CONTESTS & FUN
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Entry Deadline Feb. 24th
time for another "Friends" Book GiveAway this month. To
celebrate the romance of Valentine's Day, I'm giving away a
collection of books by various authors, representing
different romance genres. Because this prize will involve
more shipping costs to the winner, I'm asking that entrants
be limited to United States mailing addresses. And for all
my international readers, don't worry, I'll be back next
month with a giveaway that all of you can enter!
read the excerpt from my
March 17 release, KANSAS CITY COVER-UP, the first book in my
Precinct: cold Case miniseries. Answer the easy question at
the end. Then email me your answer, along with your U.S.
mailing address. My dog, Maggie, will put her nose to work
and select a winner from amongst all the correct entries.
Deadline to enter is February 24th.
Rules for Julie's Contests
- One entry per person.
- By entering, entrants grant
permission for their name to be posted on the Julie Miller web site at
in Julie's newsletter.
- Winners will be chosen by random
drawing from among all entries.
- The odds of winning depend upon the
number of participants.
Void where prohibited.
Convention, Dallas, TX
|Romance Writers of
America Annual National Conference, New York City
Julie in San Antonia, TX at the 2014 RWA National
50 Book pin
presentation is Craig Swinwood-CEO Harlequin
Enterprises, Dianne Moggy-Editorial Director, HQ
Ent, Moi, Leslie Kelly-fellow 50-book award
recipient, Lorianna Sacilotto-VP, HQ Ent
Sitting beside me
at the Harlequin party is Linda O. Johnston
Delores Fossen and me
Julie in Atlanta, GA at the 2013 RWA National
Julie with good buddy B.J. Daniels
Delores Fossen, Julie Miller, B.J. Daniels
Julie's local writing group, the Prairieland
Romance Writers, celebrates 20 years of
excellence in romance fiction at an
anniversary Open House in Grand Island,
||Prairieland Romance Writers celebrates 20
years of excellence in romance fiction!
Kearney, NE Booksigning, The Sequel Bookshop
Julie Miller, and Scott & Julie Miller
L-R Saranna DeWylde, Julie Miller, Janette Kenney,
Sherri Shackelford, Cheryl St. John
New York City at the 2011 RWA National Conference
View of Times Square from
Julie's hotel room
Julie at the Transformers movie
premiere (Hi, Bumblebee!)
Times Square and Broadway
My roomie, Elle James, Brenda
Jackson, and my agent Pattie Steele-Perkins at the RWA booksigning
The massive Literacy
Autographing at RWA
Los Angeles, CA, at the 2011 RT BOOKreviews Convention
""The Do's & Dont's of
Series Romance " workshop with Judy Duarte, Candace Havens, Julie Miller
and B.J. Daniels.
Party! the Series Romance Way" Reader Event
Back row: Kira Sinclair, HelenKay Dimon, B.J. Daniels, Lynn Raye Harris
Middle row: Judy Duarte, Crystal Green, Rebecca York, Candace Havens,
Janette Kenney, Jan Hambright, Delores Fossen, Brenda Jackson
Front row: Kathleen O'Reilly, Kimberly Lang, Jade Lee/Kathy Lyons, Carol
Erickson, Julie Miller
At the Booksigning
View from my hotel The Westin Bonaventure
in downtown L.A.
Went to hear Dean Koontz speak.
Delightfully witty and educational! (and one of my fave authors!)
Barn View from my hotel, the
Hollywood sign in the distance up in the Hollywood Hills.
“How is this a cold
case?” Detective Olivia Watson squatted down beside the body with
the bashed in head lying on the plush office carpet.
The pool of blood
looked fresh enough. The alleged murder weapon, a civic
volunteerism trophy from the dead man’s own desk, had already been
bagged and packed away by the CSI trading notes with the medical
examiner nearby. A uniformed officer and two building security
guards were holding back a bevy of shocked and grieving office staff
from the Kober & Associates’ PR firm, as well as curious onlookers
from other businesses in the building beyond the yellow crime scene
tape that blocked off the victim’s outer office door. The two KCPD
detectives on the far side of the room interviewing the distraught
secretary who’d discovered her boss’s body after her half-day spa
appointment seemed to have the crime scene well under control. So
why call in representatives from the Fourth Precinct’s Cold Case
Olivia rested her
forearms on the thighs of her dark-wash jeans and studied the
sixtyish man’s still features again. The glass and steel high-rise
in downtown Kansas City was almost as new as the murder itself. She
was used to working cases with pictures out of dusty boxes and
autopsy reports that raised a lot of unanswered questions. She’d
worked with skeletal remains and mummified corpses and alleged
victims whose bodies had never been found at all. Most people
assumed the cold case squad was an easier gig than working a fresh
investigation. She liked to think of it as a smarter
assignment, requiring more insight and diligence than other
divisions at KCPD.
