Nowhere Like This (A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 4)

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

When a young woman goes missing at a music festival in the desert, FBI special agent Harley Cole is assigned to the case. With one dead end leading to another, and with the clock ticking, Harley must crack this elusive killer’s pattern—before it’s too late.

Nowhere Like This (A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 4) is the fourth book in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, that begins with Nowhere Safe (book #1).

When a body turns up after a drug and booze-fueled party, no one is surprised. Until they realize the person is dead.

But what is the connection to the festival?

And is Harley hunting this killer? Or being hunted herself?

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.

Book #5 in the series—NOWHERE GIRL—is 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: Nov 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094395494

Book preview

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N O W H E R E   L I K E   T H I S

(A Harley Cole FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 4)

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 eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); and the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL 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 Galyna Andrushko, 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)

NOT AGAIN (Book #6)

NOT SAFE (Book #7)

NOT TODAY (Book #8)

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)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)

NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)

KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

LAST BREATH (Book #1)

LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

LAST WISH (Book #3)

LAST SHOT (Book #4)

LAST MISTAKE (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

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Adam stared down at the desiccated mushrooms cradled in Fitz’s outstretched palm. They looked like the mummified organs of a rabbit.

You sure these are okay? he said, making no effort to hide the skepticism in his voice. He had once made the mistake of ingesting a pair of unknown pills at a party once – Brain Blasters, the long-haired junkie had called them – and ended up walking down the side of the street in his underwear, uncertain how he’d gotten there. To be fair, he had already consumed about six beers (hence his willingness to take the foreign pills), but the experience had left him with a newfound sense of suspicion when it came to putting things into his body.

Totally, Fitz said in a flat voice, his gaze wandering over Adam’s shoulder to a woman walking by in a feathered headdress and not much else. The sight was not particularly unusual for the Summer of Love, a festival that brought in visitors from across the country to New Mexico’s Chihuahuan Desert for a week of concerts, art displays, and plenty of drugs and alcohol.

The wildness of the festival was not, however, the reason Adam had come. The real reason he was spending a week with these party animals was to keep an eye on his half-sister, Lindsay, who thought dancing till she dropped and then pumping her body full of mind-altering drugs was the way to get past a messy divorce.

That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself, too, does it? he thought, staring at the mushrooms in Fitz’s hand.

Deciding he would never make it through the week without a few shortcuts, he plucked one of the shriveled organs and, following Fitz’s example, popped it into his mouth. He left it on his tongue for a moment, exploring the earthy, metallic flavor before pushing the mushroom between his teeth and chewing.

How long does this take to kick in? he said as he raised a can of beer to his mouth to wash away the mushroom taste. He had the peculiar idea he had just eaten a seed and was now watering it. He could almost feel the mushroom taking root in his stomach, its wrinkled phallic body filling out as it inflated like a balloon.

Fitz, his gaze now on the heavy metal band playing on a nearby stage, did not seem to have heard. One of the musicians, a muscled giant with ink-black hair and a belt studded with spikes, let out a primal scream as he strummed violently on his electric guitar, throwing his head back to a sky brilliant with innumerable stars.

Fitz? Adam said again. Everyone in the loose crowd surrounding them seemed to be under the musician’s spell. As Adam looked around, however, he realized Lindsay was no longer beside him. She must have slipped off while he was talking with Fitz about the mushrooms.

Hey, Latisha! he said, calling to a young woman nearby who was swaying to the music. You seen Lindsay?

Latisha turned her head in his direction but kept her eyes on the stage. I thought she was with you.

Adam clapped a hand on Fitz’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. Hey, man, he said. I think Lindsay’s wandered off.

Lindsay? Fitz’s eyes were distant, unfocused.

High on his own supply, Adam thought. Go figure.

Come on, he said, pulling Fitz’s arm. I promised my mom I’d keep an eye on her. I don’t want her to get snatched up in some sex trafficking ring or something. He had recently read about just such an organization that had been busted in Europe. Hundreds of people had been involved, not including the girls shuttled about as slaves. Front page news stuff.

