Chapter 1

The bodies in the Savannah, Georgia county morgue had nothing on medical examiner Dr. Jonah Harris. Tentacles of fatigue wrapped around him and nearly squeezed the life out of him. Finished for the work day, he dragged himself into his private office and collapsed onto the chair, melting into the cushion. He leaned back and ran his hands over his face. Three autopsies in one day had pushed him to his limit, but the young girl who'd died in her sleep had gutted him.

A vacation sounded better by the minute. Maybe he'd take a day to recharge and gain some perspective again. Taking a tour of historic Savannah, simply relaxing at Forsyth Park with a book, or a stroll down the Riverwalk might do the trick. Anything to get away from the stress.

The office phone, somewhere on his desk, rang.

He lifted a handful of documents and peered beneath the mound of files, searching for the offending noise. A stack of papers slid from the pile and scattered over his desk, knocking his name plaque onto the floor.

Jonah sighed. What a mess. He envied people who had the neat gene. He, on the other hand, struggled with ADD, and one of the side effects was the chaos when it came to his organizational skills. Noelle Burton, a member of the Elite Guardians Agency Savannah office, teased him mercilessly. She'd even gone as far as buying him a framed poster for his office that said A messy desk is a sign of genius.

He found the phone and snatched the receiver from the cradle. "Dr. Harris."

"Hi, Jonah, this is Ken."

"Ken, how's it going?" Jonah tilted his head and scratched his five-o'clock shadow. Why hadn't his friend, chief medical examiner Dr. Ken Dodson, called his cell phone?

He smacked his forehead.

Holding the receiver between his ear and shoulder, he stood and retrieved his cell phone from his pants pocket. "Sorry. I turned off my cell phone while in autopsy and forgot to turn it on afterward."

"Appears like you've had a long day."

"You could say that, but let's not go there. How's your day off?" He half listened to his friend and mentor while his phone powered on. Several missed calls and text messages popped up.

"Jonah, I need to talk with you."

Ken's serious tone grabbed Jonah's attention. "Sounds ominous."

"I have something rather important to tell you. Can you come over after you finish at work?" Ken's request sent icy fingers crawling up Jonah's spine and onto his scalp.

He mentally ran through what he had to do before he could leave. "I can be there in about thirty minutes. Can you give me a hint?"

Silence met his ears.

"Ken?"

"I've done things I'm not proud of."

"Haven't we all?"

"No, you don't understand. Once this comes out, my professional reputation will be trashed."

Jonah froze. "Ken, you're worrying me here. Give me something?"

A deep sigh filtered across the line. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I've falsified autopsy records."

Jonah's mind spun, trying to grasp Ken's admission.

"Jonah, please say something."

"I'm not even sure what to say." He clutched the arm of his chair and lowered himself onto the cushion. "Why?"

"Cecile's treatments were expensive. I made a deal with the devil. Now that my wife is gone, I intend to come clean, but I need your help and for you to stay quiet about it."

Jonah ran his hand through his hair. His friend had dropped a bombshell that would have a rippling effect. "You've put me in a tough position. If I keep your secret, then I'm covering up your crime. But if I tell, you'll lose your license and most likely go to jail."

"I would never ask you to commit a crime on my behalf."

"Then what are you asking?"

"I want you to reopen those cases and set the record straight before you take it public. I have my reasons. That's why I want you to come over. I'll give you the files and tell you what to look for."

Jonah sat in stunned silence. His friend had left him little choice in the matter. He blew out a breath. "All right. I'll be there as soon as I wrap up for the day."

"Thank you."

"And Ken…" Jonah swallowed past the lump invading his throat.

"Yes."

"You could have asked me for the money. I would have given it to you." He would have emptied his brokerage account if that's what it took to help the man who'd become like a father to him.

"I realize that now. I'll see you when you get here." The phone clicked off.

Jonah picked up the metal sign that had fallen and shoved it onto his desk. The notes from his last autopsy required his attention before he left for the day.

