By Carla Neggers
On what's speculated to be a quiet lengthy weekend in New Hampshire, Deputy U.S. Marshal Mackenzie Stewart is viciously attacked on the lakefront cottage of her pal, federal pass judgement on Bernadette Peacham. Mackenzie fends off her attacker, yet he manages to flee. every little thing indicates he's a deranged drifter--until FBI exact agent Andrew Rook arrives.
With Rook, Mackenzie broke her personal rule to not become involved with someone in legislations enforcement, yet she is aware he isn't up from Washington, D.C., to set issues immediately among them. He's on a case.
As the quest for the mysterious attacker keeps, the case takes an unforeseen flip while Mackenzie follows Rook again to Washington and reveals that Bernadette's former mentor, a once-powerful, now-disgraced pass judgement on who has been supplying Rook with details, has long gone lacking. Mackenzie and Rook become aware of the stakes are greater than both had imagined, and a grasp felony with not anything left to lose is ready to gamble everything.
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I opened my mouth to say something but no sound came out. When I tried again and still no sound emerged, I gave up and looked down, running a finger over the surface of the case. I pulled the lid up. And then I burst into hysterics, laughing and crying at the same time. It was a silver necklace with a pendent. The pendent was…I couldn’t fathom the words. It was a small silver heart. Shooting through the heart was a single arrow, the tip made of a black stone. Onyx. My heart leaped and I wasn’t sure my ribs could contain it long.
Unable to stop it, I shuddered. It wasn’t only from the cold, though that seemed to suit my mood. Things were all screwy and I didn’t have any idea how to fix them. Maybe, just maybe, they weren’t meant to be. Everyone said things happened for a reason, so maybe tonight was one of those things. Maybe our breaking up had been one, too. By the time I caught up with him, he was already sitting on a swing. I sat down on the free one next to him and, more out of the habit than want, slowly began rocking back and forth.
What did he do to deserve my help? Save some of those puppies and kittens I must’ve tried killing off? The longer I looked at him, the more my heart tore to pieces. Seeing him with that other girl—Inez, one of my supposed friends—had felt like someone sending my heart through a dulled paper shredder. I was still slowly trying to put the pieces back together, but the final product would never look the same. I wanted to walk away right then and wash my hands of him. And I probably would have, if it hadn’t meant forfeiting love for myself.