Olivia was a third
generation cop, like two of her three brothers. And the third one
worked in the medical examiner’s office. After two years in a
uniform, five years in vice and the past year working cold cases,
she’d learned that killers who’d eluded capture and thought they’d
gotten away with murder often proved to be more devious and more
dangerous than any other criminal out there. It was her job to
track down those killers and finally get justice for those forgotten
victims whose memory often died with their closest family and
So why was she here
to assist two perfectly capable detectives when there was a stack of
her own investigations back at HQ to sort through?
“There must be a
connection to one of our dead file cases. But if there is, I don’t
see it yet.” She glanced up at her new partner, Jim Parker--back
from the dead himself after a particularly harrowing undercover
assignment for the Missouri Bureau of Investigation. “Do you?”
Jim’s green eyes
surveyed the room the way she had. “I recognize Ron Kober from the
newspapers. Besides owning a Top 50 Company here in K.C., he helped
get Adrian McCoy elected to the state senate a few years back.
Looks like he was doing pretty well on his own, without the
Olivia arched a
dark eyebrow. “Until today.”
She liked Jim well
enough, respected his reputation as a cop, appreciated that he got
her sarcastic sense of humor. But after that humiliating debacle
with her last partner, learning to trust him was hard. Thankfully,
Jim was a newlywed, completely crazy about his wife, Natalie, and
showed nothing but a friendly professional interest in his
relationship with Olivia. Still, she found herself thinking about
her words before she spoke to him, guarding her thoughts and
feelings, which was no mean task for a woman with her volatile Irish
“A man with this
kind of money probably has plenty of enemies,” Jim suggested.
An angle which she
was sure the lead detectives were already exploring. Still didn’t
explain why she and Jim were here. She looked back down at the
body, willing the corpse to speak and share his secrets. But she
wasn’t psychic and dead men didn’t talk. However...
Her eyes went past
Kober’s body to a scrap of torn paper underneath the desk. She
snapped a picture with her cell phone before reaching over the dead
body to pick it up with the sterile gloves she wore.
Jim crouched down
beside her. “What did you find?”
Olivia turned the
tiny square over between her thumb and index finger. “Four
numbers. I don’t know. It may just be a piece of trash.”
“Looks like a torn
up piece of stationery.” Jim picked up the waste basket beside the
desk and set it between them to sort through its contents.
But there were no
other little hand-torn shreds like this one. “Could be the last
digits of a phone number.”
Jim replaced the
waste basket and stood. “Or part of an address or social security
“Or a locker number
or part of a combination lock.” Olivia straightened beside him,
spotting a pad of dove gray paper on the desk that matched the piece
in her hand. She picked it up and angled it in the light to see if
she could read any indentations in the surface. But there were too
many marks from previous notes to make out anything specific.
“Maybe it’s just a testament to their housekeeping service not doing
its job, and isn’t related to the crime at all.”
Just in case,
though, she jotted the 3620 in her notebook before handing the scrap
of paper and Kober’s scratch pad over to the CSI.
She tucked her own
notepad into the pocket of her short leather jacket and peeled off
her gloves, following Jim to the door. “So if this isn’t our case,
why are we here?”
Jim nodded to the
detectives hovering over the weeping woman across the room.
“Hendricks and Kincaid are taking lead on Kober’s murder here.
Sawyer Kincaid called us in as a courtesy.”
stuffed the gloves into the back pocket of her jeans. “And he
didn’t say why?”
“He just said it
was a directive from higher up.” He touched her shoulder to
indicate he was taking a detour. “Looks like they’re wrapping up
that interview. I’ll go ask if they can make sense of any of this
golden-haired partner crossed the room, Olivia indicated she’d head
on downstairs and meet him at the car.
She shouldn’t have
acknowledged the visceral impact of the short black hair and
chiseled cheek bones of the man waiting just outside the office door
as she passed him. Admitting any kind of gut-kick attraction to a
man was, at least, an inconvenience, and, at most, a huge mistake.
