Cold Malice Read online

  Cold Malice

  by Toni Anderson

  Complete Booklist

  COLD JUSTICE SERIES

  A Cold Dark Promise (Book #9~A Wedding Novella) Coming November 2017

  Cold Malice (Book #8)

  Cold Secrets (Book #7)

  Cold Hearted (Book #6)

  Cold In The Shadows (Book #5)

  Cold Fear (Book #4)

  Cold Light of Day (Book #3)

  Cold Pursuit (Book #2)

  A Cold Dark Place (Book #1)

  THE BARKLEY SOUND SERIES

  Dark Waters (Book #2)

  Dangerous Waters (Book #1)

  STAND-ALONE TITLES

  The Killing Game

  Edge of Survival

  Storm Warning

  Sea of Suspicion

  ‘HER’ ROMANTIC SUSPENSE SERIES

  Her Risk To Take (Novella ~ Book #3)

  Her Last Chance (Book #2)

  Her Sanctuary (Book #1)

  AVAILABLE AS BOX SET COLLECTIONS

  Cold Justice Series 6 Book Box Set, (Books 1-6)

  Cold Justice Series Box Set, Volume 2 (Books 4-6)

  Cold Justice Series Box Set, Volume 1 (Books 1-3)

  Her ~ Romantic Suspense Box Set (Books 1-3)

  ASAC Steve (Mac) McKenzie is out to prove himself by leading a task force investigating a series of murders in the heart of Washington, DC. His undercover work in an antigovernment compound twenty years earlier is related—as is the sweet, innocent girl he befriended back then. Now that girl is a beautiful woman, and she has something to hide.

  Tess Fallon spent a lifetime trying to outrun her family’s brand of bigotry, but someone is threatening her anonymity by using the anniversary of her father’s death to carry out evil crimes and she’s terrified her younger brother is involved. She sets out to find the truth and comes face-to-face with a man she once idolized, a man she thought long dead. As the crimes escalate it becomes obvious the killer has an agenda, and Tess and Mac are running out of time to stop him.

  Will the perpetrator use a decades-old dream of revolution to attack the federal government? And will the fact that Tess and Mac have fallen hard for each other give a cold-hearted killer the power to destroy them both?

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  Reader Letter

  Cold Justice Series Overview

  Acknowledgments

  Cold Malice

  Copyright © 2017 Toni Anderson

  Kobo Edition

  Cover design by Syd Gill / Syd Gill Designs

  Print ISBN-13: 9780994870162

  Digital ISBN-13: 9780994870179

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, and events portrayed in this book are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  For more information on Toni Anderson’s books, sign up for her newsletter, or check out her website (www.toniandersonauthor.com).

  Dedicated to the brave men and women of the FBI.

  Fidelity – Bravery – Integrity.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Complete Booklist

  About the Book

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Dear Reader

  Cold Justice Series Overview

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Reviews

  Chapter One

  Nearly Twenty Years Earlier. August 22.

  “Clear the table, Theresa Jane.”

  Theresa Jane sighed resignedly. Since her sister, Ellie, had left home two months earlier, it was always her turn to clear the dishes. Her mother sent her a pointed look when she didn’t move fast enough and she hurriedly got to her feet and started scraping plates.

  “What time did your father say he’d be home?” Her mom directed the question to Walt, one of Theresa Jane’s two older brothers.

  Walt was seventeen and had his own truck.

  Theresa Jane didn’t like Walt very much. Her other brother, Eddie, was a year older than Walt. He’d gone into town with her daddy that afternoon to pick up some supplies.

  She didn’t like Eddie much either.

  “Don’t rightly know.” Walt wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed his plate away.

  Her mother’s lips tightened and Theresa Jane ducked her gaze. An angry Francis Hines tended to lash out at the first thing that caught her attention. Theresa Jane had learned not to be that thing.

  She moved around the table scraping plates and collecting cutlery, trying to be as invisible as possible. She worked her way around her mother, Walt, her mother’s cousin, Jacob, and his girlfriend, Lisa.

  Her daddy had a girlfriend, too, but she wasn’t supposed to know.

  Theresa Jane tapped her five-month-old baby brother’s snub nose as he smushed mashed potatoes on the tray of his highchair. Bobby gurgled at her and she grinned back. He was the happiest baby in the world though no one ever paid him no mind.

  Her arms trembled from the weight of the dishes, but she knew she’d get the belt if she dropped them.

  A sharp screech of chair legs against hardwood floors shattered the silence as Kenny Travers climbed to his feet. Kenny had moved into the compound six months ago after getting into a fight with his boss. Her daddy liked Kenny because he was good with the horses. Her momma thought he was up to something. He took the heavy stack of plates from her grasp and put them on the table, adding his own to the pile before scooping them up. She sent him a shy smile and he winked. Kenny might be a “no-good cowboy” according to her momma, but he was the only person in Kodiak who was ever nice to her.

