The
Wrong Victim : A Novel
Allison
Brennan
On Sale Date: April 26, 2022
9780778312307
Hardcover
$26.99 USD
464 pages
ABOUT
THE BOOK:
A bomb explodes on a sunset charter cruise out
of Friday Harbor at the height of tourist season and kills everyone on board.
Now this fishing and boating community is in shock and asking who would commit
such a heinous crime—the largest act of mass murder in the history of the San
Juan Islands.
Was the explosion an act of domestic
terrorism, or was one of the dead the primary target? That is the first
question Special Agent Matt Costa, Detective Kara Quinn, and the rest of the
FBI team need to answer, but they have few clues and no witnesses.
Accused of putting profits before people after
leaking fuel endangered an environmentally sensitive preserve, the West End
Charter company may itself have been the target. As Matt and his team get
closer to answers, they find one of their own caught in the crosshairs of a
determined killer.
Excerpt Teaser;
CHAPTER ONE
A killer walked among the peaceful community of Friday
Harbor and retired FBI Agent Neil Devereaux couldn’t do one damn thing about it
because he had no evidence.
Most cops had at least one case that haunted them long after
the day they turned in their badge and retired. For Neil, that obsession was a
cold case that his former law enforcement colleagues believed was closed. Not
only closed, but not a double homicide at all—simply a tragic accident.
Neil knew they’d got it wrong; he just couldn’t prove it. He
hadn’t been able to prove it thirteen years ago, and he couldn’t prove it now.
But he was close.
He knew that the two college boys didn’t drown “by
accident;” they were murdered. He had a suspect and he’d even figured out why the
boys had been targeted.
Knowing who and why meant nothing. He needed hard evidence.
Hell, he’d settle for any evidence. All his theory got him was
the FBI file on the deaths sent by an old friend, and the ear of a detective on
the mainland who would be willing to investigate if Neil found more.
“I can’t open a closed death investigation without
evidence, buddy.”
He would have said the same thing if he was in the same
position.
Confronting the suspected killer would be dangerous, even
for an experienced investigator like him. This wasn’t an Agatha Christie novel
like his mother used to read, where he could bring the suspect and others into
a room and run through the facts—only to have the killer jump up and confess.
Neil couldn’t stand to think that anyone might get away with
such a brazen murder spree, sparked by revenge and deep bitterness. It’s why he
couldn’t let it go, and why he felt for the first time that he was close…close
to hard evidence that would compel a new investigation.
He was tired of being placated by the people he used to work
with.
He’d spent so long following dead ends that he’d lost
valuable time—and with time, the detailed memories of those who might still
remember something about that fateful weekend. It was only the last year that
Neil had turned his attention to other students at the university and realized
the most likely suspect was living here, on San Juan Island, right under his
nose.
All this was on his mind when he boarded the Water
Lily, his favorite yacht in the West End Charter fleet. He went through his
safety checklist, wondering why Cal McKinnon, the deckhand assigned to this
sunset cruise, wasn’t already there.
If he wasn’t preoccupied with murder and irritated at Cal,
Neil may have noticed the small hole in the bow of the ship, right above the
water line, with fishing line coming out of it, taut in the water.
*
“I’m sorry. It’s last minute, I know,” Cal said to Kyle
Richards in the clubhouse of West End Charter. “But I really need to talk to
Jamie right away.”
“It’s that serious?” asked his longtime friend Kyle.
“I cannot lose her over this. I just can’t. I love her.
We’re getting married.”
At least he hoped they were still getting married. Two
months ago Jamie finally set a wedding date for the last Saturday in
September—the fifth anniversary of their first date. And now this whole thing
was a mess, and if Cal didn’t fix it now, he’d never be able to fix it.
You already blew it. You blew it five years ago. You
should have told her the truth then!
“Alright then, go,” Kyle said. “I’ll take the cruise. I need
the extra money, anyway. But you owe me—it’s Friday night. I had a
date.”
