Nowhere Safe (A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1)

By Kate Bold

“This is an excellent book… When you start reading, be sure you don’t have to wake up early!”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

FBI BAU special agent Harley Cole, as brilliant as she is at hunting serial killers, has bent the rules one too many times and, put on leave, decides to return to her small-town Southwestern roots and visit her dying father. But when a new killer strikes nearby, leaving a trail of women in abandoned desert mines, it hits close to home for Harley, eerily reminiscent of her sister’s unsolved case—and forces her to consider the local FBI field office’s desperate plea for help.

Nowhere Safe (A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1) is the debut novel in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold.

Harley, reeling from her being put on leave, from her long-term relationship falling apart, and from her father’s dying, is hardly ready to return to her hometown, to its long-buried secrets, and her tortured past. She spent her life escaping this small town—but, as she settles back in, she wonders: might she have been wrong all this time?

Yet as more bodies surface and as every clue leads to a dead end, Harley, clashing with her new partner, realizes she’s in a race against time.

Will she save the next victim in time? Or will the endless desert, and her dark past, swallow her for good?

A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured FBI agent, the HARLEY COLE series is a riveting mystery, packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll, and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.

Books #2 and #3 in the series—NOWHERE LEFT and NOWHERE TO RUN—are also available.

“This book moved very fast and every page was exciting. Plenty of dialogue, you absolutely love the characters, and you were rooting for the good guy throughout the whole story… I look forward to reading the next in the series.”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“Kate did an amazing job on this book and I was hooked from the first chapter!”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“I really enjoyed this book. The characters were authentic, and I see the bad guys as something we hear about daily on the news... Looking forward to book 2.”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“This was a really good book. The main characters were real, flawed and human. The story went along quickly and wasn't mired in too many unnecessary details. I really enjoyed it.”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“Alexa Chase is headstrong, impatient, but most of all brave with a capital B. She never, repeat never, backs down until the bad guys are put where they belong. Clearly five stars!”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done.”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well.”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn’t put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold.”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book.”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

“Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!”
—Reader review for The Killing Game

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Bold
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094394657

Book preview

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N O W H E R E   S A F E

(A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 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 you’re 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 author’s 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 her—a 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 corpse’s long hair, fine as spider-silk. A woman, then, she guessed, which meant—

I’m 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 unburied—no, 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 FBI’s 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.

What’s that, your second serial? said Joe Tirico, the Unit’s 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 group’s attention and cut herself a slice.

As Chic’s 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 sentence—in no small part due to Harley’s dogged pursuit, culminating in the discovery of microfibers that linked several of the victims to a minivan Kavers owned. Harley hadn’t 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 killer’s 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 didn’t make the cut. How could you expect to catch a killer if you couldn’t 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 Harley’s 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, I’d rather be looking through the next case file.

Lloyd chuckled, spinning his wedding ring with his left thumb—a 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 wasn’t the way she was wired.

She said, I enjoy knowing John Kavers won’t be putting little girls into shoe boxes in his attic anymore.

The Bureau Chief seemed to understand he wasn’t going to persuade her. He sighed, troubled. About that—could 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 wouldn’t 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 Lloyd’s desk, his arms crossed, she knew this had to be serious.

The Pope was what the agents called Cameron Pope, Lloyd’s superior—and 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 Unit—in fact, she had been transferred against his wishes; apparently even a bigwig like Pope couldn’t 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 anyone’s guess why. Maybe he just liked seeing them crack.

He’s 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.

You’ve been working here – what – two years? Any vacations in that time?

Harley didn’t like the way this was going. Spent a weekend in Vegas last year.

When’s the last time you took time off? Regular working hours, I mean?

She blinked, unable to remember.

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

It’s worked so far, she answered. She needed the work—it was what allowed her to make sense of the world. When she wasn’t 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. You’re putting me on leave?

It’s temporary, of course, Lloyd added, as if this would cushion the blow. As if he hadn’t just pulled the carpet out from beneath her feet.

Harley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She frowned, trying to understand. I don’t 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.

It’s a dangerous job. We’re 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 won’t. I was careful.

Careful? Pope’s 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 he’d still be out there.

This isn’t the Wild West, Harley, Lloyd said. You can’t just make it up as you go.

She turned toward the Unit Chief, filled with a sudden sense of desperation. "Don’t do this, Lloyd. I need this job—it’s 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.

It’s final, Lloyd said in a quieter voice. The OPR has already opened an investigation. I’m sorry. The OPR was the Office of Professional Responsibility, the FBI’s version of Internal Affairs.

Harley glanced at Pope. She knew he was the real reason behind this, the master pulling the puppet’s 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 Harley’s 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 isn’t an investigation, Lloyd. It’s a witch hunt.

Keep talking, Pope said. You might say something you can’t take back.

Lloyd took a half step forward. There was a pained expression on his face—he 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 didn’t 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. We’ll 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 Lloyd’s words stopped her.

You’re 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 didn’t 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. I’m 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. I’ll 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 didn’t 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 can’t start over, she thought bleakly. I’ve 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.

He’s been telling me I need to be home more, she mused. It was, in fact, the very thing they’d argued about three days earlier, the last time they’d 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 hadn’t seen Rob in nearly three weeks, and she knew her long absences were taking a toll on their marriage, which was a problem she didn’t know how to solve. Being put on leave for breaking the rules was just the icing on