

"But you're not his regular assistant?"

She shook her head no.

"Did you hear what happened?"

She squeezed his hand, but didn't answer. He should have known it was too soon to ask, but the killer was out there, maybe still on the property if he hadn't found what he was looking for in Edward's office.

Alex wouldn't push Nicole. Most of the time if you pushed a witness they either pushed back or shut down completely. He felt lucky she was talking to him after what she'd just experienced.

They gazed out the back window at the lake, the setting sun peeking through the evergreens in the distance.

The pocket door slid open, breaking the peaceful moment. A man in a dark suit, white shirt and maroon tie marched across the room, blocking their view. The guy looked like a Fed.

"This the witness?" the suit demanded.

"And you are?" Alex countered.

"Special Agent Richard Banks with the FBI," he said, flashing his ID. The stern-faced, broad-shouldered agent was in his mid-forties, and definitely all business.

"What's the FBI's interest in this case?" Alex asked.

"We'll discuss that later. So, this is Nicole Harris?"

"Yes." Alex wished Banks would lower the volume a few notches.

Instead, he directed his attention to Nicole. "Ma'am, can you tell me what happened tonight?"

She shook her head and stared out the window with a detached expression. Banks studied her as if trying to determine if her shock was real or an act.

"You found her in the closet?" he asked Alex.

"Yes."

"Did she hear anything?"

"She hasn't been able to talk about it."

Banks clenched his jaw and glared at Nicole.

"Did the driver see anything?" Alex redirected.

"One of my agents is interviewing him."

"What about the bodyguards? Where were they?" Alex said.

"Don't know. The house is empty except for the witness and the victim. It's imperative that I interview her ASAP."

"She's obviously not ready to talk about it."

"When will she be able to talk about it?"

The guy was being a class A jerk. Alex glanced at Nicole. She still stared blindly out the window, her cheeks even more pale than they were a minute ago.

"I don't have time for this," Banks said. "Ma'am, you'll need to come with me, if nothing else, for your own protection."

The guy seriously needed a crash course in sensitivity.

She snapped her attention to Agent Banks. "My protection? Do you think he'll come after me? But I didn't…see anything."

"The murderer doesn't know that and he won't stop until—"

"Enough," Alex interrupted. "Agent Banks, can we talk in the hallway?"

Banks marched out of the room and Alex turned to Nicole. "I'll just be a minute, okay?"

Yet he was hesitant to let go of her hand. What was it about this woman?

Simple. She was in danger and Alex was a natural-born protector. Maybe this time he'd get it right. Maybe this one wouldn't die because of his incompetence.

"I'll be right back." He slipped his hand from hers and stood.

She hugged herself. "You think… Will he…come after me?"

Seeing fear in her eyes, he mustered up the only answer he thought might ease her anxiety. "I doubt he even knew you were there. You found a clever hiding spot."

She nodded, but didn't look convinced.

As he headed toward the hallway to speak to Agent Banks, Alex focused on controlling the frustration burning through his chest. Intimidating Nicole was no way to get answers, not to mention it was incredibly inappropriate behavior for a professional.

Alex went into the hallway. Agent Banks took a step toward him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm trying to make the witness feel safe so she'll talk to us," he answered in a calm voice.

"Well, she's obviously bonded with you."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Was that your plan? To play hero?" the agent accused.

"This isn't about being a hero. It's about finding a killer."

Banks slammed his fist against the wall and leaned close. "I heard about you and your wonder-boy reputation on the Denver force. I won't allow ego to mess up this investigation."

"I guarantee you, my ego won't be a problem."

Alex stood his ground, refusing to back down. He surely wasn't going to let Agent Banks take Nicole in for questioning if he planned to continue these aggressive tactics on her.

With a frustrated expression, Banks turned and paced a few feet away.

"Are you going to tell me why the Feds are involved?" Alex asked.

"Edward Lange was a target of an ongoing investigation. I can't share the details."

"You suspect him of criminal activity?" Alex couldn't believe it.

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