Beautiful Storm (Lightning Strikes Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

of questions and worry that had followed.
    "You lost someone?"
    "I did—a long time ago. He's partly the reason I came back here this morning. I know what it's like to wait for answers, and I haven't been able to get Liliana out of my mind. I read everything I could find about the case last night. I watched a video of her parents pleading for her safe return. I saw her sister crying and her friends with sad hope in their eyes. If I can help bring her home, I have to try. I have to find a way to get her scream out of my head."
    His face paled at her words. "Tell me about the man you saw. What did he look like?"
    "He was tall. His clothes were dark. He wore a jacket or a sweatshirt with a hood."
    His hand moved to the strings of his hooded sweatshirt. "The sweatshirt. That's why you jumped when you saw me."
    "I thought for a moment…"
    "It wasn't me. I wasn't here last night. I would never ever hurt Liliana. She was a good friend to me at a time when I really needed one. I don't know what happened to her, but I intend to find out." He stopped talking, his gaze turning down the path.
    She was happy to see police gathering by the carousel, some of them with dogs. "It looks like the search party has arrived." She felt relieved that she was no longer alone with this man. A part of her wanted to trust him. Another part of her was afraid. She'd never had such an intense reaction to a stranger. She blamed it on the circumstances, the spooky early morning light, the events of the night before, the bump on her head; anything that would explain why her stomach was churning and her palms were sweaty.
    "We should talk to them," she said.
    "Before you go—you may hear things about me, but they're not true."
    "What do you mean? What would I hear?" It suddenly occurred to her that she'd never asked him his name. "Who are you?"
    "Michael Cordero."
    A shiver ran down her spine. "You were the last person Liliana texted and—"
    "A person of interest." He gave her a direct look. "Which means I want to find Liliana more than anyone else. Not just to make sure she's all right, but—"
    "To also clear your name."
    "Yes."
    Now she knew why he'd come to the park before daybreak, why he seemed so intent on persuading her that he was innocent. What she didn't know was how she felt about his story. There was a chance Michael Cordero was innocent, but there was also a chance he was a really good liar.
     
    * * *
     
    She didn't believe him , Michael thought as he stood in the shadows of the trees watching Alicia Monroe talk to the police. He'd learned her name when Detective Kellerman had quizzed her on her presence in the park. That was, of course, after the detective had asked him the very same question, but with a lot more hostility.
    During his exchange with Kellerman, Alicia had watched him with a sharp, speculative gaze. He'd thought he'd won her trust earlier, but it was clear that the detective's suspicions were now coloring her thinking.
    He probably shouldn't have come to the park and put himself in yet another vulnerable position, but he hadn't been able to stay away, and in truth, he didn't give a shit what Detective Kellerman thought of him.
    Changing the detective's mind wasn't important. Finding Liliana was all that mattered. Then the truth would come out—whatever that was.
    He wanted to believe that Liliana was alive after what Alicia had told him she'd seen the night before. But the ferocity of the storm, the huge tree that had knocked Alicia to the ground, and even the doubt in Alicia's own voice gave him pause. While she'd obviously found the tag, and she seemed quite certain about the rest of her story, there was a gap in time when Alicia had been on the ground and the couple had disappeared.
    The fact that Liliana hadn't already been found was also disturbing. Had they come so close only to be thwarted again?
    Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he blew out a breath of frustration.
    He hated being out of control, not knowing