TARGETED
“Your father called me a couple months ago,” Lynne said. “He said he’d gotten a letter. He was convinced I was being hunted by a serial killer.”
Kir sucked in a sharp breath. “Why didn’t you call and let me know he’d contacted you?”
“To be honest, I didn’t pay any attention to his warning. He’d called the office when I was in the middle of delivering a litter of pups, demanding to speak to me. When I got on the phone his words were slurred, as if he’d been drinking, and he just kept saying over and over I was going to be murdered. When I pressed him for details, he said he had been getting letters from a serial killer who was intending to kill the women of Pike. I honestly thought he was confusing the plot of a movie he was watching with real life.”
Kir moved forward, grabbing her hand to give it a small squeeze. “Don’t apologize, Lynne. I’m just on edge. And trust me, you weren’t the only one to dismiss my father’s ravings. The sheriff did. I did. . . .” His voice broke and he was forced to clear the lump from his throat. “Or at least, I assumed that if he truly was getting letters, they must be from someone who was trying to screw with him. What else could we think when there were never any bodies?”
“Until now . . .”
Books by Alexandra Ivy
Guardians of Eternity
WHEN DARKNESS COMES
EMBRACE THE DARKNESS
DARKNESS EVERLASTING
DARKNESS REVEALED
DARKNESS UNLEASHED
BEYOND THE DARKNESS
DEVOURED BY DARKNESS
BOUND BY DARKNESS
FEAR THE DARKNESS
DARKNESS AVENGED
HUNT THE DARKNESS
WHEN DARKNESS ENDS
DARKNESS RETURNS
BEWARE THE DARKNESS
CONQUER THE DARKNESS
SHADES OF DARKNESS
The Immortal Rogues
MY LORD VAMPIRE
MY LORD ETERNITY
MY LORD IMMORTALITY
The Sentinels
BORN IN BLOOD
BLOOD ASSASSIN
BLOOD LUST
Ares Security
KILL WITHOUT MERCY
KILL WITHOUT SHAME
Romantic Suspense
PRETEND YOU’RE SAFE
WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?
YOU WILL SUFFER
THE INTENDED VICTIM
DON’T LOOK
Historical Romance
SOME LIKE IT WICKED
SOME LIKE IT SINFUL
SOME LIKE IT BRAZEN
And don’t miss these
Guardians of Eternity novellas
TAKEN BY DARKNESS
in YOURS FOR ETERNITY
DARKNESS ETERNAL
in SUPERNATURAL
WHERE DARKNESS LIVES
in THE REAL WEREWIVES
OF VAMPIRE COUNTY
LEVET (eBook only)
A VERY LEVET CHRISTMAS
(eBook only)
And don’t miss these
Sentinel novellas
OUT OF CONTROL
ON THE HUNT
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
DON’T LOOK
ALEXANDRA IVY
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
TARGETED
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Teaser Chapter
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2020 by Debbie Raleigh
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-5142-8
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5143-5 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-5143-6 (eBook)
A huge thanks to Dr. Rachel Goehl
and the entire staff at the Canton Veterinary Clinic.
Not only are you generous with your time and expertise,
but you take the very best care of my spoiled Levet.
Thanks for all you do!
Chapter 1
Eyes aren’t the windows to the soul, funerals are.
They reveal precisely how the deceased lived their lives, and how those who remain behind want them to be remembered.
Some are glorious celebrations of a generous heart. Some are garish displays of wealth and power. Some are small, intimate gatherings that are too painful to be shared with others.
This one was . . . bleak.
There was no other way to describe it.
Standing next to the open grave that had to be chiseled into the frozen ground, Kir Jansen cast a restless glance around the smattering of guests. Pike, Wisconsin, was a small, rural town in the heart of dairy country where neighbors were closely acquainted with one another, but Rudolf ’s last eighteen years had been a downward spiral into the dark chasm of alcoholism. He wasn’t surprised that there weren’t many who were willing to brave the bitter January weather.
His attention moved to the preacher, who was reciting a prayer in a monotone voice.
Pastor Ron Bradshaw was a scrawny man in his late twenties with pasty white skin and dark hair that looked as if it’d been trimmed with a pair of dull scissors. He’d kept the service blessedly short, merely mentioning the deep loss that would be felt by Rudolf Jansen’s family and community at his death.
