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N O W H E R E S A F E

(A Harley Cole FBI Suspense ThrillerBook 1)

K a t e B o l d

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); and the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising three books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2022 by Kate Bold. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright high fliers, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY KATE BOLD

ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)

THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)

THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)

THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)

THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)

THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)

ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER

LET ME GO (Book #1)

LET ME OUT (Book #2)

LET ME LIVE (Book #3)

LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)

LET ME FORGET (Book #5)

LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)

CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT ME (Book #1)

NOT NOW (Book #2)

NOT WELL (Book #3)

NOT HER (Book #4)

NOT NORMAL (Book #5)

HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)

NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

It was the pain that woke hera dull, throbbing ache in the wrist pinned behind her back. She tried to pull the arm free, but her wrists were bound together.

That was when the memories flooded in: stumbling along the rocky path, her face covered by a hood (the same one that now pressed against her nostrils every time she inhaled), a hand shoving her forward whenever she paused.

The next thing she remembered was waking to the pain in her wrist.

I must have fallen, knocked myself out, she thought.

Something cold and smooth pressed against her head. She rolled, feeling the bar of metal with her bound hands. It was shaped like a T and bolted to planks of wood.

A rail. That means this must be a mine shaft!

Her excitement at this discovery faded as quickly as it flared up. She had been discarded like a bag of trash, left somewhere nobody would find her.

Left to die.

Her heart beat violently as she pushed herself to her feet. She was not going to die here, not without a fight.

She twisted her wrists back and forth, ignoring the pain. She felt the knot loosening. Suddenly it came free, and she pulled at the hood. Her hair stuck to it for a moment she dared not think how much blood she had lost but she gave it a tug and it slipped off.

All she had to do now was go back the way she had come.

She hesitated, knowing one way would take her deeper into the mine shaft. But how to tell which was the right way? In the end she went with her gut, trotting through the darkness, barely able to keep herself from a panicked sprint.

She tripped over something soft and fell headlong, landing on her injured wrist, which flared with pain. Her good hand quested over the object that had tripped her.

Fabric. The cool roundness of a button. Then the cold, bony protrusion of a chin, the skin shriveled and tight.

She jerked her hand back with a scream, but not before brushing against the corpses long hair, fine as spider-silk. A woman, then, she guessed, which meant

Im not the first one.

She shuddered at the realization. Did that make this place a graveyard? How many other victims might lie in the darkness, forgotten and unburiedno, not unburied. This might not be a traditional burial, but it was a burial nonetheless.

Every nerve in her body screamed at her to get moving. She rose, hurtled herself through the darkness, unable to slow down despite the possibility there could be a hundred corpses littering the floor of the tunnel.

With a surge of hope, she discovered the ground was rising. Yes! She was climbing back up! Now she could see a single medallion of light emblazoned high on the wall.

Tears of relief and terror rolled down her cheeks as she hurried forward, unable to slow herself before she collided with a wall of loose rock. She began scrambling up it, trying to reach the light. If she could just feel that sunlight on her skin, if she could just taste that fresh air

She had only climbed a few feet when an avalanche of dirt submerged her. She fought her way out, coughing and sputtering, but the light was gone.

And with it, her only hope of escape.

CHAPTER ONE

As Harley entered the headquarters of the FBIs Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia, a wave of applause nearly bowled her over. She managed a queasy grimace as her fellow agents, clustered here and there along the halls surrounding the cubicles at the center of the room, clapped and smiled at her. They all knew that without her hard work, John Kavers would still be out there hunting young girls.

Whats that, your second serial? said Joe Tirico, the Units newest member.

Third, she answered, searching the room for an escape but finding no way out. She wanted to be hunting the next killer, not celebrating the capture of the last one.

He whistled. Leave some for the rest of us, will you?

No promises.

Spotting a cake with a frosting sketch of a man behind bars, Harley took the opportunity to escape the groups attention and cut herself a slice.

