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Person of Interest
Debby Giusti
WOMAN ON THE RUNWhile babysitting a young servicewoman's infant, Natalie Frazier hears a murder in the neighboring army duplex. Convinced her former commander is behind the crime, the ex-soldier bolts with the baby. But who will believe her story? Army investigator Everett Kohl deals only with the facts, but this time his gut instincts can't be denied. Is the attractive Natalie a cunning killer, as his ranking officers believe, or an innocent victim? Ordered to bring her in, Everett has a decision to make. Helping her could cost him his job…but not protecting Natalie and the baby could get all of them killed…Military Investigations: Serving their country and solving crimes
WOMAN ON THE RUN
While babysitting a young servicewoman’s infant, Natalie Frazier hears a murder in the neighboring army duplex. Convinced her former commander is behind the crime, the ex-soldier bolts with the baby. But who will believe her story? Army investigator Everett Kohl deals only with the facts, but this time his gut instincts can’t be denied. Is the attractive Natalie a cunning killer, as his ranking officers believe, or an innocent victim? Ordered to bring her in, Everett has a decision to make. Helping her could cost him his job…but not protecting Natalie and the baby could get all of them killed…
Military Investigations: Serving their country and solving crimes
“Keep your head down.”
Everett pulled off the roadway onto a dirt path. “We’re being followed.”
It’s him. The killer. She didn’t give voice to her suspicion. Couldn’t.
He stopped behind a thick stand of trees. “Stay here. I’ll go check.”
Seconds after he disappeared into the woods, brakes squealed in the distance. Cuddling the baby tighter, she heard a crack of a gunshot cut through the stillness.
A lump of fear filled her throat.
No. Surely Everett hadn’t been shot. Then a new realization hit her. The shooter could follow the tire tracks. She and the baby were easy prey.
She stepped from the car and ran, clutching the baby close.
Leaves rustled behind her. Footfalls came closer. Her toe caught, she started to fall and someone grabbed her.
“I’ve got you.”
It wasn’t the killer, but Everett.
DEBBY GIUSTI is an award-winning Christian author who met and married her military husband at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful children and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of mystery and suspense that touch the heart and soul. Visit Debby online at debbygiusti.com (http://www.debbygiusti.com); blog with her at seekerville.blogspot.com (http://www.seekerville.blogspot.com) and craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com (http://www.craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com); and email her at Debby@DebbyGiusti.com.
Person of Interest
Debby Giusti
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I love you, Lord, my strength,
Lord, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer,
My God, my rock of refuge,
my shield, my saving horn, my stronghold!
—Psalms 18:2
In thanksgiving for
The Seekers
My twelve Sisters in Christ
who spread God’s message of
love and mercy
through their wonderful stories.
I give thanks to my God at every remembrance of you.
—Philippians 1:3
Tina Radcliffe
Mary Connealy
Janet Dean
Audra Harders
Ruth Logan Herne
Pam Hillman
Cara Lynn James
Myra Johnson
Glynna Kaye
Sandra Leesmith
Julie Lessman
Missy Tippens
Contents
Cover (#u85e19029-f3da-5fef-8a7c-308006704af8)
Back Cover Text (#ue420c2c6-05aa-580e-ae8e-3baed1b5b227)
Introduction (#ubddc8530-f361-56a4-ab6b-220e8dce42a9)
About the Author (#u0266deb7-5e20-57a4-8e5e-d5eb33503713)
Title Page (#u127df78c-f36f-5f78-9f89-200eb602effd)
Bible Verse (#ucbcb85d4-7c3c-5a0a-9906-e20ecdffb31a)
Dedication (#u9016c473-6774-5537-9b64-2317390f3151)
ONE (#ud7d09058-0426-53f5-b460-d67842ca1e86)
TWO (#uff201794-0aa9-5b47-b672-78a39d7fb49e)
THREE (#u33799a91-948a-51eb-98a8-5610329ea09c)
FOUR (#u6194ae1a-98ad-577d-8c2a-0eadc476e7b8)
FIVE (#u65a10050-ed6e-57ee-b778-4a541959bc6e)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ulink_fed62d02-e473-5bca-a11c-1d684606b011)
Natalie Frazier’s heart raced as she woke with a start and struggled to get her bearings. Blinking her way back to reality, she recognized the Joneses’ living room on post at Fort Rickman, Georgia, instead of her own apartment in nearby Freemont.
