Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

through the contacts and verified the number. It was Tom's.
    She hit the number two key and scrolled down her list of contacts until she came to Bendix.
    "Bren?" Kevin yawned into the phone. "It's three in the morning. What's wrong?"
    "Tom's phone. Where is it?"
    He yawned again, and something, maybe his bed covers, rustled into the receiver before he grunted. "Bren, we've been over this a million times. You know we never found his phone."
    An hour later, Kevin turned off the lights on his cruiser and stepped out into the chilled, predawn air. "You ever think to run this by me before you take out a full-page ad?" He reached into his cruiser.
    Bren didn't need to guess for what.
    A copy of Clear Spring's weekly newspaper crinkled in Kevin's fingers. He held up page three. "It looks like a damn wanted poster from the Wild West."
    That had been her intention. A decorative scroll at the top and bottom, and the word "Wanted" in bold capital letters.
    She lit it up with her flashlight.
    Local kill buyer, frequents Jameson Livestock Sale Barn, mid-sixties, wanted for the murder of Thomas Patrick Ryan. Reward for any information leading to his arrest and conviction. Call Bren Ryan or the Washington County Sheriff's Office.
    If it wasn't for the desperation behind the act, she'd almost laugh. "Only thing missing is his photo."
    "Real funny." Kevin scratched his head, his tight blond crew cut bristling against his fingers. "You'll be damn lucky Wes doesn't smack you with a defamation suit."
    "I didn't mention his name."
    He smirked. "Nice try, Bren. You knew damn well he and everyone else in this town would get your meaning." Less formidable minus his uniform, he leaned against his cruiser and yawned. "I'm tired, Bren." Snow batted his face, and he grabbed a knit cap from his pocket. Pulling it on his head, he huddled inside his jacket. "And cold. If you have something new, let's have it. If not, I'm going the hell back to bed." He grabbed the door handle.
    "Tom called me tonight."
    His head whipped back. "That supposed to be funny?"
    "It's true." She handed him her phone. "Check recent calls." Bren wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing her barn coat against her. She was freezing. Still in her flannel pajamas, she'd slipped her work boots on bare feet when she left out the back door to meet Kevin.
    He flipped open her phone, the screen a blue glow reflecting off his wrinkled brow.
    She sidled up next to him. "For Tom's name to appear on my phone, the call had to be made from his phone."
    He gave her a sideways glance. "I know how it works," he snapped.
    She stiffened and placed her hands on her hips. "Then do something. I shouldn't have to resort to ads in the paper. You're the sheriff. Obviously, I got his attention. Not that I was expecting a phone call."
    Kevin scrubbed his face and pushed off his cruiser, handing back her phone. "Since when do you not get Wes's attention?" His brow rose and she got his meaning.
    She'd done a lot of things in recent months to screw with Wes. All could have gotten her fined or thrown in jail. Good thing her best bud came in the form of the county sheriff.
    "You never canceled Tom's cell?"
    Kevin's voice brought her around. "It's stupid." She shrugged. "I needed to hear his voice." Her own voice cracked then. Tom's voicemail was the only recording she had of him. Being able to call his phone, hear his voice made it seem as though he was still with her.
    Damn it!
The bastard must have enjoyed her desperate attempt to keep from going quietly insane. She winced. "He knows I've been calling Tom's phone."
    Kevin's expression softened. "You tell anyone else about the call or the phone?"
    "No. But why would he keep it?" She pulled on her bottom lip. "There must have been something on Tom's phone he didn't want us to know."
    "We already checked his phone records. None of the numbers would raise an eyebrow. It was just the usual you would expect for a man who is a blacksmith and runs a rescue."
    Okay, so