A Different Dawn (Nina Guerrera) Read online

  PRAISE FOR ISABELLA MALDONADO

  A Different Dawn

  “A killer of a novel. Fresh, fast, and utterly ingenious.”

  —Brad Thor, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  The Cipher

  “The survivor of a vicious crime confronts her fears in a hunt for a serial killer . . . forensic analysis, violent action, and a tough heroine who stands up to the last man on earth she wants to see again.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “[In] this riveting series launch from Maldonado . . . the frequent plot twists will keep readers guessing to the end, and Maldonado draws on her twenty-two years in law enforcement to add realism. Determined to overcome her painful past, the admirable Nina has enough depth to sustain a long-running series.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A heart-pounding novel from page one, The Cipher checks all the boxes for a top-notch thriller: sharp plotting, big stakes, and characters—good and bad and everywhere in between—that are so richly drawn you’ll swear you’ve met them. I read this in one sitting, and I guarantee you will too. Oh, another promise: you’ll absolutely love the Warrior Girl!”

  —Jeffery Deaver, New York Times bestselling author

  “Wow! A riveting tale in the hands of a superb storyteller.”

  —J. A. Jance, New York Times bestselling author

  “Intense, harrowing, and instantly addictive, The Cipher took my breath away. Isabella Maldonado has created an unforgettable heroine in Nina Guerrera, a dedicated FBI agent and trauma survivor with unique insight into the mind of a predator. This riveting story is everything a thriller should be.”

  —Hilary Davidson, Washington Post bestselling author

  Previous Praise

  “Maldonado’s a writer to watch, and she showcases her own extensive law enforcement background in this tightly plotted police procedural.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Maldonado, a former law enforcement officer, brings her experience and expertise to this gripping police procedural. With its gritty heroine, this action-packed mystery will attract readers who enjoy crime novels about the war on drugs.”

  —Library Journal

  “Phoenix may be burning, but Maldonado’s star is rising. Gritty and gripping.”

  —J. A. Jance, New York Times bestselling author

  “Maldonado’s writing always bristles with urgency and authority.”

  —Mystery Scene magazine

  “Delivers a brilliant and complicated heroine, accented by a take-no-prisoners plot . . . It’s spicy, smart, and entertaining, definitely worth your time.”

  —Steve Berry, author of The Lost Order

  “A highly entertaining police procedural . . . Maldonado rises to her written challenge to entertain, enthrall, and engage readers in this high-octane thriller.”

  —Suspense Magazine

  “A tense thriller with a strong sense of place and an insider’s look at some of the most dangerous work in law enforcement.”

  —Jan Burke, New York Times bestselling author

  “The Phoenix sun isn’t the only thing burning in this thrilling debut, and I look forward to more.”

  —Shannon Baker, bestselling author of the Kate Fox mystery series

  “An ex-narc leads a war against a powerful crime family. The payoff is satisfying.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “If you’re in the mood for a nonstop exposé of every fear you’ve ever had about cartel crime, Veranda Cruz is the woman to follow.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Finally! A kick-ass female protagonist and an author who knows firsthand the world she writes about. The combination makes for an explosive read that grabs you from page one and doesn’t let go.”

  —Alex Kava, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Lost Creed

  “Red alert to all readers of police procedurals with a strong thriller bent: Isabella Maldonado’s Death Blow delivers nonstop action with substance, grit, and surprises.”

  —Lisa Preston, author of The Clincher

  “Gritty, raw, and realistic, Isabella Maldonado’s Death Blow is the real deal.”

  —Bruce Robert Coffin, bestselling author of the Detective Byron mystery series

  “A gritty, gut-wrenching, page-turning thriller featuring a woman cop bent on bringing down a twisted cartel leader for reasons of her own, Death Blow grabs you from the first jaw-dropping scene to the last, and Maldonado’s stellar writing weaves it all together.”

  —Jamie Freveletti, internationally bestselling author of Blood Run

  ALSO BY ISABELLA MALDONADO

  FBI Agent Nina Guerrera series

  The Cipher

  Detective Veranda Cruz series

  Blood’s Echo

  Phoenix Burning

  Death Blow

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2021 by Isabella Maldonado

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542022781

  ISBN-10: 1542022789

  Cover design by Christopher Lin

  For Max:

  wherever your path takes you,

  always know you are loved.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter 1

  Twenty years ago

  The Russell House group home for girls; Fairfax County, Virginia

 
Seven-year-old Nina sat cross-legged on the floor with the others, breathless with anticipation. Every girl at the home envied Angelica, who was spending her final night at Russell House. Angelica had been chosen.