Kir didn’t mind that there hadn’t been any mention of the positive aspects of his father’s life. Although there had been plenty of things to make a man proud.
Rudolf had once been a highly respected sheriff in Pike with a wife and son he adored. It wasn’t until he’d been attempting to arrest a petty drug dealer that his life had gone in the crapper. The shootout had left the criminal dead and Rudolf with a bullet in his brain that had forced an early retirement. Without the job that had been at the core of his self-worth,
nothing had been the same.
Shuffling through the old memories to happier times had felt like ripping open ancient wounds to Kir as he’d prepared to attend the funeral. He’d tucked away his life in Pike the day he’d packed his bags to head to college in Boston. And he’d never looked back. Being forced to recall the childhood days when he’d been a part of a loving, secure family had only emphasized what he’d lost.
With a last plea for Rudolf ’s salvation, Pastor Bradshaw motioned that the funeral was over and Kir turned to greet the mourners with grim determination. It was the least he could do after they’d braved the brutal weather to pay their respects.
First up was a distant cousin, Dirk Jansen. He was a large, gruff man in his late sixties who had visited Rudolf the last Sunday of every month. He called it his family duty to try and make Rudolf repent his evil ways. Kir’s father had called it a pain in his ass.
Now Kir politely shook the man’s hand even as he blocked out the droning lecture on the damaging effects of alcohol. The idiot had no idea he was far more a pariah in this small community than Rudolf had ever been. A perpetual drunk was an annoyance, but there was nothing worse than a pompous blowhard.
Dirk at last moved on to allow the clutch of elderly women to surge forward en masse. Kir assumed they attended every funeral in the area, regardless if they personally knew the deceased or not. He accepted their sympathies with a distracted nod and barely noticed as they scurried toward their waiting cars.
Instead his focus was locked on the young woman who was holding out a slender hand. Kir experienced a strange sensation as he reached to squeeze her fingers that were covered in a leather glove and skimmed a quick glance down her slender body.
Dr. Lynne Gale was a tiny woman with light brown hair she kept pulled into a messy ponytail. Her skin was pale and smooth with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her slender nose, making her look like a teenager although he knew she was just a couple grades behind him in school. Which meant she had to be at least thirty. Her eyes were dark and penetrating and surrounded by long lashes he suspected were real. He’d never seen this woman wearing makeup when they were younger, or later when they crossed paths during his infrequent trips to visit his dad.
To combat the bitter cold, she was wearing a sensible parka that fell to her knees and a pair of heavy snow boots.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Kir.”
There was a gentle sympathy in her voice that threatened to bring the tears to his eyes that had been lacking during the preacher’s sermon.
His father had always admired Lynne. He called her a traditional small-town girl with a big heart. It was true she had a big heart, but there was nothing traditional about her. From a young age she’d been blunt and opinionated, and ruthless when it came to protecting the vulnerable. Especially if they happened to be furry.
It hadn’t always made her a favorite with the other kids, including himself. Now that he was older, it was a trait he truly admired. You always knew where you stood with Lynne Gale.
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to release his grip on her fingers. “Thank you for coming, Lynne.”
A bittersweet sensation tugged at Kir’s heart. Her father had been the local vet, and like Rudolf, his wife had walked out on him, leaving behind a young daughter to raise.
“Gavin was one of the few people in this town who stood by my father,” he murmured. “I’ll never be able to repay his loyalty.”
“He sends his sympathies.”
“I assume he’s still in Florida?”
“Yeah.” Lynne wrinkled her nose, which was pink from the cold. “He hated to miss the funeral, but it’s been hard for him to travel since he fell and broke his hip.”
“I’m relieved he didn’t risk the trip,” Kir assured her, glancing toward the thick layer of snow that coated the landscape in white. It was beautiful, but deadly. “This weather isn’t fit for retired veterinarians.”
“It’s true that he prefers the warm beaches these days.”
“Who wouldn’t?” He glanced back at her. “I can’t believe you stayed here when you could be living in the sunshine.”
“It’s home,” she said without hesitation.
Kir flinched as her words struck a raw nerve. Pike had once been home. Until the night his father had been shot. And Boston . . . Well, it was where he lived. He wasn’t sure that qualified as being his home. “For some.”
