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TO CATCH A KILLER
Trusting the wrong person had gotten his father killed. CIA agent Ed Carter isn’t about to repeat the mistake. Pulling a gun on nurse Bailey Williams may not have been the smartest idea, but the beautiful caretaker is Ed’s only suspect in the murder. Problem is, her vulnerable brown eyes claim innocence and set off his protective instincts. The spark between them is undeniable, but Bailey could never trust her life—or her heart—to a man who thinks her guilty. But when the real killer returns and threatens not just her but her family, Bailey must place her faith in the only man who can keep them from being silenced forever…
“What aren’t you saying, Bailey?”
Ed stepped closer so he could see the truth in her eyes.
Something flashed there again. Fear? Defiance?
“We’re not in this together, you know,” she finally muttered. “I was doing just fine here before you showed up.”
He stepped closer. “Were you?”
“I’ve always done things on my own. I just decided to take matters into my own hands and see if the intruder was still here.”
He didn’t buy her story for a second. “And was he?”
She swallowed so hard that her throat muscles visibly tightened. “You didn’t see him. Did you?”
He shifted, his hands going to his hips. “You need to tell me what kind of game you’re playing. Otherwise, we might both end up dead.”
Wrinkles appeared at the corner of her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I won’t wander away again. I had a moment of bad judgment.”
That little excuse wasn’t going to settle with him. But she wasn’t saying anything else right now.
He’d keep an eye on her. He didn’t trust her.
But for now, they had to work together.
CHRISTY BARRITT’s books have won a Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery and have been twice nominated for the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award. She’s married to her Prince Charming, a man who thinks she’s hilarious—but only when she’s not trying to be. Christy’s a self-proclaimed klutz, an avid music lover and a road trip aficionado. For more information, visit her website at christybarritt.com.
Hidden Agenda
Christy Barritt
Do not conform to the pattern of this world,
but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.
Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—
his good, pleasing and perfect will.
—Romans 12:2
This book is dedicated to the unseen and unrecognized defenders of freedom.
Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
Dear Reader
Bailey Williams froze, the page from her novel half-turned and candlelight dancing across the words. The book slipped from her hands. Instead of retrieving it, she pulled the blanket tighter across her shoulders.
What was that sound?
The raging storm outside had already toppled some large tree branches into the yard. Power had gone out more than three hours ago, and the nighttime—deep and blinding—had fallen in the blink of an eye.
She was supposed to leave today, but there’d been no boats coming or going from Smuggler’s Cove. So she was stuck here, in this huge old house, on a creepy island in the middle of a subtropical storm.
Could things get any worse?
She squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered the events of the past several days. Events that included losing one of the best employers she’d ever had. That involved losing the job she’d held for the past eight months. That comprised the prospect of starting over again. Going somewhere new. Finding another job.
Mr. Carter had died a week ago today. She’d stuck around, trying to get his affairs in order. She’d planned his funeral, cleaned his house and prepared food for guests who’d come into town.
She felt like the only family the man had, yet she wasn’t family. She was simply Mr. Carter’s nurse, someone who helped on occasion with meals and housework and offered a listening ear. She mourned the man as if she’d been his daughter. In a way, the man had come to feel like a second father.
Another crash sounded, and her lungs tightened. What was that? Had the wind sent something toppling into the house? Had one of the shutters come loose?
She tugged the blanket even tighter around her shoulders. The October day had already been frigid before the power had gone out, the heat along with it. She’d tried to start a fire but had been unsuccessful.
Reaching into the drawer of the table beside