The dictation complete, he sent it to the medical transcriptionist to type up and glanced at the wall above the file cabinet. The clock mocked him. Jonah should have left fifteen minutes ago. He had to find out what in the world Ken had gotten himself into.

Falsifying autopsy reports? What had the man been thinking? And now he'd dragged Jonah into his crazy. But there was no need to jump to conclusions until he had proof. Maybe Ken had overreacted. Jonah could only hope.

He powered off his computer and tossed the options to Ken's confession around in his mind. Jonah would listen to Ken's explanation and figure out what he was up against, then he'd call his buddy Detective Matt Williams with the Savannah PD and discuss his legal obligations.

Since Ken held the title of chief medical examiner, that left Jonah in charge once Ken revealed his disreputable actions. Not the way Jonah wanted to earn the position. He shook his head.

After quickly glancing around the room and dismissing the idea of tidying the mess, he grabbed his keys. Ken was waiting, and Jonah wanted to get the distasteful business over with.

He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and waved at one of the techs as he strolled down the hall. He pushed the emergency release bar on the back door and stepped outside.

The May air warmed his skin. Thank heavens the humidity hadn't hit swamp levels yet. Give it another month and sweat would be his friend.

With a sigh, he strode to his SUV. He dropped into the driver's seat and stared out the front windshield, wishing he'd never received Ken's phone call.

Might as well get it over with. He cranked the engine and pulled from the parking lot.

Phone connected to his vehicle's Bluetooth, he hit the speed dial for Ken. Six rings and the voicemail picked up. "Hey, Ken. Sorry, I'm running late. I'll be there in about ten minutes." Jonah jabbed the End button, disconnecting the call.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Why hadn't his friend picked up? He maneuvered through the side streets of town, letting his mind ponder the implications of Ken's admission. But until he knew the facts, he had no way of knowing what to do next.

Ten minutes later, he turned down the tree-lined street that Ken lived on. Spanish moss hung from the limbs, dangling high above the ground. Most days he'd find a soothing calmness about the landscape, but today the greenery reminded him of boney fingers from a horror movie, reaching out to grab him. Ominous?—maybe. A product of his dark mood?—most likely.

Jonah parked across from the pale-yellow two-story Victorian-style house that sat away from the others in the neighborhood. He stared at the home he'd visited multiple times on happier occasions. When Ken's wife Cecile had passed away a couple months ago, Ken had acquired hermit-like tendencies.

But Jonah understood. His wife Cara had died in his arms after a car accident. There he was, an ER doctor at the time—one of the best in the nation—and he couldn't save his own wife. Jonah shook off the memories. He had to deal with Ken's problems and not get sucked into the past.

He stepped from his vehicle and shut the door. Exhaling, he crossed the street.

A boom rocked the neighborhood.

Jonah tumbled backward and slammed onto the ground.

Flames erupted from Ken's house. Remnants of boards and furniture flew in multiple directions. Debris rained down, pelting his arms, legs, and torso.

He sucked in a breath and coughed. Pain shot through his chest, and a high-pitched ringing pierced his ears. His head pounded, but he pried his eyes open. The world whirled around him. Jonah blinked away the daze. Forcing himself to move, he rolled and pushed to a standing position.

Heavy smoke hovered above the back exterior of the house and the few standing walls. Flames leaped in the air, destroying the parts of the once-beautiful home that had survived the blast.

"Ken." His vocal cords refused to function. He groaned. Jonah hoped his friend wasn't inside, but deep down he feared Ken had been home when the house blew.

Dizziness almost took Jonah to his knees as he staggered, but he remained upright. He stumbled over broken glass to his SUV and slumped against the front bumper until his head stopped spinning. Once his vision cleared, he'd call 911, assuming his phone still worked. He just needed a moment to gather himself.

Sirens screamed as the emergency vehicles raced toward him. Someone else must have witnessed the blast and called.

His shoulders slumped, and he released a long breath. Closing his eyes, he dropped his chin to his chest.

