The Girl in the Mist, an all-new, thrilling standalone romance from New York Times bestselling author Kristen Ashley filled with off-the-charts chemistry, and edge of your seat suspense, is out now!
From New York Times bestselling author Kristen Ashley comes an all new thrilling romantic suspense guaranteed to have pulses rise, and readers begging for more.
Renowned author Delphine Larue needs a haven. A crazed fan has gone over the deep end, and she’s not safe. Her security team has suggested a house by a lake. Secluded. Private. Far away. In a beautiful area of the Northwest close to the sleepy town of Misted Pines. It’s perfect. So perfect, Delphine has just moved in, and she’s thinking she’ll stay there forever.
Until she sees the girl in the mist.
After that, everything changes.
Delphine quickly learns that Misted Pines isn’t so sleepy. A little girl has gone missing, and the town is in the grips of terror and tragedy. The local sheriff isn’t up for the job. The citizens are up in arms. And as the case unfolds, the seedy underbelly of a quiet community is exposed, layer by layer.
But most importantly, girls are dying.
There seems to be only one man they trust to find out what’s happening.
The mysterious Cade Bohannan.
I called Hawk Delgado.
It was no surprise this situation in Misted Pines was known to him. He was tasked with keeping me safe, and although this had nothing to do with me, it had to do with Misted Pines, and that was where I was. It was also not a surprise that he currently did not have any resources to devote to assisting with it.
However, he gave me two names.
Nightingale Investigations, an outfit located where Delgado was, in Denver, Colorado.
And Tanner Layne, a private investigator who worked out of a shop in Brownsburg, Indiana, which was, to my astonishment, where Joe Callahan was based.
Neither were close.
But Nightingale was closer.
Though for reasons I didn’t understand (they probably had to do with Callahan), I called Layne first, left a message as it was the weekend and waited.
It was not long before he returned my call.
He had a full caseload, but said he’d look into it and get back to me.
I then reached out to Denver, leaving another message.
Not much time passed before a woman named Shirleen Jackson got in touch, saying she’d assessed it and presented it to her boss, the man behind the name, Lee Nightingale. She would follow up with me as soon as he’d made his decision.
Within hours, I had two replies.
Layne: “We’re ready to roll when we receive word from the investigator on site that he welcomes assistance. We have a message to him. But if he doesn’t give us the greenlight, I’m afraid at this time we can’t get involved. I hope you understand. I would feel the same if someone I didn’t know pushed into one of my investigations, especially at this early juncture. Trust me when I say that it’s never helpful.”
I didn’t know who “we” was, I also didn’t ask, but I suspected he’d consulted with Callahan.
I also didn’t think this was “early.” At that point, she’d been missing nearly a week.
Which begged the question, what parents had a slumber party for their eight-year-old on a Monday evening?
I didn’t ask Layne that either.
Jackson: “We understand your concern, but Lee looked into things and the investigator contracted to assist the local authorities is second to none. In this kind of situation, although it seems contradictory, more hands on deck can make a mess.”
That was two nos of the same ilk.
I decided to focus on the “second to none” comment, knowing they were referring to the fact it was clear the locals had called Cade Bohannan in.
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