Fitz uttered a high, inane giggle. He didn’t walk so much as he shambled, his sandaled feet kicking dust with every lazy step.

Fat lot of help he’s going to be, Adam thought. Still, he had known Fitz since high school, and having Fitz close by – even in his current condition – gave Adam a sense of belonging, as if he were not simply adrift in a sea of nameless faces. The thought of being here alone, without knowing anyone, made Adam feel claustrophobic.

Where are we going? Fitz mumbled, sounding more amused than upset to be led around by the arm like a disobedient child.

To the concession stands, Adam said. Lindsay probably got a case of the munchies after eating those mushrooms. I can’t think of any other reason she would sneak off like that, especially after I told her repeatedly to stay where I could see her.

This was not entirely true, however. He could easily imagine another scenario for why she might wander off. She had been making eyes all night at a scrawny youth in an unconvincing warrior outfit (cosplay was a big deal at the Summer of Love), complete with red paint down the left side of his head and along his chest, and Adam knew there was a good chance Lindsay had slipped her protective half-brother’s presence to try her luck with him.

If that was where Lindsay had gone, Adam couldn’t blame her. She had been homeschooled all her life, and though this had led to her becoming a straight A student, Adam would have rated her social skills a D at best. She had no sense of timing—she laughed too early at jokes, introduced herself just a few seconds too late, and struggled to segue from one topic to another in the course of a conversation.

In short, she was socially awkward, so if she wanted to spread her wings and see if she could fly with her warrior friend, Adam was more than happy to support her—once he found her and learned she was safe, that was.

He spotted a neon sign reading DESERT DEVIL DINER perched on the roof of a flatbed truck. The bed carried a U-shaped counter surrounded by stools so that it looked very much like the type of diner that could be found in any small town across the country. In the middle of the U, a man with a paper hat and a striped apron made plates of food from ingredients hidden beneath the counter.

I bet that’s where she went, he said with a renewed sense of conviction. Between him and the diner, however, milled a crowd of dancers, smiles of lazy bliss on their relaxed faces.

Excuse me, Adam said as he tried to push his way through, still keeping his grip on Fitz’s arm. Nobody paid him any mind. They went on gyrating against one another and swaying to the music, not making the least effort to open a path for him. They pressed in on him from all sides, a suffocating wall of sweating bodies.

Feeling like he was caught in some kind of digestive tract, a helpless sense of anger boiled up in Adam. Get the hell out of my way! he shouted, shoving aside the dancer nearest him. As he did so, he lost his grip on Fitz’s hand. He pressed forward anyway, elbowing anyone who got between him and the diner, and escaped to the other side of the crowd, where he took a deep, relieved breath.

He glanced back to see Fitz wandering off toward a row of RVs parked at the outer edge of the festival grounds. Adam, whose unease had begun to crawl up from the pit of his stomach like a nest of newborn spiders, made no effort to corral him. Fitz would be fine on his own. Lindsay, however, might not be.

As Adam reached the diner, he began to move along the counter, searching for Lindsay. The few strips of lights hanging overhead gave only a dim glow, making it difficult to look for Lindsay without getting uncomfortably close to each person at the diner. A few of the customers gave him odd looks, but he ignored them. His uneasiness was growing by the second, and he knew that if he did not find Lindsay soon, that uneasiness might very well bloom into full-fledged panic.

Excuse me, he said to the man with the paper hat, who was spraying mustard on a pair of hotdogs. He looked Mediterranean, maybe Italian—olive skin, close-trimmed beard as dark as a starless night. Since this man appeared to be running the show by himself, Adam took him to be both owner and operator.

What can I do for you, boss? the owner said without looking up.

Adam watched the man draw lines of mustard in tight, expert strokes, then follow them up with ketchup. I’m looking for a friend of mine, Lindsay Garner, he said. She’s – I don’t know – five-foot-seven, thin as a rail, blonde hair and green eyes?

Really? the Italian remarked in a dry tone as he passed the plate of hotdogs to a teenager with a ring-studded lip. He grabbed a rag and wiped a smudge of grease off the counter, pointedly avoiding Adam’s eyes.

