Tag Archives: Allison Brennan

You’ll Never Find Me by Allison Brennan – a Review

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You’ll Never Find Me by Allison Brennan – a Review

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Description:
Nothing brings family together like crime.

Working alone as a private investigator is tough. Estranged from her PI family, Margo Angelhart does what she must to get by—including taking on sordid cases that pay the bills, even if she’d rather be helping those the justice system has failed.

That is, until a cheating husband case she’s working intersects with her siblings’ corporate espionage investigation, forcing Margo to cooperate with the Angelhart firm. Now, as the siblings compare notes, it’s clear they need to work together before a white-collar crime escalates to murder.

With far more questions than answers and a key suspect on the run, they’ll need the whole family to pitch in. But as they investigate the ever-twisting mystery, Margo isn’t sharing everything. Can she learn to trust her family and heal their once-close relationship before her secrets put those she loves most in danger?

 

 

Review:

You’ll Never Find Me by Allison Brennan is the start of a wonderful new series, Angelhart Investigations. The Angelhart family owns their own private investigation firm, and Margo Angelhart broke away from her family and opened her own PI firm, taking all kinds of cases.  When her father was sent to prison for killing a man, and though they knew he was innocent, the father did not want to reveal anything and accepted his prison term.  Margo wanted to find the truth, but her mother (who runs the Angelhart PI firm) was determined to keep whatever secret her husband had; this led Margo to go on her own. She still sees the family on occasion, during celebrations. 

The story starts with Margo helping a woman, who suffers from an abusive husband. Margo arranges for Annie and her two children to take the minimal, and leave while her husband is at work; no phones, no computers, nothing to reveal anything.  With Margo’s help, Annie does escape, with no one knowing where she is ending up.  Eventually, the bad husband (state trouper) will discover both Margo and her uncle, helped his wife leave, and he is determined to get her back at any cost; even if they themselves do not know where she was.  The husband claimed his innocence, as its his right to abuse or rape her. 

The second story involves corporate espionage, but Margo has taken a case whose wife thinks he is cheating on her.   She hasn’t found any evidence that her husband is cheating, but the wife begs for her to keep checking for a couple more days.  Margo follows him, and discovers the husband (Logan Monroe) and a woman (jennifer) unconscious on the floor; she breaks into the house to help both of them, and cops are called.  To her surprise, her brother Jack and sister, Tess are also on the scene, and learns from them that the woman, Jennifer is being investigated for possible corporate espionage. Margo realizes that the wife who claimed her husband cheating, has more going on, and she joins hands with her family to discover the real truth, that involves crime, a thief and a wife trying to scam her husband for money.

I thought Margo was a terrific investigator, especially handling both of those cases.   I loved her family, especially Jack, who was beside her in both of the cases; he pushed for Margo to work with the family on the espionage case.  The rest of the family members, Lulu, Tess, Nico and their mother (she’s the boss) were all great.  Logan was the man whom his wife thought he was cheating, and he turned out to be a big help with the Angelhart team; as well as Jennifer, who had information regarding the company she worked for.

You’ll Never Find Me was an exciting compelling double mystery thriller.  It was nice to see all the Angelhart siblings work together, working toward putting the family back as a team. Allison Brennan gives us a fantastic story that was so very well written.  I look forward to reading more from this series, Angelhardt Investigations.  

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

 

 

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The Missing Witness by Allison Brennan – Review & Excerpt

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The Missing Witness by Allison Brennan – Review & Excerpt

 

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Description:
When a key witness goes missing, Quinn and Costa must find her before a killer silences her for good…

Detective Kara Quinn is back in Los Angeles to testify against a notorious human trafficker, finally moving past the case that upended her life. But when the accused is shot by a masked man in broad daylight, the chaotic scene of the crime turns up few reliable bystanders. And one witness—a whistleblower who might be the key to everything—has disappeared.

After the prosecuting DDA is stabbed to death, it’s clear that anyone who knows too much about the investigation is in danger, and tracking down the witness becomes a matter of life or death. With government corruption running rampant and someone on the inside trying to pin anything they can on Kara, she trusts nobody except FBI special agent Matt Costa and a handful of allies.

But when explosive secrets begin to surface within the LAPD and FBI, Kara questions everything she thought she knew about the case, her colleagues and the life she left behind months ago.

Now Quinn and Costa must race to find the missing witness and get to the bottom of the avalanche of conspiracies that has rocked LA to its core…before it’s too late.

Review:

The Missing Witness by Allison Brennan is the 5th book in her fantastic Quinn and Costa series.  I am a big fan of Allison Brennan, who always gives us sensational mystery thrillers; and The Missing Witness was another fabulous addition to this series.

Detective Kara Quinn helped with bringing a major criminal (human trafficker) while at her LAPD job, but her life was put in danger, and she was assigned to become part of the FBI’s mobile response team unit. She is back in Los Angeles to testify against the criminal she helped prosecute, but before she can take the stand, the accused is killed in broad daylight, and one witness, who saw the murder, runs away and disappears. 

With corrupt city politics running rampant, as well as homeless people suffering, and Kara is being blamed for the criminal’s death, for which she is innocent. LAPD and FBI work together to find those responsible for the corruption and murders. Kara meets with her bosses at LAPD: and she suspects that those she trusted are keeping secrets from her, and she is determined to find out the truths.  Matt and the whole FBI team are there to support and protect Kara, as they help to discover the dark twists within the city; especially when prosecuting attorney is stabbed to death, it’s becoming clear that everyone who knows anything is in danger.

Kara isn’t sure she wants to stay with the mobile team, or go back to being a Los Angeles Detective, but the secrets she suspects from her superiors, may make her decision easier closer to the end. I really love Matt, who is always there to support Kara, not to mention he is falling in love with her; Kara has strong feelings for Matt too, but she fears having permanent relationships.  I also like Agent Sloane who was great in finding information and Violet was also a terrific character.

What follows is an intense, pulse pounding thriller, with so many twists and turns throughout.. Who was truly behind the corruption and murders? As we got closer to the tense climax, the danger escalated in this heart stopping thriller, with so many people involved.  I could not put the book down, as the suspense was amazing.

The Missing Witness was a suspenseful tense story line, with danger at every turn. The story revolves on many issues, such as the homeless/slave labor/drugs, human trafficking, corrupted officials in government and law enforcements.  The Missing Witness was so very well written by Allison Brennan, that I fully recommend you read this fantastic exciting edge of your seat thriller.

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

1
My parking garage off Fifth was nearly a mile from where I worked at city hall. I could have paid twice as much to park two blocks from my building and avoid the rows of homeless people: the worn tents, the used needles, the stinking garbage, the aura of hopelessness and distrust that filled a corner park and bled down the streets.
I was listening to my favorite podcast, LA with A&I. Amy and Ian started the podcast two years ago to talk about computer gaming, technology, entertainment and Los Angeles. It had blossomed into a quasi news show and they live streamed every morning at seven. They’d riff on tech and local news as if sitting down with friends over coffee. Like me, they were nerds, born and bred in the City of Angels. I’d never met Amy or Ian in real life, but felt like I’d known them forever.
We’d chatted over Discord, teamed up to play League of Legends, and I often sent them interesting clips about gaming or tech that they talked about on their podcast, crediting my gaming handle. Twice, we’d tried to set up coffee dates, but I always chickened out. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I thought they wouldn’t like me if they met me. Maybe because I was socially awkward. Maybe because I didn’t like people knowing too much about my life.
Today while I drove to work, they’d discussed the disaster that was city hall: all the digital files had been wiped out. The news story lasted for about five minutes, but it would be my life for the next month or more as my division rebuilt the data from backups and archives. It was a mess. They laughed over it; I tried to, but I was beginning to suspect the error was on purpose, not by mistake.
Now they were talking about a sweatshop that had been shut down last week.
“We don’t know much,” Amy said. “You’d think after eight days there’d be some big press conference, or at least a frontpage story. The only thing we found was two news clips—less than ninety seconds each—and an article on LA Crime Beat.”
“David Chen,” Ian said, “a Chinese American who allegedly trafficked hundreds of women and children to run his factory in Chinatown, was arraigned on Monday, but according to Crime Beat, the FBI is also investigating the crime. And—get this— the guy is already out on bail.”
“It’s fucked,” Amy said. “Look, I’m all for bail reform. I don’t think some guy with weed in his pocket should have to pay thousands of bucks to stay out of jail while the justice system churns. But human trafficking is a serious crime—literally not two miles from city hall, over three hundred people were forced to work at a sweatshop for no money. They had no freedom, lived in a hovel next door to the warehouse. Crime Beat reported that the workers used an underground tunnel to avoid being seen—something I haven’t read in the news except for one brief mention. And Chen allegedly killed one of the women as he fled from police. How did this guy get away with it? He kills someone and spends no more than a weekend behind bars?”
“According to Crime Beat, LAPD investigated the business for months before they raided the place,” Ian said. “But Chen has been operating for years. How could something like this happen and no one said a word?”
I knew how. People didn’t see things they didn’t want to.
Case in point: the homeless encampment I now walked by.
I paused the podcast and popped my earbuds back into their charging case.
“Hello, Johnny,” I said to the heroin addict with stringy hair that might be blond, if washed. I knew he was thirty-three, though he looked much older. His hair had fallen out in clumps, his teeth were rotted, and his face scarred from sores that came and went. He sat on a crusty sleeping bag, leaned against the stone wall of a DWP substation, his hollow eyes staring at nothing. As usual, he didn’t acknowledge me. I knew his name because I had asked when he wasn’t too far gone. Johnny, born in Minnesota. He hadn’t talked to his family in years. Thought his father was dead, but didn’t remember. He once talked about a sister and beamed with pride. She’s really smart. She’s a teacher in…then his face dropped because he couldn’t remember where his sister lived.
Four years ago, I left a job working for a tech start-up company to work in IT for city hall. It was barely a step up from entry-level and I couldn’t afford nearby parking garages. If I took a combination of buses and the metro, it would take me over ninety minutes to get to work from Burbank, so factoring the combination of time and money, driving was my best bet and I picked the cheapest garage less than a mile from work.
I used to cringe when I walked by the park. Four years ago, only a dozen homeless tents dotted the corner; the numbers had more than quadrupled. Now that I could afford a more expensive garage, I didn’t want it. I knew most of the people here by name.
“Hey, Toby,” I greeted the old black man wearing three coats, his long, dirty gray beard falling to his stomach. He had tied a rope around his waist and attached it to his shopping cart to avoid anyone stealing his worldly possessions when he slept off his alcohol.
“Mizvi,” he said, running my name together in a slur. He called me “Miss Violet” when he was sober. He must have still been coming down off whatever he’d drank last night.
I smiled. Four years ago I never smiled at these people, fearing something undefinable. Now I did, even when I wanted to cry. I reached into my purse and pulled out a bite-size Hershey Bar. Toby loved chocolate. I handed it to him. He took it with a wide grin, revealing stained teeth.
One of the biggest myths about the homeless is that they’re hungry. They have more food than they can eat. That doesn’t mean many aren’t malnourished. Drug and alcohol abuse can do that to a person.
A couple weeks ago a church group had thought they would bring in sandwiches and water as part of community service. It was a nice gesture, sure, but they could have asked what was needed instead of assuming that these people were starving. Most of the food went uneaten, left outside tents to become rat food. The plastic water bottles were collected to return for the deposit, which was used to buy drugs and alcohol.
But no one gave Toby chocolate, he once told me when he was half-sober. Now, whenever I saw him—once, twice a week—I gave him a Hershey Bar. He would die sooner than he should, so why couldn’t I give him a small pleasure that I could afford? Toby was one of the chronics, a man who’d been on the street for years. He had no desire to be anywhere else, trusted no one, though I thought he trusted me a little. I wished I knew his story, how he came to be here, how I could reach him to show him a different path. His liver had to be slush with the amount of alcohol he consumed. Alcohol he bought because people, thinking they were helping—or just to make themselves feel better—handed him money.
As I passed the entrance to the small park, the stench of unwashed humans assaulted me. The city had put four porta-potties on the edge of the park but they emptied them once a month, if that. They were used more for getting high and prostitution than as bathrooms. The city had also put up fencing, but didn’t always come around to lock the gate. Wouldn’t matter; someone would cut it open and no one would stop them. Trespassing was the least of the crimes in the area.
I dared to look inside the park, though I didn’t expect to see her. I hadn’t seen her for over a week. I found myself clutching my messenger bag that was strapped across my chest. Not because I thought someone would steal it, but because I needed to hold something, as if my bag was a security blanket.
I didn’t see her among the tents or the people sitting on the ground, on the dirt and cushions, broken couches and sleeping bags, among the needles and small, tin foils used to smoke fentanyl. I kicked aside a vial that had once held Narcan, the drug to counteract opioid overdoses. The clear and plastic vials littered the ground, remnants of addiction.
There was nothing humane about allowing people to get so wasted they were on the verge of death, reviving them, then leaving them to do it over and over again. But that was the system.
The system was fucked.
Blue and red lights whirled as I approached the corner. I usually crossed Fifth Street here, but today I stopped, stared at the silent police car.
The police only came when someone was dying…or dead.
Mom.
I found my feet moving toward the cops even though I wanted to run away. My heart raced, my vision blurred as tears flashed, then disappeared.
Mom.

