Breach of Honor Read online

  PRAISE FOR JANICE CANTORE

  “Cantore’s fast-paced and unpredictable suspense kept me burning the midnight oil for the next page and the next. Romantic suspense doesn’t get better than this.”

  DIANN MILLS, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF AIRBORNE AND FATAL STRIKE

  “Breach of Honor is one of the best stories I’ve read in a long time! Pulling on her years of expertise in law enforcement, Janice takes the reader on an edge-of-the-seat journey that makes you willing to lose sleep to find out what happens next! This one is on my keeper list and I’m eagerly awaiting the next book from Janice.”

  LYNETTE EASON, BESTSELLING, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE DANGER NEVER SLEEPS SERIES

  “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so invested in the outcome of a story, or so satisfied with its conclusion. With Breach of Honor, Janice Cantore has crafted an adventure filled with brutal crimes, heartbreaking injustice, shocking twists, a gentle romance, and hard-won faith. Words like page-turning, breath-stealing, and pulse-racing, while accurate, don’t begin to do it justice.”

  LYNN H. BLACKBURN, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE DIVE TEAM INVESTIGATIONS SERIES

  “In Breach of Honor, Janice Cantore tells a complex tale of deceit and back-room deals that leaves you wondering who the good guys actually are. . . . I could not wait to get to the end and see how it all tied together.”

  HALLEE BRIDGEMAN, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE SONG OF SUSPENSE SERIES

  “A fast-paced thriller with a strong Christian message . . . [Cold Aim] is an exciting and thought-provoking book.”

  CHRISTIAN NOVEL REVIEW

  “A complex tale of murder, deceit, and faith challenges, complete with multifaceted characterizations, authentic details, and action scenes, even a subtle hint of romance . . . [all] well integrated into a suspenseful story line that keeps pages turning until the end.”

  MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW ON LETHAL TARGET

  “Well-drawn characters and steady action make for a fun read.”

  WORLD MAGAZINE ON LETHAL TARGET

  “Readers who crave suspense will devour Cantore’s engaging crime drama while savoring the sweet romantic swirl. . . . Crisis Shot kicks off this latest series with a literal bang.”

  ROMANTIC TIMES

  “A gripping crime story filled with complex and interesting characters and a plot filled with twists and turns.”

  THE SUSPENSE ZONE ON CRISIS SHOT

  “A pulsing crime drama with quick beats and a plot that pulls the reader in . . . [and] probably one of the most relevant books I’ve read in a while. . . . This is a suspenseful read ripped from the front page and the latest crime drama. I highly recommend.”

  RADIANT LIT ON CRISIS SHOT

  “Cantore, a retired police officer, shares her love for suspense, while her experience on the force lends credibility and depth to her writing. Her characters instantly become the reader’s friends.”

  CBA CHRISTIAN MARKET ON CRISIS SHOT

  “An intriguing story that could be pulled from today’s headlines.”

  MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW ON CRISIS SHOT

  “The final volume of Cantore’s Cold Case Justice trilogy wraps the series with a gripping thriller that brings readers into the mind of a police officer involved in a fatal shooting case. . . . Cantore offers true-to-life stories that are relevant to today’s news.”

  LIBRARY JOURNAL ON CATCHING HEAT

  “Cantore manages to balance quick-paced action scenes with developed, introspective characters to keep the story moving along steadily. The issue of faith arises naturally, growing out of the characters’ struggles and history. Their romantic relationship is handled with a very light touch . . . but the police action and mystery solving shine.”

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY ON CATCHING HEAT

  “Questions of faith shape the well-woven details, the taut action scenes, and the complex characters in Cantore’s riveting mystery.”

  BOOKLIST ON BURNING PROOF

  “[In] the second book in Cantore’s Cold Case Justice series . . . the romantic tension between Abby and Luke seems to be growing stronger, which creates anticipation for the next installment.”

  ROMANTIC TIMES ON BURNING PROOF

  “This is the start of a smart new series for retired police officer–turned–author Cantore. Interesting procedural details, multilayered characters, lots of action, and intertwined mysteries offer plenty of appeal.”

  BOOKLIST ON DRAWING FIRE

  “Cantore’s well-drawn characters employ Christian values and spirituality to navigate them through tragedy, challenges, and loss. However, layered upon the underlying basis of faith is a riveting police-crime drama infused with ratcheting suspense and surprising plot twists.”

  SHELF AWARENESS ON DRAWING FIRE

  “Drawing Fire rips into the heart of every reader. One dedicated homicide detective. One poignant cold case. One struggle for truth. . . . Or is the pursuit revenge?”

