Angel on Fire Read Online Free
Author: Jacquie Johnson
and deadly warrior about whom elite soldiers still talked. Some of Mac and Zach’s missions were legendary.
Originally, Chase thought watching over Angela was waste of time. But now, his initial assessment changed. The presence of an intruder combined with the dirty, white cargo van he had noticed at the funeral raised some suspicions. He was pretty sure the cargo van held two FBI agents, but he couldn’t figure out why Angela’s employer would watch her from a distance like that. If the FBI suspected her of wrongdoing, her boss would just order her back to the office so agents could watch her like a hawk or the agency would bring her in for questioning. Ordering surveillance was an extreme option, usually only exercised when someone was accused of a crime like treason. Somehow he just couldn’t picture Angela as a spy. He sighed. He’d been wrong before, especially about a woman.
As night waned, Chase settled on the couch, mirroring Angela’s position, though he kept the lights off. He sipped cup after cup of coffee, keeping watch as Angela dozed, Ruger in hand, on the couch in the brightly lit living room.
Chapter 3
Angela slammed the phone down and blew out a breath. Instead of sleeping, she spent the previous night lying on the couch and waiting for the intruder to return. All that sitting and thinking had made her wonder if there wasn’t more to her father’s death than she initially suspected. In the light of day, her suspicions seemed silly, and she had hoped to set them aside by talking to the Medical Examiner in charge of her father’s case. Instead, she had learned that her father’s death had been ruled a heart attack without an autopsy or further investigation. Apparently, a Dr. Richards had provided proof that Mac was under his care for a heart condition when he died. Richards’ word had eliminated the need for an autopsy according to the medical examiner’s office. Angela fumed. What heart condition? Dad didn’t have any medical problems. And what kind of ME just accepts a doctor’s word without proof? They didn’t even ask for medical records!
She tapped her pen rhythmically against the kitchen counter. To the best of her knowledge, her father had had no health problems. Plus, he’d always seen Doc Bernard. Things weren’t adding up, and no one appeared interested in helping her solve the puzzle.
Sighing, she rested her head on her arms, her heart aching. She hadn’t made much time for her father in the last year, focusing instead on building her career with the FBI. If she had agreed to work for her father instead of choosing the FBI, would he still be alive? The ringing of the house phone interrupted her thoughts, and she jumped up to answer.
“Miss McKenzie?” The caller had a smooth, cultured voice with a hint of an accent.
“Yes?” Angela leaned against the granite counter.
“I’m interested in the item you possess.”
“Excuse me?” Angela wrinkled her brow. “Who is this? What item?”
“My name doesn’t matter. I am willing to pay a fair price for the item your father stole. I shall meet you at the bar in the Fairmont Copley Plaza tomorrow at 9:00 p.m.” The caller disconnected, but Angela continued to stare at the phone in her hand.
Angela plopped into her father’s chair and grabbed a yellow notepad from the desk. Her father had always told her a good investigator starts with a list of facts he knows and works his way forward from there.
Dad went to Boston
He collapsed on the street later that day
He was dead when the paramedics arrived
Someone broke into the house but didn’t take anything
As she nibbled on the pen, Angela turned her thoughts into questions.
What was Dad working on when he died?
What was he doing in Boston?
What was the caller referring to?
Who is Dr.
Originally, Chase thought watching over Angela was waste of time. But now, his initial assessment changed. The presence of an intruder combined with the dirty, white cargo van he had noticed at the funeral raised some suspicions. He was pretty sure the cargo van held two FBI agents, but he couldn’t figure out why Angela’s employer would watch her from a distance like that. If the FBI suspected her of wrongdoing, her boss would just order her back to the office so agents could watch her like a hawk or the agency would bring her in for questioning. Ordering surveillance was an extreme option, usually only exercised when someone was accused of a crime like treason. Somehow he just couldn’t picture Angela as a spy. He sighed. He’d been wrong before, especially about a woman.
As night waned, Chase settled on the couch, mirroring Angela’s position, though he kept the lights off. He sipped cup after cup of coffee, keeping watch as Angela dozed, Ruger in hand, on the couch in the brightly lit living room.
Chapter 3
Angela slammed the phone down and blew out a breath. Instead of sleeping, she spent the previous night lying on the couch and waiting for the intruder to return. All that sitting and thinking had made her wonder if there wasn’t more to her father’s death than she initially suspected. In the light of day, her suspicions seemed silly, and she had hoped to set them aside by talking to the Medical Examiner in charge of her father’s case. Instead, she had learned that her father’s death had been ruled a heart attack without an autopsy or further investigation. Apparently, a Dr. Richards had provided proof that Mac was under his care for a heart condition when he died. Richards’ word had eliminated the need for an autopsy according to the medical examiner’s office. Angela fumed. What heart condition? Dad didn’t have any medical problems. And what kind of ME just accepts a doctor’s word without proof? They didn’t even ask for medical records!
She tapped her pen rhythmically against the kitchen counter. To the best of her knowledge, her father had had no health problems. Plus, he’d always seen Doc Bernard. Things weren’t adding up, and no one appeared interested in helping her solve the puzzle.
Sighing, she rested her head on her arms, her heart aching. She hadn’t made much time for her father in the last year, focusing instead on building her career with the FBI. If she had agreed to work for her father instead of choosing the FBI, would he still be alive? The ringing of the house phone interrupted her thoughts, and she jumped up to answer.
“Miss McKenzie?” The caller had a smooth, cultured voice with a hint of an accent.
“Yes?” Angela leaned against the granite counter.
“I’m interested in the item you possess.”
“Excuse me?” Angela wrinkled her brow. “Who is this? What item?”
“My name doesn’t matter. I am willing to pay a fair price for the item your father stole. I shall meet you at the bar in the Fairmont Copley Plaza tomorrow at 9:00 p.m.” The caller disconnected, but Angela continued to stare at the phone in her hand.
Angela plopped into her father’s chair and grabbed a yellow notepad from the desk. Her father had always told her a good investigator starts with a list of facts he knows and works his way forward from there.
Dad went to Boston
He collapsed on the street later that day
He was dead when the paramedics arrived
Someone broke into the house but didn’t take anything
As she nibbled on the pen, Angela turned her thoughts into questions.
What was Dad working on when he died?
What was he doing in Boston?
What was the caller referring to?
Who is Dr.
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