Her relationship with Marcus had taught her that.
But the man’s
piercing blue gaze locked on and followed her through the doorway.
The skin at the nape beneath her short hair tingled with awareness
at his interest. Only, she wasn’t sure if it was sensual nerves
fluttering to attention, or an alarm going off. Either way, she
wasn’t about to flutter for any man, and she wasn’t going to ignore
those survival instincts that warned her of danger.
Olivia stopped in
the middle of the assistant’s office and turned to face Mr. Tall,
Dark and Staring. “May I help you?”
He pulled back the
front of his tan corduroy sports coat and tucked his hands into the
pocket of his jeans, assuming a casual stance she wouldn’t match.
“I can tell you why you’re here, Detective Watson.”
Her chin jerked up
ever so slightly at the stranger calling her by name. Un-uh. That
wasn’t an advantage she’d allow. Her hand instinctively came to
rest over the Glock holstered to her belt. “Do I know you,
“Not really.” The
man straightened from the wall where he’d been leaning, and she
could see he stood a good five or six inches over her 5’7” height.
“Ron Kober is the man my fiancée, Danielle Reese, was getting inside
information from for a story she was writing when she was murdered
six years ago.”
Why did that name sound familiar? Didn’t matter. This guy was
still a couple steps ahead of her in the conversation, and she
didn’t like it. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”
Was that supposed
to mean something to her? That deep, succinct announcement made it
sound as though he thought he was somebody important. But she’d
have remembered a face like that. Not exactly handsome with all
those sharp, unsmiling angles, but definitely interesting.
silently reprimanding herself for even noticing such irrelevance.
It was more important to note that she saw no sign that he was
wearing a gun, and since he hadn’t flashed a badge to identify
himself, he couldn’t be a cop. Gabriel Knight must be a curiosity
seeker who’d probably lied to the uniformed guard about having some
kind of information on the case so he could get close enough to see
the dead body.
“Sir, did one of
the detectives ask you to come past the crime scene tape for
questioning?” He didn’t answer. Proof enough for her that Gabriel
Knight was trespassing on the crime scene. She thumbed over her
shoulder the hallway. “Then you can’t be in here.”
“I’ve got press
credentials.” He tugged at the cord hanging around his neck and
pulled a plastic card from his shirt pocket. “I’m covering the
murder for the Journal.”
A reporter? “Yeah,
well my badge outranks your little piece of plastic. If you’ll wait
out front with the other reporters, the press liaison will be
downstairs to give a briefing in a few minutes.” She took him by
the arm and turned to escort him into the hallway, but the man
“You need to talk
to me.” His voice was low and articulate, and, without being a
breathy whisper, was for her ears alone. “I have information on
this case. That’s why the officer out front let me through.”
“Then you should
talk to Detective Kincaid or Detective Hendricks.” She released him
to point out the big man with the dark hair and the black man with
the diamond stud in his left earlobe in the other room. “I can
introduce you when they’re through with their witness.”
But Gabriel Knight
grabbed her elbow and pulled her back beside him. “You may not read
the paper, but I know who you are, Detective Watson. You and your
partner are part of the cold case team, working older, unsolved
crimes. Like the murder of Dani Reese. She was an investigative
reporter, a colleague of mine. The woman I loved. She was found
dead at an abandoned warehouse down on the river docks six years
ago. Shot through the head like some common criminal. I’m the one
who called Chief Taylor and suggested he send a team from your
department here this afternoon.”
Olivia jerked her
arm from his grasp.
“You called the
Fourth Precinct chief?” Who’d filtered the request down through
Sawyer Kincaid and on to Jim and her. She hated anyone who felt
they were entitled enough to call in and break the rules of standard
police procedure whenever it suited them. She could do the low,
threatening voice, too. “You know, we have real work to do, Mr.
Knight. KCPD is not at your beck and call to dig up sidebars for
whatever story you’re working on.”
detective, there is nothing more real to me than finding Dani’s
killer. If your people won’t do it, I will.”
Her people? Cops?
Like her friends and father and grandfather and brothers? The same
men and women who’d solved her own mother’s brutal slaying two
decades earlier? This guy was bashing them?
And then something
else he said registered, cooling the defensive anger that had
flashed through her veins. The woman I loved.