  Walt had been nice to her last week—for about five-seconds. He’d offered to help collect eggs from the chicken coop. Should have known it was a trick. Soon as they’d gotten to the barn he’d trapped her in the horse stall and grabbed one of her hands, placing it against the front of his pants. Her stomach lurched from the memory and she glared at him as he sat at the table belching.

  He was disgusting.

  Boys were disgusting.

  She was so glad she was a girl.

  Thankfully, a rooster had flown up onto the side of the stall that day in the barn, startling Walt. That rooster had given her the chance to pull her hand away and escape. She’d
run smack bang into Kenny outside and he’d caught her by the arm. Her expression must have told him something bad had happened even though she hadn’t made a sound. Theresa Jane did most of her screaming on the inside.

  Then Walt had walked outside adjusting his zipper and Kenny’s eyes had gotten all glittery and mean. His voice had turned real quiet when he’d told her to go back to the cabin and that he’d fetch the eggs along shortly. Then he’d dragged Walt back into the barn by the scruff of his neck, and barred the door.

  At dinner later that same night, Walt had shown up with a busted lip. He’d avoided looking at her and told everyone he’d walked into a door. He hadn’t bothered her since then, but she still didn’t trust him.

  Kenny Travers was her Guardian Angel.

  She collected the drinking glasses, avoiding Walt’s foot when he tried to trip her. She followed Kenny into the kitchen where he dumped the stack of dishes on the draining board.

  “Thanks.” She craned her neck to look at him where he towered over her. She barely reached his waist.

  “You’re welcome, missy.” He started running hot water into the bowl.

  “I’ll do it.” She dragged over a chair so she could look out the window as she did her chores.

  One side of his mouth curled up and his blue-green eyes twinkled as he studied her. “I don’t mind helping, sweetheart.”

  They were nearly eye level when she clambered up onto the chair. Her heart fairly burst from looking at him. Maybe when she was thirteen she could marry him, instead of one of Daddy’s other friends.

  She glanced over her shoulder into the dining room where her family was starting on one of their nightly rants about the cost of fuel and government taxes and the president and colored people. She’d never seen a black man, but from what her family said, black people would kill her as soon as look at her. It didn’t make sense, but she was smart enough to be scared.

  Most things didn’t make sense even though she was ten now—like the fact they’d tattooed the number fourteen onto her left arm. She liked math, but she didn’t like the number fourteen any more than she liked any other number. The skin was red and raised and itched like poison oak. She rubbed at the scab. Kenny’s mouth tightened until his lips disappeared.

  “Sorry.” She cast her eyes downward.

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Theresa Jane.” His voice was low and funny sounding. Rough. Deep. Like her dog Sampson’s warning growl.

  She sighed as she squirted washing up liquid into the bowl along with the hot water, knowing she was gonna get told off for making too many bubbles, but doing it anyway. “Momma says if I paid more attention to my lessons I wouldn’t be so darn stupid.”

  He swallowed so loud she thought he’d gotten something stuck in his gullet. “You all right?”

  He nodded and cleared his throat. “You sure you don’t want a hand with these dishes, missy?”

  She let out a gusty sigh. “They’ll just get mad with me and call me lazy if I don’t do it all. An’ I don’t like being called names.”

  Kenny’s brow quirked and he leaned in close to murmur, “How can someone sitting on their butt doing nothin’ call you lazy when you’re the one doing all the work?”

  Theresa Jane giggled because Kenny always said the things she was thinking. “Don’t make no sense to me, either, but that’s what they do.”

  Kenny shook his head and said in a low voice, “You’re a good kid, Theresa Jane. Don’t ever change.” Then he hesitated, moved closer and whispered in her ear. “If there’s ever trouble, will you promise me something?”

  Her eyes locked on his as she nodded.

  “Hide in your closet or under your bed. Don’t come out for anything or anyone.”

  Theresa Jane stuck out her bottom lip and raised her own brows. “What kinda trouble?”

  Kenny glanced into the dining room and his gaze darkened. “Any kind. And lock your door at night. Promise?”

  “Okay. I promise.” She nodded curiously, then his lips compressed and his expression closed down and he took a step back. He turned and walked out the back door.

  Footsteps approached from behind her as she tested the temperature of the water with her fingertips.

  “You used too much soap again, stupid girl.”

  Theresa Jane kept her eyes averted. “Sorry, Momma.”

  “What was he saying to you?”

  “Nothin’, Momma.”

  Francis Hines walked up to stand next to her at the sink. “He say where he was going?”

  Theresa Jane tucked in her chin. “Nope. He just left.”

  Francis twitched the net curtain and they both watched Kenny climb into his truck and drive down the winding dirt road, kicking up dust behind it before turning left on the main highway into town.

