by Kylie Brant
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Teaser chapter
PRAISE FOR THE MINDHUNTERS SERIES BY KYLIE BRANT
WAKING THE DEAD
“Get ready for lots of twists and turns with an abundance of suspense in this thrilling romance.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Once again Kylie Brant kept me awake until three in the morning to finish her book . . . a really impressive series. She reminds me of a few great writers. If you love Kay Hooper’s writing you will love Ms. Brant’s writing, too.”
—A Romance Review
“If you have been reading this Mindhunters series, you will not want to miss out on this next installment. If you haven’t picked up one of these intriguing romantic suspense stories, what are you waiting for? I recommend reading them all from the beginning!”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“An electrifying and infinitely gripping novel . . . Kylie writes excellent dialogue, creates engaging characters, vividly detailed investigation, and action scenes. The smooth process in which she moves the story along keeps the pages turning, allowing the reader to immerse themselves in the novel from start to finish.”
—The Romance Studio
“Terrific.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Provided a thrill and plenty of romance and forensics-based action!”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
WAKING EVIL
“Enjoyable . . . a superb police procedural . . . enhanced by the supernatural and the romance.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Wonderful characters and mystery . . . Brant does a great job with pacing and tension!”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
“[An] exceedingly suspenseful series . . . The exceptional writing of Kylie Brant will keep you reading way into the night. From first-rate suspense to engaging characters to a moving romance, Ms. Brant will leave you anticipating every compelling scene with much eagerness . . . While the dangerous scenarios of Waking Evil draw you into the novel, the tender love story is just as compelling.”
—Single Titles
“Intense paranormal elements, gripping suspense, and graphic descriptions make for a realistic read.”
—Fresh Fiction
WAKING NIGHTMARE
“Intelligent, gripping suspense with both chill and sizzle. Waking Nightmare will leave you awake in the night . . . and wanting more.”
—New York Times bestselling author Cindy Gerard
“The writing is vivid and strong . . . suspense fans will love the unexpected twist and pulse-pounding climax.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Wonderful psych material; great characters; interesting mystery . . . there’s plenty of tension and great pacing to the suspense.”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
“The first sentence will intrigue you and the next one causes chills. By the third sentence, you will be completely hooked on Waking Nightmare.”
—Single Titles
“Thrilling . . . a great opening act.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Brant and romantic suspense are a dynamic duo!”
—Romantic Times
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
DEADLY INTENT
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / November 2010
Copyright © 2010 by Kim Bahnsen.
Excerpt from Deadly Dreams copyright © by Kim Bahnsen.
All rights reserved.
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eISBN : 978-1-101-44487-0
BERKLEY® SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
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BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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For Lindsey,
who deals with the acquired large extended family
with grace and aplomb.
We love you!
Acknowledgments
As usual, I’m grateful to so many for filling the gaping holes in my expertise. A very special thanks to Kevin and Mary Ann Welter for the suggested locales, maps, and pictures of areas in Colorado. Next visit we are definitely going to have to take in some of those sights! And thanks to Edd Catfish Kray, musician extraordinaire, for information on the Arapaho Forest and Conifer areas.
Much appreciation to Karl Wilmes, deputy director of the Colorado Bureau of Investigation, whose generosity of time and incisive assistance stand in stark contrast to a certain character in the story ☺. The details about Coplink were especially helpful, although I immediately took a bit of fictional license with it! And to Dr. Carole Chaski of the Institute for Linguistic Evidence and ALIAS Technology LLC, a huge thank-you for the intriguing explanation of your work as a forensic linguist. One of the best parts of this writing gig is getting glimpses into new worlds.
For all things computer related, thanks are owed to Patrick Murray who has an enviable knack for explaining technology in layman’s terms. Kyle Hiller, captain with a special response team, once again came to the rescue regarding tactical response. Lee Lofland supplied necessary DNA-related details. M
att Tragna introduced me to eye-opening facts about mask-making. Vickie Taylor provided the fascinating information on air-scent dogs. Kyle Christian of Smarter Security Systems Ltd. helped devise my fictional estate’s security so my villain could proceed to circumvent it ☺.