She empathized with
the kind of senseless violence, anger and grief Gabriel Knight had
suffered more than he knew. It only took one deep breath, one
thought of her mother’s smiling face, to remember her sensitivity
training. “Every victim believes the death of his or her loved one
is our most important case. I’m sorry for your loss. But if the
department hasn’t made enough progress on Ms. Reese’s death to suit
you, it’s only because there haven’t been any substantial leads.
Not because we’ve given up.”
“This is a
lead. There has to be a connection to Kober. Find it.”
“I promise you, if
we get new information on your fiancée’s death, we’ll look into it.”
“Coming from you,
that’s not terribly reassuring.”
Bristling at the
dig that felt inexplicably personal, coming from a man she’d never
met, Olivia gestured toward the yellow tape. She bit down on the
urge to demand an explanation and invited him to walk beside her.
“We never give up on a case. Ever. But some take longer to solve
than others. It’s a matter of prioritization. We review cases
every day and try to focus our time, money and manpower where it can
do the most good.”
departmental protocol, Detective Watson. And that’s not a good
enough answer.” He stopped at the outer door, dipping his head
slightly as he faced her one more time. “You find out who killed
Kober, and I guarantee you’ll find a lead on Dani’s murderer. It
may even be the same man who committed both crimes.”
With that warning,
he ducked beneath the tape and stalked away. Olivia shook her head
at the uniformed officer’s questioning look about whether or not he
needed to stop Knight before he pushed his way through the gathering
of onlookers and got on the elevator.
She was still
processing the oddly charged and cryptic encounter when she felt a
tap at her elbow. She nodded to Jim and he lifted the crime scene
tape for her to exit in front of him. “You know who you were
talking to, don’t you?”
“Yeah. He said his
name was Gabriel Knight. He’s a reporter.”
“Not just any
reporter.” They stepped onto the elevator and Jim pushed the button
for the ground floor. “Gabe Knight writes the crime beat column for
the Kansas City Journal.”
Her instincts about
men must still out of whack after dumping Marcus. Otherwise, she’d
have pieced together the name with the clues he’d dropped.
“He’s the guy who
wrote all those editorials about KCPD not being able to catch the
Rose Red Rapist?” And when the task force did finally catch the
creep and put him on trial, there hadn’t been one word of praise or
apology, merely a recitation of facts and something like, “...about
damn time”. Olivia groaned at her ineptitude as she walked out
with Jim. Somehow she felt as if she’d betrayed her brethren cops
by even having a conversation with the department’s most outspoken
critic. “And I was nice to him. Well, I was civil. He thinks
Kober’s murder is related to the unsolved death of his fiancée a few
years back. Danielle Reese? He’s the one who got us invited to the
They circled the
gathering of television cameras and reporters on their way to her
SUV. She felt Knight’s blue eyes following her from the crowd
awaiting the press conference as they crossed the street, but
studiously ignored the urge to meet his watchful gaze.
approached you because he thought you’d be softhearted and
sympathetic to his cause.” She glared at Jim over the hood of the
car before they both climbed in. “Clearly, he doesn’t know you very
Okay, so Jim’s dry
wit could make her laugh, too, just like her brothers’ teasing guff
faded as they fastened their seat belts. “He’s poking his nose into
our crime scene, trying to get the scoop on the rest of the
press--and then he turns around and criticizes us for not catching
every last bad guy, or doing it fast enough to suit his idealistic
timetable? That just sticks in my craw.”
She looked through
the windshield to glare at the presumptuous Mr. Knight. But those
smug blue eyes were nowhere to be seen. Even with a second search
among the reporters gathered in front of the building, she didn’t
spot his rich, coal black hair. “That son of a...” Had that
self-important buttinsky snuck back inside the building? Un-uh.
Not on her watch.
Olivia pulled her
keys from the ignition and opened her door. “Can you get a ride
with somebody? I’m going to have a couple more words with Mr.
Jim climbed out on
the opposite side. “Do you need me to go with you?”
“No, I can handle
him.” As soon as he’d closed his door, she hit the locks and
hurried around the hood of the car.
“Olivia, we’re a
team, remember? I’ve got your back.”
“How come I don’t
quite believe you mean that?”
mid-charge. Marcus Brower had supposedly had her back, too. And
while her former partner had never once let her down out on the
streets, his betrayal behind closed doors would probably always
taint her ability to trust a man who wasn’t family again.