  “Maybe he’s going to find Daddy?” Theresa Jane suggested, hoping that would make her momma happy.

  “Ha. Your daddy isn’t lost, Theresa Jane. He’s either drunk or…” Her mother trailed off when they heard the honk of a horn and saw her father’s truck pull into the long driveway and start rumbling along the road.

  Theresa Jane risked a glance at her mother’s face. “He’s home,” she said brightly.

  “So he is. So he is.” Francis’s lips pinched. Then she turned and got Daddy’s and Eddie’s dinners out of the oven.

  Theresa Jane braced herself as her father came in. He frowned when he saw her standing on a chair over a sink full of white foam, but didn’t yell at her. Eddie came in behind him and pushed past her to help himself to a glass of water from the tap.

  “Hey!” She almost lost her balance and had to grab onto his arm to steady herself. He pried her fingers off him as if she had cooties. She grabbed onto the sink instead. “Watch it!”

  God, he was annoying.

  He leaned down until she went cross-eyed meeting his gaze. “Shut up, brat. Else I’ll teach you some manners.”

  The pungent scent of beer hit her in the face and her stomach churned. A shiver of repulsion moved through her. He laughed, then walked away with a cocky swagger that made him look like he’d pooped his pants.

  She stuck out her tongue at his retreating back.

  Ever since her older sister, Ellie, had married Harlan Trimble in June her brothers had started treating her different. Meaner.

  She didn’t like it.

  She scrubbed the scourer over the first plate and placed it on the drainer. Bubbles drizzled over the stainless steel and into the sink.

  “Get a move on, Theresa Jane. Sun will have gone down by the time you’re done lollygagging,” her mother berated her. “And make sure you rinse off those suds.”

  Theresa Jane scrubbed faster and wished she could have driven away into the sunset with no-good cowboy Kenny Travers.

  * * *

  Six hours later, a hand clamped over Theresa Jane’s mouth as she lay asleep in bed and a voice hissed in her ear. “Get up. The Feds are coming!”

  The words shot terror into her heart as she lurched into consciousness. Her mother let go and ripped back the bedclothes. Despite it being summer, an icy draft pierced her thin nightclothes and made goosebumps dance over her skin.

  “Get dressed,” her mother commanded.

  Theresa Jane dragged on yesterday’s clothes that lay in a heap beside the bed.

  “Why are they here? What are they going to do with us?” She’d grown up hearing about the evilness of the federal government, how the government wanted to control what they thought and did. Destroy their way of life. The Feds wanted to steal her daddy’s hard-earned money, tax their land and take away their guns. Guns were the only way they could protect themselves from the bad people.

  Theresa Jane wasn’t exactly sure who the bad people were but they were everywhere according to her folks. And now the Feds were coming for them.

  “We’re not going to let them do a damned thing,” her mother snapped.

  Theresa Jane’s heart pounded. Tears gathered in her eyes. “I’
m scared, Momma.”

  Her mother’s expression softened for the briefest of instants. “I won’t let them hurt you. I’ll shoot you myself before I let them take any of my babies.”

  Theresa Jane flinched.

  “Keep down.” Her mother pressed a heavy pistol into her grip. Then she ran, hunched over, into the hall. Theresa Jane followed, using both hands to carry the weapon. She knew how to handle a gun. She’d been having weekly shooting lessons since she was five years old, and regularly beat her brothers at target practice. But the idea of pointing this at a real person and pulling the trigger made her want to weep.

  She ran awkwardly after her mother. A gunshot made her scream so loud her ears hurt.

  “Shut the fuck up with that screeching,” Eddie snarled at her. He was hunkered behind the refrigerator, a dark shadow despite the bright moonlight that shone through the open drapes. Walt was in the living room staring out of the north-facing window.

  “They’re not taking us alive,” her mother stated, sending a sliver of dread coiling through Theresa Jane’s gut.

  Cries filled the darkness. Through the window Theresa Jane saw an orange glow lighting up the sky. The acrid smell of smoke drifted on the warm night air, coating the back of her throat.

  “They’re trying to burn us out.” Her daddy walked into the kitchen from the back of the house.

  Oh, God.

  Her daddy exchanged a long look with his wife. “They’ve taken the compound and surrounded the cabin. Stan told me on the radio Kenny’s dead. Saw him shot out near the barn.”

  A sharp pain stabbed Theresa Jane’s chest. Kenny couldn’t be dead. Not her Kenny.

  “I hate them.” Fury burned inside her chest even as her heart withered. “I hate them all.”

  Her father studied her and for the first time in her life she saw a small measure of respect reflected back in his eyes. “Go cover the window in your bedroom. Shoot anyone you don’t recognize.”

  Theresa Jane nodded, scurrying back to her room. A baby’s wail made her pause outside the door. Everyone had forgotten about baby Bobby who was sleeping in his crib beside her parents’ bed.