Heat Wave Read online

  Heat Wave

  Denise A. Agnew

  Denise A. Agnew

  Contents

  In the heat of danger…

  Copyright

  Dedication & Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  In the heat of danger…

  Volcanologist Cassidy Harwell’s time away from her old hometown didn’t prepare her for the weirdness she encounters when she returns to Arizona to help a friend understand strange phenomena in the community. There’s a bizarre humming that only a few can hear and people are sex-crazy beyond the norm. Skeptic Cassidy can’t believe what’s happening.

  * * *

  A violent incident brings her face-to-face with police officer Jeremy Tate, a man who has always held a special place in her heart. Now he’s one hot man she can’t resist.

  * * *

  Jeremy has always wanted Cassidy in his life, but not when investigating the odd phenomena in town might throw her into danger. He’s along for the ride, ready to protect her and tackle the overwhelming heat growing between them.

  Copyright © 2015 by Denise A. Agnew

  Cover art copyright 2015 by EmCat Designs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ISBN: 978-1-942583-30-1

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication & Author’s Note

  Many thanks go to my friends Stacy Chitwood and Selena Robins for their awesome encouragement. As always, a ton of love to my husband Terry for his amazing support.

  * * *

  When an author writes any type of suspense or paranormal elements, they’re often inspired by that “ripped from the headlines” aspect of a story. While I spend little time watching television news or even reading it, enough leaks into my brain to give me ideas now and then. This story was inspired by the mysterious Moodus noises that have haunted the United States for centuries, and more recent recordings of strange hums around the world. Another real event that inspired certain scenes in this book will remain…a secret.

  One

  Bristol Peak

  Eastern End of the Mogollan Rim

  Arizona Mountains

  February

  * * *

  Cassidy Harwood heard the sound.

  As she lay on the hard motel bed—what they claimed was an oversized double—yeah right—part of her was more annoyed her nap had to end while the other part flooded with curiosity. She didn’t move, caught between wondering if she was dreaming and certainty she wasn’t. She drew in a deep breath—the room smelled like the shower she’d taken with her lavender bath wash and shampoo. Light pushed against the yellow calico curtain over the small window.

  Bristol Peak Motel lay on the business strip on the outskirts of Bristol Peak, Arizona, high in the mountains. The motel had neither the abused appearance of a no-tell-motel nor the slick upgraded look of a modest and clean establishment. It was a mystery, just as everything had been since Cassidy had arrived the day before to investigate the hum. The sound continued, as much a low vibration as it was an audible sound.

  Joanna Pritchard, the only friend Cassidy still had in Bristol Peak, had dared her to come here and debunk the mystery of this hum. Cassidy had seen it as a welcome challenge and change.

  “No friggin’ way,” Cassidy whispered.

  She didn’t believe in the hum. She refused to.

  As a volcanologist she understood things about the earth from a scientific perspective. But then Joanna had called her. Joanna had said that since the hum started two weeks ago weird things had gone down that defied explanation. Though crime rate before had been low and limited mostly to kids tagging graffiti or the occasional drunken brawl, Joanna claimed things had turned so weird they had to be seen to be believed. She’d begged Cassidy to investigate because Joanna believed the hum had something to do with people’s unusual actions.

  “I swear to God people are losing their minds, Cassidy,” she’d said. “People are pulling guns, having accidents and…well, hooking up right and left. This place isn’t like that. We’ve only got about five hundred people in town.”

  “Hooking up?” Cassidy had said, not sure she’d heard her right.

  “Yeah. I know it sounds bizarre, but people who would never get together normally are just doing each other like there’s no tomorrow. It’s like Wild Kingdom and the elephants are getting it on with the parakeets.”

  Cassidy had laughed her butt off, but Joanna had assured her she meant what she said.

  So Cassidy left her job in Costa Rica and took three weeks well-earned vacation. She hadn’t taken a real vacation, not even a weekend break, in the ten years she’d lived there. She’d put an end to the speculation and reassured Joanna, if no one else, that the hum had a logical explanation nothing to do with the crime wave or all of the wild sexual escapades. She hadn’t told anyone at work the real reason she was going to Arizona. Giving credence to the hum by investigating it would brand Cassidy an outlier. Sure, the only way to discover new things was to be an adventurer willing to risk but that didn’t mean science approved of those who took the risks. Generally speaking science hated outliers, and she already didn’t fit in with the majority of the men who dominated her field.

  Ten years exploring volcanoes hadn’t changed her perspective from iron-willed skeptic of the unusual to considering the possibility the paranormal existed. She’d returned to Bristol Peak determined to discover what sort of mumbo jumbo madness had invaded her home town. Crazy-assed weirdness had turned Bristol Peak into a circus of Doubting-Thomas journalists and wackos mingling in the restaurants and on the streets trying to understand the Hum. Yeah, capital H. Years ago the hum wouldn’t have merited more than a short article in the back of the local newspaper. Now, her old hometown was the butt of snarky journalists on six o’clock national news. Hell, it was even making it on the twenty-four hour, “let’s-make-everyone-bat-shit-terrified”-news. She hated that Bristol Peak was getting branded as fruitcake city.