But Jim Parker
didn’t deserve to be blown off because some other guy was a
two-timing jackass she’d put her career on hold for. “Sorry. You
and I are still in the getting to know you phase, I suppose.
Sometimes, people like Gabriel Knight don’t take a woman cop
seriously. I need him to understand that when I tell him to go away
and let us handle things, I mean it.”
with the apology and that much of an explanation, Jim nodded and
pulled out his cell phone. “The man’s a cool customer from what I
hear. Don’t let him rile that Irish blood of yours.”
“Too late for
that. Say, maybe you can pull out the file on Dani Reese’s murder
so I can get up to speed on whatever it is Knight is blaming us
for. See if we can find that connection to Kober he claims, too.”
She waved goodbye as Jim placed his call. “I’ll catch up with you
back at HQ.”
“Roger that.” She
heard an amused voice behind her as she darted across the street.
“Good luck, Mr. Knight.”
©2015 by Julie Miller
to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.
Question: What does Gabriel Knight do for a living?
Back To Top
1 1/2 months later
“Reitzie.” Annie lifted the lazy Siamese from the domino
tumble of picture frames on the mantel where he was lounging while
Nick carried up their overnight bags from their weekend getaway to
St. Louis. She set the cat on the floor and shooed him off to
find where his counterpart, G.B., was hiding.
In between unbuttoning her coat and untying the pink scarf that
Grandma Connie had knit for her, she straightened one beloved
picture after another. When she reached the mutilated photo
from the Baseball Hall of Fame, she smiled. Without feeling
one pang of regret, she opened up her paisley messenger bag and
pulled out one of the souvenir post cards she’d bought on their trip
and quickly swapped out the old picture for the new one. She
crumpled the memory of her ex-fiancé in her fist and tossed it into
“There.” Annie was admiring the new picture of Busch Stadium
in St. Louis, and the new memory it represented, when Nick came in.
He locked the door behind him and hung up their coats. She
pulled the new picture on the mantel to a more prominent position.
Nick came up behind her to wind an arm around her waist and doff a
salute to the statue of Stan ‘the Man’ Musial. “Much better.
Maybe Stan and your dad are up in heaven playing some catch right
Feeling a pang of melancholy, Annie leaned back against his solid
warmth, and found even more comfort when he slipped the other arm
around her as well, and pressed a kiss against her cheek. The
sadness quickly passed and she folded her hands over his, soaking in
all the miraculous changes in her life since that fateful New Year’s
She had a reason to celebrate the holidays now.
She had a family--one that was bigger, crazier, more accepting and
loving than any she could have imagined for herself.
She wasn’t alone anymore.
She had Nick.
On New Year’s Day, Nick Fensom had promised her seventy-two hours of
personal protection and free chauffeur’s service. Now, he’d
promised her a lifetime together.
Annie held up her left hand and marveled at the beauty and symbolism
of the simple diamond solitaire he’d given her on Valentine’s Day.
He cupped her outstretch hand in his, angling it to catch the light
in each facet. “Happy?”
She nodded. “More than I have been in...” She laced her
fingers with his and pulled his arm back to complete the snug warmth
of the embrace. “...I don’t know how long. You gave me a
family, Nick. You make me feel like I belong somewhere, like I
belong to someone, like I’m never going to feel alone again.
“Yeah, but do you love me?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Well, a guy wonders, you know, because, um... technically, you
never said yes.”
Annie spun around in his arms, mortified. “I didn’t?”
Despite the grin, he was shaking his head as he twirled a lock of
her hair between his index finger and thumb. “As I recall, you
burst into tears, blubbered some stuff about how happy your dad
would be that I asked you to marry me in front of Musial’s statue,
and then you started kissing me.” Annie arched a skeptical
brow as his handsome blue eyes met hers and the Irish bluster
continued. “Now, while I’m not opposed to that sort of
activity, sometimes you’re hard to read--and it can be a little
tricky on a man’s ego not to be entirely sure.”
Annie caught his face between her hands. “Do you really have
any doubts about how much I love you? What was it you once
told me? You’ll know when I make a promise to you.”
“Pretty pithy stuff, huh?”
She pulled his face closer to hers and stroked her thumb across his
mouth. “Then let me make this promise to you, Nicholas
Fensom--I love you. I need you in my life. I want to be
your wife.” She stretched up to press a kiss to his lips
before standing back to raise her right hand and lay her left over
his heart. “In front of Mom, Dad, Stan and the cats... my
answer is yes.”
