Forget What You've Heard, page 1
FORGET WHAT YOU’VE HEARD
The Jason Edwards FBI Chronicles: Dangerous Secrets Suspense Book 1
RACHELLE J. CHRISTENSEN
CONTENTS
Praise for Forget What You’ve Heard
Also by Rachelle J. Christensen
Free book
Note to Reader
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
Sneak Peek of Forget What You’ve Seen
Book Club Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
PRAISE FOR FORGET WHAT YOU’VE HEARD
“I was captivated by it from the very beginning of this high intensity thriller, until the very end. She writes with a passion and love of words that blows me out of the water. I honestly had to finish the novel all in one night, because I knew I'd never sleep if I didn't!”
--Jenni James, author of Northanger Alibi
“A gripping plot that revs its engines on page one, accelerates with each new chapter, and doesn’t come to a stop until you close the book at its satisfying conclusion.”
—ToriAnn Perkey, editor
“A fun, fast read! It gripped me right from the first scene and pulled me along for the ride all the way to the end!"
—Heather Justesen, author of The Ball's in Her Court
"Here's the exact way to turn an improbable plot into a rollicking suspense novel, full of surprises and twists, and wonderful
characterizations… Christensen keeps you on the edge of your seat."
--Jeff Needle, book reviewer from AML
“an exciting debut novel that took me by surprise both for the quality of writing and for firmly capturing my interest in the first chapter. This is a romantic suspense novel with the emphasis on suspense and first time novelist, Christensen handles it like a pro.”
--Jennie Hansen, Meridian Magazine, author of If I Should Die
*Award Winner of Outstanding Book of the Year from The
League of Utah Writers
Whitney Award Finalist
ALSO BY RACHELLE J. CHRISTENSEN
Diamond Rings Are Deadly Things (Wedding Planner Mysteries #1)
Veils and Vengeance (#2)
Proposals and Poison (#3)
Forget What You’ve Heard (Jason Edwards FBI Chronicles #1)
Forget What You’ve Seen (#2)
Forget Me Not (#3)
The Soldier’s Bride (A Music Box Romance #1)
Carve Me a Melody (A Music Box Romance #2)
Hawaiian Masquerade (Burke Billionaire Romance #1)
The Billionaire’s Stray Heart (Burke Billionaire Romance #2)
The Refugee’s Billionaire (Burke Billionaire Romance #3)
Hawaii Ever After (Burke Billionaire Romance #4)
How to Fetch a Fiancé
Hope for Christmas (An Echo Ridge Romance Series #1)
The Kiss Thief #2
The Princess Bride of Riodan #3
Coming Home to Love #4
Her Guy Next Door Fake Fiancé #5
Novellas:
Silver Cascade Secrets
Double Take
Claire’s Christmas Dance
Nonfiction:
What Every 6th Grader Needs to Know: 10 Secrets to Connect Moms & Daughter
Lost Children: Coping with Miscarriage
© 2020 Peachwood Press, LLC. Rachelle J. Christensen
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
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To Mom and Dad—Thanks for passing along the bookworm gene and for always believing in me.
NOTE TO READER
Dear Reader,
I’m so excited that you’ve chosen to read this book! This is the 10th anniversary edition of my first novel, Wrong Number. I was awarded the Outstanding Book of the Year award from the League of Utah Writers for this novel. Fast forward ten years and the face of publishing has changed dramatically.
I was able to secure the rights for my novel and produce this edition. I completely revised the book, added more content, and gave it a facelift including a new title. I’m pleased with the finished product and happy to present Forget What You’ve Heard for your reading pleasure. Be sure to catch the sequel, Forget What You’ve Seen, next!
Rachelle
CHAPTER ONE
Aubree dug through a pile of papers on the kitchen counter, searching for her cell phone. She finally noticed the familiar silver gleam under a stack of bills. She grabbed the phone and touched the screen. Nothing flickered to life and Aubree groaned. Her phone had been acting up lately, freezing and restarting without warning.
“My cell phone died again!” Aubree yelled up the stairs. She heard Devin muttering as he climbed out of bed. “I can’t be without my phone today. Do you have time to take a look at this before work?”
Devin poked his head around the corner. “Did it freeze up again?” He ran his fingers through the matted portion of his curly hair and yawned.
Aubree smiled at his disheveled hair. “Can I take your phone today?”
“Sure, honey, no problem. I charged it last night. We might have to get you a new phone.”