  Suddenly the hum disappeared.

  “So that’s what people are talking about,” she said to the empty room.

  Okay. So the hum was real.

  She lay back on the bed, wishing the air conditioning worked well in this damned place. The old style, in-wall air conditioner rattled and made plenty of noise on its own. On the other hand, it was freaking February—one week before Valentine’s Day—and the temperature was headed for seventy-nine degrees Fahrenheit. Which made absolutely no sense this high in the mountains, where the average temperature generally hovered around forty-seven. With an altitude of eight thousand feet, they usually had a good chance of freeze and snow at this time of year.

  She growled under her breath and sat up. She glanced at the time on her cell phone. Two o’clock and she’d slept through lunch. Her stomach rumbled and convinced her a trip to Bristol Peak Cafe would have to come sooner rather than later. After stuffing her stocking-hugged feet back into athletic shoes, she went in the bathroom and washed her face. She applied a new light dusting of mineral makeup and smoothed on a tinted lip balm. After combing her shoulder length strands over her head, she tossed her hair back. Her hair, wild and uncooperative at the best of times, still looked like
it had been run through a blender. She stuck her tongue out at the visage in the mirror. She needed a new pair of glasses. The amber frames had seen better days, but she couldn’t wear contact lenses. She pulled the t-shirt away from her damp skin. This was as good as it would get—she’d be damned if she’d dress up for the cafe. T-shirt and jeans would have to do in crazy February weather. Maybe it was the unusual heat for this time of year baking people’s brains.

  She hadn’t taken more than two steps out of the bathroom when she heard a different noise. Definitely not the hum.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  A terrified scream came from the parking lot.

  What the—

  She didn’t have time to move before the door crashed open and slammed against the wall. She stumbled back and landed straight on her ass. A man dragged a woman into the room. Cassidy’s breath caught in her throat. The guy’s beefy forearm was looped around the plump young woman’s neck. The woman wore a ragged blue t-shirt and short shorts. Blue eyes filled with terror, the young woman stared at Cassidy as if she might be the cavalry. The woman whimpered, her breath coming hard and fast. Stark terror etched the woman’s face.

  “What are you—”

  “Shut up!” The man glared at Cassidy and leveled the handgun at her.

  Cassidy realized this dude meant business. Wild, bloodshot brown eyes glared at her out of a round, droopy mustached face. He was totally bald. He wore a black biker jacket, nondescript black t-shirt and jeans. He had to be roasting in the leather jacket, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  On instinct Cassidy held her hands up. “Um…hey, it’s all right. I don’t want any trouble.”

  He aimed a handgun straight at Cassidy, and her heart jammed into her throat. Anything she might have said strangled into silence. For a few mind-melting seconds, Cassidy wondered if this was it; if her thirty-five years of life would resolve in one microsecond of terror. She froze in place as if the gun-wielding nut job was a pit viper and she tasty prey. She didn’t have time to bring forth her legendary bravery, the kind that pushed her to climb steaming calderas in Central and South America.

  Before she could even imagine what to do next, Pissed-Off-And-Friggin’-Nuts pointed his gun at the young woman’s head once again.

  “Maybe I should just off you right now, sugar,” the man said to the woman he held.

  Cassidy closed her eyes, certain she didn’t want to see the poor woman’s brains splattered all over the wall. She swallowed hard as nausea rose upward into her throat. A tremor wracked her body. When she didn’t hear a gunshot, she opened her eyes. Cassidy heard car tires crunching across the gravel parking lot. She drew in a sharp breath. The old motel was filled to the rafters with journalists. Maybe one of them was returning.

  The young woman whimpered and sagged in the man’s arms. He let her go. She landed with a thud on her left side and didn’t move.

  The man turned his gaze on Cassidy and gave her a yellow grin. “Bitch, maybe you can help me. Get over here.”

  She froze to the spot.

  “Sheriff’s Department. Drop your weapon.”

  Cassidy started at the new voice. It came from the doorway, a deep and authoritative sound that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Relief almost made her faint, and she’d never passed out in her life. The real cavalry was here. Second to consolation came anger. She wanted to kick the bruiser with the gun square in the gonads.

  The woman on the floor sat up and put one hand out toward the doorway. “Please don’t hurt him. He’s never, ever done anything like this before in his life. He isn’t a bad man. It’s this damned heat wave. It just ain’t right.”

  Bruiser’s eyes suddenly went blank, as if he wasn’t a human but a machine operating the cogs behind that gaze. He looked at the gun in his hand. “What the hell is going on?”

