Her Darkest Nightmare Read Online Free PDF Page A

killed so many of the women he’d been married to in order to avoid nasty divorces, for revenge because they were planning to leave him or for the small amount of insurance money he stood to gain. But he was, at heart, a lust killer—someone who took human life simply for the pleasure of it.
    Which made her wonder if he’d murdered more women than just those three.
    She was willing to bet he had—
    â€œYou going to pay for that?”
    A deep voice jarred her out of her thoughts. She’d been standing at the coffee machine, absently stirring the cup she’d poured several seconds earlier. She wasn’t anxious to head back out into the cold. The storm had hit full force, dropping the temperature to twenty below.
    But it wasn’t the cashier who’d confronted her. It was the Alaska State Trooper she’d briefly dated over the summer—if a couple of meals, one kiss and several telephone calls could constitute “dating.” His name was Benjamin Murphy, but the locals called him Sergeant Amarok. He’d told her he’d received that nickname—Inuktitut for “wolf”—in grade school after some bully picked a fight with him. Apparently, he’d won that fight. He looked like he could win just about any fight.
    Only twenty-nine, Amarok was wearing a heavy coat that made his shoulders appear even broader than usual and a hat with flaps designed to protect everything but his vivid blue eyes. She could see the rest of his face only because he hadn’t bothered to close the part of the hat that covered his jaw and mouth.
    Considering the ice crystals caught in his dark beard growth, he looked as if he could use something hot himself, if only she’d get out of the way.
    Because things had ended badly between them, she smiled in an attempt to be friendly. “Would you haul me off to jail for stealing a couple of swallows?”
    He didn’t return her smile. He angled his head toward the blizzard wreaking havoc beyond the cheerful music and bright lights of Quigley’s Quick Stop. The storm had hit later than expected, enabling her to delay her departure from Hanover House until nearly nine o’clock. Thanks to a satellite dish she had Internet service, so she could work at home. But a heavy snow like this could, and often did, knock it out. And she didn’t really enjoy being there. As comfortable, even fashionable, as her little cabin was, the place was too quiet. It made her feel completely cut off—especially during a blizzard, which could potentially interrupt her phone service, too. There weren’t any cell towers out here to provide an alternative. She didn’t even own a smartphone anymore; she’d sold hers before moving to the remote outpost of Hilltop.
    â€œMight be tough hauling you anywhere in this,” he said.
    â€œGood thing you have a snowplow on your truck.” He also had four-wheel-drive, off-road tires, a row bar, a winch and enough emergency supplies to last a week or more in such weather. Police officers in these parts had to be prepared for every eventuality.
    He removed his gloves and motioned to his vehicle, which was parked next to her BMW. “ Had a snowplow. The hydraulic lift went out early this afternoon. A shovel doesn’t do me much good if I can’t lower it.”
    She could see that he’d left his truck running. He’d turned off the headlights so they wouldn’t shine into the store, but his windshield wipers remained hard at work, swishing in quick time as they struggled to keep up with the swirling snow.
    She should’ve left her engine running—wipers, too, she realized. She hadn’t been thinking of the practicalities when she stopped for coffee and some cereal for breakfast in the morning; she’d been too caught up in Anthony Garza and what he might have done. Not only that, but it was habit to turn off her car and take the keys. People in Boston