  DIANN MILLS, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF AIRBORNE AND FATAL STRIKE

  “This hard-edged and chilling narrative rings with authenticity. . . . Fans of police suspense fiction will be drawn in by her accurate and dramatic portrayal.”

  LIBRARY JOURNAL ON VISIBLE THREAT

  “Janice Cantore provides an accurate behind-the-scenes view of law enforcement and the challenges associated with solving cases. Through well-written dialogue and effective plot twists, the reader is quickly drawn into a story that sensitively yet realistically deals with a difficult topic.”

  CHRISTIAN LIBRARY JOURNAL ON VISIBLE THREAT

  “[Cantore’s] characters resonate with an authenticity not routinely found in police dramas. Her knack with words captures Jack’s despair and bitterness and skillfully documents his spiritual journey.”

  ROMANTIC TIMES ON CRITICAL PURSUIT

  Visit Tyndale online at tyndale.com.

  Visit Janice Cantore’s website at janicecantore.com.

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Ministries.

  Breach of Honor

  Copyright © 2021 by Janice Cantore. All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph of trailer copyright © by Rowena Naylor/Stocksy. All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph of forest copyright © by Lauren Light/Stocksy. All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph of woman copyright © by Stephen Mulcahey/Arcangel.com. All rights reserved.

  Designed by Faceout Studio, Spencer Fuller

  Edited by Erin E. Smith

  Published in association with Jenni Burke of Illuminate Literary Agency: www.illuminateliterary.com.

  Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Proverbs 3:5 in chapter 42 is taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version,® NIV.® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  Isaiah 43:2 in chapter 23 is a paraphrase written by the author.

  Breach of Honor is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Tyndale House Publishers at [email protected], or call 1-855-277-9400.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Cantore, Janice, author.

  Title: Breach of honor / Janice Cantore.

  Description: Carol Stream, Illinois : Tyndale House Publishers, [2021]

  Identifiers: LCCN 2021006520 (print) | L
CCN 2021006521 (ebook) | ISBN

  9781496443090 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781496443106 (kindle edition) |

  ISBN 9781496443113 (epub) | ISBN 9781496443120 (epub)

  Classification: LCC PS3603.A588 B74 2021 (print) | LCC PS3603.A588

  (ebook) | DDC 813/.6--dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021006520

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021006521

  ISBN 978-1-4964-4311-3 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-4964-4310-6 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-4964-4312-0 (Apple)

  Build: 2021-06-18 17:12:35 EPUB 3.0

  Dedicated to domestic violence awareness.

  National Domestic Violence Hotline

  1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

  thehotline.org

  “Lord, high and holy, meek and lowly,

  Thou has brought me to the valley of vision,

  where I live in the depths but see Thee in the heights;

  hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold Thy glory.

  Let me learn by paradox

  that the way down is the way up,

  that to be low is to be high,

  that the broken heart is the healed heart . . .

  that the valley is the place of vision. . . .

  Let me find Thy light in my darkness.”

  ARTHUR BENNETT, THE VALLEY OF VISION

  “You can never learn that Christ is all you need, until Christ is all you have.”

  CORRIE TEN BOOM

  Contents

  Part One Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Part Two 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

  Part Three 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

  Epilogue

  Preview of Crisis Shot

  A Note from the Author

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discussion Questions

  CHAPTER 1

  “Adam-5, do you copy?”

  “No, I didn’t copy.” Leah Radcliff grimaced before grabbing the mike and asking dispatch to repeat the emergency call.

  “Can you 10-9?”

  Preoccupied, her thoughts still simmering over the latest argument she’d had with her husband, Brad, Leah’s mind was not on policing the city of Table Rock, Oregon.

  “T-4, domestic violence call on Spring Street. Several reporting parties. Medics are also en route. Respond code 3.”

  Leah clenched a fist and almost screamed in frustration. She hated domestic violence calls. In fact, she’d rather handle a three-week-old dead body call than a domestic violence situation any day, but especially tonight.

  The tornado of emotions that swirled around domestic violence made her head hurt. Anger, fear, accusations, and palpable pain often threatened to rip her off her own emotional foundation. She hesitated, pondering some way to avoid the call, but had no choice—it was in her beat, and she was in routine patrol mode a mere three blocks away. She let dispatch know she would handle the call.

  Pressing the accelerator, she flipped on the emergency lights and siren and headed for the address given.

  In a perfect world, domestic and violence were two words that wouldn’t belong together. In reality, this was a typical summertime call. It had been a hot late-July day. Tempers were frayed, and there was a full moon. She’d had a training officer once who called them wife-beater moons. Maybe that was Brad’s excuse.