Excerpted from The Missing Witness by Allison Brennan, Copyright © 2024 by Allison Brennan. Published by MIRA Books.

 


 


ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author of over forty novels, including The Sorority Murder. She lives in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets. The Missing Witness is the fifth thriller in the new Quinn & Costa series.

Social Links:
Author Website: https://www.allisonbrennan.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AllisonBrennan
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Allison_Brennan
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/abwrites/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/52527.Allison_Brennan

 

 

 

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North of Nowhere by Allison Brennan – a Review

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North of Nowhere by Allison Brennan – a Review

 

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Description:
After five years in hiding from their murderous father, the day Kristin and Ryan McIntyre have been dreading has arrived: Boyd McIntyre, head of a Los Angeles crime family, has at last tracked his kids to a small Montana town and is minutes away from kidnapping them. They barely escape in a small plane, but gunfire hits the fuel line. The pilot, a man who has been raising them as his own, manages to crash land in the middle of the Montana wilderness. The siblings hike deep into the woods, searching desperately for safety—unaware of the severity of the approaching storm.

Boyd’s sister Ruby left Los Angeles for the Army years ago, cutting off contact in order to help keep her niece and nephew safe and free from the horrors of the McIntyre clan. So when she gets an emergency call that the plane has gone down with the kids inside, she drops everything to try save them.

As the storm builds, Ruby isn’t the only person looking for them. Boyd has hired an expert tracker to find and bring them home. And rancher Nick Lorenzo, who knows these mountains better than anyone and doesn’t understand why the kids are running, is on their trail too.

But there is a greater threat to Kristen and Ryan out there. More volatile than the incoming blizzard, more dangerous than the family they ran from or the natural predators they could encounter. Who finds them first could determine if they live or die.

 

 

Review:

North of Nowhere by Allison Brennan is another one of her fantastic thriller novels. North of Nowhere is a story revolving around an evil mafia family, that has been looking for their kidnapped children. It has been 5 years, since Kristin and Ryan McIntyre were saved by Tony, who was a former member of the mafia family; both Kristin (16 years old) and Ryan (10 years old, also deaf) love Tony and call him Dad.  They live in a small Montana town, close to the wilderness, with Tony working for rancher Nick Lorenzo.

Now, as the McIntyre family is closing in, they need to run, and Tony takes Lorenzo’s plane to escape, but he is shot by a member of the McIntyre family and he is forced to crash land the plane. An injured Tony forces Kristin and Ryan to run, especially with a major snow storm approaching, before Boyd McIntyre (the kid’s father) finds him. Tony calls Ruby, the kids aunt, who had also run away all those years ago, and asked her to help save the kids.

Ruby, a former marine, immediately goes to Montana to save the kids.  Nick Lorenzo, is determined to find them faster, as he needed to understand why they were running.  Kristen was strong and did all she could to take care of Ryan. Boyd McIntyre had a number of men, including a tracker, to struggle through the storm to find his kids, even though they never wanted to be found.  This was a nonstop wild action thriller, with a race against time to find Kristin and Ryan; with Boyd and his group willing to kill those in the way.  To say too much more would ruin the book, as you need to read this fantastic thriller.

“North of Nowhere” is a heart pounding gripping thriller that kept me unable to put the book down. I really liked Kristin, who was strong and determined.  I also liked both Ruby and Lorenzo, who would do anything to save the children. North of Nowhere was so very well written by Allison Brennan. This was a great psychological thriller that had so much going on from start to finish; filled with blizzard, hostile conditions, family, escape, betrayal, murder, organized crime, and an evil grandmother.   I wholly suggest you read North of Nowhere.

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

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Seven Girls Gone by Allison Brennan – a Review

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Seven Girls Gone by Allison Brennan – a Review

 

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Description:
For three years, women have been disappearing—and eventually turning up dead in the small bayou town of St. Augustine, Louisiana. Police detective Beau Hebert is the only one who seems to care, but with every witness quickly silenced and a corrupt police department set on keeping the cases unsolved, Beau’s investigation stalls at every turn.

With nobody else to trust, Beau calls in a favor from his friend on the FBI’s Mobile Response Team. While LAPD detective Kara Quinn works undercover to dig into the women’s murders and team leader Matt Costa officially investigates the in-custody death of a witness, Beau might finally have a chance at solving the case.

But in a town where everyone knows everyone, talking gets you killed and secrets stay buried, it’s going to take the entire team working around the clock to unravel the truth. Especially when they discover that the deep-seated corruption and the deadly drug-trafficking ring at the center of it all extends far beyond the small-town borders.

 

 

Review:

Seven Girls Gone by Allison Brennan is the 4th book in her fantastic Quinn and Costa series.  I am a big fan of Allison Brennan, who always gives us sensational mystery thrillers; and Seven Girls Gone was a fabulous addition to this series.

Beau Hebert, is a police detective in a small town, St. Augustine, Louisiana, and he is very frustrated. During the last three years, five women have been murdered, one is still missing, with no one in his department caring, as his leads continually gets squashed; and Beau suspects the police department, mayor are all corrupt. He reaches out to an old friend who works for the FBI Mobile Response Team for help. Special Agent Matt Costa and Detective Kara Quinn, as well as all of the FBI Mobile Response team are called in to help Beau.

Kara and Michael arrive first, with Kara, who is a great detective, having lots of experience working undercover.  She makes it her business to visit Magnolia Inn, where many of the victims who worked there ended up being killed. Kara uses her disguise to meet many of the police and people working at the Inn.  Michael goes with Beau to search the swamp for the missing girl, Lily. Matt arrives with the rest of his team, which includes Jim and Ryder.  Matt (the leader of the mobile team) visits the police chief to explain that they are investigating these deaths, and no one from the department is happy about their being here, especially Officer Guidry, who already angered Kara, as well as Beau’s grandmother. In a short time, the seventh girl is found dead, and Kara is concerned that Winnie will be next; she is determined to get Winnie to work with them, in order to save her.

The relationship between Kara and Matt is still on the border line, as Kara isn’t sure she wants to stay with the mobile team, or go back to being a Los Angeles Detective (she on loan, and her job in LA is in jeopardy). Matt finds himself falling hard for Kara, and though she is very much attracted, she isn’t sure if she can become permanent with Matt. Kara also became close to Beau’s grandmother, and very protective.  The danger escalates, as Mat, Kara, Michael, Jim (forensics expert) finds themselves under attack.  To say to much more would be spoilers, as you  need to read this book from start to finish.

What follows is an intense, pulse pounding thriller, with many twists and turns. Who was truly behind the corruption and murders? As we got closer to the tense climax, the danger escalated in this heart stopping thriller, with so many people involved.  I could not put the book down, as the suspense was amazing.  Seven Girls Gone was so very well written by Allison Brennan, that I fully recommend you read this fantastic exciting edge of your seat thriller.

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

 

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Don’t Open the Door by Allison Brennan – a Review

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Don’t Open the Door by Allison Brennan – a Review

 

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Description:
A child is shot while playing video games at home. His mother will stop at nothing to find out who did it—and why.

After their ten-year-old son, Chase, was senselessly murdered, Regan’s life unraveled. Her corporate lawyer husband, Grant, blamed the death on Regan’s work as a US marshal. Unable to reconcile their grief, they divorced, and Regan quit her job and moved away.

Now she’s back after a voice mail from her former boss Tommy said he had important news to share about Chase’s killing. Regan is stunned to learn Tommy is dead too. When she reaches out to Grant, his panicked reaction raises her suspicions. Then a lawyer with ties to her ex also turns up murdered, and the police make Grant their top suspect.

Unsure of his guilt or innocence, Regan risks everything to find Grant before the police do so she can finally get the answers to all that has haunted her since losing Chase. But the truth is not even close to what she imagines—and now she fears she has no one to trust.

 

 

Review:

Don’t Open the Door by Allison Brennan is the 2nd book in her Regan Merritt series.  Allison Brennan has become one of my must-read suspense thriller authors, as she never fails to give us exciting, tense and non-stop action throughout the entire book. 

