The Killing Place (An Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book 6)

By Kate Bold

When a witness in a witness protection program is killed, U.S. Marshal Alexa Chase assumes it’s related to the case. But when she hits dead ends and the mystery becomes far more complex, she realizes a serial killer may be at work. What is his pattern? Can she connect the dots in time?

“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

The Killing Place (An Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book 6) is book #6 in a new series by mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, which begins with THE KILLING GAME (Book #1).

Alexa Chase, 34, a brilliant profiler in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, was too good at her job. Haunted by all the serial killers she caught, she left a stunning career behind to join the U.S. Marshals. As a Deputy Marshal, Alexa—fit, and as tough as she is brilliant—could immerse herself in a simple career of hunting down fugitives and bringing them to justice.

But with her recent work a big success, the FBI and the Marshals have decided to make their joint-task force permanent. Alexa, reeling from her own traumatic past and her PTSD of hunting serial killers, has no choice: she will now have to work with an FBI partner she dislikes and hunt down serial killers whose jurisdiction intertwines with that of the U.S. Marshals. Alexa finds herself forced to confront the thing she dreads the most—entering a killer’s mind.

As Alexa dives deeper into the investigation, she realizes suspects are everywhere—and the clock is ticking. But who can really be trusted?

All Alexa can do is rely on her brilliant skills to enter the killer’s twisted mind before he strikes again.

A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured Deputy Marshal, the ALEXA CHASE 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.

Future books in the series will be available soon.

“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: Oct 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094393070

Book preview

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T H E   K I L L I N G   P L A C E

(An Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book 6)

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 five 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 Krivosheev Vitaly, 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)

NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)

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

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

PROLOGUE

A small house on the outskirts of Flagstaff, Arizona

10:00 PM

Tamara Drew, as she called herself now, stared at her phone, wondering if she should go through with it. She was tired of her new life, tired of her daily lies, and wanted some real human contact.

She had bought a burner phone at a convenience store, like some common criminal. A phone that couldn’t be traced. She hadn’t used it yet. It had no names or numbers in the contact list. Not like Tamara’s phone, which had the number of the real estate agency where she worked as a receptionist, the numbers of a few acquaintances who couldn’t really be called friends, and the number of a law enforcement office in Phoenix she had promised herself she would never call.

No real numbers. No real people she had real feelings for.

All those numbers were written in her tidy handwriting on a little piece of paper she had hidden in her pocket before she moved here.

She had that out now, for the second time in three years. It lay unfolded in her lap, its bent edges like outspread, welcoming arms of her old life.

Tamara had decided she needed to call one of those numbers.

Mom? No. She was approaching eighty and had a bad heart. The shock might kill her. Tamara wasn’t even sure she was still alive. They’d tell her, right? Maybe not.

James? No. Bad idea. James had probably forgotten about her anyway. The bastard.

Rebecca? Yes, her sister. That’s who she should call. They’d always been pretty close. And while Rebecca would be seriously mad at her lack of contact for the last three years, she wouldn’t do anything stupid like tell anyone Tamara had called.

So she’d call Rebecca. Her sister could be relied on to tell her all the news without blabbing. Rebecca had always been the good sister, the one who led a respectable, boring life, and disapproved of her little sister’s antics. Tamara had always found that annoying, but Rebecca’s level-headedness was an advantage in this situation.

It would keep Tamara safe.

Still, three years …

Tamara took a deep breath and began to punch in the numbers. About halfway through she abruptly hung up and dropped the burner phone like it really was burning her.

It could, if she didn’t use it carefully. She knew that.

But she couldn’t resist. She had to call.

Picking up the phone, she took another deep breath, and punched the number in quickly, before she could change her mind.

The phone rang. Tamara felt a spike of panic and nearly hung up.

A second ring.

Maybe she wouldn’t answer. Hope and disappointment mingled in Tamara’s heart.

Quickly replaced by terror as the phone picked up and Rebecca’s familiar voice said, Hello?

Tamara opened her mouth, but no words came.

Hello? Rebecca said again.

R-Rebecca?

Who is this?

Tamara suddenly felt stupid. Had Rebecca forgotten the sound of her own sister’s voice? Maybe no one had missed her. Maybe they were glad she left.

She was about to hang up when Rebecca said, Oh my God, Helen! Is that you?

It had been so long since she’d been called by her real name, Tamara almost wept.

Yes, it’s me! Sorry, um, I haven’t called.

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Tamara realized how stupid they sounded. But what do you say when you haven’t spoken to your sister or anyone else you knew for three years?

Sorry you haven’t called? What the hell, Helen. You just vanished!

I left a note, Tamara/Helen said, blushing.

A note that explained nothing.

And I can’t really explain now. I’m sorry.

Are you in trouble?

I was. Not anymore. How’s Mom?

This is because of James, isn’t it? Are the police looking for you?

No. I’ve spoken with them. They know I’m innocent.

Well, more innocent than James and his friends, anyway.

Then why did you leave? Rebecca asked.

