Title: The Wrong Victim
Author: Allison Brennan
Publisher: MIRA
Release Date: 26th April 2022
BLURB supplied by Harlequin Trade Publishing
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.
Was the explosion an act of domestic terrorism, or was one of the dead the primary target? That is the first question Special Agent Matt Costa, Detective Kara Quinn, and the rest of the FBI team need to answer, but they have few clues and no witnesses.
Accused of putting profits before people after leaking fuel endangered an environmentally sensitive preserve, the West End Charter company may itself have been the target. As Matt and his team get closer to answers, they find one of their own caught in the crosshairs of a determined killer.
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EXCERPT
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.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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.