Cal clapped Kyle on the back. “I definitely owe you, I’ll
take your next crappy shift.”
“Better, give me your next corporate party boat.” Corporate
parties on the largest yacht in their fleet had automatic eighteen percent tips
added to the bill, which was split between a typical four-man crew in addition
to salary. Plus, high-end parties often paid extra. Drunk rich people could
become very generous with their pocket cash.
“You got it—it’s next Saturday night, the Fourth of July—so
we good?”
Kyle gave him a high five, then left for the dock.
Cal clocked out and started for home. He passed a group of
sign-carrying protesters and rolled his eyes.
West End Charter: Profit Over Protection
Protect Fish Not Profits!
Hey Hey Ho Ho Ted Colfax has to go!
Jeez, when would these people just stop? West End
Charter had done nearly everything they wanted over the last two years—and then
some—but it was never good enough.
Fortunately, the large crowds of protesters that started
after the West End accident had dwindled over the last two years from hundreds
to a half dozen. Maybe because they got bored, or maybe because West End fixed
the problem with their older fleet, Cal didn’t know. But these few remaining
were truly radical, and Cal hoped they didn’t cause any problems for the
company over the lucrative Fourth of July holiday weekend.
He drove around them and headed home. He had more important
things to deal with than this group of misfits.
Cal lived just outside of Friday Harbor with Jamie and their
daughter. It was a small house, but all his, his savings covering the down
payment after he left the Coast Guard six years ago. But it was Jamie who made
the two-bedroom cottage a real home. She’d made curtains for the windows; put
up cheery pictures that brightened even the grayest Washington day; and most
recently, she’d framed some of Hazel’s colorful artwork for the kitchen nook
he’d added on with Kyle’s help last summer.
He’d wanted to put Jamie on the deed when she moved in with
him, but she wanted to go slower than that. He wanted to marry her, but she’d
had a bad breakup with her longtime boyfriend before they met and was still
struggling with the mind games her ex used to play on her. If that bastard ever
set foot back on the island, Cal would beat him senseless.
But the ex was far out of the picture, living down in
California, and Cal loved Jamie, so he respected her wishes not to pressure her
into marriage. When she found out she was pregnant, he asked her to marry him
again—she said yes but wanted to wait.
“There’s no rush. I love you, Cal, but I don’t want to
get married just because I’m pregnant.”
He would move heaven and earth for Jamie and Hazel—why
didn’t she know that?
That’s why when she finally settled on a date, confirmed it
with invitations and an announcement in the San Juan Island newspaper, that he
thought it would be smooth sailing.
And then she left.
As soon as he got home, he packed an overnight bag while
trying to reach Jamie. She didn’t answer her cell phone. More than likely,
there was no reception. Service was sketchy on the west side of the island.
He left another message.
“Jamie, we need to talk. I’m sorry, believe me I’m sorry. I
love you. I love Hazel. I just want to talk and work this out. I’m coming to
see you tonight, okay? Please call me.”
He was so frustrated. Not at Jamie—well, maybe a little
because she’d taken off this morning for her dad’s place without even telling
him. Just left him a note on the bathroom mirror.
Cal,
I need time to think. Give me a couple days, okay? I love
you, but right now I just need a little perspective.
Jamie.
Cal didn’t like the “but” part. What was there to think
about? He loved her. They had a life together. Jamie and their little girl
Hazel meant everything to him. They were getting married in
three months!
He’d given her all day to think and now they needed to talk.
Jamie had a bad habit of remaining silent when she was upset, thanks to that
prick she’d dated before Cal. Cal much preferred her to get angry, to yell at
him, to say exactly how she felt, then they could move on.
He jumped in his old pickup truck and headed west, praying
he could salvage his family, the only thing he truly cared about. Failure was
not an option.
*
That night Kyle clocked in and told the staff supervisor,
Gloria, that Cal was sick, and he was taking the sunset cruise for him.
“Are you lying to me?” Gloria asked, looking over the top of
her glasses at him.