"Doc!"

He lifted his head.

Detective Matt Williams strode toward him. "Doc, are you okay?"

"I've been better." Jonah had no idea what injuries he'd acquired. His brain hadn't gotten that far. But based on his throbbing head, he'd guess a concussion topped the list.

Matt placed a hand on his shoulder. "No kidding. You look awful."

"Thanks a lot." He touched his forehead, then glanced at his hand. Blood dampened his fingers. He'd shake his head at the injustice, but that would only make him dizzier.

"Come on, let's get you to the ambulance and let the paramedics take a look."

"Ambulance?" Jonah glanced to his right. Fire trucks lined the street. Uh, when had the fire department arrived?

"Never mind. I'll have them come to you. Don't move." Matt hurried off before Jonah responded.

Jonah let his gaze wander over the scene. Pieces of Ken's house lay scattered like a child's Lincoln Logs set, covering his friend's property and the neighbors' yards. But why?

The haze inhabiting his brain made reasoning next to impossible. Either the concussion was worse than he thought, or shock had dug in its claws.

A few moments later, Matt returned with paramedic Aaron Quincy in tow. The twenty-three-year-old medic hefted the black medical duffel higher on his shoulder and ran his gaze over Jonah.

"Hey, Doc. How about we get you seated before you fall down." Aaron cupped his elbow and helped him stand. "Let's use the back of your SUV."

"Sounds like a good idea." Jonah extracted the keys from his pocket and handed them to Matt. He hated to admit that the ability to focus and find the right button on the key fob was beyond his capabilities right now.

Matt chuckled. "Doc, I don't think I'll need those. All the windows of your SUV are blown out."

Before Jonah could register his friend's words, Matt and Aaron assisted him to the back of his SUV and popped the liftgate.

Matt brushed the glass from the interior. "Have a seat."

With his friends' help, he lowered himself onto the hard interior. The weight of what had happened pressed down on him.

"Let's get you checked out." Aaron flashed a penlight into his eyes.

Jonah flinched.

"Sorry about that, Doc." The paramedic continued his exam. "Matt, grab me that blanket."

"What's going on?" Matt asked.

"He's in shock. It's not extreme. At least, not yet."

A blanket was draped over Jonah's shoulders. He listened to the continued exchange going on around him, but the words didn't register in his brain.

The explosion and Ken's confession tumbled in his mind and refused to let go. Were the two linked?

"Doc, look at me. Doc!" Aaron's voice hardened.

Jonah raised his gaze to meet the paramedic's and pulled the blanket tighter. He had to get his act together, or both men would haul him to the hospital without a second thought. "Sorry. What did you say?"

Aaron studied him, then sighed. "I'm sure you've already figured this out, but you have a concussion. I'd advise a trip to the emergency room for a CT scan."

He shook his head and immediately regretted it.

"Doctors make the worst patients," Matt announced like he'd discovered the cure for the plague.

"You don't have to tell me." Aaron slid the blood pressure cuff on Jonah's arm.

"I'm right here, you two." Jonah forced himself to focus. His energy hovered around zero, and the ringing in his ears hadn't stopped. He didn't want to argue with the man, but he had no desire to spend hours at the hospital. "I'll consider it. But for now, the answer is no."

Aaron rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath while continuing to bandage Jonah's scrapes and bruises. "That's not a good idea, Doc."

The antiseptic stung, but Jonah stared at the chunks of wood and parts that used to be a beautiful home. "That may be true, and I'm not stupid. I'll monitor how I feel, but I can't leave—not yet."

Detective Ladecia "Decia" Slaton, mom of the group only because she was a few years older, married, and had three boys, strode toward him. Her somber expression told him all he needed to know.

"Hey, Doc."

"Decia." He swallowed the bile creeping up his throat. "You found Ken?"

She nodded. "The explosion blew his body from the house. He's in the yard. I haven't examined him yet. The firefighters are still working on the blaze."

How had he missed Ken's body? Then again, it didn't take a medical degree to know he was in shock.