Many, many thanks to you all! With the wealth of expertise provided, any inaccuracies in the story are mine alone.
Prologue
She could hear him breathing.
Icy talons of fear shredded the fabric of sleep and brought Ellie Mulder instantly awake. Old habits had her keeping muscles lax, her eyes still closed as she strained to identify what had alerted her. When she did, her blood ran as cold as the frigid Colorado wind beating against the windows.
The sound was the same snuffle snort that warned her whenever he was coming for her. He’d returned, just like he’d threatened. He’d snatch her from her bed, from her house, and this time, she’d never get away. Not ever.
Her eyes snapped open, a scream lodged in her throat. The old terrors were surging, fighting logic, fueled by memory. It took a moment to see through the veils of the past and notice her familiar surroundings.
She was home. In her own room. In her bed. And Art Cooper wasn’t here. He would die in prison.
A long sigh of relief shuddered out of her. The bright illumination of the alarm clock on her bedside table said one eighteen A.M. The sleep scene on her computer lit the corner of the room that held her desk. And the large aquarium on the opposite wall was awash in a dim glow. She often “forgot” to turn it off.
The items had been chosen because of the light they afforded. Her mom and dad had worried when she’d needed doors open and lights blazing to go to bed at night. But they’d been happy when she’d casually mentioned wanting a computer. Had expressed an interest in tropical fish. Had selected things to decorate her bedroom like the brightly lit alarm clock. Those things were normal, the psychologist said. And Ellie knew it was important that she seem normal. Even if it was a lie.
The slight noise sounded again and she tensed, her hand searching for the scissors she kept on the bedside table. But even as her fingers gripped the handle, her mind identified the sound. It was the gurgle of water in the overflow box for the aquarium. Not Cooper’s asthmatic breathing.
The realization relaxed her, but she didn’t replace the scissors. She kept them clutched in her hand and brought them close to her chest, the feel of the small weapon comforting. Learning her daughter slept with a knife under her pillow had made her mother cry. So Ellie pretended not to need that anymore.
She had become very good at pretending.
So good that her mom and dad had been thrilled with her new interest in kirigami several months ago. She’d heard the psychologist tell them that the act of creating, of folding and cutting paper into pretty shapes, would be very therapeutic for her. So there was never any fuss about the constant paper scraps on the floor. Fresh supplies appeared on her desk without her ever having to request them.
Only she knew that the new hobby was an excuse to keep a sharp pair of scissors with her at all times. And the psychologist was right. That part, at least, was very therapeutic.
The initial flare of panic had ebbed. She listened to the blizzard howl outside the windows and found the noise oddly soothing. Bit by bit, she felt herself relax. Her eyelids drooped.
She had the half-formed thought that she needed to replace the scissors before her mom came in the next morning to check on her. But sleep was sucking her under, and her limbs were unresponsive.
It was then that he pounced.
The weight hit her body, jolting her from exhaustion back to alarm in the span of seconds. She felt the hand clamped over her mouth, the prick of a needle in her arm, and fear lent her strength beyond her years. Rearing up in bed, she flailed wildly, trying to wrest away, trying to strike out. She tasted the stickiness of tape over her lips. Felt a hood being pulled over her head.
There was a brief flare of triumph when the scissors met something solid, and a hiss of pain sounded in her ear. But then her hand was bent back, the weapon dropping from her fingers, and numbness started sliding over her body. She couldn’t move. The hood prevented her from seeing. A strange buzzing filled her head.
As she felt herself lifted and carried away, her only thought was that she was being taken.
Again.
Chapter 1
The sleek black private jet sat waiting, its motors idling. It looked impatient somehow, looming dark and silent in the shadows, as if it had somehow taken on the personality of the man inside it.
Needles of sleet pricked Macy Reid’s cheeks as she hurried across the tarmac at the Manassas Regional Airport. Adam Raiker, head of Raiker Forensics and her boss, had demanded she be there within the hour. Her home in Vienna, Virginia, was nearly twenty miles from the airport. Since the usual DC traffic was light at four A.M., she’d made it in less than forty-five minutes.