As Chics Good Times began to play, Harley willed herself to relax and enjoy the successful conclusion of a case. Kavers had terrorized the nation for three years, kidnapping young girls from public restrooms and unattended cars, seemingly unaffected by the increasing police and media scrutiny. Now he was facing a life sentencein no small part due to Harleys dogged pursuit, culminating in the discovery of microfibers that linked several of the victims to a minivan Kavers owned. Harley hadnt exactly had permission to obtain those microfibers, but that was a different matter.

Looking around the room at the other members of the BAU who worked around the clock to catch murderers, rapists, arsonists, and of course serial killers, Harley noticed an unsettling feeling in her gut. She always felt this way at the end of a case, because it was not the kill she loved but the hunt. Wander a crime scene long enough, and just about anyone might discover a crucial piece of evidence by sheer, dumb luck. But to get into a killers head, essentially signing a lease to stay there until the case was closed months or even years later? That took something beyond a nine-to-five commitment.

The Bureau called it dedication, but it was really obsessiveness, a total devotion of mind and will to one goal, like that of a samurai to swordcraft. Those recruits unwilling to make the sacrifice didnt make the cut. How could you expect to catch a killer if you couldnt match his intensity?

At least that was how Harley excused her almost complete lack of a social life since being transferred from the Chelsea, MA, field office to the BAU four years earlier.

She was just wondering how long she was expected to participate in the celebration when Lloyd Jeffers, the Unit Chief, stepped out of his office.

Basking in the afterglow? he said.

Lloyd was middle-aged and balding, with a girdle of skin around his neck thick enough to function as a brace. He was Harleys opposite in many ways: mild where she was intense, diplomatic where she was reckless, deliberate where she was decisive. If she was a jalapeῇo, he was a scoop of mashed potatoes. Still, he showed up on time and the agents liked working for him, so that was half the battle.

Honestly, sir, Id rather be looking through the next case file.

Lloyd chuckled, spinning his wedding ring with his left thumba nervous tic that always signaled bad news. Sometimes you need to know when to slow down, enjoy the simple things.

Her husband of six years, Rob, had said the same thing to her numerous times before. It just wasnt the way she was wired.

She said, I enjoy knowing John Kavers wont be putting little girls into shoe boxes in his attic anymore.

The Bureau Chief seemed to understand he wasnt going to persuade her. He sighed, troubled. About thatcould you come to the office for a moment?

There was a sudden rigidity to his face. Despite his mild manners, he could be firm when he needed to be. He wouldnt have earned his position otherwise.

Harley went along, supposing this was more a formality than anything else: a mistake in the case report she had filed, a little bit of paperwork that needed cleaning up. But when she saw the Pope standing to the left of Lloyds desk, his arms crossed, she knew this had to be serious.

The Pope was what the agents called Cameron Pope, Lloyds superiorand a true Washington bureaucrat if Harley had ever seen one. It was rare for him to make an appearance, and it was never good news.

Pope gave her a cool nod, which she returned with equal stiffness. They had a history, she and Pope. He had never wanted her on the Unitin fact, she had been transferred against his wishes; apparently even a bigwig like Pope couldnt tarnish a sterling record. It was an open secret in the Unit that he was harder on the women than the men, though it was anyones guess why. Maybe he just liked seeing them crack.

Hes going to be waiting a long time if he thinks he can crack me, Harley thought.

Lloyd offered Harley a chair. She shook her head, not interested in the subservient posture of sitting while Pope stood, and Lloyd shrugged and leaned back against his desk.

Youve been working here what two years? Any vacations in that time?

Harley didnt like the way this was going. Spent a weekend in Vegas last year.

Whens the last time you took time off? Regular working hours, I mean?

She blinked, unable to remember.

Its taking a toll on you, Harley, Lloyd continued. Nobody can keep up that pace and expect to be fine.

Its worked so far, she answered. She needed the workit was what allowed her to make sense of the world. When she wasnt on a case, she felt listless and adrift.

Lloyd rubbed his temples. You need a break. A chance to recover, find some hobbies.

That was when it hit her. She looked from Lloyd to Pope, who regarded her with a cold gaze, and then back to Lloyd again. Youre putting me on leave?