Aubree frowned. “Hopefully not. Hey, I brought the paper in for you.” She tapped the front page. “I’ll read it tonight after you’ve marked it up.”
Devin whistled at her just as she opened the door. “Love you, babe.”
Aubree turned and smiled at her husband. “Love you too.” She blew him a kiss and stepped out into the crisp morning air.
She unlocked the door to her car and climbed inside, pulling the seat belt over her bulging belly. She took a deep breath—seven months pregnant and still fighting morning sickness. Whenever she was too rushed in the morning, her stomach churned. With another deep breath, she backed her car out of the driveway.
She glanced out the window and narrowed her eyes at the sun, wishing it would go into hibernation for a while. The freckles sprinkled across her nose and arms had multiplied over the summer. Aubree brushed her strawberry-blonde hair away from her face and smiled when she felt her baby move.
As she drove along the busy highway to her real estate office, she turned on Devin’s phone. She was about to dial into her phone’s system and forward all her calls to Devin’s cell, when it rang. The traffic light at the intersection turned red suddenly, and the ringing phone slipped from her hand as she stepped on the brake. Lifting it back to her ear, she heard a harsh voice.
“Tidmore did the job, and the body is hidden in the manhole on 32nd Street like we talked about. By the time they find him, we’ll be in the green. The intruder will clear the way.” His words were followed by a gruff cackle. Aubree’s heart raced. If Devin was playing some kind of trick on her, it wasn’t funny.
“Hey, don’t I at least get a congrats? What’s up with you? I even kept his uniform for you.”
Aubree cleared her throat. She was about to speak when a horn blared behind her. The light had turned green. She pressed the gas pedal and said, “I think you have the wrong number.” The other line went silent. She looked down at the phone and saw that the call had ended.
The man’s voice echoed in her head: “The body is hidden . . . 32nd Street.” She felt the blood pulsing in her ears, and her hands trembled. Maybe it was a prank call; people were always pulling stupid jokes on each other like that.
Aubree pulled her car to the side of the road. She dialed the number to her house, hoping Devin would answer. After four rings, it went to the answering machine, and she hung up. He might be in the shower, or maybe he had left for work early. She looked at the dashboard clock—7:30 a.m. Devin never left that early. She dialed her own cell number. It went straight to her answering service. Maybe Devin was working on her phone.
She pulled up the number for the police department on Devin’s phone. Hoping she wasn’t being paranoid, she dialed the number and willed herself to sound calm.
“San Diego Police Department, how may I help you?” A woman’s voice greeted her.
“I just received a strange phone call, and I’m not sure if it was a prank. The man said something about hiding a body, and I’m worried.”
“Did you recognize the caller’s number?” the dispatcher asked. “No, he called my cell phone and I—”
“Did it sound like anyone you know?”
Aubree frowned. “No, I think it was a wrong number.” “What’s your name?”
“Aubree Stewart.”
“And your birth date?”
“I’m twenty-eight, I mean—uh—” Aubree bit the end of her fingernail. “Look, I’m on my way to work right now, and I’m running behind. Maybe it was a prank. I wasn’t sure what I should do.”
“That’s okay, ma’am. We can have an officer check things out.”
“If you think it’s necessary,” Aubree said.
“Ma’am, if you think this is anything more than a prank call, it is necessary.”
“Okay. The man said the body was hidden in a manhole on 32nd Street.” Aubree closed her eyes and tried to control the shiver moving up her spine.
“I’ll contact the officer on duty in that area and have him check it out,” the dispatcher said.
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Don’t worry. Give me your phone number and work address, and if we have any more questions, a detective will contact you.”
Aubree gave the dispatcher her information and hung up the phone. She felt even more nervous than before. What if there really was a dead body? Would she be a suspect? Shaking her head, she gripped the steering wheel. Maybe she was overreacting. Pregnancy hormones contributed to more anxiety than she normally felt.
She dialed the number to Devin’s office and hung up when his answering machine came on. She didn’t want to leave a message and have him worry about her, so she shoved the phone into her purse and pulled her car back into the hectic morning traffic.
An uneasy feeling shadowed her all the way to the office. It probably was a prank call, but the way the man had laughed disturbed her.
Aubree called a couple of her clients and made appointments for showings later in the afternoon. She twirled a pencil between her fingers, re-checking the details of a home for sale. It was difficult to stay on task when the man’s gruff voice and horrible laugh kept echoing in her head.