  Eleven years old and willowy, with long coltish legs and skin fair enough to pass for white, Angelica had spent the past three months with a foster family who had decided to petition the court for adoption. The process would take many more months, but she would continue to live with her future family in the meantime. Today, Angelica had come back to Russell House to say goodbye to her friends, or bask in her superiority, depending on how she felt about you.

  According to Miss Brown, almost no one was adopted past the age of ten, yet Angelica had managed to defy the odds. She had been placed in foster care only six months ago, unlike Nina, who had never known her family.

  Nina privately wondered if prospective adoptive parents were told how long each child had been in the system. She pictured her photograph in a police-style mug book, a tag beneath her with the word lifer in bright red.

  On the other hand, maybe she could make a better effort next time she was placed in a foster home. Why did she have to be so curious? Ask so many questions? Poke around in things that weren’t her business? If she’d known the teacher would call the police, she never would have brought the items in the shoebox her foster father stashed under his bed to school for show-and-tell.

  As Nina and the other girls sat in a semicircle around her, Angelica leaned forward in her chair, her words taking on a spooky tone. “This is the legend of La Llorona, the wailing woman.”

  Little Samantha, who was only five years old, scooted closer to Nina. The girl’s hazel eyes were already wide with fear, and Nina handed over her favorite plushie, a soft stuffed cheetah named Princesa. The only thing Nina could call her own.

  Samantha clutched the spotted toy cat in trembling hands as Angelica told the story.

  “There once was a woman named Maria. She married a handsome man and had two children, but her husband loved their children more than her. One day, Maria caught her husband kissing another woman and realized he loved the other woman more as well.”

  Another little girl, Caitlin, edged up to Nina’s other side. Caitlin had what the social workers called “special needs.” To Nina’s way of thinking, the only thing special Caitlin needed was protection from bullies.

  Nina thought Caitlin was supersmart, even though some of the older girls like Angelica called her stupid. They teased Caitlin because she wasn’t good at speaking. She stuttered and had trouble talking to the other kids, but she could add long columns of numbers in her head, knew how many jellybeans were in a jar without counting them, and had begun to study algebra last month when she turned six.

  When Angelica arrived for her final visit earlier this evening, she had hidden Caitlin’s new math book. Nina had snatched the brand-new cell phone Angelica’s adoptive parents had given her, holding it over the toilet until she returned the stolen textbook to Caitlin.

  Nina draped an arm around Caitlin’s small shoulders, comforting her as they listened to the rest of the tale.

  “Maria grew angry,” Angelica said. “And a bit loca. She vowed to make her husband pay for cheating on her. To punish him, she drowned their children in the river. When she went home, her husband asked where the kids were, and she admitted she had killed them. Her husband got real mad at her. Told her he could never be with her again until she found their children.”

  Caitlin began rocking back and forth.

  Angelica’s voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Maria, sorry over what she had done and missing her lost children, drowned herself in the same river.”

  Samantha squeezed the stuffed cheetah harder.

  “Now she is doomed to walk the earth as a ghost,” Angelica continued, “forever searching for her dead niños. She wears a white gown and a flowing veil. If she finds children wandering at night, she kidnaps them and drowns them in the river. She is called La Llorona because she is always weeping. If you hear her, you will be the next to die.”

  An eerie voice cried out from behind them: “¿Dónde están mis hijos?”

  One of the older girls had hidden in the back of the room to scare the little ones.

  Samantha screamed, threw Princesa in the air, and raced to the bedroom. Caitlin flung herself into Nina’s lap, her slender arms circling Nina’s neck. Nina felt warmth spreading onto her jeans and realized Caitlin had peed herself.

  Angelica scooped up the discarded plushie, a sly grin on her lips. “What’s this?” Her voice took on a singsong quality. “Is this widdle Nina’s widdle baby toy?”

  Nina gently set Caitlin aside and stood. “Give it back.”

  Angelica pointed at Nina and shrieked with laughter. “Look, everyone, Nina wet her pants!”

  Nina looked down. Sure enough, Caitlin’s pee had dripped into her lap. She shifted her gaze to Caitlin, whose small frame shook with terror as she clutched Nina’s leg.

  She could have pointed out to everyone that it was Caitlin who had peed. She knew what it meant to show weakness in the group home, which was why she held her tongue. She could handle the abuse better than Caitlin. She’d certainly had enough practice.