"I'm sorry, Doc. He was a great guy." Decia's soft tone squeezed his heart.

Tears burned his eyes. He blinked them away and sucked in a breath. "Thank you."

Decia rested her hand on his arm. "What can we do, Doc?"

He tore his gaze from the devastation. "Catch the person who did this."

Matt placed his boot on the bumper. "Why would you think someone's responsible for the explosion? SFD is speculating a gas leak."

How much should he say? The situation required legal advice, but he had no proof with Ken gone. Jonah glanced at Matt.

His friend raised an eyebrow.

"Let's just say that Ken asked me for help. I left work and headed straight here. Arrived moments before the house blew up. It's a bit of a coincidence, don't you think?"

Decia leaned against the other side of the SUV. "I'd like to hear more about what Ken wanted your help with."

The pounding in Jonah's head chose that moment to increase. He had to figure out the truth before he mentioned specifics to the detectives. He had promised Ken, and he intended to keep that promise. But he had to give them something. "Ken requested that I reevaluate a few autopsies for him."

"Why would he do that?" Matt asked.

"I never got all the details. He died before I found out."

Decia studied him like a bug under a magnifying glass. "Doc, you're a lot of things, but a good liar isn't one of them."

"I'm not lying."

"Maybe so, but you aren't telling us the whole truth." He felt sorry for her three boys when they got in trouble. The woman was tenacious.

The detective reminded Jonah of his grandmother. Not in age or looks, but in how she read people like a human lie detector. "Your boys must not get away with anything."

A cheesy grin graced Decia's face. "Nope. I have a whole police department watching out for them."

Jonah chuckled, then groaned. "Give me time to figure out what's going on. You'll be my first call once I do." But not a minute before. He owed Ken that much. He'd given Decia and Matt the probability the explosion wasn't an accident. He knew the detectives. The information would not go uninvestigated.

"I can live with that…for now." Matt dropped his boot to the ground. Glass crunched under it. "But we still need to take your statement. I'm willing to wait a little while for the shock to wear off and that headache to ease, but it needs to happen sometime tonight."

"I appreciate that." If his head didn't stop pounding, he wasn't sure how much help he'd be.

Aaron packed his medical bag. "I've done all I can do. I hope you change your mind about the hospital."

"If I need it, I'll go." He examined the paramedic's handywork and signed the refusal to be transported paperwork. "Thanks, Aaron."

"Sure thing, Doc." Aaron bade Matt and Decia goodbye, then took off to join his partner.

"Would you like a ride since yours is toast?" Matt gestured to the broken windows of the SUV.

"I…uh…I think I'd like to stay for a bit."

"Does your phone work?" Decia asked.

Jonah pulled the device from his pocket and tapped the screen. It lit up. "Thankfully, yes."

"We'll be around until we can get a look at Ken's body. Let us know if you change your mind about the ride."

"Thanks, Ladecia. I appreciate it."

The two detectives strode down the cordoned-off street.

Jonah sat alone in the back of his SUV, staring at the mess that used to be his friend's home. Fire hoses sprayed the remaining flames while the captain yelled instructions to the firefighters. The stench of charred wood and who knew what else burned his nose.

He toyed with his cell phone, pondering what to do next. Ken was gone, along with the explanation behind the falsified autopsy reports.

The urge to call Noelle had his fingers hovering over the speed dial. If he asked, she'd come. That was the kind of friendship they had.

But at the moment, he wasn't ready to face her—or anyone.

* * *

Elite Guardian Noelle Burton turned the lock on her three-bedroom craftsman-style house. She pushed the door open, placed her keys on the hook next to the entry, and lugged her duffel bag into her bedroom. Fatigue shrouded her body from the long week of protecting a celebrity model from a stalker while on vacation in Hilton Head.

Earbud in, she called Raven, the administrative assistant at Elite Guardians Agency Savannah, while she unzipped her bag.

"Hello."

She smiled at the chipper greeting. "Hey, Raven."