“I suppose you’ll be returning to Boston?” she asked, as if sensing she’d unwittingly intensified Kir’s feelings of grief.
“In a few days. I want to clean out the house and talk to a Realtor about putting it on the market. I hate to have it sitting empty.”
“If you need anything, just give me a call,” she told him.
They were the customary words offered at funerals. Pleasant platitudes. But suddenly Kir was hit by an overwhelming desire to see this woman again.
He wasn’t sure why, he just knew that he had an urge to connect with someone in Pike before he walked away forever. And there was always the possibility that she might have talked to his father or seen the older man. Kir needed . . . what? Closure, perhaps. He felt as if his anchor had been cut and he was floating in a sea of regret, guilt, and something perilously close to relief that he would never see his father suffering again.
“How about lunch tomorrow?”
She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I usually eat something in my office at the clinic.”
“Good.” His tone left no room for her to politely wiggle out of his invitation. “I’ll bring my famous deconstructed sushi on pain de seigle.”
She blinked again. This time in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Tuna fish sandwich on rye bread,” he translated.
Her lips quirked in a genuine smile. “Okay. I usually take a break around noon.”
“See you then,” he said.
She turned to scurry toward the red truck parked near the road. Kir watched her pull away before he turned to face the man who was stoically waiting near the open grave.
“Thank you, Pastor,” he said, forcing himself to move forward, holding out his hand.
“I was pleased to be able to help in your father’s time of need.”
“I appreciate you stepping in on short notice.”
The clergyman lifted his brows at Kir’s words. “It wasn’t.”
Kir dropped his hand and stepped back. He didn’t want to stand where he could see the glossy casket that was waiting to be covered by the piles of frozen dirt. It somehow made his father’s death irrevocable.
Stupid, but there it was.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, confused by Bradshaw’s response.
“It wasn’t short notice,” Bradshaw said.
“I don’t understand.”
“Your father asked me if I would officiate his funeral service.”
Kir stiffened. When he’d received the call from the sheriff that his father had been found dead at the bottom of the stairs, he’d asked for his body to be sent to the local funeral parlor. Everything had been such a blur since then that he hadn’t questioned why this pastor had been selected to perform the service. He’d assumed it was some sort of package deal that went with the grave plot, the headstone, and the flowers that had been placed on top of the casket.
Now he frowned in confusion. “When did he ask you?”
“A couple weeks ago.”
“I didn’t realize the two of you were acquainted.”
“It’s a small town, so of course, our paths had crossed, but I can’t say that we were acquainted,” Bradshaw admitted. “His request came as something of a surprise, to be honest. It isn’t uncommon for elderly parishioners to contemplate the end of their lives. Many even make arrangements for their funeral. But your father was in the prime of his life and he assured me that he wasn’t ill.”
Kir winced. His fathe
r’s death had come as a complete shock. Despite his heavy drinking, he had always maintained robust health. It had taken a fall down the stairs that cracked his skull to kill the stubborn old fool.
“No. His liver wasn’t in great shape, but he certainly wasn’t on death’s door,” Kir said.
Bradshaw shrugged. “Ah, well. He did say something about being tired. Perhaps he had a premonition. It does happen.”
A shiver threaded its way down Kir’s spine. Was it possible his father had some sense that the end was near? No. His rational mind fiercely dismissed the ridiculous explanation. If his father had reached out, there was a logical reason.
“Why you? I mean . . .” Kir paused as he tried to imagine his father seeking out a pastor. Rudolf rarely left his house unless it was to go to the neighborhood bar. “He didn’t attend your church, did he?”
“No. To be honest, I’m not sure why he chose me. I was returning to the church after spending the morning at the local thrift shop and your father suddenly pulled his truck into the parking lot and jumped out, waving his hands to get my attention. I thought at first there must be some sort of emergency.”
Kir frowned. Had his father been drunk? Perhaps delusional? “What did he say?”
“He introduced himself and we spoke for a couple minutes. Then he asked if I would arrange his funeral.” Bradshaw glanced toward the leaden sky as if trying to remember the encounter. “I asked him to come inside and discuss why he’d sought me out and if perhaps there was something I could do to assist him in his time of need, but he refused. He insisted he had to get home. When I read in the paper that Rudolf had passed, I contacted the funeral director to inform him of your father’s request.”