Keep reading for an excerpt from THE FORGOTTEN by Heather Graham.
“Graham does a great job of blending just a bit of paranormal with real, human evil.”
—Miami Herald on Unhallowed Ground
Looking for more bone-chilling mysteries starring the FBI’s paranormal investigations unit, the Krewe of Hunters?
Don’t miss the next electrifying installments in this incredible series from New York Times bestselling author and queen of romantic suspense Heather Graham:
The Forgotten (August 2015) and The Hidden (October 2015).
Packed with deadly intrigue and spine-tingling suspense, catch up on the complete Krewe of Hunters series today!
Phantom Evil
Heart of Evil
Sacred Evil
The Evil Inside
The Unseen
The Unholy
The Unspoken
The Uninvited
The Night Is Watching
The Night Is Alive
The Night Is Forever
The Cursed
The Hexed
The Betrayed
Complete your collection!
If you love the Krewe of Hunters, then you won’t want to miss a moment of page-turning romantic suspense in New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham’s
Cafferty & Quinn novels.
Let the Dead Sleep
Waking the Dead
The Dead Play On
“Dark, dangerous and deadly! Graham has the uncanny ability to bring her books to life.”
—RT Book Reviews on Waking the Dead
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The Forgotten
by Heather Graham
Prologue
“Maria.”
Maria Gomez started at the sound of her name.
She’d thought she was alone.
She had been sitting in the darkness, just staring out at the night, when she’d heard her name spoken. She didn’t even turn at first. She was certain she had imagined it. Her name, spoken so softly, with such affection—by him.
Because all she did was think about Miguel.
She was so numb. She knew that her children worried about her, that her friends and family worried about her, and yet she could do nothing but stare out at the night. Her balcony was beautiful; she looked out over the walled and tree-laden backyard of the beautiful home she and Miguel had built together in Coconut Grove.
In doing so, she looked out over her life. The children had climbed the great banyan tree that grew so close to the house, just beyond the balcony. She and Miguel had hosted pool
parties for Little League teams, for the Brownies and Girl Scouts. They’d hosted Michelle’s engagement party and a shower for Magdalena when little Sophia had been due.
But the past was gone. The night was quiet. Only the mental echo of haunted laughter remained of the happiness that had once lived here. She knew that it was time for her to leave, too. Join the children up north, where none of them would be happy—but where they would be safe.
Miguel was gone. He had been the great force in the family. She was empty without him, empty of all the things that made a family strong. She hadn’t even been eighteen when she had married him; they’d had nearly twenty-five years together. She had always trusted him.
He’d always been honest with her.
Some said that he had been a very bad man; Maria knew that wasn’t true. He had gotten swept up into bad things with bad men, but he had never hurt anyone himself; he had simply been born at the wrong place at the wrong time.
It had felt like a knife in her heart when she’d read the reports of his death in the paper; he had died as such a man might, the press—apparently desperate to be as dramatic as possible—had reported. His death had been accompanied—literally—by the same searing flame of violence with which he had lived. Doused with accelerants and burned beyond recognition, burned to cinders. Maria didn’t even know if he’d been killed before the fire—she prayed he had been.
Those reporters! Even they claimed it was a heinous end, despite whatever deeds he had allegedly committed. He’d been involved in the drug trade, and everyone knew the drug trade was filled with cold-blooded killers.
But she knew that Miguel had never done anything but own land.
Most certainly his killers had known that he had gone to the American government.
That was the reason he’d been killed, of course. And the FBI man who had come to the funeral, the one Miguel had gone to, Agent Brett Cody, had been visibly distressed by that knowledge. Agent Cody had been pulled off the case shortly after he and Miguel had spoken, because other agents who specialized in the drug trade had been assigned to work with, to look after, her husband. Maria had told Agent Cody that she did not blame him for Miguel’s death; after all, he hadn’t gone to Miguel—Miguel had gone to him.
Miguel had been foolish; the government hadn’t worked very hard for him. Protection? He hadn’t been protected for a second. The men watching over him hadn’t even found him until the fire had ravaged his body and rendered it unrecognizable.
She didn’t entirely blame the agents, though. Those in the drug trade knew what they were up against if they tried to leave. Those who weren’t in the trade didn’t know that protection might not be possible—even agents who were assigned to the trade didn’t always know that. No one could be watched every minute. And there was still someone out there—watching her.