We met Regan Merritt, in the first book (The Sorority Murders), and in Don’t Open the Door, we learn more about Regan, and how her life totally changed, due to the murder of her young son almost a year ago.  Regan quit her job as a US Marshall, she and her husband, Grant divorced, and she moved back home near her father.  Regan remained close friends with her US Marshall ex-partner, Tommy, who privately continued to investigate her son’s murder. 

Regan gets a voice message from Tommy, claiming that he knew who really killed her son, which he plans to prove was an accidental hit on her son, but the true target was her ex-husband, Grant. Before she could get in touch with him, Regan learns that Tommy was murdered at his home. Regan comes back for Tommy’s funeral, and stays at his house, determined to find his killer, especially with all the evidence that Tommy found was now missing. 

Regan learns that Tommy met with Grant a few times, and wants to know why.  Grant has been trying to avoid Regan, but when he learns that he was the true target, he panics; and when Grant’s girlfriend is murdered, he runs away.  Slowly, Regan begins to discover new clues, with some pieces starting fall into place, leading to a conspiracy and her becoming closer to the truth.  Regan realizes that Grant’s life is in danger and she hurries to find him; she also knows that those behind the conspiracy will be going after her too.

Don’t Open the Door was an excellent, action filled, suspense thriller with so many twists and turns throughout. From start to finish, this is an extremely complicated story, with a number of people involved in the murders.  I cannot say too much more, as it would ruin it for you.  Don’t Open the Door was a great and exciting read, which was very well written by Allison Brennan.  If you like suspense thrillers, you need to read this book.

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

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The Wrong Victim by Allison Brennan – Review & Excerpt

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The Wrong Victim by Allison Brennan – Review & Excerpt

 

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Description:
A bomb explodes on a sunset charter cruise out of Friday Harbor at the height of tourist season and kills everyone on board. Now this fishing and boating community is in shock and asking who would commit such a heinous crime—the largest act of mass murder in the history of the San Juan Islands.

Forensic profilers know there are two types of domestic terrorists: those who use violence to instill fear for political purposes but stop at murder because it detracts from the cause, and those who crave attention and are willing to maim and murder for their own agenda.

Accused of putting profits before people after leaking fuel that caused a massive fish kill, the West End Charter company may itself have been the target. But as special agent Matt Costa, detective Kara Quinn and the rest of the FBI team begin their investigation, they discover that plenty of people might have wanted someone dead on that yacht. Now they must track down who is responsible and stop them before they strike again.

 

 

Review:

The Wrong Victim by Allison Brennan is the 3rd book in her Quinn and Costa Thriller series. The story begins when a charter cruise ship explodes, killing everyone on board.  The boating community is shocked by this heinous crime that killed 8 people.  Special Agent Matt Costa and Detective Kara Quinn, as well as all of the FBI Mobile Response team come to San Juan Islands to investigate. 

The team begins their investigation trying to identify if the targets in the explosion were the local West End Charter, who a protest group (IP) blames for previous oil leaks; was it one person on the boat targeted; or a serial killer out to kill at random. During interviews, we get to meet many of the town residents, and learn more about each of them, leading to multiple possibilities, which included who was the real target; who wanted someone dead and why.

The focus on the investigation seemed to center a lot on the animosity between Catherine (profiler) and Kara. Catherine went out of her way to pick on Kara, and threatened Matt that Kara did not belong on the Mobile Response team; even though Kara was an excellent detective, and their mistrust of each other was glaring. Personally, I did not like Catherine, as I thought she was arrogant and created more tension for the team.  Kara not yet a full member of the Mobile Response team, as she was on loan; but hopefully she does become a permanent member soon.  I loved Kara, as I thought she was a great heroine, as well as most of the team, like Matt, Ryder and Michael.    

What follows is an intense, pulse pounding thriller from start to finish.  There were so many suspects, not to mention surprises and twists; which kept me unable to put the book down.  Who was truly behind what was happening? As we got closer to the tense climax, the danger escalated in this heart stopping thriller, with so many people involved.  I could not put the book down, as the suspense was amazing.  The Wrong Victim was so well written by Allison Brennan, that I fully recommend you read this fantastic exciting edge of your seat thriller.

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

CHAPTER ONE
A killer walked among the peaceful community of Friday Harbor and retired FBI Agent Neil Devereaux couldn’t do one damn thing about it because he had no evidence.
Most cops had at least one case that haunted them long after the day they turned in their badge and retired. For Neil, that obsession was a cold case that his former law enforcement colleagues believed was closed. Not only closed, but not a double homicide at all—simply a tragic accident.
Neil knew they’d got it wrong; he just couldn’t prove it. He hadn’t been able to prove it thirteen years ago, and he couldn’t prove it now.
But he was close.
He knew that the two college boys didn’t drown “by accident;” they were murdered. He had a suspect and he’d even figured out why the boys had been targeted.
Knowing who and why meant nothing. He needed hard evidence. Hell, he’d settle for any evidence. All his theory got him was the FBI file on the deaths sent by an old friend, and the ear of a detective on the mainland who would be willing to investigate if Neil found more.
“I can’t open a closed death investigation without evidence, buddy.”
He would have said the same thing if he was in the same position.
Confronting the suspected killer would be dangerous, even for an experienced investigator like him. This wasn’t an Agatha Christie novel like his mother used to read, where he could bring the suspect and others into a room and run through the facts—only to have the killer jump up and confess.
Neil couldn’t stand to think that anyone might get away with such a brazen murder spree, sparked by revenge and deep bitterness. It’s why he couldn’t let it go, and why he felt for the first time that he was close…close to hard evidence that would compel a new investigation.
He was tired of being placated by the people he used to work with.
He’d spent so long following dead ends that he’d lost valuable time—and with time, the detailed memories of those who might still remember something about that fateful weekend. It was only the last year that Neil had turned his attention to other students at the university and realized the most likely suspect was living here, on San Juan Island, right under his nose.
All this was on his mind when he boarded the Water Lily, his favorite yacht in the West End Charter fleet. He went through his safety checklist, wondering why Cal McKinnon, the deckhand assigned to this sunset cruise, wasn’t already there.
If he wasn’t preoccupied with murder and irritated at Cal, Neil may have noticed the small hole in the bow of the ship, right above the water line, with fishing line coming out of it, taut in the water.
*
“I’m sorry. It’s last minute, I know,” Cal said to Kyle Richards in the clubhouse of West End Charter. “But I really need to talk to Jamie right away.”
“It’s that serious?” asked his longtime friend Kyle.
“I cannot lose her over this. I just can’t. I love her. We’re getting married.”
At least he hoped they were still getting married. Two months ago Jamie finally set a wedding date for the last Saturday in September—the fifth anniversary of their first date. And now this whole thing was a mess, and if Cal didn’t fix it now, he’d never be able to fix it.
You already blew it. You blew it five years ago. You should have told her the truth then!
“Alright then, go,” Kyle said. “I’ll take the cruise. I need the extra money, anyway. But you owe me—it’s Friday night. I had a date.”
Cal clapped Kyle on the back. “I definitely owe you, I’ll take your next crappy shift.”
“Better, give me your next corporate party boat.” Corporate parties on the largest yacht in their fleet had automatic eighteen percent tips added to the bill, which was split between a typical four-man crew in addition to salary. Plus, high-end parties often paid extra. Drunk rich people could become very generous with their pocket cash.
“You got it—it’s next Saturday night, the Fourth of July—so we good?”
Kyle gave him a high five, then left for the dock.
Cal clocked out and started for home. He passed a group of sign-carrying protesters and rolled his eyes.
West End Charter: Profit Over Protection
Protect Fish Not Profits!
Hey Hey Ho Ho Ted Colfax has to go!
Jeez, when would these people just stop? West End Charter had done nearly everything they wanted over the last two years—and then some—but it was never good enough.
Fortunately, the large crowds of protesters that started after the West End accident had dwindled over the last two years from hundreds to a half dozen. Maybe because they got bored, or maybe because West End fixed the problem with their older fleet, Cal didn’t know. But these few remaining were truly radical, and Cal hoped they didn’t cause any problems for the company over the lucrative Fourth of July holiday weekend.
He drove around them and headed home. He had more important things to deal with than this group of misfits.
Cal lived just outside of Friday Harbor with Jamie and their daughter. It was a small house, but all his, his savings covering the down payment after he left the Coast Guard six years ago. But it was Jamie who made the two-bedroom cottage a real home. She’d made curtains for the windows; put up cheery pictures that brightened even the grayest Washington day; and most recently, she’d framed some of Hazel’s colorful artwork for the kitchen nook he’d added on with Kyle’s help last summer.
He’d wanted to put Jamie on the deed when she moved in with him, but she wanted to go slower than that. He wanted to marry her, but she’d had a bad breakup with her longtime boyfriend before they met and was still struggling with the mind games her ex used to play on her. If that bastard ever set foot back on the island, Cal would beat him senseless.
But the ex was far out of the picture, living down in California, and Cal loved Jamie, so he respected her wishes not to pressure her into marriage. When she found out she was pregnant, he asked her to marry him again—she said yes but wanted to wait.
“There’s no rush. I love you, Cal, but I don’t want to get married just because I’m pregnant.”
He would move heaven and earth for Jamie and Hazel—why didn’t she know that?
That’s why when she finally settled on a date, confirmed it with invitations and an announcement in the San Juan Island newspaper, that he thought it would be smooth sailing.
And then she left.
As soon as he got home, he packed an overnight bag while trying to reach Jamie. She didn’t answer her cell phone. More than likely, there was no reception. Service was sketchy on the west side of the island.
He left another message.
“Jamie, we need to talk. I’m sorry, believe me I’m sorry. I love you. I love Hazel. I just want to talk and work this out. I’m coming to see you tonight, okay? Please call me.”
He was so frustrated. Not at Jamie—well, maybe a little because she’d taken off this morning for her dad’s place without even telling him. Just left him a note on the bathroom mirror.
Cal,
I need time to think. Give me a couple days, okay? I love you, but right now I just need a little perspective.
Jamie.
Cal didn’t like the “but” part. What was there to think about? He loved her. They had a life together. Jamie and their little girl Hazel meant everything to him. They were getting married in three months!
He’d given her all day to think and now they needed to talk. Jamie had a bad habit of remaining silent when she was upset, thanks to that prick she’d dated before Cal. Cal much preferred her to get angry, to yell at him, to say exactly how she felt, then they could move on.
He jumped in his old pickup truck and headed west, praying he could salvage his family, the only thing he truly cared about. Failure was not an option.
*
That night Kyle clocked in and told the staff supervisor, Gloria, that Cal was sick, and he was taking the sunset cruise for him.
“Are you lying to me?” Gloria asked, looking over the top of her glasses at him.
“No, well, I mean, he’s not sick sick.” Dammit, Kyle had always been a piss-poor liar. “But he and Jamie had a fight, I guess, and he wants to fix it.”
“Alright, I’ll talk to Cal tomorrow. Don’t you go lying for him.”
“Don’t get him in trouble, Gloria.”
She sighed, took off her large glasses and cleaned them on her cotton shirt. “I like Cal as much as everyone, I’m not going to jam him up, but he should have come to me. I’ll bet he gave you his slot on the Fourth, didn’t he?”
Kyle grinned. Gloria had worked for West End longer than Kyle had been alive. They couldn’t operate without her.
“Eight people total. A party of four and two parties of two.” Gloria handed him the clipboard with the information of those who had registered for tonight’s sunset cruise. “Four bottles of champagne, a case of water, and cheese and fruit trays are onboard. You have one minute.”
“Thanks Gloria!” He ran down the dock to the Water Lily. He texted his boyfriend as he ran.
Hey, taking Cal’s shift, docking at 10—want to meet up then?
He sent the message and almost ran into a group who were already standing at the docks. Two men, two women, drinks in hand from the West End Club bar, in to-go cups.
“Can we board?” the tallest of the four asked.
“Give me one minute. What group are you with?”
“Nava Software.”
Kyle looked at his watch. Technically boarding started in five minutes; they’d be pushing off in twenty.
“I need to get approval from the captain.” He smiled and jumped over the gate. He found Neil Devereaux on the bridge, reading weather reports.
“You’re late,” Neil said without looking up.
“Sorry, Skipper. Cal called in sick.”
Neil looked at him. “Oh, Kyle, I didn’t know it was you. I was expecting Cal.”
“He called out. Everything okay?” Neil didn’t look like his usual chipper self.
“I had a rough day.”
Rough day? Neil was a retired federal agent and got to pick any shift he wanted. Everyone liked him. If he didn’t want to work, he didn’t. He had a pension and didn’t even have to work but said once that he’d be bored if he didn’t have something to do. He spent most of his free time fishing or hanging out at the Fish & Brew. Kyle thought he was pretty cool for a Boomer.
“Your kids okay?” he asked.
Neil looked surprised at the question. “Yes, of course. Why?”
“You said you had a rough day—I just remember you talking about how one of your kids was deployed or something.”
He nodded with a half smile. “Good memory. Jill is doing great. She’s on base in Japan, a mechanic. She loves it. And Eric is good, just works too much at the hospital. Thanks for asking.”
“Four guests are waiting to board—is it okay?”
“There’s always someone early, isn’t there?”
“Better early than late,” Kyle said, parroting something that Neil often said to the crew.
Neil laughed, and Kyle was glad he was able to take the skipper’s mind off whatever was bothering him.
“Go ahead, let them on—rear deck only. Check the lines, supplies, and emergency gear, okay? No food or drink until we pass the marker.”
“Got it.”
Kyle slid down the ladder as his phone vibrated. It was Adam.