Adam, realizing the vagueness of his description, tried to think of a more memorable detail. Suddenly it came to him.

She’s wearing a tie-dye shirt! he said. A tie-dye shirt with a blue heart at the center!

A few of the customers turned curious eyes in Adam’s direction, drawn by his excitement. The owner leaned one hairy forearm on the counter and gazed into Adam’s face.

Is that right? he said in that same dry tone. And what’s her Zodiac?

Her Zodiac? Adam said, faltering.

The owner nodded. Oh, and you might as well tell me her favorite color, too, just so there aren’t any mix-ups, you know?

A flush of embarrassment crept into Adam’s cheeks. He was staring at the Italian, deciding whether it would be worthwhile to give this man a piece of his mind, when he heard someone call his name.

He turned to see Fitz standing in the shadows just beyond the reach of the diner’s lights. Swallowing his pride, Adam left the diner without a second look at the owner and approached his friend.

There you are, Adam said. I can’t find Lindsay anywhere. Think she might have gone to the bathroom? He could still feel that sense of panic growing inside him, its tendrils now crawling up his spine and wrapping around his heart.

Fitz shook his head. Nope! She’s sleeping. Guess she couldn’t handle the hard stuff. His words ended with a high, unmanly giggle, as if this were all a delicious joke.

Adam stared blankly at his friend for a few seconds, not understanding. Wait, he said. You found her?

In answer, Fitz grinned and began walking into the darkness, the legs of his chinos making a high rustling sound as they brushed together. Adam had no choice but to follow.

Fitz did not go far. A few hundred feet from the diner, close by the row of RVs, they came across a trio of dumpsters. Leaning against the leftmost of these dumpsters was a small, dark shape.

Adam’s stomach clenched like a fist. That’s her? he said. That’s Lindsay?

Fitz nodded, still grinning. Pretty funny, huh, man? Just wait till she wakes up and realizes where she is. She’s gonna be so pissed!

Fighting a wave of dizziness that threatened to cover him like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer, Adam squatted beside the dumpster, planting one fist in the sand for balance. Suddenly he wished he hadn’t taken those mushrooms. He had never needed a clear head as badly as he did now.

The dumpster cast a shadow over the girl, making it difficult to see more than a pencil sketch of her body. A sickly sweet odor radiated out from the dumpster in waves.

She’s just sleeping, Adam assured himself. That’s all. She wandered off, passed out, and now I’ve found her and she’s going to be okay.

But if so…why did the back of her head look so thick and matted, almost as if it was stuck together with blood? Had she hurt herself?

Holding his breath, Adam used four fingers to swipe the girl’s hair away from her face. Wake up, Lindsay, he whispered, unsure why he was whispering. He placed both hands on her shoulders and gently shook her.

In answer, her head rolled sharply to the side.

Trembling now, Adam held his hand to the woman’s nostrils. He counted to ten, straining to think past the drug-induced fog that was clouding his mind. He should have felt her breath, shouldn’t he? Or maybe it was just too shallow. Hell, he was so high that his hands were almost numb, so how was he supposed to feel anything?

Fighting panic now, he moved his hand down and pressed it above her left breast, any sense of modesty momentarily forgotten. He waited, but there was no heartbeat, no stirring of life. Her chest was nothing but a dark, abandoned factory whose machinery would never run again.

Adam felt as if he had been punched in the gut. The mushrooms, which had formed an earthy soup in the pit of his stomach, now came hurtling up his throat, and he turned quickly away and retched into the sand.

I’m surrounded by amateurs, Fitz said, lighting up a joint.

CHAPTER ONE

Federal Agent Harley Cole, seated at a table in an outdoor café in one of the poorer neighborhoods of Santa Fe, carefully slipped her half-eaten burrito into a takeout box. As she did so, her eyes – hidden behind sunglasses – tracked the homeless man pushing his cart along the far side of the street, pausing occasionally to pick through an overflowing trash can.

That man, Cole knew, might very well hold the answer to a mystery she had been wrestling with for the past seventeen years.

Cole had only been eighteen years old when her