An attendant took her suitcases and stowed them for her as she wiped the frigid moisture from her cheeks and made her way up the steps to the aircraft. Her satisfaction at arriving early dissipated when she recognized the man seated in the roomy black leather seat next to her boss. Kellan Burke. Fellow forensic investigator. And the man she’d been avoiding for months.
Her stomach gave one quick lurch before she ordered it to settle. She gave Raiker a nod. “Adam.” She spared barely a glance for the other man as she chose the free seat next to her boss and buckled in. “Burke.”
“The inimitable duchess Macy.” Kellan gave her a sleepy smile that she knew better than to trust. “Been a while since we’ve been paired on an investigation. Miss me?”
“Like a case of foot rot.”
“A comeback,” he noted admiringly. “You’ve been practicing.”
She could feel a flush heating her cheeks and damned yet again the fair complexion that mirrored her emotions. Almost as much as she damned the man for being right. Experience had taught her that it paid to have a ready repertoire of witty replies if she was to spend any length of time in Burke’s presence. Unfortunately, those replies usually occurred several hours after they were required, leaving her at the crucial moment as tongue-tied and frustrated as an eight-year-old.
It also paid to have her guard up and her hormones on a tight leash. That experience was more recent, and the memory much more devastating.
Adam pressed a button on his armrest that would alert the pilot to ready for takeoff. “Any squabbling and you’ll ride in the luggage compartment. Both of you.” He leaned forward to withdraw two file folders from the pocket of his briefcase and handed one to each of them as the jet began its taxi down the runway. Macy seized it, grateful to have something else to focus on.
“Stephen Mulder.” Burke was studying the first sheet inside the folder, his expression thoughtful. “Why is that name familiar?”
“Maybe because he’s the owner of the discount stores that bear his name.” Raiker’s voice was dry. “A quick Google check shows there are two thousand Mulders in the country, with several hundred more operations in Europe, Asia, and South America.”
The name had also struck a chord of recognition with Macy, but not for the same reason. “Stephen Mulder? His daughter was one of the girls rescued when you broke that child swap ring a few years ago.” The case wasn’t one she was likely to forget. Her testimony had helped put one of the perpetrators behind bars. It had also brought her to Raiker’s attention.
“That’s right.” For Burke’s benefit, he explained, “Ellie Mulder was seven when she was snatched while attending a friend’s birthday party. FBI took control of the investigation almost immediately. She was found incidentally when one of my cases overlapped a couple years later. I broke up a child auction, and her kidnapper was among those looking for a trade-in. By that point, she’d been missing twenty-two months.”
Macy’s gaze dropped to the opened folder in her lap. A moment later she froze in the act of scanning the information he’d put togethe
r for them. “She’s been abducted . . . again?”
“Sometime between eleven and two A.M. this morning.” Raiker’s expression was grim. “The entire Denver area was having a hellacious blizzard, and Ellie’s mother went in to check on her. She discovered her missing from her bed and looked around the house. Woke her husband when she didn’t find her, and they searched the estate. He called me an hour after they discovered her gone.”
“But not the FBI,” Burke guessed shrewdly.
Macy caught Raiker’s gaze on her and followed it to where her fingers lay against the folder. Her fingers were beating a familiar tattoo against the surface. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Throat drying, she deliberately stilled them and refocused her thoughts.
“The feds failed her before.” She met Raiker’s stare, knew she was right. “They had nearly two years to find her the first time. But you’re the one responsible for bringing her home to them. So her father contacted you.”
Her employer inclined his head. “If the Mulders had their way, no law enforcement would be involved at all. They’re pretty devoid of respect for LEOs after the last incident. But I convinced Stephen that he has no choice but to report Ellie’s disappearance. He has a personal relationship with the governor and both Colorado U.S. senators. He’ll use his influence to bring in the Colorado Bureau of Investigation as leads.”
“Elbowing aside the Denver PD,” Kellan muttered, still studying the contents of the file.
“The Mulder estate is located near Conifer. It actually falls under the jurisdiction of the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office. Mulder is still bitter at the way the feds kept him out of the loop on the first kidnapping. He’s insisting we stay on his estate so he can be updated as often as possible. CBI isn’t going to like that. Without proper management, this could turn into a territorial tug-of-war of monumental proportions.”