A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus by Reagan Keeter (fiction novels to read txt) 📗

happened and then said, ever so casually, “You want to get married?” Chris was pouring a cup of coffee from the pot she’d made an hour earlier when he asked the question and seemed to be directing it as much to the mug in his hand as to her. He stirred in a spoonful of sugar and waited.

“What?” Emma looked confused.

“I’ve been thinking about it. The ring was valuable, but not irreplaceable. I didn’t want it back because it was expensive.”

Emma’s eyebrow arched, doubtful.

“Okay, the money was part of it. But while I was out there waiting for the jewelry shop to open, I realized it wasn’t the only part. Although I never gave the ring to you, it symbolized something. It was kind of like a promise to myself that one day I would ask you to marry me. I know that you’re not going to sign a prenup, but so what? After everything that’s happened over the last week, I don’t worry about you leaving anymore.” He sat down at the kitchen table and blew on the coffee to cool it off. “We’re a team, right?”

Emma sat down across from him. She reached one hand across the table, palm up. When he took it in his, she smiled and said, “We’re a team.”

Liam Parker

Liam sat in a small holding cell and waited. The last cop he saw said to make himself comfortable. They were going to process him out to county. It would take a while.

A couple of hours later, Bash appeared and unlocked the door. He was alone. Liam crossed the cell and, as he did, Bash held out his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Liam shook it, but said nothing.

“Ms. Watson is waiting for you in the lobby.”

For a second, Liam thought he meant Elise, even though he knew that was impossible. He followed Bash through hallways that reminded him of the jail he’d almost returned to. He thought about the days alone in his cell and the fight that broke out in the yard. That was something he would never have to live through again, thank God.

Bash buzzed them through a door. The focal point of the lobby was a massive, oblong desk with unformed officers behind it. Rows of chairs ran along the exterior walls, metal detectors by the entrance.

The room was filled with visitors of all types. They paced the floor, filled out forms, waited in chairs.

Liam scanned the faces until he found Anita, who had already spotted him and was headed in his direction. She hugged Liam, smiled. “You owe me a new phone.”

Richard Hawthorne

Rick was once again bound to a chair with packing tape. This time he was in the kitchen of his own apartment, still trashed and drafty now that the window had been broken. He tried for some time to get free, but it was useless. He was cold, hungry, and tired.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was the flies, drawn in by the smell of rotting food. Rick did his best to shake them off when they landed on him. Shooing them away was, of course, futile.

Is this it? he wondered. Has Chris left me here to die?

At just after two o’clock, officers arrived, thanks to an anonymous tip, and a small part of Rick was glad to see them.

David Hayes

The staff gathered in the large breakroom. David had called another all-hands meeting. He started by saying he didn’t want a bunch of rumors flying around. There would be more articles soon about Liam and his arrest, but as far as the company was concerned, this was all behind them. Then he asked if there were any questions and no one raised a hand, so after saying his door was always open to anyone who wanted to talk privately, he pointed them to the spread of cold sandwiches and sodas from Fred’s Deli set up on the table in back and returned to his office.

Bash was standing by his door, waiting for him.

David stopped short when he saw the detective. “What’s up?” he asked nervously. “Everything all right?”

Then officers appeared from nowhere, boxing him in.

“Mr. Hayes,” said Bash, “you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .”

Catherine Parker

Catherine had found Alice’s room empty when she went upstairs to apologize for the fight and knew her daughter had gone to the concert. She was furious. She stayed up until midnight planning to scold Alice when she got in. But by the time Alice came through the door, Catherine had given up and gone to sleep, even more mad and ready to unleash a rage unlike any Alice had ever seen in the morning.

Alice wasn’t having it. They got into a shouting match. Alice said horrible things about Catherine and Catherine returned the barbs. Alice said she needed some time alone, that something terrible had happened.

But without letting her daughter tell her what had happened, Catherine said it served her right for going to the concert, and she was going to get her ass up and go to school no matter how she felt.

Alice grabbed some clothes off the floor in a huff, dressed, and stormed out the door.

Tommy watched the whole thing from his perch on the stairs.

Catherine then snapped at him, too. “Get ready for school.”

“I am ready.”

“Then let’s go.”

Catherine calmed down some once she was alone. She put the morning dishes in the dishwasher, then walked through the house picking up things the kids had left lying around. How socks ended up in the dining room and a shirt on the banister she’d never understand. Catherine felt bad for taking her anger out on Tommy. She would apologize to him when she picked him up from school.

With order restored to the house, she did the grocery shopping and settled in for some afternoon TV. She started with a Friends marathon on CBS and would switch over to Seinfeld later. She