Please don’t ask any questions. I can’t explain. How’s Mom?

All right. Her joints hurt. She’s worried about you. She hardly talks about anything else.

Despite the tears welling up in her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a bit satisfied at the jealousy she could hear tinging her sister’s voice. Rebecca had always been the good one, the one Mom and their later father had admired and praised. The one with the good grades and presentable boyfriends and good career prospects.

Helen had been the opposite, and while the past three years living as Tamara had seen a lot of changes in her life, she’d never catch up to her sister.

How’s your family? Helen asked.

They’re fine. I had another child. A baby girl, just a year ago. I named her Cheryl, after Aunt Cheryl. But what about you? Where are you? What happened?

Tamara sighed. I can’t really explain. I’m all right, though.

You don’t sound all right.

I just miss my old life.

Then come back. No one made you leave!

Oh, yes they did.

Rebecca, could you do me a favor?

What? Anything.

She means it. She really does care.

Helen smiled.

Could you just talk for a while, and I’ll listen? Talk about your baby girl. And the other kids. And your job. Mom. Anything. I just want to hear all about it.

I don’t understand. You leave without saying goodbye and then nothing for three years, and now you want an update?

Rebecca, please?

Oh, all right. But after that I want an explanation.

Tamara Drew, who once had been known to everyone as Helen Beachy, settled back on her sofa and listened as Rebecca filled her in on three years of news.

It was strange. She had always found her family and friends boring. And the little town of Benson twice as boring. But three years of news made for a lot of events, and she realized that those simple, everyday things—the births, the marriages, the family vacations, the minor ups and downs of daily life—were what she had been missing all along.

She listened in satisfied silence, more relaxed and at peace than she had been for three long years.

The tension all came back when her sister suddenly said, So enough about all of us. What about you?

Tamara hung up.

It felt like wrenching her heart out.

Tamara got up and paced in her little living room. So strange to hear all that. Three lost years of life, stuck living in this little dump with a dead-end job and no friends. She hated living here. Hated Flagstaff, hated her job, hated it all. The fact that she had to stay here made her hate it even more.

Her doorbell rang. Tamara let out a little yelp and backed away to the hallway.

She stood in the darkened hallway that led to the bathroom and bedroom of her tiny little house. No one ever rang her doorbell. Who the hell could that be?

Her doorbell rang again. Tamara cast about for an escape route. She could go out the window of her bedroom, but whoever that was would probably hear her.

Maybe if she just stayed quiet, they’d go away.

A female voice called through the doorway. Lance, are you home?

Tamara let out a gust of air in relief. The name, and the female voice, calmed her.

She called out, No, Lance lives next door.

Oh, sorry. You must be Tamara, Lance’s neighbor.

That’s right, Tamara said without thinking. She tensed. Should she have admitted that? Well, the name was on her mailbox! Plus it was a woman out there. Nothing to worry about.

But why hadn’t she read the name on the mailbox?

Silence. She must have left.

Tamara, shaking her head, went to the kitchen to open a can of beer.

Just then, she heard the crash of the front door getting kicked in.

CHAPTER ONE

Alexa Chase felt like the one sane part of her world was falling apart. Stacy, the troubled thirteen-year-old neighbor girl she had mentored and fussed over for the past year, was moving away.

And it was all Alexa’s fault.

If she didn’t have Drake Logan sending hitmen after her, this ranch north of Phoenix would still be a safe space for the kid.

It wasn’t even a safe space for an armed, highly trained Deputy U.S. Marshal.

Alexa and Stacy walked around the corral for what might be the last time, checking on Alexa’s two horses, Smith and Wesson. Alexa tried to hide the stiffness of her movements, the slowly healing cuts and bruises from the attack just one week before, but she could see from the worried looks the girl gave her that she was fooling no one.

She had a right to be worried. Some killer, sent by either Drake Logan or the Jersey Devil, had been lying in wait for Alexa for a few days at the ranch until she had returned from a case. The guy had slashed her twice and pummeled her nearly to unconsciousness before Alexa got the upper hand and gutted him with his own knife.

Stacy went up to the horses, who nuzzled the familiar teenager and accepted sugar cubes from her outstretched palms.

Alexa looked across a few hundred yards of open desert to the trailer that had been Stacy’s poor excuse for a home. The family pickup truck was all loaded with their meager possessions. The trailer had been sold, and Stacy’s parents were ready to go.

Her mother, a lump of a woman in a stained halter top and sweatpants, already sat in the passenger’s seat smoking a cigarette. Mr. Carpenter strolled around the dusty front yard, kicking at stones, waiting. He’d been sober for a week now, as far as Alexa knew, and dressed nicer than before.

Nicer meaning clothes that were clean and had few to no stains. Alexa had rather low expectations of the man, but to his credit, he was trying. His first real job in a long time required him working in a warehouse on the south side of Phoenix, meaning they needed to move to make his commute manageable as well as for their own safety.

Yes, he was trying, but that didn’t mean he’d succeed. Alexa had seen him try and fail before. And his wife, the woman who was supposed to be Stacy’s mother, was still knocking them back every day.

