Free Shadow of Vengeance by Kristine Mason

comments coming from her pretty mouth. He stopped short of the car door. Did he really just consider her mouth pretty? He thought about that smile she’d sent to Jake. The way her full, inviting lips had curved, then scrubbed a hand down his face. He needed to stop thinking about Rachel in any way other than a coworker. They had an investigation to run, and a missing kid to find.
    Once inside the Lexus, he turned the key, then cranked up the heat. “Do you want to put the address for the boarding house in the GPS?” he asked.
    “I don’t think it’s necessary. Jake wrote down the directions. It looks like we’re only a few minutes away.” She let out a sigh. “That was so nice of him to make sure we had a place to stay.”    
      Yeah, Jake was just fan-frickin-tastic.  
      He drove out of the parking lot, and per Jake’s directions, he turned left. “What do you think about this festival?” Bigfoot. Seriously? Although they’d been in Bola for only a couple of hours, this might prove to be one of his strangest assignments to date. They were literally walking into a fucking Bigfoot festival while dealing with an investigation that had Townies freaked out and superstitious. Now he had to stay at a boarding house.  
    “I don’t know,” she replied. “In a way, this could be a good thing. If people are heading into the woods hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive Bigfoot, maybe they’ll stumble across…sorry. Forget I suggested that. We have a week to find Josh. I don’t want to write him off just yet.”
    Owen didn’t, either. And once again, he thanked God that Sean hadn’t been the one kidnapped. Based on the past missing persons cases, the chances of discovering Josh’s whereabouts, as well as who’s been behind the abductions, were slim to none.  
    After a few more turns, Rachel told him to slow the Lexus. “Four five nine seven Elmwood, this must be the boarding house,” she said and pointed to a large, white colonial with a wraparound porch and a huge horseshoe shaped driveway. “Dang, this place looks like a mansion compared to the other houses we passed.”
    He eyed the house. Large, manicured, snow-covered evergreen shrubs lined the beds in front of the porch. Dark blue shutters framed all the windows. Dripping icicles hung from the eaves, while a stream of white smoke billowed from a red brick chimney. As he climbed out of the Lexus, he imagined walking into the inviting home, inhaling the aroma of fresh baked cookies, and standing in front of a warm, crackling fireplace.  
    When they reached the front door, Rachel nudged him and pointed to a wood plaque hanging over the threshold. “The House of Joy. Cute,” she said, then knocked on the door.
    Cute hadn’t been the first word to pop in his head, but it worked for him. So did The House of Joy. During the drive to meet with the sheriff, they’d passed the local motel. In the 1960s, the place had probably been…nice. Now? Not so much. Only a third of the small, neon sign out front had been lit, the brick façade dingy, the paint around the old windows, peeling. He’d stayed at plenty of places like the Bola Motel, where the carpet was stained with God only knew what, the cleanliness of the sheets and room questionable, and the furniture nailed into the walls and floors. Yeah, he was grateful they’d be indulging in the comforts of the cozy boarding house for the next week rather than the crappy motel. He’d bet his next paycheck that Joy, whom he imagined to be an adorable, little old lady, would make sure they had delicious home-cooked meals and clean sheets. She probably like to fuss over her guests and—
    “It’s open,” a woman yelled.
    Rachel looked at him, then turned the knob.  
    He followed her into the colonial’s foyer, then stopped when a large woman, wearing a menacing scowl rounded the corner.  
    Not only did they have to find Josh Conway before he succumbed to the Wexman Hell Week, they had to deal with a