  Angelica lifted up the stuffed cheetah for all to see. “I think widdle baby Nina needs to grow up.” She grasped its head and began to twist hard.

  Nina took a step toward her. “Stop it!” Caitlin’s death grip on her leg prevented her from going any farther.

  Angelica looked around the room, playing to her audience. “I’ll never have to see any of you losers after tonight. But before I go, I’m going to give you all something to remember.”

  She ripped the head off the cheetah and began yanking the stuffing out, flinging it all around her in a white cloud of polyester fluff. Her eyes narrowed on Nina. “Unlike the rest of us, nobody ever wanted you. We at least had a family at some point. Your parents threw you in a dumpster. Like trash.” Her voice took on the same singsong quality as before. “Dumpster baby, dumpster baby, dump—”

  One moment Nina was standing while Caitlin clutched her leg; the next thing she knew, the staff at the group home had rushed in from the kitchen to tug her off Angelica, whose nose bled freely under Nina’s flailing fists.

  If there had ever been the slightest hope Nina might be adopted, it had ended that night. The night of La Llorona.

  Chapter 2

  Present day; Phoenix, Arizona

  Saturday, February 29: a perfectly good day to die

  He crept inside the dark house on silent feet and scanned the empty foyer, which appeared to him in hues of luminous gray. Cutting-edge night-vision goggles gave him a distinct advantage, especially when the family sleeping upstairs was completely unaware that an intruder prowled the floor below.

  He eased the pistol from his waistband and reviewed the plan. Years of planning, months of winnowing, and weeks of surveillance had brought him to this moment. He had left nothing to chance. The couple upstairs would take tonight’s secrets to the grave.

  He placed a foot on the carpeted stairs and eased himself up to the next step.

  Neutralize the husband first. A male would likely present the greatest physical threat, although a mother protecting her child could be formidable. She would also have the advantage of knowing what was coming since she would be last. Which was the whole point.

  She would pay for what she had done.

  He reached the top of the stairs, stopped, waited, and listened. Every nerve thrummed in anticipation.

  The mingled scents of talcum powder and fresh linen brought him up short as he made out the steady lub-dub of a heartbeat in the room to his left. After a brief pause, he realized it was one of those gadgets parents put in cribs to mimic the sound of a mother’s pulse.

  He pushed the thought from his mind. He had plans, and he had backup plans. Nothing would stop the inevitable. Like the Angel of Death, he was deaf to pleas. Blind to tears. Entirely without mercy.

&
nbsp; Cloaked in darkness, he slipped inside the nursery and went about his business.

  Six minutes later, he inched down the hall to the master bedroom carrying the football-size bundle in the crook of his left arm.

  The door had been left slightly open. Better to hear the baby’s cries. Better access for him. The parents slept peacefully in their bed, oblivious to what was about to happen. What had already happened.

  He elbowed the door wide, giving him a clear view of the king-size bed.

  The man slept on the left and the woman on the right. He faced the ceiling and she curled against his side, heads resting on their pillows. Their chests rose and fell in synchronistic rhythm.

  He raised the barrel, clicked a switch along the side of the weapon, then placed the tiny glowing dot over the slumbering man’s heart.

  Time to set things right.

  Slowly, he began to squeeze the trigger.

  Chapter 3

  Two days later; Monday, March 2

  Behavioral Analysis Unit, Aquia Commerce Center

  Aquia, Virginia

  FBI Special Agent Nina Guerrera slid into the sole empty chair at the rectangular black laminate table at the far end of Supervisory Special Agent Gerard Buxton’s office. Sheets of rain pelted the tall windows lining the corner office on the second floor of the commercial complex.

  Her boss arched a brow. “You’re late.”

  Should she tell him about the disabled motorist blocking the right lane of Route 123 that had backed up traffic for half a mile? Explain how she had gotten out in the deluge to help push the woman’s smoking VW Bug onto the shoulder? Mention how she had stayed until Virginia state troopers arrived to set up flares and call a tow truck for the stranded motorist?

  “And you’re wet,” Buxton added. “Did you break down on the way in?”

  “No, sir,” she said, leaving out the details. “Someone else did.”

  “Here.” Special Agent Dr. Jeffrey Wade, who sat in the chair beside hers, held out a crisp white handkerchief. “You’re dripping on the table.”

  Her mentor and the most senior criminal profiler in the FBI, Wade was the only agent she knew who routinely carried freshly ironed handkerchiefs. In his early fifties, perhaps Wade viewed it as a holdover from a bygone era, but Nina appreciated the gesture.