“Maria.”
She heard her name again. It was Miguel’s voice. She missed him so badly that she could still hear him. It was almost as if she could breathe in his scent.
“Maria.”
His voice seemed to be coming from behind her.
She turned. Her heart slammed to a stop in her chest, and she jumped to her feet, astonished.
There was Miguel. He was standing just inside the double doors that led from the patio back into their bedroom. He looked to be real, flesh and blood. He was there…
Just as quickly as it had ceased to beat, her heart took flight. They’d been wrong. The bone fragments found in the fire had not belonged to Miguel.
Because Miguel was standing right in front of her.
She raced to him, throwing her arms around him. He barely moved in response. She drew back, staring at him. It was Miguel. But…
Something was wrong with him. Something was really wrong.
“Miguel, what—what have they done to you?” she asked.
His eyes were blank as he stared back at her. Then, to her astonishment, he picked her up.
And he walked back out to the balcony without saying a word.
He spoke like Miguel, he smelled like Miguel, he looked like Miguel, but…
She was confused, but her confusion cleared in a split second when she realized his intent, and started to scream.
Copyright © 2015 by Heather Graham Pozzessere
ISBN-13: 9781460382097
The Silenced
Copyright © 2015 by Heather Graham Pozzessere
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reinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Murdered by a dead man?
A woman named Maria Gomez is murdered in Miami, apparently by her husband—who’d been presumed dead, slain by a crime boss. FBI agent Brett Cody can’t believe it; dead or alive, the man had loved his wife. He also can’t help feeling guilty, since he was responsible for protecting Miguel and Maria Gomez.
A few miles away, Lara Mayhew has just begun working at a dolphin research facility. She loves her new job—until a dolphin brings her something unexpected from the deep. A human hand. More body parts show up, and when Brett looks into the situation, he discovers that the dismembered corpse is Miguel’s.
Soon, rumors of crazed zombies abound in the Miami media, and the Krewe of Hunters, an elite FBI unit of paranormal investigators, is called in. Brett and Lara find themselves working with the Krewe—and working closely together. An elderly crime boss who’s losing his memory seems to be key to solving this case, but…there’s no motive. Unless Brett and Lara can uncover one in the Miami underworld. And that means they have to protect themselves. And each other.
Praise for the novels of
New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
“[Waking the Dead is] not to be missed.”
—BookTalk
“Dark, dangerous and deadly! Graham has the uncanny ability to bring her books to life, using exceptionally vivid details to add depth to all the people and places.”
—RT Book Reviews on Waking the Dead, *Top Pick*
“Murder, intrigue…a fast-paced read. You may never know in advance what harrowing situations Graham will place her characters in, but…rest assured that the end result will be satisfying.”
—Suspense Magazine on Let the Dead Sleep
“Graham deftly weaves elements of mystery, the paranormal and romance into a tight plot that will keep the reader guessing at the true nature of the killer’s evil.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Unseen
“I’ve long admired Heather Graham’s storytelling ability and this book hit the mark. I couldn’t put The Unholy down.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Suspenseful and dark.… The transitions between past and present flow seamlessly, and the main characters are interesting and their connection to one another is believable.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Unseen
“Graham does a great job of blending just a bit of paranormal with real, human evil.”
—Miami Herald on Unhallowed Ground
Also by HEATHER GRAHAM
THE SILENCED
THE DEAD PLAY ON
THE BETRAYED
THE HEXED
THE CURSED
WAKING THE DEAD
THE NIGHT IS FOREVER
THE NIGHT IS ALIVE
THE NIGHT IS WATCHING
LET THE DEAD SLEEP
THE UNINVITED
THE UNSPOKEN
THE UNHOLY
THE UNSEEN
AN ANGEL FOR CHRISTMAS
THE EVIL INSIDE
SACRED EVIL
HEART OF EVIL
PHANTOM EVIL
NIGHT OF THE VAMPIRES
THE KEEPERS
GHOST MOON
GHOST NIGHT
GHOST SHADOW
THE KILLING EDGE
NIGHT OF THE WOLVES
HOME IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS
UNHALLOWED GROUND
DUST TO DUST
NIGHTWALKER
DEADLY GIFT
DEADLY HARVEST
DEADLY NIGHT
THE DEATH DEALER
THE LAST NOEL
THE SÉANCE
BLOOD RED
THE DEAD ROOM
KISS OF DARKNESS
THE VISION
THE ISLAND
GHOST WALK
KILLING KELLY
THE PRESENCE
DEAD ON THE DANCE FLOOR
PICTURE ME DEAD
HAUNTED
HURRICANE BAY
A SEASON OF MIRACLES
NIGHT OF THE BLACKBIRD
NEVER SLEEP WITH STRANGERS
EYES OF FIRE
NIGHT HEAT
THE FORGOTTEN
Heather Graham
Dedicated with sincere appreciation to Dolphin Research Center, Grassy Key, Marathon, Florida, and to all the people who work with love and care to make it such an exceptional facility, especially Rita Irwin, Mandy Rodriguez, Linda Erb,
Emily Guarino and Loriel Keaton.