At ten o’clock, she called Devin again but still couldn’t reach him. It was kind of him to let her use his cell phone, but that meant she couldn’t get in touch with him. As a realtor, a cell phone was a necessity. Add to that her bulging belly in the third trimester and the phone became a lifeline. She pushed the papers into a pile on her desk and gazed out the window. When someone knocked on her office door, she jumped.
The secretary, Carla, poked her head in and whispered, “There’s a police officer outside, and he says he needs to talk to you.”
Aubree’s pulse accelerated. “Did he say what it was about?”
“No. Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Aubree tried to remember to breathe. She got up slowly and walked out of her office. A husky policeman with graying hair stood with a frown at the front desk.
“I’m Aubree Stewart.” She tried to ignore the click and grind of the copy machine as it ran out of paper. She noticed the lines and wrinkles on the officer’s face and guessed that he was in his late fifties.
“Mrs. Stewart, I’m officer Haskins.” He offered his hand, and Aubree shook it. Her palms felt like she’d just taken off a pair of winter gloves, or maybe his were unusually cold.
“Could you come down to the precinct with me to answer a few questions?”
“Why?” Aubree felt the blood draining from her face. She noticed bits of sunlight reflecting from his gold-toned watch from the skylight above.
The officer lowered his voice. “It’s about the phone call you received this morning.”
“Did they find a body?” Aubree said.
Carla gasped.
Officer Haskins raised his eyebrows. “I’d rather not say too much until we reach the station. Can you come with me?”
Aubree’s heart pounded in her ears. She put a hand to her temple and glanced at the couch in the waiting area, wondering if she could make it there before she fainted. The officer moved toward her in alarm, staring at her protruding stomach.
“You’d better lie down for a minute and take some deep breaths. It’s dangerous for the baby if you pass out.” He helped her to the couch, and Carla brought her a bottle of water.
“Do you want me to call your husband?” she asked.
Aubree nodded and took a sip of the water. Her neck felt hot and clammy. She took a few deep breaths. “Carla, can you get my purse from my office? I’m going to go with this officer. Cancel my appointments for the day.”
The officer knelt beside the couch. “I’m sorry to have frightened you that way.” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I have a weak stomach and, well . . .” Aubree patted her belly and tried not to look as miserable as she felt. Her mind kept clicking through scenarios that would explain why the police officer had come to her office. What if they had found a body, and now they thought she had something to do with it?
Carla handed Aubree her purse and a damp paper towel for her forehead. “I can’t reach your husband, but I’ll keep trying.”
“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Do you need to call your doctor?” Carla helped Aubree to her feet.
“No, no, I’ll be fine.” She concentrated on breathing as the officer helped her to his patrol car. Where was Devin? It was usually easy to reach him at work. Aubree thought of the computer programs her husband helped write and repair, and she smiled. Maybe he was listening to some ’80s band on his headphones—working “without interruption.” Aubree shook her head and hurried to follow the police officer.
Officer Haskins walked a couple paces in front of her. He limped slightly, favoring his right leg. “We only need a brief statement from you. It shouldn’t take long.”
After she got into the patrol car, she leaned back into the seat and wondered what kind of trouble she faced.
The drive to the police station only took about fifteen minutes. It was hard to concentrate on anything besides the police radio, which periodically barked reports amid static. She could hear a lot of commotion going on as they neared the station, and the phrase, “10-85 echo, echo confirmed,” repeated several times. She didn’t understand the code, but Officer Haskins kept leaning forward to listen, the muscles in his neck stretching with tension. She wondered if the police chatter had something to do with the call she’d reported earlier.
When the patrol car came to a stop, Aubree undid her seat belt with shaking hands. Officer Haskins helped her out of the car. She followed him inside the precinct and blinked as her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight outdoors to the fluorescent lights of the waiting area.
“Come this way,” Officer Haskins said.
Aubree took a few steps to follow him but stopped abruptly and gasped as she felt a brief pain shoot across her abdomen. She winced and held her stomach.
“Are you okay?” Haskins asked. Biting her lip, she nodded.
“We’re just going to the end of this hall, and then you can sit down.” “I think I’d better use the restroom first.” She pointed at the sign for the women’s bathroom, and he nodded. Aubree hurried inside and locked the stall. As she dialed Devin’s work number on his cell phone and listened to it ring, her lip trembled—he still wasn’t answering. She’d never been inside a police station before, and she wished Devin could be there. Pausing in front of the bathroom door, she waited for the rising fear to subside.