F&B only place open that late—meet at the club and we’ll walk over, k?

He responded with a thumbs-up emoji and a heart, then smiled at the group of four. “Come aboard!”
*
Madelyn Jeffries sat on the toilet—not because she had to pee, but because she didn’t want to go on this cruise, not even for only three hours. She didn’t want to smile and play nice with Tina Marshall just because Pierce wanted to discuss business with Tina’s husband Vince.
She hated Tina. That woman would do anything to make her miserable. All because Pierce had fallen in love with her, Madelyn Cordell, a smart girl from the wrong side of the tracks in Tacoma.
Pierce didn’t understand. He tried, God bless him, but he didn’t. He was from another generation. He understood sex and chivalry and generosity and respect. He was the sweetest man she’d ever met. But he didn’t understand female interactions.
“I know you and Tina had somewhat of a rivalry when we met. But sweetheart, I fell in love with you. There’s no reason for you to be insecure.”
She wasn’t insecure. She and Pierce had something special, something that no one else could understand. Even she didn’t completely understand how she fell so head over heels for a man older than her deadbeat father. Oh, there was probably some psychologist out there who had any number of theories, but all Madelyn knew was that she and Pierce were right.
But Tina made her see red.
Tina, on top of this pregnancy—a pregnancy Madelyn had wanted to keep quiet, between her and Pierce, until she was showing. But somehow Pierce’s kids had found out last week, and they went ballistic.
They were the reason she and Pierce decided to get away for a long weekend. Last night had been wonderful and romantic and exactly what she needed. Then at brunch this morning they ran into Tina and Vince who were on a “vacation” after their honeymoon.
Madelyn didn’t doubt that Tina had found out she was here and planned this. There was no doubt in her mind that Tina had come to put a wedge between her and Pierce. After five years, why couldn’t she just leave her alone?
Just seeing Tina brought back the fearful, insecure girl Madelyn used to be, and she didn’t want that. She loved her life, she loved her husband, and above all she loved the baby inside her.
She flushed the toilet and stepped out of the stall.
Tina stood there by the sink, lips freshly coated with bloodred.
Madelyn stepped around her and washed her hands.
“Vince took me to Paris for our honeymoon for two glorious weeks,” said Tina.
Madelyn didn’t respond.
“I heard that you went to Montana.” Tina giggled a fake, frivolous laugh.
It was true. They’d spent a month in the Centennial Valley for their honeymoon, in a beautiful lodge owned by Pierce. They went horseback riding, hiking, had picnics, and she even learned how to fish—Pierce wanted to teach her, and she found that she enjoyed it. Fishing was relaxing and wholesome, something she’d never considered before. It had been the best month of her life.
But she wasn’t sharing that with Madelyn. Her time with Pierce was private. It was sacred.
She dried her hands and said, “Excuse me.”
“You think you’ve changed, but you haven’t. You’re still the little bug-eyed girl who followed me around for years. I taught you how to walk, I taught you how to attract men, I taught you how to dress and talk and act like you were somebody. If it wasn’t for me, you would never have met Pierce Jeffries. And you took him from me.”
“The boat leaves in five minutes.” Madelyn desperately wanted to get away from Tina.
“Vince and Pierce are going into business together. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, you and me. You would do well to drop the holier-than-thou act and accept the fact that I am back in your life and I’m not going anywhere.”
Madelyn stared at Tina. Once she’d been in awe of the girl, a year older than she was, who always seemed to get what she wanted. Tina was bold, she was beautiful, she was driven.
But she would never be satisfied. Did she even love Vince Marshall? Or had she married him because of the money and status he could give her?
Madelyn hated that when she first met Pierce she had thought he was her ticket out of poverty and menial jobs. She hated that she had followed Tina’s advice on how to seduce an older man.
Madelyn had fallen in love with Pierce, not because he was rich or powerful or for what he could give her. She loved him because he was kind and compassionate. She loved him because he saw her as she was and loved her anyway. But when he proposed to her, she’d fallen apart. She’d told him that she loved him, but she could never marry him because everything she was had been built on a lie—how she got her job at the country club, now they first met, how she had targeted him because he was wealthy and single. She would never forgive herself; how could he? His marriage proposal had been romantic and beautiful—he’d taken her to the bench where they first had a conversation, along the water of Puget Sound. But she ran away, ashamed.
He’d found her, she’d told him everything, the entire truth about who she was—a poor girl from a poor neighborhood who pretended to be worldly and sophisticated to attract men.
He said he loved her even more.
“I knew, Madelyn, from the beginning. But more, I see you, inside and out, and that’s the woman I love.”
Madelyn stared at her onetime friend. “Tina, you would do well to mind your p’s and q’s, because if I tell Pierce to back off, he’ll back off.”
She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. When it came to business, Pierce would listen to her, but he deferred to his oldest son, who worked closely with him. And Madelyn had never given him an ultimatum. She’d never told him what to do about business. She’d never have considered it, except for Tina.
Tina scowled.
Madelyn passed by her, then snipped, “By the way, nice boob job.”
She left, the confrontation draining her. She didn’t want to do this cruise. She didn’t want to go head-to-head with Tina for the next three hours.
She didn’t want to use the baby as an excuse…but desperate times and all that.
Pierce was waiting for her on the dock, talking to Vince Marshall.
“Would you excuse us for one moment, Vince?” she said politely.
“Of course, I’ll catch up with Tina and meet you on the boat.”
She smiled and nodded as he walked back to the harbormaster’s building.
“What is it, love?” Concerned, worried, about her.
“I thought morning sickness was only in the morning. I’m sorry—I fear if I get on that boat, I’ll be ill again. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Nonsense,” he said. He took her hand, kissed it. “You will never embarrass me.” He put their joined hands on her stomach. The warmth and affection in his eyes made her fall in love with him again. She felt like she loved Pierce a little more every day. “I can meet with Vince tomorrow. I’ll go back to the house with you.”
“This business meeting is important to you, isn’t it?”
“It might be.”
“Then go. Enjoy it. I can get home myself. Isn’t that what Ubers are for?”
“A sunset is not as pretty without the woman I love holding my hand.”
She wanted him home with her, but this was best. They had separate lives, at least in business; she didn’t want to pressure him in any way, just because she detested Tina. “I will wait up for you.”
He leaned over and kissed her. Gently. As if she would break. “Take good care of the woman I love, Bump,” he said to her stomach.
She melted, kissed him again, then turned and walked back down the dock, fighting an overwhelming urge to go back and ask Pierce to come home with her.
But she wouldn’t do it. It was silly and childish. Instead, she would go home, read a good book, and prepare a light meal for when Pierce came home. Then she would make love to her husband and put her past—and that hideous leech Tina Marshall—firmly out of her mind.
*
Jamie already regretted leaving Friday Harbor.
She listened to Cal’s message twice, then deleted it and cleaned up after dinner. Hazel was watching her half hour of PAW Patrol before bath, books, and bed.
Her dad’s remote house near Rogue Harbor was on the opposite side of the island from where they lived. Peaceful, quiet, what she thought she needed, especially since her dad wasn’t here. He was an airline pilot and had a condo in Seattle that he lived in more often than not, coming up here only when he had more than two days off in a row.
She left because she was hurt. She had every right to be hurt, dammit! But now that she was here, she wondered if she’d made a mistake.
Cal hadn’t technically cheated on her. But he also hadn’t told her that his ex-girlfriend was living on the island, not until the woman befriended her. She wouldn’t have thought twice about it except for the fact that Cal had hidden it from her.
She had a bad habit of running away from any hint of approaching drama. She hated conflict and would avoid it at all costs. Her mother was drama personified. How many times had young Jamie run to her dad’s house to get away from her mother’s bullshit? Finally when she was fifteen she permanently moved in with her dad, changed schools, and her mother didn’t say squat.
“You should have stayed and talked it out,” she mumbled to herself as she dried the dishes. The only bad thing about her dad’s place was that there was no dishwasher.
But Cal was coming to see her tonight. He didn’t run away from conflict. She wanted to fix this but didn’t know how because she was hurt. But he had to work, so she figured she had a few hours to think everything through. To know the right thing to do.
“Just tell him. Tell him how you feel.”
Her phone buzzed and at first she thought it was an Amber Alert, because it was an odd sound.
Instead, it was an emergency alert from the San Juan Island Sheriff’s Office.