To Jax, attacked by a shark and alive because of DRC. I don’t pretend to know about all sea mammal centers; I do know that this one is wonderful.
And to my very dear friend Mary Stella, DRC, who introduced me to Jax and Tanner and all!
CONTENTS
Prologue
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
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
“Maria.”
Maria Gomez started at the sound of her name.
She’d thought she was alone.
She had been sitting in the darkness, just staring out at the night, when she’d heard her name spoken. She didn’t even turn at first. She was certain she had imagined it. Her name, spoken so softly, with such affection—by him.
Because all she did was think about Miguel.
She was so numb. She knew that her children worried about her, that her friends and family worried about her, and yet she could do nothing but stare out at the night. Her balcony was beautiful; she looked out over the walled and tree-laden backyard of the beautiful home she and Miguel had built together in Coconut Grove.
In doing so, she looked out over her life. The children had climbed the great banyan tree that grew so close to the house, just beyond the balcony. She and Miguel had hosted pool parties for Little League teams, for the Brownies and Girl Scouts. They’d hosted Michelle’s engagement party and a shower for Magdalena when little Sophia had been due.
But the past was gone. The night was quiet. Only the mental echo of haunted laughter remained of the happiness that had once lived here. She knew that it was time for her to leave, too. Join the children up north, where none of them would be happy—but where they would be safe.
Miguel was gone. He had been the great force in the family. She was empty without him, empty of all the things that made a family strong. She hadn’t even been eighteen when she had married him; they’d had nearly twenty-five years together. She had always trusted him.
He’d always been honest with her.
Some said that he had been a very bad man; Maria knew that wasn’t true. He had gotten swept up into bad things with bad men, but he had never hurt anyone himself;
he had simply been born at the wrong place at the wrong time.
It had felt like a knife in her heart when she’d read the reports of his death in the paper; he had died as such a man might, the press—apparently desperate to be as dramatic as possible—had reported. His death had been accompanied—literally—by the same searing flame of violence with which he had lived. Doused with accelerants and burned beyond recognition, burned to cinders. Maria didn’t even know if he’d been killed before the fire—she prayed he had been.
Those reporters! Even they claimed it was a heinous end, despite whatever deeds he had allegedly committed. He’d been involved in the drug trade, and everyone knew the drug trade was filled with cold-blooded killers.
But she knew that Miguel had never done anything but own land.
Most certainly his killers had known that he had gone to the American government.
That was the reason he’d been killed, of course. And the FBI man who had come to the funeral, the one Miguel had gone to, Agent Brett Cody, had been visibly distressed by that knowledge. Agent Cody had been pulled off the case shortly after he and Miguel had spoken, because other agents who specialized in the drug trade had been assigned to work with, to look after, her husband. Maria had told Agent Cody that she did not blame him for Miguel’s death; after all, he hadn’t gone to Miguel—Miguel had gone to him.
Miguel had been foolish; the government hadn’t worked very hard for him. Protection? He hadn’t been protected for a second. The men watching over him hadn’t even found him until the fire had ravaged his body and rendered it unrecognizable.
She didn’t entirely blame the agents, though. Those in the drug trade knew what they were up against if they tried to leave. Those who weren’t in the trade didn’t know that protection might not be possible—even agents who were assigned to the trade didn’t always know that. No one could be watched every minute. And there was still someone out there—watching her.
“Maria.”
She heard her name again. It was Miguel’s voice. She missed him so badly that she could still hear him. It was almost as if she could breathe in his scent.