Dangerous Behavior - Softcover

Bush, Nancy

 
9781420142891: Dangerous Behavior

Inhaltsangabe

SOME COUPLES
Just one look, and it’s clear they’re perfect together. It’s in the way they touch, talk, and kiss. They share the same interests. The same twisted passions. They do everything together. Even kill…

ARE TOO GOOD
Julia St. James Ford has washed up on a beach near her home in Seaside, Oregon, with no memory of how she got there or how her husband, Joe, died. The police rule the case an accident. But Joe’s brother, Sam—Jules’ rescuer and her first love—suspects otherwise. While Sam tries to piece the facts together, Jules fears someone is watching, determined to find out how much she knows.

TO BE TRUE
Behind closed doors, behind Jules’ neighbors’ smiles, are terrifying secrets. A string of sordid thrill kills…and one survivor who never should have got away. And as she and Sam close in on the events of one tragic night, and the truth comes flooding back, remembering a killer’s face may be the last thing Jules ever does…

Praise for Nancy Bush’s You Can’t Escape

“One thrilling read.” --RT Book Reviews

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Nancy Bush is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 30 novels, including The Killing Game, Nowhere to Run, I'll Find You and Hush. She is the co-author of the Colony series, written with her sister, bestselling author Lisa Jackson, as well as the collaborative novels Sinister and Ominous, written with Lisa Jackson and Rosalind Noonan. A former writer for ABC's daytime drama "All My Children," Nancy now lives with her family and pug dog, The Binkster, in the Pacific Northwest. Please visit her online at nancybush.net.

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Dangerous Behavior

By NANCY BUSH

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

Copyright © 2017 Nancy Bush
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-4289-1

CHAPTER 1

The woman on the beach slowly came to consciousness, the frigid water sliding up and over her, then receding. Sand beneath her fingers. She curled her nails into it, trying to focus, trying to wake up. She needed to remember something.

Get up or you'll die.

Apart from her fingers, she couldn't move. Everything was weighted down. She couldn't even open her eyes ... but ... yes ... one sand-crusted lid lifted. She was on a beach. And there was something just there ... beside her on the beach ... hunched.

She worked to open both eyes and looked right into —

The wide open blue eyes of a dead man.

She shrieked, but it came out as a whimper, and then the next wave hit and it was bigger, lifting her up, slamming her into the dead man, his arm tussling with hers until they tumbled back into the surf.

I can't ... she thought.

And then the world faded to black.


* * *

Sam Ford rattled his truck along the jetty, scanning the western horizon. The ocean was gray today, restless under a low July sun. A line of smoke could still be seen, drifting above the water the same color as the sand. A boat had caught fire and sank. Was it his brother's boat? Was she on it? Sam was still waiting to hear.

The back of his throat was gritty and raw, as if he'd been in the way of the smoke, and yet it was a mile from shore. He threw the truck into park and climbed out, grabbing his binoculars. The coast guard helicopter was hovering near the boat on a northwest trajectory from where Sam stood.

The text from Joe ran across his mind, like it had a thousand times since he'd received it: Meet me at my dock at noon.

Sam had been surprised by the message. He and Joe ... the rift between them had grown over the years and they didn't speak much any longer. Their father had thrown up his hands that they couldn't reconcile, though now his mind seemed to be playing tricks on him, so who knew what he thought anymore. Their mother had divorced their father and remarried, stepping away from her sons and starting a new life. She'd had an inkling that things were not well between her two boys, but she'd chosen to pretend everything was fine, right up until breast cancer stole her away.

Meet me at my dock at noon....

Sam gazed up at the sun. It had started its descent to the horizon hours ago, though it was long after Sam had texted his brother back and told him he couldn't make it, even though he could have. He'd come up with a dozen excuses, but Joe had never sent another text, which kinda pissed Sam off. Joe ordering him around? Playing passive-aggressive? Nope. That wasn't the nature of their relationship.