"Noelle. How'd it go?"

"Everyone's safe." She'd thought her last assignment would end in tragedy, but thankfully it hadn't. Beyond the potential loss of life, it wasn't a blemish she wanted on the new EGA Savannah office that she managed. "Chrissy Logan is doing as well as can be expected, and her stalker is behind bars."

"That's good to hear. Take tomorrow off. You deserve it."

"Maybe." Noelle appreciated the faith Lizzie and the other Guardians had placed in her to make the new branch office a success. She refused to let them down.

"Look, we know who really runs the office."

She chuckled. Raven wasn't wrong. The woman with the penchant for all things goth ran EGA Savannah flawlessly. "When you put it that way…I'll consider it."

"Good. Now get some rest."

The line went dead. Noelle shook her head and unloaded her duffel.

Dirty clothes in the hamper, she added clean clothes and refilled personal items in her go-bag. She placed the duffel in her closet and changed into a tank top. Home—the only place she'd wear the skin-revealing shirt. Her gaze drifted to the picture of her grandmother, a model who'd died of skin cancer a month before Noelle's fifth birthday. Noelle had been devastated, but it was her mother who'd changed. She demanded a model-perfect look, an annoying gift from her grandmother, and developed a new obsession with protection from skin cancer.

"Thanks, Mom, for the self-esteem problem."

She shook off the shame and eyed her bed. A nap sounded good after a week of being on alert, but her mind wouldn't shut down that easily. She retrieved a water bottle from the refrigerator and headed to her home office.

Pictures of homicides dating back fifteen years covered one wall. The set of photos of the faceless victim—her own case—made her stomach clench.

The scars on her upper arm, a gift from a serial killer, itched at the memories. The man had destroyed her sense of security at age seventeen, but she'd worked past her trauma and driven herself to become a detective at the Savannah Police Department.

Noelle's cell phone rang, jerking her from the past. She glanced at the caller ID and smiled. "Hi, Lizzie."

"Hey, girl. How's it going?" Her friend, Lizzie Tremaine Lee, sounded happy. And why shouldn't she be? She'd married her best friend on Christmas Eve. Lizzie was one of the few that knew about Noelle's past and her discontent with her law enforcement career.

"Things are going well. The new agency is busy."

"Are you happy you took the management position Olivia offered you?"

"I am." When Lizzie had approached her about a change in careers, Noelle had known she couldn't pass up the opportunity. Olivia Savage had taken it a step further and offered her the manager job at the EGA Savannah office. "I have a great core team with Alana Flores and Juliette Montgomery. And our admin, Raven, is amazing."

"Bottom line, are you content?" Leave it to Lizzie to cut to the heart of the issue.

Noelle's mind drifted to her job and friends. She had found contentment in her life over the past year.

"Noelle?"

"Yeah, I'm here. To answer your question…yes. Being a bodyguard has given me a new perspective."

"I'm glad."

"So, how's married life?"

Lizzie laughed. "With Charlie, it's always an adventure." Her friend got quiet for a moment. "It's more than I ever dreamed it could be."

"Oh, Lizzie." Her friend had lived through one heartbreak after another. "I'm thrilled for you." What Noelle wouldn't give to have someone to share life with. But her lack of experience in the romance department made it difficult to go beyond friendship. Besides, no man would attach themselves to someone as damaged and broken as her. Rubbing the thick white lines that covered her upper arm and extended to her chest and torso, she sighed.

"I have to get going. But remember, I'm here for you if you need to talk…about anything."

"I know. And I appreciate it. Take care, Lizzie."

"You too, my friend."

Noelle stared at the phone, then tucked it into her pocket. Her gaze traveled to the section of recent homicides on the wall of her office, and she lost herself in the cases. The ages of the women didn't match the older kills; however, they all had cuts that matched Noelle's.

A musty odor tickled her nose, and darkness closed in on her. Pain radiated through her upper body.

No. You're not in that room. You're home. Safe.She breathed deeply, struggling to bring herself to the present.