Outside, wind tangled through the giant oaks. Branches creaked in the September night and scraped against the two-story brick quarters. The sound added to her unease as lightning flashed through the windows, followed by thunder that buffeted the house.
She closed the book that lay open on her lap and hesitated, listening for the baby’s cry. Relieved that the little one hadn’t awakened, she placed the textbook on the coffee table. How to Manage the Middle School Classroom was required reading for her teaching degree and had undoubtedly lulled her to sleep.
But what had awakened her?
Natalie had accepted the two-week nanny position caring for Lieutenant Wanda Jones’s five-month-old daughter while Wanda was away for training, and she planned to use the time to catch up on her classwork.
As prior military, with six years on active duty under her belt, Natalie was usually unfazed by new circumstances. Tonight was different.
In hopes of calming her anxiety, she hurried into the foyer and insured the front door was locked before she stepped to the nearby window. Easing back the curtain, she stared for a long moment at the narrow, two-lane road that ran through the military housing area. A porch light from one of the duplexes across the street cast a yellow glow over the few cars parked at the curb.
Dropping the curtain, she flexed her shoulders to allay the tension in her neck and padded across the hardwood floor to the kitchen. The small, cozy room had seemed inviting this morning when she’d arrived. Wanda had coffee brewing and warm-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls to welcome her. The scent of the fresh brew and hot rolls had long since disappeared, leaving behind an emptiness that tugged at her heart. She and the baby were safe, yet something about the night was unsettling. Probably the darkness outside and the encroaching storm. Both caused her concern.
Opening the door to the attached one-car garage, she stared into the interior, seeing only her small sedan. Convinced her imagination was playing tricks on her, she shut the door and slipped the chain lock in place before she flipped off the kitchen light and retraced her steps into the main living-dining room combination.
She needed to check on Sofia. Natalie climbed the steep wooden stairway to the second floor and tiptoed into the nursery. The little one was asleep on her back, her cheeks plump and rosy.
Wanda had been concerned about leaving. With her husband—Sofia’s father—deployed to the Middle East, the female lieutenant had weighed accepting a two-week school assignment at Fort Hood that was good for her military career but hard on a new mom forced to leave her infant daughter.
Natalie and Wanda had been stationed together in Germany and had reconnected after Natalie had moved to nearby Freemont. Natalie was happy to help, and the arrangement would be good for both of them. Wanda needed child care, and Natalie wanted time to study away from her cramped apartment and moody roommate.
Denise Lang had become increasingly irritable over the past two months. Natalie blamed her roommate’s new boyfriend, who insisted Denise keep their relationship under wraps. The secrecy was taking a toll on her and impacted her relationship with Natalie.
Pulling the receiving blanket up around Sofia’s shoulders, Natalie smiled at the precious child and returned to the hallway on her way to the guest room. The sound of raised voices from the adjoining quarters next door stopped her at the top of the stairs.
She should have asked Wanda about the neighbors. All she’d provided had been the woman’s first name and her phone number. Natalie didn’t even know the couple’s last name. Surely the bickering wasn’t a regular occurrence.
Thunder rolled overhead, and rain drummed against the roof. The voices grew louder as the storm intensified. Although the shared wall between the two sets of quarters prevented Natalie from understanding what was said, the harsh tones signaled escalating conflict.
A woman screamed.
Something crashed against the wall.
Natalie gasped and took a step back. Her pulse raced.
Another crash and a second scream were followed by a series of thumps as if something—or someone—had fallen down the stairway.
Heart in her throat, Natalie checked again to be certain Sofia was asleep before she ran downstairs and opened the front door. The storm had unleashed its fury with strong winds and torrential rain. Her voice of reason told her to stay dry and mind her own business, but her need to help overrode the warning.
