Joint Investigation. Terri Reed

      

      LONE AGENT

      Under other circumstances, FBI agent Samantha Bennett might welcome a bit of backup—but not from an overprotective Mountie. She’s been on the trail of a serial killer for six months and no one has ever taken the case seriously...until now. When Royal Canadian Mounted Police inspector Drew Kelley saves her life, he decides that the hunt for “Birdman” is his problem, too. Together they begin a cross-continent chase to stop the madman before he strikes again. However, Samantha fears her growing feelings for the lawman may weaken her focus, or worse—put Drew directly in the killer’s sights…

      Northern Border Patrol: Keeping the U.S.–Canadian border safe

      What happened to Drew?

      Her partner could be hurt. Or worse, dead. Bile burned her throat. The thought of losing another partner caved in her heart. But her priority had to be eliminating the danger.

      Still in a crouch and leading with a two-handed grip on her gun, she moved slowly in the direction of what she hoped was the front door. She mentally ticked off the steps. The dark overwhelmed her, playing havoc with her equilibrium. She bumped into something solid and froze. Her pulse jumped. Not a wall. There was no furniture.

      Panic jolted through her. She jumped away and whipped around, looking for a target. But the blackness concealed the threat.

      If it were Drew, he’d say something, right?

      The scuff of a shoe on the wooden floor sounded as loud as a gunshot.

      “Drew?” she whispered. Please, dear Lord, let Drew be okay.

      If something happened to him…

      Something touched her hair.

      TERRI REED’s romance and romantic suspense novels have appeared on Publishers Weekly top twenty-five and Nielsen BookScan’s top one hundred lists and have been featured in USA TODAY, Christian Fiction Magazine and RT Book Reviews. Her books have finaled in the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award contest, the National Reader’s Choice Award contest and three times in the American Christian Fiction Writers’ The Carol Award contest. Contact Terri at terrireed.com or PO Box 19555 Portland, OR 97224.

      Joint Investigation

      Terri Reed

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      For God has not given us a spirit of fear,

      but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

      —2 Timothy 1:7

      To my husband, who loves and accepts me, flaws and all.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       About the Author

       Title Page

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       Epilogue

       Dear Reader

       Extract

       Copyright

ONE

      The smell hit her ten feet from the motel door. Fresh blood. Pungent and tangy. Sticky sweet. A scent once experienced not easily forgotten. FBI agent Sami Bennett’s stomach heaved. Anguish fisted in the middle of her chest. Images of arterial spray, unseeing eyes, birds, lots and lots of birds, flashed through her mind like an animated flip book.

      Shaking her head to clear the pictures from her brain, she focused on the moment, her hands tightening around the grip of her Glock 23.

      Clamping her lips together, she calmed her racing heart and pressed closer to the wall along the shadowy second-story balcony of the cheap motel on the outskirts of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. All the bulbs in the wall sconces were broken.

      Glass crunched beneath the heels of her black Dr. Martens boots. The cool dark night was ripe with moisture, and overhead thunder rumbled like an angry fist against a wooden drum.

      Sami was angry, too. Angry she’d been chasing a phantom for six months who remained one step ahead of her yet had the gall to leave her a trail to follow. Frustration beat at her temple.

      She thought of the photocopied postcard in her pocket. The latest clue left by the killer she’d dubbed Birdman because of the image of a small bird, either hand drawn, ink stamped or stickered, found on each clue.

      She debated retreat. Most likely Birdman was long gone, leaving behind another dead body and another bread crumb to track. She was so tired of the gore, of the deaths. So tired of being the one to find the bodies.

      But