  Leah knew what domestic violence looked like in the field. The fight within herself was what it looked like in her own home. Brad had been furious. It wasn’t the first time his hair-trigger temper scared her. Even now her stomach roiled over thoughts of just how frightening her husband could be.

  In their two years of marriage this unpleasant side of her husband had surfaced more than Leah cared to think about . . . or admit.

  “Adam-5, be advised: calling party says a subject named Carlos has beaten his wife severely.”

  Dispatch jarred her back to the here and now, and she pushed Brad and their fights as far away as she could.

  “Is he still on scene?” Leah asked.

  “Unknown. Suspect is described as a male white, late twenties, thin build.”

  Leah turned the corner onto Spring as she heard another unit answer up to assist. He’d be there in a few minutes. She slowed as she neared the address. This was a cluster of low-income housing units, and by the apartment number given, Leah knew the building she wanted was in the back, down a long driveway. She turned in to the drive and started down. A tall, lanky man was at the bottom of the drive, in front of the building Leah guessed housed the apartment number she was looking for. He raised both arms, crossing them back and forth frantically when he saw her.

  She advised dispatch that she’d arrived on scene, jammed the car in park, grabbed her nightstick, and stepped out into a stifling hot night. The air was heavy and there was no breeze.

  The man approached, clearly agitated. He was older, with gray hair at the temples, barefoot, phone in one hand, wearing shorts and a button-down shirt with none of the buttons fastened. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Leah could hear the South heavy in his voice when he spoke.

  “He beat her. He beat her like a dog,” he said, breathless.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Don’t know. I hollered at him. He ran off. I was ’sleep. The screams woke me. Nobody should do a woman like that—nobody. You got to hurry. My wife is with her.”

  “You are . . . ?” Leah asked as she followed him into the courtyard, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

  She’d been here many times before. The complex was filled mostly with hardworking people, but mixed in were enough troublemakers now and again to make certain that the police were called often.

  “Neighbor, Michael Haynes. I called. My wife is Lavinia.”

  It was well after 1 a.m., but lights were on in almost all the apartments and people milled about the fringe of the property. The complex was made up of several independent buildings, with four forming a square around a common courtyard. Concrete walkways surrounded the sparse courtyard, which contained a tired lawn, a couple of trees, and two plain wood benches on either side. Next to one bench she saw a woman she took to be Michael’s wife bending over someone seated on the ground, who was half-leaning against the bench.

  “Over here,” Michael said. “Here.”

  Leah stepped toward the victim, coming up short when she saw the crumpled, battered figure on the ground. The beaten woman looked more like a girl, really, with her small frame. Her eyes were swollen shut and her face resembled raw hamburger. A low keening sound came
from her, but Leah couldn’t tell if it was a moan or the whistle of her breath through an obviously broken nose.

  “Look what he did to her,” Lavinia said. “He beat her within an inch of her life.”

  For a second Leah was paralyzed. Her knees threatened to buckle. She’d seen worse . . . but just barely. This hit home.

  “I’m trying to stop the bleeding . . .” Lavinia turned her face toward Leah, tears in her eyes, bloody towel in one hand while she held the injured victim’s left hand with the other. Her expression begged Leah to fix it.

  Biting her tongue and tasting blood, Leah snapped out of it, pulled gloves out of her back pocket, and knelt down on one knee. But there wasn’t much she could do. There was nothing spurting, no arterial bleeding. There was a lot of blood and horrific damage to the victim’s face that she had no way to fix. It was pitted, cratered. What did this? she wondered. This was more than fists alone.

  The victim’s right hand caught her eye, her bloody fist clenching something. A pencil? A pen?

  “Can you hear me?” Leah asked.

  “Alex. Her name is Alex.”

  Leah nodded, but even addressing her by name got no response. A siren approaching told her that medics would soon be there to take over.

  She turned her attention to the weeping Lavinia, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Medics are close,” she said gently. “You’ve done all you can.”

  “The poor girl . . . she’s been a good neighbor.”

  “And you’re being a good neighbor. What’s her last name?”

  “Porter. Alex Porter.”

  “Where is Carlos, the guy who did this?”

  Lavinia’s eyes darkened; she shook her head. “That worthless fellow, he ran off. I didn’t see where he went. We just wanted to help her.”

  Leah heard the bounce and rattle of a gurney rolling across the concrete. She pulled Lavinia and Michael away from the victim to give the EMTs room to work. Relieved that the jarring image of the victim was no longer her concern, Leah readied her notebook to take down the witness information. Walking up with the medics was her backup, Clint Tanner, a low-key guy Leah barely knew. He had a couple of years more on the job than her, but he worked days, not the late-night shift, so they’d never worked together. Tonight he was filling in for someone.