A ringing pulled her from the memory.

Noelle shook off the flashback and fumbled for her phone.

"Hello." Her greeting was breathier than she'd intended.

"Elle, it's Jonah."

She smiled at his nickname for her and pushed the past to the recesses of her mind. "Hi, Jonah. How are you?"

"Um…not so good."

His shaky tone registered. "What's wrong?"

"Ken's gone."

She straightened. "What do you mean? As in, he left town?"

"No, Elle. Ken's dead. Someone blew up his house."

She stumbled to her desk and dropped onto her office chair. "How? Why?"

"That's the thing. He asked me to come over to discuss a…" She heard him exhale. "…problem. I got delayed at work and arrived a few moments before his house exploded."

"Are you hurt? What can I do?" Jonah was a good friend. Probably the closest she'd ever get to a boyfriend. She hated hearing the pain in his voice.

"I have scrapes and bruises plus a mild concussion. But more than anything, I could use a ride. My SUV is damaged. And with the head injury, I shouldn't be driving."

She could relate. A year ago, she'd suffered a concussion that'd sidelined her for weeks. "Where are you?" Noelle hurried to her room and threw on a three-quarter-sleeve blouse over her tank top. She rushed to the entryway and grabbed her keys.

"I'm still at Ken's. I couldn't leave."

"Stay put. I'm on my way." She dashed out the door.

"Thanks, Elle. I hate to admit it, but I'm a bit lost as to what to do."

The fact he'd declared his mental state spoke of the trust he placed in her. If only she could return the sentiment. On most things she had trusted him, but her time in the hands of a serial killer—not so much.

"Hang tough, Jonah. I'll get you through this."

"I'll be waiting." He hung up.

There was more to the story than Jonah had divulged over the phone. She knew it down to the marrow of her bones. And she intended to find out what. Noelle hit the speed dial for Juliette.

"Hi, Noelle. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Not happening at the moment. Jonah called. He said he's hurt, and Ken Dodson's house blew up."

"Is Ken okay?"

"He's dead."

Juliette's sharp inhale came over the line. "What do you need from us?"

"Nothing right now, but that might change. I'm headed over to check on Jonah and find out what's up."

"I'm sorry to hear about Ken. But I find it fascinating that Jonah contacted you first."

Noelle knew where that statement was going. "We're just friends."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that. The way he cared for you after he beaned you in the head with the line drive during that softball game—nope, not buying it."

"Friends, Juliette. That's all we'll ever be. I'll let you know what I find out."

"I'll let Alana know. We'll be waiting."

"Thanks." Noelle hung up and focused on getting to Jonah as fast as possible.

Twenty minutes later, she parked at the end of Ken's street. Fire trucks and police cars blocked her from getting closer. Red and blue lights flashed in a steady tempo. Yellow police tape looped the yard, blocking civilians from entering.

She ducked under the ribbon and flashed her special law enforcement credentials at the patrol officer guarding the scene.

He nodded, and she continued her trek toward the smoldering house.

A figure, hunched over in what used to be the manicured front yard of the chief medical examiner, caught her attention. She squinted. Jonah.

Hurrying to his side, she called out. "Jonah."

He straightened.

She glanced down at what had his attention and sucked in a breath. The explosion had thrown Ken into the yard.

The sheet used to cover the man's body had been folded back, exposing his torso. The stench of burnt flesh made her eyes water. But it was the bullet hole in his chest that roiled her stomach.

She stepped closer and held out her hand. Jonah clasped it and squeezed. When his gaze met hers, the pain in his eyes ripped her heart to shreds.

"You don't need to remember him like this." Noelle prayed he'd listen and walk away from the gruesome scene.

He stared at her with a vulnerability she'd never witnessed before. "I failed him."

She tilted her head. "How?"

His shoulders sagged, but he held tight to her hand. "He called me, needing my help. You know how I am. I got caught up with work. Lost track of time. I should've arrived earlier, but I was late. Maybe I could have saved him." Jonah's gaze dropped to Ken.