“No, well, I mean, he’s not sick sick.”
Dammit, Kyle had always been a piss-poor liar. “But he and Jamie had a fight, I
guess, and he wants to fix it.”
“Alright, I’ll talk to Cal tomorrow. Don’t you go lying for
him.”
“Don’t get him in trouble, Gloria.”
She sighed, took off her large glasses and cleaned them on
her cotton shirt. “I like Cal as much as everyone, I’m not going to jam him up,
but he should have come to me. I’ll bet he gave you his slot on the Fourth,
didn’t he?”
Kyle grinned. Gloria had worked for West End longer than
Kyle had been alive. They couldn’t operate without her.
“Eight people total. A party of four and two parties of
two.” Gloria handed him the clipboard with the information of those who had
registered for tonight’s sunset cruise. “Four bottles of champagne, a case of
water, and cheese and fruit trays are onboard. You have one minute.”
“Thanks Gloria!” He ran down the dock to the Water
Lily. He texted his boyfriend as he ran.
Hey, taking Cal’s shift, docking at 10—want to meet up then?
He sent the message and almost ran into a group who were
already standing at the docks. Two men, two women, drinks in hand from the West
End Club bar, in to-go cups.
“Can we board?” the tallest of the four asked.
“Give me one minute. What group are you with?”
“Nava Software.”
Kyle looked at his watch. Technically boarding started in
five minutes; they’d be pushing off in twenty.
“I need to get approval from the captain.” He smiled and
jumped over the gate. He found Neil Devereaux on the bridge, reading weather
reports.
“You’re late,” Neil said without looking up.
“Sorry, Skipper. Cal called in sick.”
Neil looked at him. “Oh, Kyle, I didn’t know it was you. I
was expecting Cal.”
“He called out. Everything okay?” Neil didn’t look like his
usual chipper self.
“I had a rough day.”
Rough day? Neil was a retired federal agent and got to pick
any shift he wanted. Everyone liked him. If he didn’t want to work, he didn’t.
He had a pension and didn’t even have to work but said once
that he’d be bored if he didn’t have something to do. He spent most of his free
time fishing or hanging out at the Fish & Brew. Kyle thought he was pretty
cool for a Boomer.
“Your kids okay?” he asked.
Neil looked surprised at the question. “Yes, of course.
Why?”
“You said you had a rough day—I just remember you talking
about how one of your kids was deployed or something.”
He nodded with a half smile. “Good memory. Jill is doing
great. She’s on base in Japan, a mechanic. She loves it. And Eric is good, just
works too much at the hospital. Thanks for asking.”
“Four guests are waiting to board—is it okay?”
“There’s always someone early, isn’t there?”
“Better early than late,” Kyle said, parroting something
that Neil often said to the crew.
Neil laughed, and Kyle was glad he was able to take the
skipper’s mind off whatever was bothering him.
“Go ahead, let them on—rear deck only. Check the lines,
supplies, and emergency gear, okay? No food or drink until we pass the marker.”
“Got it.”
Kyle slid down the ladder as his phone vibrated. It was
Adam.
F&B only place open that late—meet at the club and we’ll
walk over, k?
He responded with a thumbs-up emoji and a heart, then smiled
at the group of four. “Come aboard!”
*
Madelyn Jeffries sat on the toilet—not because she had to
pee, but because she didn’t want to go on this cruise, not even for only three
hours. She didn’t want to smile and play nice with Tina Marshall just because
Pierce wanted to discuss business with Tina’s husband Vince.
She hated Tina. That woman would do anything to make her
miserable. All because Pierce had fallen in love with her, Madelyn
Cordell, a smart girl from the wrong side of the tracks in Tacoma.
Pierce didn’t understand. He tried, God bless him, but he
didn’t. He was from another generation. He understood sex and chivalry and
generosity and respect. He was the sweetest man she’d ever met. But he didn’t
understand female interactions.