Its temporary, of course, Lloyd added, as if this would cushion the blow. As if he hadnt just pulled the carpet out from beneath her feet.

Harley couldnt believe what she was hearing. She frowned, trying to understand. I dont get it. I just brought Kavers in, and you want to shelve me?

Lloyd sighed. Look, we both know your methods can be…

Effective?

Unconventional. Dangerous, even.

Its a dangerous job. Were catching killers, not shoplifters.

And that makes it even more important we do things by the book. What happens when his case gets thrown out because you got ahead of yourself? What happens when he kills again?

She had already considered this. He wont. I was careful.

Careful? Popes voice was a low rumble, like a truck in the distance. You searched that van long before the judge signed the warrant. If that comes to light, the whole case gets thrown out.

She stared hard at him, unwilling to back down. And if I had waited, he would have ditched the van and hed still be out there.

This isnt the Wild West, Harley, Lloyd said. You cant just make it up as you go.

She turned toward the Unit Chief, filled with a sudden sense of desperation. Dont do this, Lloyd. I need this jobits all I have. Without this… It was like a black hole, and she was spinning uncontrollably down into it. Her hands felt sweaty, her mouth dry.

Its final, Lloyd said in a quieter voice. The OPR has already opened an investigation. Im sorry. The OPR was the Office of Professional Responsibility, the FBIs version of Internal Affairs.

Harley glanced at Pope. She knew he was the real reason behind this, the master pulling the puppets strings. He could have done so from a distance, but instead he had come in person, probably because he wanted to see the expression on Harleys face.

That, or he was trying to bait her into doing something even more damaging to her career. Such as slapping that smirk off his face. She felt the anger rising up within her (she had always had a quick temper when she felt cornered), but she managed to keep it in check. No sense making things worse.

Realizing there was nothing more she could do, she turned away and moved to the door. Then she paused and looked back. This isnt an investigation, Lloyd. Its a witch hunt.

Keep talking, Pope said. You might say something you cant take back.

Lloyd took a half step forward. There was a pained expression on his facehe was probably about to explain why they needed to set aside their differences for the good of the Bureau. Always the peacemaker. For the head of a unit specializing in criminal behavior, however, sometimes he didnt seem to know much about human nature.

So when do I come back? Harley said, trying to hide the defeat from her voice.

Lloyd took a breath to speak, but Pope beat him to the punch. Well let you know. We know where to reach you.

Right.

Swallowing the bitter words that rose up in her throat, Harley opened the door. She was ready to leave without another word, knowing full well that anything she said would only dig her in deeper.

Then Lloyds words stopped her.

Youre forgetting something.

What?

Damn it, Harley, do I need to spell it out?

Then it occurred to her what the Unit Chief was waiting for. As long as she was under investigation, she would have no more power than the ordinary citizen.

With a bitter swallow, Harley unclipped her Glock 23 pistol and set it on the desk, followed by her handcuffs and the pair of extra magazines she always carried. Last of all came her badge, that symbol of authority that stood for all she believed in, all she aspired to be.

He seemed genuinely sorry, and it didnt help one bit. Gotta take my dignity too, huh? she said, slapping her Glock 23 pistol, two extra magazines, handcuffs, and badge into his outstretched hands. There. Im just a regular citizen now. Happy?

As if to rub salt in the wound, Pope said, Do we need to tell you the consequences of impersonating an agent?

I think I get the gist, Harley answered. Ill show myself out.

She walked through the building, moving stoically past the puzzled expressions of her coworkers as the realization of what had just happened settled on her like a crushing weight. An investigation of indeterminate length. And what if the investigation didnt exonerate her? What kind of stain would it leave on her record if they did, in fact, determine that her behavior had jeopardized the case rather than helped it?

I cant start over, she thought bleakly. Ive worked too hard to get here. Besides, this is the only thing I know.

She told herself not to think about it. She had a flight that evening from Washington National to Logan, where Rob would pick her up. He would only be expecting her to be home for a few days (that had been the pattern ever since she was transferred to the Quantico office), so she wondered how he would feel when he learned she was home indefinitely.