19:07 SJSO ALERT! VESSEL EXPLOSION ONE MILE OUT FROM FRIDAY HARBOR, INJURIES UNKNOWN. ALL VESSELS AVOID FRIDAY HARBOR UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
Her stomach flipped and she grabbed the counter when a wave of dizziness washed over her.
She turned on the small television in the kitchen and switched to the local news. She watched in horror as the news anchor reported that a West End Charter yacht had exploded after leaving for a sunset cruise. He confirmed that it was the Water Lily and did not know at this time if there were survivors. Search and rescue crews were already out on the water, and authorities advised all vessels to dock immediately.
Cal had been scheduled to work the Water Lily tonight.
Hazel laughed at something silly on PAW Patrol. Jamie caught her breath, then suddenly tears fell. How could—? No. Not Cal. She loved him and even if they had problems, he loved Hazel more than anything in the world. He was the best father she could have hoped for. Hazel wasn’t planned, but she was loved so much, and Cal had made it clear that he was sticking, from the very beginning. How could she forget that? How could she have forgotten that Cal had never made her feel inadequate, he’d never hurt her, he always told her she could do anything she wanted? He was always there for her…when she was bedridden with Hazel for two months. When she broke her wrist and Hazel was still nursing, he held the baby to her breast every four hours. Changed every diaper. He sang to Hazel, read her books, giggled with her in makeshift blanket forts when thunder scared her.
And now he was gone.
There could be survivors. You have to go.
She couldn’t bring Hazel to the dock. The search, the sirens, the fear that filled the town. It would terrify the three-year-old.
But she couldn’t stay here. Cal needed her—injured or not, he needed her and she loved him. It was as simple as that. Rena would watch Hazel so Jamie could find Cal, make sure he was okay.
“Hazel, we’re going home.”
“I wanna sleep at Grandpa’s!”
“I forgot to feed Tabby.” Tabby was a stray cat who had adopted their carport on cold or rainy nights. He wouldn’t come into the house, and only on rare occasions would let Jamie pet him, but she’d started feeding him. Hazel had of course named him after a cat on her favorite show.
“Oh, Mommy! We gotta go rescue Tabby!”
And just like that, Hazel was ready.
Please, God, please please please please make Cal okay.
*
Ashley Dunlap didn’t like lying to her sister, but Whitney couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and if Whitney said one word to their dad about Ashley’s involvement with Island Protectors, she’d be grounded until she graduated—and maybe even longer.
“We’re going to be late,” Whitney said.
“Dad will understand,” Ashley said, looking through the long lens of her camera at the West End Charter boat leaving port. She snapped a couple pictures, though they were too far away to see anything.
She was just one of several monitors who were keeping close tabs on West End boats in the hopes that they would catch them breaking the law. West End may have been able to convince most people in town that they had cleaned up their act, and some even believed their claims that the leakage two years ago was an accident, but as the founder of IP Donna Bell said time and time again, companies always put profit over people. And just because they hadn’t caught them breaking the law didn’t mean that they weren’t breaking the law. It was IP who documented the faulty fuel tanks two years ago that leaked their nasty fuel all over the coast. Who knows how many fish died because of their crimes? How long it would take the ecosystem to recover?
“Ash, Dad said not a minute past eight, and it’s already seven thirty. It’s going to take us thirty minutes just to dock and secure the boat.”
“It’s a beautiful evening,” Ashley said, turning her camera away from the Water Lily and toward the shore. Another boat was preparing to leave, but the largest yacht in the fleet—The Tempest—was already out with a group of fifty whale watching west of the island in the Haro Strait. Bobby and his brother were out that way, monitoring The Tempest.
Ashley was frustrated. They just didn’t have people who cared enough to take the time to monitor West End. There were only about eight or nine of them who were willing to spend all their free time standing up to West End, tracking their boats, making sure they were obeying the rules.
Everyone else just took West End’s word for it.
Whitney sighed. “I could tell Dad the sail snagged.”
“You can’t lie to save your life, sis,” Ashley said. “We’ll just tell him the truth. It’s a beautiful night and we got distracted by the beauty of the islands.”
Whitney laughed, then smiled. “It is pretty, isn’t it? Think those pictures are going to turn out? It’s getting a little choppy.”
“Some of them might,” she said.
Ashley turned her camera back to the Water Lily. The charter was still going only five knots as they left the harbor. She snapped a few pictures, saw that Neil Devereaux was piloting today. She liked Neil—he spent a lot of time at the Fish & Brew talking to her dad and anyone else who came in. He’d only lived here for a couple years, but he seemed like a native of the small community. She’d talked to him about the pollution problem from West End, and he kept saying that West End fixed the problem with the old tanks and he’d seen nothing to suggest that they had other problems or cut corners on the repairs. He told her he would look around, and if anything was wrong, he’d bring it to the Colfax family’s attention.
But could she believe him? Did he really care or was he just trying to get her to go away and leave West End alone?
Neil looked over at their sailboat, and both she and Whitney waved. He blew the horn and waved back.
A breeze rattled the sail, and Whitney grabbed the beam. “Shit!” she said.
Ashley put her camera back in its case and caught the rope dangling from the mast. “You good, Whit?”
“Yeah, it just slipped. Beautiful scenery is distracting. I got it.”
Whitney bent down to secure the line, and Ashley turned back toward the Water Lily as it passed the one-mile marker and picked up speed.
The bow shook so hard she thought they might have hit something, then a fireball erupted, shot into the air along with wood and—oh, God, people!—bright orange, then black smoke billowed from the Water Lily. The stern kept moving forward, the boat in two pieces—the front destroyed, the back collapsing.
Whitney screamed and Ashley stared. She saw a body in the water among the debris. The flames went out almost immediately, but the smoke filled the area.
“We have to help them,” Ashley said. “Whitney—”
Then a second explosion sent a shock wave toward their sailboat and it was all they could do to keep from going under themselves. Sirens on the shore sounded the alarm, and Ashley and Whitney headed back to the harbor as the sheriff’s rescue boats went toward the disaster.
Taking a final look back, Ashley pulled out her camera and took more pictures. If West End was to blame for this, Ashley would make sure they paid. Neil was a friend, a good man, like a grandfather to her. He…he couldn’t have survived. Could he?
She stared at the smoking boat, split in two.
No. She didn’t see how anyone survived that.
Tears streamed down her face and as soon as she and Whitney were docked, she hugged her sister tight.
I’ll get them, Neil. I promise you, I’ll prove that West End cut corners and killed you and everyone else.

Excerpted from The Wrong Victim by Allison Brennan, Copyright © 2022 by Allison Brennan. Published by MIRA Books.

 

 

ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over thirty novels. She has been nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets.

Social Links:

Author website: https://www.allisonbrennan.com/
Facebook: @AllisonBrennan
Twitter: @Allison_Brennan
Instagram: @abwrites
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/52527.Allison_Brennan

 

 

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The Sorority Murder by Allison Brennan -Review & Excerpt

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The Sorority Murder by Allison Brennan – Review & Excerpt

 

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Description:
A popular sorority girl. An unsolved murder. A campus podcast with chilling repercussions.  

Lucas Vega is obsessed with the death of Candace Swain, who left a sorority party one night and never came back. Her body was found after two weeks, but the case has grown cold. Three years later while interning at the medical examiner’s, Lucas discovers new information, but the police are not interested.

Lucas knows he has several credible pieces of the puzzle. He just isn’t sure how they fit together. So he creates a podcast to revisit Candace’s last hours. Then he encourages listeners to crowdsource what they remember and invites guest lecturer Regan Merritt, a former US marshal, to come on and share her expertise.

New tips come in that convince Lucas and Regan they are onto something. Then shockingly one of the podcast callers turns up dead. Another hints at Candace’s secret life, a much darker picture than Lucas imagined—and one that implicates other sorority sisters. Regan uses her own resources to bolster their theory and learns that Lucas is hiding his own secret. The pressure is on to solve the murder, but first Lucas must come clean about his real motives in pursuing this podcast—before the killer silences him forever.

 

 

Review:

The Sorority Murder by Allison Brennan is a standalone suspense novel. The story starts off with a podcast of a cold case, with Lucas Vegas (a criminology student), concentrating on the unsolved three-year disappearance and murder of student Candace Swain.  The police suspect a homeless man of killing Swain, with the man never found; but Lucas believes otherwise, and asks those who remember anything of the murder to call into the podcast.  Lucas tries to put some pieces together, but with the recommendation of his advisor, he convinces former US Marshall Regan Merritt, who has just returned to visit her father, to join the podcast and use her expertise to help him in putting the pieces together.

Regan left her job, after the terrible death of her young son; and stays with her father; the case does get her attention, and she and Lucas work well together.  Soon the podcast opens a can of worms, with many members of the Sorority not happy to have this opened again, especially with some of them calling in new information anonymously. After a few days of the podcast, Regan warns Lucas to keep his eyes open, and lock all doors, since the podcast seems is opening long-buried secrets. Regan is an excellent investigator, using her expertise to interview former and current students; unraveling truths from the past, and she is mostly the lead in this story, working with Lucas.

What follows is an exciting, chilling, action packed adventure that had me unable to put the book down. When someone is found dead, and other attempts to stop the podcast, Regan begins to suspect someone, but cannot prove anything; she also learns from Lucas, another reason he was determined to open this cold case, which did lead to Swain’s murder. Regan escalates her investigations, and worries that with the attacks on some sorority sisters, Lucas could very well be in danger. 

The last third of the book had me on the edge of my seat, as the tension increases and lives are on the line.  The Sorority Murder was an exciting, fascinating story, wonderful heroine, great secondary characters and wild climatic ending.  If you enjoy suspense, whodunit, murder mystery, you should read The Sorority Murder, which was very well written by Allison Brennan.