“I know you and Tina had somewhat of a rivalry when we
met. But sweetheart, I fell in love with you. There’s no reason for you to be
insecure.”
She wasn’t insecure. She and Pierce had something special,
something that no one else could understand. Even she didn’t
completely understand how she fell so head over heels for a man older than her
deadbeat father. Oh, there was probably some psychologist out there who had any
number of theories, but all Madelyn knew was that she and Pierce were right.
But Tina made her see red.
Tina, on top of this pregnancy—a pregnancy Madelyn had
wanted to keep quiet, between her and Pierce, until she was showing. But
somehow Pierce’s kids had found out last week, and they went ballistic.
They were the reason she and Pierce decided to get away for
a long weekend. Last night had been wonderful and romantic and exactly what
she needed. Then at brunch this morning they ran into Tina and Vince who were
on a “vacation” after their honeymoon.
Madelyn didn’t doubt that Tina had found out she was here
and planned this. There was no doubt in her mind that Tina had come to put a
wedge between her and Pierce. After five years, why couldn’t she just leave her
alone?
Just seeing Tina brought back the fearful, insecure girl
Madelyn used to be, and she didn’t want that. She loved her life, she loved her
husband, and above all she loved the baby inside her.
She flushed the toilet and stepped out of the stall.
Tina stood there by the sink, lips freshly coated with
bloodred.
Madelyn stepped around her and washed her hands.
“Vince took me to Paris for our honeymoon
for two glorious weeks,” said Tina.
Madelyn didn’t respond.
“I heard that you went to Montana.”
Tina giggled a fake, frivolous laugh.
It was true. They’d spent a month in the Centennial Valley
for their honeymoon, in a beautiful lodge owned by Pierce. They went horseback
riding, hiking, had picnics, and she even learned how to fish—Pierce wanted to
teach her, and she found that she enjoyed it. Fishing was relaxing and
wholesome, something she’d never considered before. It had been the best month
of her life.
But she wasn’t sharing that with Madelyn. Her time with
Pierce was private. It was sacred.
She dried her hands and said, “Excuse me.”
“You think you’ve changed, but you haven’t. You’re still the
little bug-eyed girl who followed me around for years. I taught you how to
walk, I taught you how to attract men, I taught you how to dress and talk and
act like you were somebody. If it wasn’t for me, you would
never have met Pierce Jeffries. And you took him from me.”
“The boat leaves in five minutes.” Madelyn desperately
wanted to get away from Tina.
“Vince and Pierce are going into business together. We’ll be
spending a lot of time together, you and me. You would do well
to drop the holier-than-thou act and accept the fact that I am back in your
life and I’m not going anywhere.”
Madelyn stared at Tina. Once she’d been in awe of the girl,
a year older than she was, who always seemed to get what she wanted. Tina was
bold, she was beautiful, she was driven.
But she would never be satisfied. Did she even love Vince
Marshall? Or had she married him because of the money and status he could give
her?
Madelyn hated that when she first met Pierce she had thought
he was her ticket out of poverty and menial jobs. She hated that she had
followed Tina’s advice on how to seduce an older man.
Madelyn had fallen in love with Pierce, not because he was
rich or powerful or for what he could give her. She loved him because he was
kind and compassionate. She loved him because he saw her as she was and loved
her anyway. But when he proposed to her, she’d fallen apart. She’d told him
that she loved him, but she could never marry him because everything she was
had been built on a lie—how she got her job at the country club, now they first
met, how she had targeted him because he was wealthy and single. She would
never forgive herself; how could he? His marriage proposal had been romantic
and beautiful—he’d taken her to the bench where they first had a conversation,
along the water of Puget Sound. But she ran away, ashamed.
He’d found her, she’d told him everything, the entire truth
about who she was—a poor girl from a poor neighborhood who pretended to be
worldly and sophisticated to attract men.
He said he loved her even more.
“I knew, Madelyn, from the beginning. But more, I see
you, inside and out, and that’s the woman I love.”