Hes been telling me I need to be home more, she mused. It was, in fact, the very thing theyd argued about three days earlier, the last time theyd spoken. It had been radio silence since then.

The question was, would he still be happy to see her?

CHAPTER TWO

Shivering in the brisk November air outside Logan Airport, Harley watched the cars arriving at the Delta terminals with a sense of unease. She hadnt seen Rob in nearly three weeks, and she knew her long absences were taking a toll on their marriage, which was a problem she didnt know how to solve. Being put on leave for breaking the rules was just the icing on the cake.

Rob, a branch manager at a local credit union, believed in paying your dues, climbing the corporate ladder, doing as you were told even when you knew a better way. Harley believed in getting results. His methods might have helped to keep a stable income and advance his career, but Harleys job involved dealing with those who had no use for the rulebook, solitary sharks that only entered the stream of society when they were on the hunt.

Still, facing the prospect of an internal investigation, Harley couldnt help but wonder if there was some value to Robs approach.

A nearby car horn pulled Harley from her thoughts. Recognizing the silver Camry stopped on the far side of the median, she wove through several lanes of sporadic traffic, dragging her suitcase behind her. She tossed the suitcase in the back seat.

Wasnt expecting you back so early, Rob said, smiling faintly as she climbed into the car. His dark hair was combed neatly to the side in a style Harley hadnt seen him wear before. The scent of his cologne was different, too.

Looking for something familiar to hold onto, Harley leaned across for a quick kiss, a ritual of theirs. He met her halfway. Harley thought she detected a moments hesitation.

Youre just imagining things, she chided herself. Besides, considering how your last conversation went, should it really come as a surprise if hes a bit cool? Youll have plenty of time to smooth things out.

Settling into her seat, her mind returned to what hed said. Thought Id take a little vacation after closing the case, she answered, deciding he didnt need the full truth right out of the gate. She would take her time, decide the best moment to share the difficult news. She didnt want to start the week on a low note.

Rob nodded but didnt say anything. The lights of the dashboard gleamed in the corners of his glasses. It wasnt like him, this silence. He was usually much more talkative when she came home, even if she had been spending less and less time home as the cases progressed.

Everything alright? she said, trying to draw him out. The tunnel lights strobed across the car.

Rob leaned back against the headrest and gave a tired sigh. Yeah, everythings good. Long day at work. He paused.

Want to tell me about it?

He shrugged, as if there wasnt much to say. This marketing campaign is just giving me fits. Thought it would help us hit our quarterly target, but right now were not attracting enough new clients to compensate for the expenditure, so its starting to look like a sinkhole.

Im sure youll get it sorted out, she answered with an optimistic smile. You always do.

Well see.

The silence dripped and pooled.

Cologne smells nice, Harley said, trying a new angle. Whered you get it?

You bought it for me last Christmas.

Oh. The words stung. She had forgotten. Well, apparently I have good taste.

He was silent for several moments. Then he said, So, how long are you back for?

She paused, deciding how best to answer this. Im not sure.

He looked at her, his face puzzled. I think thats the first time in six years Ive heard you use those words. Im not sure. Who are you and whatd you do with Harley Cole?

His boyish grin reminded Harley of the first time shed met him, at a pickup game of volleyball back in their Harvard days. They had dated briefly in college and kept in touch off and on for the next decade, but it wasnt until they later reconnected over a burglary case Harley was working that the magic happened. A conversation about the case led to late-night drinks, then to a conversation about all the failed relationships theyd both been through since college, then finally two months later to Rob kneeling in the surf off Nantucket with a ring that had been in his family for three generations.

It was everything shed wanted when she left her small hometown way out in New Mexico: a new life where nobody felt sorry for her because of her past, a beautiful house, a devoted husband, and a career capable of absorbing her relentless energy. Everything had been going well until she transferred to the BAU. Theyd had a number of fights about the time she was away…but maybe now, with her conduct under investigation, she and Rob could get on the same page about their future.

That wasnt too much to hope for, was it?

Robs smile faded as he waited for her answer.

The truth is, she began tentatively, I was put on leave. There were some questions about how we acquired the evidence we used to arrest Kavers, and

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