But Joe texting him at all was pretty unusual. His brother usually left him alone, and vice versa. Was he imagining the imperative note to the message? At first it had just seemed autocratic; his older brother making demands on him just because he could. But that wasn't Joe's way. If anything, he tended to leave Sam be, and that was just fine with Sam. But that text had wormed its way into Sam's brain, circling around, and he'd started thinking it was something more. A desperate plea? Why had his brother sent the message?

He'd tried to call Joe to ask him. He wasn't going to go racing down the mountains from his parents' old cabin to the beach without a good reason. Of course Joe had no way of knowing he wasn't at the condo he'd been renting, or for that matter that he could be at work. Sam hadn't told Joe that he'd quit the Seaside PD in favor of a job in Portland, which, in the end, hadn't materialized — a job that would have been a step up to detective, one Sam was more than ready for. But just as soon as he'd quit at Seaside there'd supposedly been shifts within the Portland PD — a lot of double-talk from everyone involved — the upshot being someone with political ties was slotted into the open position in Portland and Sam was out. He could've gone back to Seaside, maybe should've gone back to the old job, probably, but instead he'd taken time off to think things over. And he really wasn't sure he wanted to go backward anyway. Returning to his job as a general cop — Seaside wasn't big enough for departments — felt like that's all it would be. Also, his relationship with Dannella had fallen apart because he couldn't commit, or so she said, although it hadn't taken her long to find someone else and the last he'd heard she was married with a new baby. He'd felt a twinge of regret over that, but like his job, he'd decided to just wait and let things happen. There was nothing to do about it anyway, and really, Dannella moving on had been a good thing.

Joe hadn't answered, and he'd never responded to Sam's further texts. The morning had slipped by and finally Sam had just thought, screw it, and had driven the hour from the cabin to his brother's house on Fisher Canal, an offshoot of the Nehalem River. He'd braced himself for a run-in with Joe's wife, but the house had been deserted when he got there. He'd rung the bell and peered in the front windows, able to see through the living room and sliding glass door to the back deck and across the narrow inlet to the house on the opposite side. The neighbor's boat sat outside their dock, which had made Sam realize Joe's was gone. To make certain, Sam had tramped around the side of the house and, sure enough, there was no boat beneath the gray canopy over the boat slip, nor had it been tied to the silver cleats gleaming in the sun against the weathered boards of the dock.

While he'd been there a woman had come out from the house across the river and waved at him. Sam reluctantly waved back, aware she probably thought he was his brother, even though Joe was eight years older than Sam.

She called over to him. "Who's got the boat?"

"I'm not Joe. I'm his brother," he yelled back.

"Oh!"

She'd clearly been taken aback, and Sam suspected Joe had never mentioned him to her. No surprise there.

"You didn't see him leave?" Sam asked.

She shook her head and motioned behind her. "Just got home," she yelled.

Sam had nodded and waved a good-bye as he headed back around the house to his truck. He walked up to the garage and cupped his hands over his eyes, looking through the narrow garage window. Two vehicles were inside. A black Explorer and a light blue Subaru Outback. He surmised Joe's was the Explorer, a Ford. His brother probably didn't hear the same grief as he did about driving something other than a Ford when your last name was Ford. His Chevy pickup had been a good deal, period.

With both cars accounted for, he'd asked himself: Are Joe and his wife together on the boat? Maybe on their way back now?

He'd checked his cell phone. Eleven fifty. If his brother was returning by boat, he was pushing it pretty hard to make noon. There were houses on both sides of the narrow waterway that led into Nehalem Bay and further to the ocean. When he shaded his eyes and gazed down the ribbon of water to the sharp bend at the southwestern end, all he saw were the houses. But Sam could tell by sound alone that no boat was approaching.

He'd waited until twelve forty-five, then had climbed back into the cab of his truck and reversed out of the drive. Punching the accelerator, he'd headed toward the bay. As he'd approached he'd seen a crowd of onlookers outside their cars in the marina's lot who were all staring toward the edge of the horizon where a line of smoke and faint...

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