Madelyn stared at her onetime friend. “Tina, you would
do well to mind your p’s and q’s, because if I tell Pierce to back off, he’ll
back off.”
She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. When it came
to business, Pierce would listen to her, but he deferred to his oldest son, who
worked closely with him. And Madelyn had never given him an ultimatum. She’d
never told him what to do about business. She’d never have considered it,
except for Tina.
Tina scowled.
Madelyn passed by her, then snipped, “By the way, nice boob
job.”
She left, the confrontation draining her. She didn’t want to
do this cruise. She didn’t want to go head-to-head with Tina for the next three
hours.
She didn’t want to use the baby as an excuse…but desperate
times and all that.
Pierce was waiting for her on the dock, talking to Vince
Marshall.
“Would you excuse us for one moment, Vince?” she said
politely.
“Of course, I’ll catch up with Tina and meet you on the
boat.”
She smiled and nodded as he walked back to the
harbormaster’s building.
“What is it, love?” Concerned, worried, about her.
“I thought morning sickness was only in the morning. I’m
sorry—I fear if I get on that boat, I’ll be ill again. I don’t want to
embarrass you.”
“Nonsense,” he said. He took her hand, kissed it. “You will
never embarrass me.” He put their joined hands on her stomach. The warmth and
affection in his eyes made her fall in love with him again. She felt like she
loved Pierce a little more every day. “I can meet with Vince tomorrow. I’ll go
back to the house with you.”
“This business meeting is important to you, isn’t it?”
“It might be.”
“Then go. Enjoy it. I can get home myself. Isn’t that what
Ubers are for?”
“A sunset is not as pretty without the woman I love holding
my hand.”
She wanted him home with her, but this was best. They had
separate lives, at least in business; she didn’t want to pressure him in any
way, just because she detested Tina. “I will wait up for you.”
He leaned over and kissed her. Gently. As if she would
break. “Take good care of the woman I love, Bump,” he said to her stomach.
She melted, kissed him again, then turned and walked back
down the dock, fighting an overwhelming urge to go back and ask Pierce to come
home with her.
But she wouldn’t do it. It was silly and childish. Instead,
she would go home, read a good book, and prepare a light meal for when Pierce
came home. Then she would make love to her husband and put her past—and that
hideous leech Tina Marshall—firmly out of her mind.
*
Jamie already regretted leaving Friday Harbor.
She listened to Cal’s message twice, then deleted it and
cleaned up after dinner. Hazel was watching her half hour of PAW Patrol before
bath, books, and bed.
Her dad’s remote house near Rogue Harbor was on the opposite
side of the island from where they lived. Peaceful, quiet, what she thought she
needed, especially since her dad wasn’t here. He was an airline pilot and had a
condo in Seattle that he lived in more often than not, coming up here only when
he had more than two days off in a row.
She left because she was hurt. She had every right to be
hurt, dammit! But now that she was here, she wondered if she’d made a mistake.
Cal hadn’t technically cheated on her. But
he also hadn’t told her that his ex-girlfriend was living on the island, not
until the woman befriended her. She wouldn’t have thought twice about it except
for the fact that Cal had hidden it from her.
She had a bad habit of running away from any hint of
approaching drama. She hated conflict and would avoid it at all costs. Her
mother was drama personified. How many times had young Jamie run to her dad’s
house to get away from her mother’s bullshit? Finally when she was fifteen she
permanently moved in with her dad, changed schools, and her mother didn’t say
squat.
“You should have stayed and talked it out,” she mumbled to
herself as she dried the dishes. The only bad thing about her dad’s place was
that there was no dishwasher.
But Cal was coming to see her tonight. He didn’t run away
from conflict. She wanted to fix this but didn’t know how because she was hurt.
But he had to work, so she figured she had a few hours to think everything
through. To know the right thing to do.
“Just tell him. Tell him how you feel.”
Her phone buzzed and at first she thought it was an Amber
Alert, because it was an odd sound.