Nick’s grin was devilish as he wound his arms around her and pulled
her hips up against his. “I liked all the kissing better.”
“You...” She smacked his shoulder, taking care to avoid the
newly healed wound that could have killed him when he saved her
life. The crime lab building was under repair as well, and
both the detective and the lab were back at work. “You’re
With a laugh, Nick’s mouth covered hers, ending the teasing,
demanding that she prove with her heart and body what her words had
already confessed. And Annie willingly accepted the challenge.
Nick slid his deliciously warm hands beneath her sweater and dipped
his tongue into her mouth. Annie’s fingers went to the hem of
Nick’s shirt, untucking it from his jeans, taking the same liberties
to stroke and touch and grab that he took with her.
His thighs crowded against her, driving her back into the arm of the
sofa. Annie wrapped her arms around his neck and turned,
steering him around the couch. He pulled her along with him a
couple of steps, drawing his tongue along that sensitive bundle of
nerves beneath her ear. “I love the way your mind thinks.”
“I love the way your--” He gently nipped the spot and Annie
gasped, shuddering with desire.
She tugged on his belt buckle as Nick’s seductive assault backed her
into the wall. His hands were under her sweater again, making
it difficult to recall the rest of her sentence. But the power
of his kiss, the need of his hands, the hardness of his body made
her realize that words were no longer necessary. The tension
that had simmered between them from their very first meeting blazed
into white-hot passion. They were yin and yang.
Opposites attracting and completing each other. Perfectly in
sync. Perfect together.
Nick pulled her away from the wall to sweep the sweater off over her
head, exposing her torso to the chilly air of her apartment.
But he palmed her bottom and lifted her up against him, singeing her
body with the solid heat of his. Annie wrapped her legs around
his hips as he reclaimed her mouth and stumbled to the bedroom.
There, in a flurry of dropping clothes and stolen kisses, they fell
onto the bed together.
There was no more teasing, no more debate, no more doubt about the
unexpected love they’d found together. Nick sheathed himself
and settled between her legs as Annie impatiently drew him down on
top of her. There was nothing wounded about his compact,
beautifully toned body beyond the scar on his shoulder. He was
fit and fine and sexier than than the box score of a perfect game as
he began to move inside her.
His fingers tangled into her hair as he thrust himself in to the
hilt and whispered against her ear. “I love you, Annie.
I love you.”
Believing that promise with all her heart, she let go and flew over
the edge into pure bliss with him.
The cats had joined them in bed, anchoring the quilt around Annie’s
toasty feet, when stereo pagers went off sometime later. She
startled awake, pushing aside cats and covers to reach for her phone
on the bedside table while Nick rolled to sit up on his side to
retrieve his phone from his jeans on the floor.
“It’s work.” They announced in unison.
“I’ll call in.” Nick pulled on his shorts and jeans and tossed
her the pants she’d worn earlier. “You get some clothes on
before you distract me again.”
As alert and worried as she’d been replete and content moments
earlier, she quickly dressed. A call from Dispatch before the
sun was up could never be a good thing. The grim look on
Nick’s face echoed as much as he called his partner’s number.
“Spence? It’s Nick.” Annie tiptoed around the bed and
Nick circled his arm around her, drawing her close. “Yeah,
we’re both here.”
Annie caught most of the conversation with the task force commander,
and was glad she’d packed her spare kit in the back of Nick’s Jeep.
The men the Cleaner had blackmailed into killing Annie and
destroying evidence were either dead or jailed. The only one
who’d survived the assault on the crime lab had been unable to give
them a usable description of the woman who’d recruited him because
all the arrangements, from impersonating police officers to
infiltrating the lab, had gone through Raj Kapoor. But, thanks
to her and Nick, they had a trace sample to identify the rapist’s
blood type, and a fingerprint they could match to the Cleaner--once
they got the right suspect in custody. It was evidence that
could help put them both away in prison for a very, very long time.
But the grim report from Spencer Montgomery reminded them both that
there was more work to be done. Nick ended the call and
pressed a kiss to Annie’s temple.
“Time to go to work, slugger.” He strapped on his gun and his
badge. “The Rose Red Rapist has struck again. We’ve got
another crime scene.”
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