  Cassidy didn’t answer, startled by the sudden change in attitude. Maybe he was on meth or another drug. He dropped the gun and put his hands up. Two men rushed into the room, one in a sort of battle dress uniform soldiers usually wore, the other in jeans and a dark t-shirt. Both men were big, well-muscled and holding handguns out in front of them. The man in jeans took charge of the bruiser immediately, handcuffing him quickly while soldier-boy asked the young woman if she was all right and helped her to her feet. The woman sobbed and started explaining how her boyfriend had freaked out, and he’d never done anything like this before. Cassidy rose to her feet before anyone could check on her.

  “It had to be the hum I’m telling you,” the woman said, her face streaked with tears and distress.

  Bruiser visibly trembled, his eyes no longer wild and violent, but shocked and remorseful. “Ah hell man, I don’t know what happened.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance, and two more sheriff’s deputies arrived. That’s when Cassidy took a clear look at the deputy in the military-style clothing. He turned towards her, gaze intent. Everything inside her, every primal female need long suppressed, rose up and took notice. Holy cow. She couldn’t digest the heat that came over her, and it had nothing to do with the roasting temperatures outside.

  Mister Save-The-Day was the hottest man she’d seen in, like…well, she couldn’t remember. His black hair laid close cut to his handsome head. No, “handsome” didn’t quite suit the guy because it didn’t accurately describe his raw masculinity. “Good-looking” was too dim a descriptor, too mild. “Good-looking” was for male models that looked more suited to riding on polo horses than conquering an incoming enemy.

  The dude had a large nose, a sharply cut jaw and cheekbones, and his eyes…well, his eyes reminded her of gunmetal. Power radiated from the deputy, as if his energy had the capability to light up the room. Any woman with half a hormone would notice him even in a crowd. Everything about the man screamed that he was the type to take charge, with broad shoulders and wide chest. With the gun holstered at his waist, he looked as if he could single-handedly crack bruiser’s head without so much as breaking a sweat. The army uniform wasn’t—she could see now the sheriff’s department patch and the shoulder radio.

  Hot.

  She forgot all the fear she’d experienced in the last few minutes, and her mind went straight for the gutter. A wild idea sprang to mind. What would he look like without all those clothes? Her mouth moistened at the thought, and her face burned from more than perspiration. A wild flare of arousal broke through her, moistening her between the legs. What the hell, Cassidy? Are you nuts?

  His eyes narrowed as he approached, and she stared in amazement at his molten gaze. Pure male interest warmed eyes, not something she expected to see from a deputy right after a violent situation. A second later surprise obliterated his obvious male interest.

  “Cassidy? Cassidy Harwood?” he asked in a deep, rumbling voice.

  Her gaze flew to his name tag. Tate. Tate. Where did… Oh. My.

  “Are you…no, you can’t be Jeremy Tate.”

  He grinned, and old memories flew at her like hand grenades. She recognized the smile now. How could she ever forget it, even if it was cloaked in a totally tricked-out, hunk edition? When she’d last seen him fifteen years ago he’d been a skinny facsimile of this man. Fifteen years ago his family had moved away because of an awful scandal that had torn his world apart.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” he said, the grin lopsided and almost bashful.

  “Last time I saw you, you were just a geeky boy with glasses and braces.”

  His smile widened as his gaze took inventory of her again and trailed heat up and down her body. “You still have the glasses.”

  She adjusted her frames. “Yep. I’m the same.”

  His attentive gaze blazed a hot trail. “Not exactly.”

  All that appreciative male attention made her blood fire. Her voice, when she found it, was husky. “And you came back to this town? I heard you were in the Navy. Bomb disposal or something like that?”

  “Long story.” His grin faded, and he cupped her shoulders. “Are you
all right? You’re shaking.”

  She gave him a wobbly smile. “Well, I did almost get my rear shot off. Other than that I’m peachy.”

  He nodded toward the bruiser and the woman. “Do you know these people?”

  “No. I was about to leave the room when this guy broke in with the woman.”

  As the other deputies took the man and woman from the hotel room, Jeremy went into officer mode and promised to be right back. Cassidy sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her arms. Too much had happened too fast. Her brain felt frozen. She couldn’t even think straight. Embarrassment also heated her cheeks. He was the same age as her, and memories of their teen years together in school rushed through her. Suddenly she felt as awkward as hell.

  Jeremy returned to the room with paperwork and got her signature on a statement. Things turned into a circus with a detective arriving on the scene and the motel owner arriving at the damaged room. Moments later two journalists were already trying to get into the room. Other cops stationed outside shooed them away like pesky flies.

  The motel owner gave her stink-eye. “Who is going to pay for this broken door?”

  “Um…” she started to say, thrown off by the question.

  “You have insurance?” Jeremy asked the man.

  “Yeah, but…”

  “I’d talk to your agent right away. We can supply you with any paperwork from the sheriff’s department that you might need.”

  The man grumbled as he jerked his cell phone out of his pocket and left the room.

  “Nice guy,” she said with a lopsided grin after she was sure the manager was out of earshot.

  He grunted. “Jerk. I’ve had dealings with him before. He used to coach little league baseball. Screamed at the kids as if it was the big leagues. We kicked him out because he was abusive to the kids.”