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

 

One
Three Years Ago
Friday, April 10

Candace Swain forced a smile as she walked out of her dorm room.
Smiling was the last thing she wanted to do, but Candace had an image to uphold.
She was going to be late for the Sigma Rho Spring Fling—the last big party before the end-of-year crunch. Studying for finals, capstones and senior projects, stress and more stress, and—for some of them—graduation.
The mild April weather was perfect for an outdoor gathering. Candace had led the sorority’s social-events committee with setup, and they’d included heat lamps along the perimeter. The Mountain View dorm—which housed all campus sororities, each with their own wing—was on the northeast corner of campus, adjacent to the football field. The Spring Fling was held on the large lawn that framed the north entrance, where they had the most room. It was open to all students for a five-dollar admission, and was one of the biggest moneymakers for the sorority, more than charities. Candace had fought for—and won—giving the profits to a rescue mission that helped people get back on their feet. She volunteered weekly for Sunrise Center, and it had changed how she viewed herself and her future. She now planned to be a nurse in the inner city, working for a clinic or public hospital, where people deserved quality health care, even if they were struggling. She even considered specializing in drug and alcohol issues, which were unfortunately prevalent among the homeless community.
She used to think of her volunteerism as penance for her failings. She wasn’t religious but had had enough preaching from her devout grandmother to have absorbed things like guilt, penance, sacrifice. Now, she looked forward to Tuesdays when she gave six hours of her time to those who were far worse off than she. It reminded her to be grateful for what she had, that things could be worse.
Candace exited through the north doors and stood at the top of the short flight of stairs that led to the main lawn. Though still early in the evening, the party was already hopping. Music played from all corners of the yard, the din of voices and laughter mingling with a popular song. In the dusk, the towering mountains to the north were etched in fading light. She breathed deeply. She loved everything about Flagstaff. The green mountains filled with pine and juniper. The crisp, fresh air. The sense of community and belonging felt so natural here, something she’d never had growing up in Colorado Springs. With graduation on the horizon, she had been feeling a sense of loss, knowing she was going to miss this special place.
She wasn’t close to her parents, who divorced right before she started high school and still fought as much as they did when they were married. She desperately missed her younger sister, Chrissy, a freshman at the University of South Carolina. She’d wanted Chrissy to come here for college, but Chrissy was a champion swimmer and had received a full scholarship to study practically a world away. Candace had no plans to return to Colorado Springs, but she didn’t know if she wanted to follow her sister to the East Coast or head down to Phoenix where they had some of the best job opportunities for what she wanted to do.
Vicky Ryan, a first year student who had aspirations of leadership, ran up to her.
“That weirdo is back,” Vicky said quietly. “Near the west steps. Just loitering there, freaking people out. Should I call campus police?”
Candace frowned. The man Vicky was referring to was Joseph, and he wasn’t really a weirdo. He was an alcoholic, and mostly homeless, who sometimes wandered onto campus and wouldn’t accept the help he had been repeatedly offered. He wasn’t violent, just confused, and sometimes got lost in his own head, largely from how alcohol had messed with his mind and body. But his problems understandably made her sorority sisters uncomfortable. He’d twice been caught urinating against the wall outside their dorm; both times, he’d been cited by campus police. He wasn’t supposed to be on campus at all anymore, and Candace knew they’d arrest him if he was caught.
“I’ll take care of it,” Candace said and made her way around the edge of the party.
She found Joseph on the narrow grassy knoll that separated the football field from the dorms. A small group of students approached her, but one in their group turned toward the grass, likely to confront Joseph.
Candace walked faster, caught up with the student, and smiled brightly. “I got this.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll handle him.”
“I said I will take care of this. I know him. But thank you anyway.”
Mr. Macho didn’t want to walk away, yet Candace stood firm. She didn’t want anyone to harass Joseph, and she knew he would listen to her. While he wasn’t violent, he could be belligerent, and being confronted by a jerk wanting to impress his girlfriend was a surefire way to trigger Joseph and have him dig in his heels. It would only lead to an arrest, and that wasn’t going to help him in the long run.
The group walked off, grumbling; Candace ignored them. She approached Joseph cautiously, so as not to startle him. “Joseph, it’s Candace,” she said. “Remember me? From Sunrise Center?”
He turned slowly at the sound of her voice. A tall man, nearly six foot four, he could intimidate people. But he was also skinny and hunched over from years of walking the streets and looking down, rummaging through garbage, with his hangdog face, ragged salt-and-pepper beard, and watery blue eyes. He was the kind of guy her grandmother would have called a bum—dressed in multiple layers of dirty, mismatched clothes, and smelling of dirt and stale beer. He looked about sixty, but she knew that he was only in his early forties. She’d heard he’d been living along Route 66 for the better part of ten years. The people who ran Sunrise Center didn’t know much about his personal life, only that when he was sober (which was rare), he would talk about home being east, at the “end of the line.” But no one knew if that meant Chicago or any of the stops in between.
Candace wanted to know more about his story, how he came to be in these circumstances, why he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—accept help. Many of the homeless who came to Sunrise for shelter or food would talk to her freely. But not Joseph. When she’d pried once, he disappeared for a while, so she stopped asking. She would rather him be safe than riding the rails, which was dangerous.
“Candace,” he said slowly after several moments.
“You can’t be here, Joseph. The campus police told you that. Don’t you remember?”
He didn’t say anything or acknowledge that he understood what she said.
“Would you like me to take you over to Sunrise Center? You can get a hot meal there, maybe a cot for the night.”
Again, silence. He turned away from her but didn’t leave.
She really didn’t want to call campus police, but if she didn’t do something, someone else would.
“Is there a reason you are here?” she asked.
“Leave me alone,” he said.
“I will, but you have to leave. Otherwise someone is going to call the police.” If they haven’t already.
He abruptly turned toward her, staggered on the slope of the lawn. His sudden movement startled her; she stepped back.
“No cops!” he shouted.
“You have to leave, Joseph,” she said, emphatic. Her heart pounded in her chest, not so much from fear but uncertainty. “Please go.”
Again, he turned abruptly, this time staggering down the short slope toward the stadium fence. She held her breath, watching him. He almost ran into the fence, put his arms out to stop himself, then just stood there. A minute later, he shuffled along the field perimeter, shoulders hunched, without looking back.
She breathed easier, relieved that he was heading off campus. She would talk to the director of Sunrise on Tuesday, when she went in to volunteer. Joseph couldn’t keep coming here, but she didn’t really want to call the authorities on him. He needed help, not more trouble, and definitely not incarceration.
Candace was about to return to the party when she heard someone call her name. She turned and saw one of her former tutoring students, Lucas Vega, running toward her. She didn’t want to talk to Lucas tonight. How many times did she have to tell him to leave her alone?
She stopped anyway and waited.
“Candace,” he said, catching his breath. “Thanks.”
“What do you want?” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry,” she said bluntly.
“I didn’t mean to upset you the other day. I am sorry about that.”
She blinked. He sounded so sincere. And truth be told, something he’d said to her a few days earlier made her think long and hard about herself, her life, and the time she’d spent as a student at Northern Arizona University.
A lie for a good reason is still a lie.
Lucas and his wide-eyed, good-natured innocence, his innocuous questions had her feeling guilty for no reason. He had picked up on that. And pushed.
No reason? Ha. Plenty of reasons. All these doubts and worries she’d been having this semester, the sleepless nights, all came from something she’d done as a freshman that she now had good reason to regret. But what could she do about it? What would come of the truth now?
Maybe there was no good reason to lie.
“All right,” she said. “Thank you.” It was easier to forgive Lucas than to hold on to this anger. None of what happened was Lucas’s fault.
“So will you tutor me again, for finals?”
“No. Afraid not.” She could forgive him for prying, but she really needed first to forgive herself. And she didn’t know if she could do that with Lucas around, reminding her of her failures and mistakes. He didn’t even know what she’d done, but seeing him now was like reliving the past, and her chest tightened. “I’m sorry, but I have too much studying of my own, too many tests. And I’m not working at the writing lab anymore.”
Because of you.
Was that even fair? Was it because of Lucas…or because of her own guilt?
He was disappointed, but that wasn’t her problem.
“Okay, I understand,” he said.
“Besides, you’re smart. You’ll be fine.”
He shrugged. “Thanks.”
“Uh, you want to come to the party?” She gestured over her shoulder. They could hear the music from where they stood. “I’ll get you a pass. Won’t even cost you the five bucks.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m not really one for parties. But thanks anyway.”
He turned to leave.
“Lucas,” she said. He looked at her over his shoulder. “I’m really sorry.”
Then she left him there, waiting for something she couldn’t give him.
It took Candace several minutes before she could work up the courage to return to the party. An idea she’d been thinking about for the last few months was now fully developed, as if something inside clicked after her brief conversation with Lucas. Everything shifted into place, and she knew what she needed to do; it was the only thing she could do.
No one was going to like her decision.
When she realized she no longer cared what anyone thought, a burden lifted from her heart. She was certain then that she was doing the right thing.
Everyone at the party was asking for Candace, and Vicky had become worried when her friend and mentor hadn’t returned after thirty minutes. She sought out Taylor James, the Sigma Rho president, and told her about the homeless guy. “I don’t know where Candace is,” she said. “I should have just called campus police.”
“Candace says he’s harmless,” Taylor said, frowning. “Sometimes she’s so naive. I’ll go look for her.”
“Thanks. The party is great by the way. Everyone seems to be having fun. How does it compare to previous years?” This was the first party Vicky had helped put together for the sorority, so she was eager to know how well she’d done.
“As good or better,” Taylor said with a wide smile.
Vicky tried not to gloat as she practically floated over to her friends chatting near one of the heat lamps. It wasn’t cold, but the warmth of the heat lamp and the glow from the string lights added terrific ambience to the place.
“Oh my God, Vicky, this is a blast,” her roommate, Nicole Bergamo, said. Nicole was a half-Black, half-Italian math major who could have easily been a model she was so tall and stunning. “Everyone is talking about how great it is.”
Vicky smiled, talked for a bit, then moved around, being social, doing all the things that she’d seen Sigma Rho board members do. Hundreds of people were dancing, talking, mingling, eating, drinking, playing games. Mostly, they were having fun, which was the whole purpose. When the new Sigma Rho advisor, Rachel Wagner, told her it was the best Sigma Rho party she’d been to ever, Vicky thought she’d never come down from cloud nine.
“I agree,” said the gorgeous woman who was with Rachel. “I’m Kimberly Foster, by the way,” she introduced herself. “I’m a sorority alum, and I’m so happy I came up this weekend. You’ve done a fantastic job. Rachel said you’re part of the social-events committee. Isn’t Candace leading the committee? I haven’t seen her yet.”
“Yes, she’s around,” Vicky said. “This is all her vision. We just implemented it.”
“I love Candace. Oh! I see her over there.”
Vicky looked to where Kimberly was gesturing. Candace was talking in a small group.
“I’m going to catch up with her,” Kimberly said. “Nice to meet you, Vicky.”
The two women walked away, and Vicky continued her rounds. She was having a blast as her worries that the party might flop were replaced with pride and satisfaction over its success.
Hours later it was midnight, and per city ordinance—because their dorm bordered a public street—they had to cut off the music. That put a damper on things, but it was fine with Vicky—she was exhausted after working all day prepping and all night making sure everything was running smoothly. She was a little miffed that Candace was hardly there: Vicky had only caught a glimpse of her twice. But whatever, she’d seemed preoccupied, and that would have been a party downer.
Vicky ran into the dorm to get extra trash bags—they had to clean up tonight so wild animals wouldn’t get into the garbage and create a bigger mess in the morning. She came back out and heard voices arguing near where the DJ had been set up. He’d already packed up and left. She couldn’t hear exactly what was being said. It seemed like a quiet, intense exchange between Taylor and Candace though Rachel and her guest Kimberly were there, too. Everyone, especially Taylor, seemed angry.
About sixty people were still milling around, mostly Sigma Rho sisters helping with the cleanup. Nicole came up to Vicky and said, “What are Candace and Taylor fighting about?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Nicole said. “I heard Taylor call Candace a selfish bitch.”
“Ouch. Well, Rachel is there. She’ll mediate.”
But Rachel looked angry as well; it seemed that Candace was on one side, and the other three women were yelling at her.
“You’re wrong!” Candace screamed, and Vicky jumped. She glanced at Nicole, who looked perplexed as well. Vicky handed her a garbage bag, and they both started picking up trash. She didn’t want anyone to think she was eavesdropping.
But she was. As she inched closer to the group, she heard Kimberly say, “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? When everyone has had a good night’s sleep and we can all think more clearly.”
“I am thinking clearly,” Candace said. “I’m done. Just…done.”
She left, walked right past Vicky without even seeing her. There were tears in Candace’s eyes, and Vicky didn’t know if she was angry or upset, but probably both. Vicky thought about going after her to make sure she was okay, then felt a hand on her shoulder.
She jumped, then laughed nervously when she saw Rachel. Taylor and Kim had walked away in the other direction.
“Sorry. You startled me.”
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Rachel said.
“I didn’t, really. Just saw that Taylor and Candace were arguing about something. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“It’s going to be fine. Just a little disagreement that Candace took personally.”
“About the party?” Vicky asked, her insecurities rising that she’d messed up something.
“Oh, no, the party was perfect. Don’t worry about that.”
Relieved, she said, “Maybe I should go talk to Candace.”
“No, let her be. I’ve known her since she was a freshman and took my Intro to Bio class. She has a big heart, and sometimes you can’t help everyone.”
Now Vicky understood, or thought she did. Taylor had been the most vocal about the creepy homeless guy hanging around the dorms, and she’d been the one who’d called campus police last time, after Candace said not to.
“Let me help,” Rachel said and took a garbage bag from Vicky’s stash.
Rachel chatted with Vicky, who felt lucky to be able to spend so much one-on-one time with her sorority advisor. Rachel was so smart, an associate professor at just thirty-two, an alum of the University of Arizona Sigma Rho chapter. Plus she had such interesting stories to share. By the time they were done with the cleanup—it didn’t take long with so many people working together—Vicky had forgotten all about the argument between Candace and Taylor.
It was the last time anyone saw Candace alive.