Instead, it was an emergency alert from the San Juan Island
Sheriff’s Office.
19:07 SJSO ALERT! VESSEL EXPLOSION ONE MILE OUT FROM FRIDAY
HARBOR, INJURIES UNKNOWN. ALL VESSELS AVOID FRIDAY HARBOR UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
Her stomach flipped and she grabbed the counter when a wave
of dizziness washed over her.
She turned on the small television in the kitchen and
switched to the local news. She watched in horror as the news anchor reported
that a West End Charter yacht had exploded after leaving for a sunset cruise.
He confirmed that it was the Water Lily and did not know at
this time if there were survivors. Search and rescue crews were already out on
the water, and authorities advised all vessels to dock immediately.
Cal had been scheduled to work the Water Lily tonight.
Hazel laughed at something silly on PAW Patrol.
Jamie caught her breath, then suddenly tears fell. How could—? No. Not Cal. She
loved him and even if they had problems, he loved Hazel more than anything in
the world. He was the best father she could have hoped for. Hazel wasn’t
planned, but she was loved so much, and Cal had made it clear that he was
sticking, from the very beginning. How could she forget that? How could she
have forgotten that Cal had never made her feel inadequate, he’d never hurt
her, he always told her she could do anything she wanted? He was always there
for her…when she was bedridden with Hazel for two months. When she broke her
wrist and Hazel was still nursing, he held the baby to her breast every four
hours. Changed every diaper. He sang to Hazel, read her books, giggled with her
in makeshift blanket forts when thunder scared her.
And now he was gone.
There could be survivors. You have to go.
She couldn’t bring Hazel to the dock. The search, the
sirens, the fear that filled the town. It would terrify the three-year-old.
But she couldn’t stay here. Cal needed her—injured or not,
he needed her and she loved him. It was as simple as that. Rena would watch
Hazel so Jamie could find Cal, make sure he was okay.
“Hazel, we’re going home.”
“I wanna sleep at Grandpa’s!”
“I forgot to feed Tabby.” Tabby was a stray cat who had
adopted their carport on cold or rainy nights. He wouldn’t come into the house,
and only on rare occasions would let Jamie pet him, but she’d started feeding
him. Hazel had of course named him after a cat on her favorite show.
“Oh, Mommy! We gotta go rescue Tabby!”
And just like that, Hazel was ready.
Please, God, please please please please make Cal okay.
*
Ashley Dunlap didn’t like lying to her sister, but Whitney
couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and if Whitney said one word to their
dad about Ashley’s involvement with Island Protectors, she’d be grounded until
she graduated—and maybe even longer.
“We’re going to be late,” Whitney said.
“Dad will understand,” Ashley said, looking through the long
lens of her camera at the West End Charter boat leaving port. She snapped a
couple pictures, though they were too far away to see anything.
She was just one of several monitors who were keeping close
tabs on West End boats in the hopes that they would catch them breaking the
law. West End may have been able to convince most people in town that they had
cleaned up their act, and some even believed their claims that the leakage two
years ago was an accident, but as the founder of IP Donna Bell said
time and time again, companies always put profit over people. And just because
they hadn’t caught them breaking the law didn’t mean that they weren’t breaking
the law. It was IP who documented the faulty fuel tanks two years ago that
leaked their nasty fuel all over the coast. Who knows how many fish died because
of their crimes? How long it would take the ecosystem to recover?
“Ash, Dad said not a minute past eight, and
it’s already seven thirty. It’s going to take us thirty minutes just to dock
and secure the boat.”
“It’s a beautiful evening,” Ashley said, turning her camera
away from the Water Lily and toward the shore. Another boat
was preparing to leave, but the largest yacht in the fleet—The Tempest—was
already out with a group of fifty whale watching west of the island in the Haro
Strait. Bobby and his brother were out that way, monitoring The Tempest.