And when the drinking got too bad, when Stacy’s parents would get loud or start tripping over furniture, Stacy would flee here.

No more. Now she’d have nowhere to turn to, or she’d find someone to rely on who didn’t have her best interests at heart. Alexa had been in law enforcement long enough to know what happens to vulnerable teenagers with no responsible adults in their lives.

She’d looked up the neighborhood the Carpenters were moving to. Not the best. Instead of living on the fringes of the desert with horses and few neighbors, Stacy would have to deal with an urban environment with all sorts of undesirable types hanging out on her street.

Alexa turned to the girl, who was giving Smith a hug before turning to Wesson and giving him the same thing.

We’ll arrange a ride for the weekend, Alexa said. That was a good idea your dad had.

Stacy only nodded.

Mr. Carpenter, in a rare display of concern for his kid, had suggested that Alexa take the horses to some predetermined location and he’d drop off his daughter so they could have a ride. It would be wonderful, but it wouldn’t be the same. Alexa wouldn’t be coming home to find Stacy cleaning out the stables or curled up on the sofa texting in front of the TV. This overly emotional, erratic teenager was the only home life Alexa had.

And she was the only home life Stacy had.

The girl turned to her, eyes downcast, and gave her a hug. The tight embrace sent a flare of pain from various bruises and knife wounds, but Alexa didn’t care.

Dad’s waiting, she mumbled.

All right, Alexa replied.

With a final squeeze of her hand, Stacy walked away, passing through the strip of desert between Alexa’s ranch and what used to be the Carpenter’s trailer.

Alexa didn’t follow. Strange, but that had always been an unspoken rule. Stacy always came to her. Alexa never went over to the trailer. Alexa guessed it was because she didn’t want to see Stacy’s parents, and the girl was embarrassed by their behavior, but it also had created an invisible barrier through which Stacy came into and out of her life at will, with Alexa having no real control.

And now she was leaving.

Alexa wiped her eyes as Stacy got into the back of the pickup amid all the furniture and boxes, even on the ride not wanting to be with her parents. Her dad gave Alexa an uncertain wave, got into the pickup, and started it up.

As the truck picked up speed down the dirt track leading to the road, a plume of dust kicked up behind it, Stacy raised a hand. Alexa waved back, until the truck got onto the road, turned, and dwindled away out of sight.

Alexa let out a deep sigh. It was still only nine in the morning, and she had a whole day ahead of her. No case, no office work. Marshal Hernandez, her boss, had given her strict instructions to rest and recuperate.

To hell with that. She had to get to the bottom of the attacks on her. This was the second time it had happened, and while she had many enemies and couldn’t be sure who had sent the killer this time, one suspect rose above them all.

Drake Logan the Southwest’s worst serial killer. Stuck for life in prison and awaiting a trail that would almost certainly end in him getting the death penalty.

A trial that would include the charge of murdering Alexa’s old partner right in front of her eyes.

Facing Logan again filled her with dread. He had a powerful, almost hypnotic hold over her. He could read her like he was reading his own emotions, his own motivations.

And he knew it. He loved playing a mental game of cat and mouse with her.

The bastard. This time, Alexa was going to win.

She went into the house and, her limbs stiff and painful, changed into her uniform.

Time for a showdown.

CHAPTER TWO

Drake Logan was where she had last left him, on his own corridor in the Arizona State Maximum Security Prison, Phoenix. It stood behind the final gate of steel bars at the far end of one cell block past a succession of gates, alarms, and security cameras. To get here Alexa, flanked by a pair of guards, had to pass by some of Arizona’s worst criminals, some of whom she had put in here herself.

The second-to-last corridor was packed, every cell filled with two or three inmates.

All to give room for one inmate to have a corridor to himself.

The idea was to keep Logan from communicating with the other prisoners. To keep him from sending word to his deranged followers on the outside. The final gate was fitted with bulletproof glass. There was no way he could be heard in the next corridor. And his one hour in the yard he spent alone. Phone calls were strictly limited to his attorney and always recorded.

Alexa had listened to those recordings. He was not sending messages through that meatball public defender of his.

And Alexa could see no way for him to send messages through the other inmates.

Which meant he was sending message through the guards.

She’d been studying each guard since she’d arrived, from the older, paunchy fellow who checked her ID at the gate to the two man mountains flanking her, looking for signs of guilt.

She hadn’t seen any. They all held her gaze, all answered her questions with curt professionalism. But she knew at least one was guilty.

The warden agreed. Alexa had gone to him first, only to find that Marshal Hernandez had already given him the mother of all chewings out. The warden had rotated the guards in Logan’s wing, and then rotated them again. He’d also launched an internal investigation, promising to find the culprits.

Alexa didn’t get her hopes up.

The final gate opened with a loud buzz and a click. Alexa took a deep breath and stepped through.

All the cells flanking the corridor stood empty, all but the one just at the end on the left. In front of it was a flimsy red plastic chair for