Excerpted from The Sorority Murder by Allison Brennan, Copyright © 2021 by Allison Brennan. Published by MIRA Books.

 


 

ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels. She has been nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets. The Sorority Murder is the first of a new mass market series,

 

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Author website: https://www.allisonbrennan.com/
Facebook: @AllisonBrennan
Twitter: @Allison_Brennan
Instagram: @abwrites
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/52527.Allison_Brennan

 

 

 

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Tell No Lies by Allison Brennan – Review & Excerpt

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Tell No Lies by Allison Brennan – Review & Excerpt

 

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Description:
Something mysterious is killing the wildlife in the mountains just south of Tucson. When a college intern turned activist sets out to collect her own evidence, she, too, ends up dead. Local law enforcement is slow to get involved. That’s when the mobile FBI unit goes undercover to infiltrate the town and its copper refinery in search of possible leads.

Quinn and Costa find themselves scouring the desolate landscape, which keeps revealing clues to something much darker—greed, child trafficking and more death. As the body count adds up, it’s clear they have stumbled onto much more than they bargained for. Now they must figure out who is at the heart of this mayhem and stop them before more innocent lives are lost.

 

 

 

Review:

Tell No Lies by Allison Brennan is the 2nd book in her Quinn & Costa Thriller series. The series revolves around Detective Kara Quinn and FBI Agent, Matt Costa.  Matt runs the new Mobile Response Team, which Kara is on loan from her LA Police job.  Tell No Lies starts off with a young girl (an activist), hiking with her boyfriend, as she leaves him behind to looks for clues as to water poisoning, and the girl ends up dead.  Matt brings his team into this mysterious case, with Kara going undercover as a bartender in the local area, and Michael goes undercover to work with a business that is suspected of dumping dangerous chemicals.  Matt has many of his team set in various places, as they slowly try to filter out what and who is behind it. 

Soon they will discover that there is more to what is happening, such as murder, drug cartel and human trafficking. From the beginning there were so many different pieces of the puzzle, which was a bit confusing, trying to understand if this was connected or different villains. 

What I loved about this story was getting to know the main characters, Matt, Kara, Ryder, Michael and others we meet along the way, and learn how those going undercover can handle their dangerous situations.  I loved Kara, as she was a wonderful heroine, as I noted that in the first book.  She was a great detective, experienced in undercover work, and was very empathic when children were involved; as she was insistent to Matt and the team that something else was going on with children. 

What follows is an intense, pulse pounding thriller from start to finish.  As I said there were so many different elements to the story, you needed to pay attention all the way through.  When a member of the family owning the company in question is murdered, everything is escalated, which will affect almost everyone in the family.  Who was truly behind what was happening? Was this human trafficking or drug cartel?

As we got closer to the tense climax, the danger escalated in this heart stopping thriller, with so many people involved, including the evil cartel villians; and we worried who would survive.   I could not put the book down, as the suspense was amazing.  Tell No Lies was so well written by Allison Brennan, that I fully recommend you read this fantastic exciting edge of your seat thriller.

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

Prologue
Two months ago
Tucson, Arizona

Billy Nixon had been waiting his whole life to have sex with Emma Perez. Okay, not all his life. Two and a half years. It just felt that way since he’d fallen in love with her the day they met in Microeconomics, on his first day of classes at the University of Arizona. Love at first sight is a cliché, and until that moment in time Billy didn’t believe in any of that bullshit. His parents were divorced, his older sister had been in and out of bad relationships since she was fifteen, and his friends slept around as if the apocalypse was upon them.
But in the back of his mind, he remembered the story about how his grandparents met the day before his grandfather shipped off to the Korean War, how they wrote letters every week, and how three years later his grandfather came home and they married. They were married for fifty-six years before his grandfather died; his grandmother died three months later.
That’s what Billy wanted. Without having to go to war.
It took Emma two years before the same feeling clicked inside her. They’d been friends. They both dated other people (well, Billy pretended to date because he couldn’t in good conscience lead another girl on when he knew that he didn’t care about her like he cared about Emma). But it was three months ago, when Emma lost her ride home to Denver for the Christmas holidays and he found her crying in her dorm room, that he said, “I’ll drive you there,” even though he was a Tucson native and lived with his dad to save money.
From then on, she looked at him differently. Like her eyes had been opened and she saw in him what he saw in her. From that point on, they were inseparable.
The morning after they first made love, Billy knew there was no other girl, no other woman, with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Call him a romantic, but Emma was it. He had started saving money for a ring. They were finishing up their third year of college, so had a year left, but that was okay. He did well in school and had a part-time job. He already had a job lined up for the summer in Phoenix that paid well, and he could live there cheaply with his sister—though the thought of spending two months with his emotional, self-absorbed sibling was a big negative. And the idea of leaving Emma for two months made him miserable. But if he did this, he’d have enough money, not only for a ring, but to get an apartment when they graduated. And—maybe—his job this summer would be a permanent thing when he was done with college next spring, which meant he’d have stability. Something he desperately wanted to provide for Emma.
Emma rolled over in bed and sighed. He loved when his dad was out of town and he had the house to himself, since they had no privacy in Emma’s dorm. Billy kissed the top of her head. He thought she was still sleeping, or in that dreamy state right before you wake up. It wasn’t even dawn, but how could he go back to sleep with Emma Perez naked in his bed?
“Billy?” she said.
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Anything.” “I need to go to Mount Wrightson today. The Patagonia side of the mountain.”
“Okay.”
An odd request, but Emma spent a lot of time these days in the Santa Rita Mountains and surrounding areas. She was a business and environmental sciences double major who worked part-time at the Arizona Resources and Environmental Agency—AREA, as they called it—the state environmental protection agency.
“For work, school or fun?” he said.
“Last week my Geology class went out to Mount Wrightson and we hiked partway down the Arizona Trail. I noticed several dead birds off the trail. My professor didn’t think it was anything, but it bothered me. So I talked to my boss, Frank, at work, and he said if my professor didn’t think it was unusual, then it wasn’t. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so went back a couple days ago on my own. One of the closed trails has been used recently. And I found more dead birds, more than a dozen.”
“Which means what?”
“I don’t know yet, but birds are especially vulnerable to contaminated water because of their small size and metabolism. Remember when I told you my boss got an anonymous letter two years ago? Signed A Concerned Citizen and postmarked from Patagonia? The letter writer claimed that several local people were being made sick and that the water supply was tainted. Frank tested the water supply himself after that, but he didn’t find anything abnormal. So he dismissed it. But no one has been able to explain why those people were sick.”
“And remember—there was no evidence that anyone was sick,” Billy said. “The letter was anonymous. It could have just been a disgruntled prankster. Didn’t Frank talk to the health center about the complaint? Didn’t he investigate the local copper refinery?”
“Yes,” she said and sighed in a way that made him feel like he was missing something. “Maybe two years ago it wasn’t real,” she said in a way that made Billy think she really didn’t believe that. “But now my gut tells me something’s going on, and I want to know what.”
“You told your boss about the dead birds. You said he was a good guy, right?”
“Yeah, but I think he still thinks I’m a tree hugger.”
“You certainly gave that impression when you first started there and questioned their entire record-keeping process and the way Frank had conducted that original investigation.”
“I’ve apologized a hundred times. I realize now how much goes into keeping accurate records, and that AREA uses one of the best systems in the country. I’ve learned so much from Frank. I really believe I can make a difference now, and be smart about it too. All I want is to give him facts, Billy. And the only way I can do that is if I go back up there.”
Billy didn’t have the same passion for the environment that Emma had, but he loved her commitment to nature and how she continued to learn and adapt to new and changing technologies and ideas.
“Whatever you want to do, I’m with you,” he said. He’d follow her through the Amazon jungle if she asked him to.
“It’s going to be a beautiful day,” she said, as if he needed encouragement to do anything for her. “I just want to check out the trails near where I found the second flock of birds. We can have a picnic, make a day out of it.”
“Good call, bribing me with food.”
She smiled. “I can bribe you with something else too.” Then she kissed him.
* * *
An hour later the sun was up and they stopped for breakfast in the tiny town of Sonoita, southeast of Tucson where Highways 82 and 83 intersected. Emma had been quiet the entire drive, taking notes while analyzing a topo map.
As they ate, Emma showed him the map and her notes. “The dead birds I found last week with the class were Mexican jays. The ones I found after that on my own were trogons. I’ve been studying both of their migration patterns. The jays have a wider range. The trogons are much more localized. It seems unlikely that they just dropped dead out of the sky for no reason. I’m thinking, logically, they might have been poisoned. I don’t see any large body of water near where I found them, but there’s a pond here that forms during the rainy season.” She pointed.
While Billy couldn’t read a topo map to save his life, he trusted her thinking.
“That pond, or this stream—” she pointed again “—are right under one of their migration routes. I’ve also highlighted some other seasonal streams, here and here.”
“That seems like a huge area. North and south of Eighty-Two? How can we cover all of that in one day? Where are the roads?”
“We can hike.”
He frowned. Hike, sure. But this looked like a three-day deal.
“Emma, maybe you should talk to your boss again, show him the map and tell him what you suspect.”
“But I haven’t found anything yet—just on the map!”
Tears sprouted to her eyes, and Billy panicked. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Okay, what are we doing, then?”
“If you don’t want to help me, Billy, just say so.”
“I do, Emma. I just need to know the full plan, and I don’t understand your notes. I don’t even know where exactly I’m going.”
“This is the town of Patagonia, see?” She trailed her finger along one of the paths that went from Patagonia up the mountain. “And this is Mount Wrightson, to the north.”
Billy had hiked to the peak of Mount Wrightson once. He wasn’t into nature and hiking like Emma, but he liked being outdoors, so he took a conservation class that doubled as a science requirement. His idea of being outdoors was playing baseball or volleyball or riding his bike.
“Okay.”
“We need to hike halfway up Wrightson. I found a service road that I think we can use to get most of the way to the trailhead. Okay?”
“If you’re sure about this,” he said.
She frowned and looked back down at her map. He hated that he’d made her sad.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s fine.”
“You don’t want to go.”
“I do. I just don’t want us to get lost.”
She smiled sweetly at him. “Stick with me and you won’t.”
That was the smile he needed. He took her hand, interlocked their fingers. “I trust you.”
“Good.” She gave him a quick kiss, and they left the café and got back on the road.