With her free hand, she not-so-gently gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. "Don't go there. You are not to blame for this." When he didn't attempt to look away, she eased her hold. "Jonah, if you'd left work on time, most likely you'd have been killed too."

"But what if?—"

"No. We are not playing the what-if game. It'll get us nowhere." She softened her tone. "I feel bad about what happened to Ken. He was a great guy. But I will not apologize for the fact that I'm glad you didn't walk in on whatever happened. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I refuse to be sorry for feeling relieved that you aren't the one lying there under that sheet."

Tears pooled in his eyes. "Thank you for coming."

"Always." She smiled.

The corner of his mouth lifted for a second, then drooped. He let go, then bent to lift the sheet and cover Ken.

Jonah stood and ran a hand through his hair. "Elle, I need a favor. An investigative one."

"Name it." If the man wanted her help, she'd do whatever was necessary.

"I'll pay you."

She shook her head. "No way."

"But—"

Noelle held her palm out, stopping him. "Are we friends?"

The crease on his forehead deepened. "Yes. But I'm not sure why."

"Excuse me?"

"I beaned you with a softball and gave you a concussion."

"So? To me it was the start of a wonderful friendship. You took care of me. Made sure I had everything I needed. Kept me company when I was bored out of my mind because I couldn't work. You know me better than most."

"Same."

"And let's not forget, you know my quirks." She waggled her eyebrows.

He laughed. A bit forced, but it was a sweet sound.

She turned serious. "You know about my murder board and the cold cases. No one, not even Lizzie, knows that."

Jonah placed his hand over his heart. "And I'm honored." His brown eyes bored into her blue ones. "But I don't know all your secrets."

She sucked back the gasp that threatened to escape. How did he know?

"Elle."

She mentally shook off the panic. "I have to say the same about you. You're holding something back." He opened his mouth, but she put a finger on his lips to stop him. "And that's okay. I don't have to know everything."

He seemed to mull over her words and nodded.

"Now, why don't you give me a hint at what you need my help with."

Jonah ran his fingers through his hair, then glanced around as if to confirm no one would hear him. "Ken did something he wasn't proud of and wanted me to reopen a few of his cases."

Noelle's stomach jumped to her throat. What had Ken gotten himself into? And now he'd put Jonah in danger by bringing him into the mess.

She blew out air between pursed lips. "I think you need to tell me everything."

* * *

Tucked behind a tree down the street, Jack watched the flurry of activity. Dark-gray smoke danced toward the sky, and a hiss from the water hitting the flames filled the air. When the house had splintered into pieces, a smile had bloomed on his face. Then he'd seen the smoldering body in the yard and wanted to scream.

The explosion should have blown to bits that ungrateful… He gritted his teeth. His blood boiled at the unfairness. The bullet he'd placed in Ken Dodson's heart had solved his problem and given him a sense of satisfaction, but he'd had no intention of leading the cops to his door. A gas leak to eliminate any evidence of his presence had been the perfect plan—until it wasn't.

The rigged natural gas line had ignited as planned and should have destroyed the evidence of his presence in the house, including the cause of Ken's demise. Somehow, he'd messed up, or the universe had conspired against him. Either way, the mistake spelled disaster. He sagged against the tree and thumped the back of his head on it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The doctor's coworker, Harris, had arrived moments before the house detonated. Not an odd occurrence for Dodson's friend, but not exactly normal.

Jack scratched his jaw. Why had the man shown up today? The good ol' doctor had hung up the phone when Jack walked in to confront him. Had Dodson told Harris about the agreement?

His heart rate spiked. No! He wouldn't have. Would he?

He wiped the sweat from his brow and peeked around the tree, spotting Harris with some lady.

If the chief medical examiner had spilled the blackmail, he had to stop the flow of information. He couldn't risk the truth coming out.

Options flitted through his mind. He nodded. Decision made. Dr. Jonah Harris had to die.