Murder Mix-Up. Lisa Phillips

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

       ONE

       TWO

       THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       EIGHTEEN

       NINETEEN

       TWENTY

       TWENTY-ONE

       EPILOGUE

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       ONE

      NCIS Special Agent Portia Finch watched as the medical examiner zipped the body bag closed. Crouched as she was, her boots sinking into the soft earth of the state park, the sound eclipsed all thought for a second. Why it should hit her now—with this case, rather than all the others she’d investigated in her years as a navy cop—she didn’t know.

      An approaching car snapped her out of her thoughts. A silver four-door, American brand. A rental? Whoever was in the driver’s seat pulled between her car, the duty SUV her teammates had driven and the medical examiner’s van. Determined to be seen, whoever they were. Determined to get here.

      A dark-haired man in a gray suit climbed out. Portia watched the local sheriff make his way to the man.

      The medical examiner cleared his throat. He had deep lines around his wise eyes that crinkled as he stared at her with that knowing look. But he didn’t ask what was in her head—not here. When he stood, his knees popped. “I’ll know more about the deceased after I get him back to the office.”

      “Thanks, Alejandro.” Portia stood while the medical examiner and his assistant lifted the body onto a stretcher. She eyed the silver car again, then made her way over to where two of her team members were busy taking pictures of the bullet that had embedded itself in the tree.

      Two gunshots, center mass. The victim, Nicholas Stringer, hadn’t had time to realize what was about to happen. The fact he was a marine—the Corps being a branch of the navy—meant it was Portia’s team who got to investigate.

      As an agent for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, it was her job to find the person who’d shot this young man in cold blood and left him in the middle of nowhere.

      Special Agent Lenny Chen saw her approach. He gave her that chin lift guys give other guys—or their boss—instead of saying Hi. Older than her by a couple of years, he was a solid member of her team. Portia was honestly surprised he didn’t have a team of his own yet.

      She said, “About done?”

      Another chin lift from Lenny.

      Anna Sparrow, the other woman on the team, raised an evidence bag. The bullet was mangled, but their lab was top-notch.

      “Casings?” Portia asked.

      One bullet had gone straight through the victim and embedded in a tree. Alejandro had told her the second bullet was likely still lodged in the victim’s chest. The more evidence they collected, the better picture they could gather of what happened. If they could find shell casings as well as the bullet...

      “Got both of them,” Anna said, rolling her shoulders.

      “Good job.” Portia glanced between them. “Both of you.”

      “One body, two bullets and no witnesses. The only hard part was the two-hour drive to get all the way out here in the boonies.” Anna’s green eyes glinted and she shook her head, her bright red hair swaying from her ponytail. “I call the backseat on the way home.”

      Portia heard a raised voice and glanced over her shoulder. The conversation between the suited man and the sheriff had become heated. Was the guy a reporter? He was dressed more like a fed—from one of those agencies that thought only having three letters made them better.

      Portia lifted her watch. They’d been here six hours, but this wasn’t a job to be rushed. Still, it was