Ashley was frustrated. They just didn’t have people who
cared enough to take the time to monitor West End. There were only about eight
or nine of them who were willing to spend all their free time standing up to
West End, tracking their boats, making sure they were obeying the rules.
Everyone else just took West End’s word for it.
Whitney sighed. “I could tell Dad the sail snagged.”
“You can’t lie to save your life, sis,” Ashley said. “We’ll
just tell him the truth. It’s a beautiful night and we got distracted by the
beauty of the islands.”
Whitney laughed, then smiled. “It is pretty, isn’t it? Think
those pictures are going to turn out? It’s getting a little choppy.”
“Some of them might,” she said.
Ashley turned her camera back to the Water
Lily. The charter was still going only five knots as they left the
harbor. She snapped a few pictures, saw that Neil Devereaux was piloting today.
She liked Neil—he spent a lot of time at the Fish & Brew talking to her dad
and anyone else who came in. He’d only lived here for a couple years, but he
seemed like a native of the small community. She’d talked to him about the
pollution problem from West End, and he kept saying that West End fixed the
problem with the old tanks and he’d seen nothing to suggest that they had other
problems or cut corners on the repairs. He told her he would look around, and
if anything was wrong, he’d bring it to the Colfax family’s attention.
But could she believe him? Did he really care or was he just
trying to get her to go away and leave West End alone?
Neil looked over at their sailboat, and both she and Whitney
waved. He blew the horn and waved back.
A breeze rattled the sail, and Whitney grabbed the beam.
“Shit!” she said.
Ashley put her camera back in its case and caught the rope
dangling from the mast. “You good, Whit?”
“Yeah, it just slipped. Beautiful scenery is distracting. I
got it.”
Whitney bent down to secure the line, and Ashley turned back
toward the Water Lily as it passed the one-mile marker and
picked up speed.
The bow shook so hard she thought they might have hit
something, then a fireball erupted, shot into the air along with wood and—oh,
God, people!—bright orange, then black smoke billowed from the Water
Lily. The stern kept moving forward, the boat in two pieces—the front
destroyed, the back collapsing.
Whitney screamed and Ashley stared. She saw a body in the
water among the debris. The flames went out almost immediately, but the smoke
filled the area.
“We have to help them,” Ashley said. “Whitney—”
Then a second explosion sent a shock wave toward their
sailboat and it was all they could do to keep from going under themselves.
Sirens on the shore sounded the alarm, and Ashley and Whitney headed back to
the harbor as the sheriff’s rescue boats went toward the disaster.
Taking a final look back, Ashley pulled out her camera and
took more pictures. If West End was to blame for this, Ashley would make sure
they paid. Neil was a friend, a good man, like a grandfather to her. He…he
couldn’t have survived. Could he?
She stared at the smoking boat, split in two.
No. She didn’t see how anyone survived that.
Tears streamed down her face and as soon as she and Whitney
were docked, she hugged her sister tight.
I’ll get them, Neil. I promise you, I’ll prove that West
End cut corners and killed you and everyone else.
Excerpted from The Wrong
Victim by Allison Brennan, Copyright © 2022 by Allison Brennan. Published by MIRA Books.
Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/books/the-wrong-victim/9780778312307
Indie Bound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780778312307
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-wrong-victim-allison-brennan/1139717188?ean=9780778312307
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0778312305/httpwwwalli0f-20
Books A Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/product/9780778312307
Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B096FYD1S5/httpwwwalli0f-20
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-wrong-victim-allison-brennan/1139717188?ean=9780369717795
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-wrong-victim-1
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Allison_Brennan_The_Wrong_Victim?id=60kxEAAAQBAJ
Ibooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-wrong-victim/id1570424193
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR:
ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling
author of over thirty novels. She has been nominated for Best Paperback
Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier
Award. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives
in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets.
Social
Links:
Author website: https://www.allisonbrennan.com/
Facebook: @AllisonBrennan
Twitter: @Allison_Brennan
Instagram: @abwrites
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/52527.Allison_Brennan
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