Several hours later, Billy wasn’t as accommodating. They’d parked at the end of a dirt road near the trailhead halfway up the southeastern side of the mountain and been hiking through rough terrain ever since. The landscape was dotted with some trees and pines, but not as dense or pretty or green as on the top of the mountain. The land wasn’t dry—the wet winter and snow runoff had ensured that—so the area was hard to navigate, and the paths they were on weren’t maintained. Billy doubted they were trails at all.
The hiking had been fine up until lunch. At noon, they ate their picnic, which was a nice break, because then they had sex and relaxed in the middle of nature. It wasn’t quiet—they heard birds and a light breeze and the rustling of critters. A family of jackrabbits crossed only feet from them as they lay on the blanket Billy had brought. Afterward, Billy suggested they head back to the truck. He was tired, and they had already walked miles, which meant as many miles back to the truck.
But Emma didn’t want to leave. He was pretty sure she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but that she had this idea that if she walked long and far enough, she’d find evidence to support her theory that something nefarious had been happening out here to kill all those birds.
So Billy kept his mouth shut and followed her.
By four that afternoon, Billy was pretty sure Emma had gotten them lost. They had seemed to zigzag across the southern face of Mount Wrightson. He was tired, and even the birds had gone quiet, as if they were getting ready to settle in and nest for the night, even though sunset was still a few hours away.
He stopped next to a tree that was taller than most and that provided much-needed shade. It was only seventy-six degrees, but the sky was clear and the sun had been beating down on them all afternoon. He was glad he’d thought to bring sunscreen, otherwise they’d both be fried by now.
He dropped the large backpack he’d been carrying that contained their picnic stuff, blanket, water, first aid kit and emergency supplies. He knew enough about the desert not to go hiking without food and water to last at least twenty-four hours. Like if his truck didn’t start when they got back, they needed to be okay. So he had extra water—but he didn’t tell Emma that. It was for emergencies only.
“We’re down to our last water bottles,” he said. He’d paced himself so he had two left, whereas Emma had gone through all six of hers.
He handed her one of the two. “Drink.”
She sipped, handed it back to him. “Thirty more minutes, honey. See this?” She pointed to the damn map that he wanted to tear into pieces now, except without it he was positive they would be lost here forever. “That’s the large seasonal pond I was talking about. It’ll dry up before summer, according to the topo charts.”
How she could stay so cheerful when he was hot and tired and, frankly, bored, he didn’t know.
“How far?”
“Down this path, not more than two hundred yards. Three hundred, maybe.”
He looked at her. Implored her to let them start heading back.
“Why don’t you stay here and wait,” she said.
“You don’t mind?”
She smiled, walked over and kissed him. “Promise.”
Twenty minutes later she was back where Billy waited. She looked so sad and defeated. “I’m ready to go,” she said.
“We’ll come back next weekend, okay? We’ll bring a tent and food and camp overnight.”
She looked surprised at his suggestion, a smile on her face. “You mean that?”
“Absolutely.”
She threw her arms around him. “I love you, Billy Nixon.”
His heart nearly stopped. “I love you, too,” he said and held her. He wanted to freeze this moment, relive it every day of his life.
“We’re actually closer to your truck than you think—we made a circle. First we went north, then west, then south, now we’re going east again. When we get back to the main trail at the fork back there, we go left rather than right, and the truck is about half a mile up.”
He was impressed; he had underestimated her. Maybe they weren’t as lost as he thought; maybe he was the only one with a shitty sense of direction. But that was okay, because Emma loved him, and they were going to be together forever. He knew it in his heart and his head, and she’d always be there to navigate.
They drove down the mountain, the road rough at first, then it smoothed out as they got near town. They headed west on 82, deciding to drive the scenic route back to Tucson. Emma marked her map to highlight where they’d already walked, when suddenly she looked up. “Hey, can you get off here?”
“Have to pee again?”
“Ha ha. No. There’s several old roads that go south. Sonoita Creek, when it floods, cuts fast-flowing streams into the valley. We had a couple late storms this winter. I just want to check the area quickly—we’ll come back next weekend. But if I see anything that tells me the streams were running a few weeks ago, I want to come back here first. Okay? Please?”
Billy was tired, but Emma loved him, so he happily turned off the highway and followed her directions. They drove about a mile along a very rough unpaved road until they reached a narrow path. His truck couldn’t go down there—there were small cacti sprouting up all over the place, and the chances of him getting a flat increased exponentially.
Emma got out, and Billy reluctantly followed. She was excited. “See that grove of trees down there?”
He did. It looked more like overgrown brush, but it was greener than anything else around them.
“I’ll bet there’s still water. This is on the outer circle of where the birds could have flown from. I just want to check.”
“The path looks kinda steep and rocky. You sure about this?”
She kissed him. “I’m sure. Stay here, okay? I won’t be long.”
“Ten minutes.” “Fifteen.” She kissed him again, put her backpack on and headed down the path.

He sat in the back of his truck and watched Emma navigate the downward slope. He doubted this “path” had been used anytime in the last few years. From his vantage point, he saw several darker areas, plants dense and green, and suspected that Emma was right—this valley would get water after big storms.
Emma was beautiful and smart. What wasn’t to love?
He watched until she disappeared from view into the brush.
He frowned. He should have gone with her. Was he just sulking because he was tired and hungry?
Predators were out here—coyotes, bobcats, javelinas. Javelinas could be downright mean even if you did nothing to provoke them. Not to mention that these mountains bordered the corridor for trafficking illegal immigrants. Billy had taken a criminal justice class his freshman year and they touched upon that topic. He didn’t want to encounter a two-legged predator any more than one on four legs.
What kind of man was he if he couldn’t suck it up and help the woman he loved?
So he grabbed his backpack and headed down the path Emma had taken. He was in pretty good shape, but this hike had wasted him. Emma must have been fitter than he was, because she’d barely slowed down all day. After this, they’d go to his place, shower—maybe he could convince Emma to take a shower with him—and then he’d take her out to dinner. After all, they had something to celebrate: the first time they said “I love you.” They’d go to El Charro, maybe. It was Billy’s favorite Mexican food in Tucson, not too expensive, great food. Take an Uber so they could have a couple of drinks.
He wished he were there right now. His stomach growled as he stumbled and then caught himself before he fell on his ass.
He was halfway down the hill when a scream pierced the mountainside. Billy ran the rest of the way down the narrow, rocky trail. “Emma!”
No answer.
He yelled louder for her. “Emma! Emma!”
He slipped when the trail made a sudden drop as it went steeply down to a small pond—the seasonal one that Emma must have been looking for. The beauty of the spot with its trees and boulders all around was striking in the desert, and for a split second he thought it was a mirage. Then all he could think about was that Emma had been bitten by a rattlesnake, or had fallen into the water, or had slipped and broken her leg.
But she didn’t respond to his repeated calls.
“Emma!”
He stood on the edge of the pond, frantically searching for her. Looking for wild animals, a bobcat that she may have surprised. A herd of javelinas that might have attacked her. Anything.
Movement to his right startled him, and he turned around quickly.
In the shade, he saw someone. He shouted, wondering if Emma was disorientated or had gone the wrong way. But whatever he thought he saw was now gone.
Then he saw her.
Emma’s body was half in, half out of the pond, a good hundred feet beyond him, obscured in part by an outcrop of large rocks on the water’s edge. He ran to her and dropped to his knees. His first thought was that she had slipped and hit her head. Some blood glistened on her scalp.
“Emma, where are you hurt? Emma?”
She didn’t respond. Then he saw the blood on a hand-sized rock on the edge of the pond. And he felt more blood on the back of her skull.
“No, no, no!”
He saw her chest rise and fall. She was alive, but unconscious. He pulled out his phone, but there was no signal. He had to get help, but he couldn’t leave her here.
Billy picked Emma up and, as quickly as he could, carried her up the steep hillside to his truck.
As he drove back to the main road, he called 911. An ambulance met him in the closest town, Patagonia.
But by then Emma was already dead.

Excerpted from Tell No Lies by Allison Brennan, Copyright © 2021 by Allison Brennan. Published by MIRA Books.

 


 

 

ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over thirty novels. She has been nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets.

Social Links:
Author website: https://www.allisonbrennan.com/
Facebook: @AllisonBrennan
Twitter: @Allison_Brennan
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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/52527.Allison_Brennan

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