Praise for Isabella Maldonado

  A Killer’s Code

  “As in the previous books, Maldonado leverages her law enforcement background to lend the proceedings weight and authenticity . . . This series continues to impress.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “This riveting thriller keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. Along with a solid and thrilling plot, relatable characters, and excellent world-building, the twists, surprises, action, and suspense demanded my attention.”

  —Mystery and Suspense Magazine

  “Filled with intrigue, twists, and a never-ending sense of urgency, A Killer’s Code keeps you in suspense while you join the frantic pursuit to solve this mystery. The third installment in the Daniela Vega series is another action-packed adventure that will exercise your brain and accelerate your heart rate . . . a top notch, fast-paced novel that flies by in the blink of an eye. Once you pick it up, you’ll find it incredibly difficult to stop.”

  —Best Thriller Books

  A Forgotten Kill

  “Maldonado’s years of law enforcement experience continue to add grit and texture to the series, and she supplements those details with a barn burner of a climax. Readers will clamor for the sequel.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Maldonado’s expertise in the criminology field really shines through in her books . . . She covers her bases, does her research, and creates a realistic investigation and chase that is compelling and engaging!”

  —Shelf Reflection

  “Filled to the brim with suspense and danger, A Forgotten Kill is one of those great reads that crackles with nervous energy from start to finish. A book that urges you forward with a desperate desire to learn the outcome as quickly as possible.”

  —Best Thriller Books

  “Dani Vega is the kick-ass heroine we’ve all been waiting for! Former Army Ranger, current hardcore FBI agent, she can outthink, outfight, and just plain outclass any opponent around. Welcome to your next favorite series!”

  —Lisa Gardner, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  A Killer’s Game

  “Maldonado keeps the plot boiling and the bodies dropping to the end.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Intense, gripping, and compulsively readable, A Killer’s Game goes from zero to ninety on page one and never slows down. FBI agent Dani Vega is a heroine to cheer for—tough, inventive, and highly capable. A winner.”

  —Meg Gardiner, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  The Falcon

  “Another great read from [Isabella Maldonado]! I’m a Nina Guerrera fan, and this book is the best of the series so far. Don’t miss it!”

  —Steve Netter, Best Thriller Books

  A Different Dawn

  “A horrifying crime, cat-and-mouse detection, aha moments, and extended suspense.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Maldonado expertly ratchets up the tension as the pieces of the puzzle neatly fall into place. Suspense fans will be enthralled from the very first page.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A thrill ride from the very start. It starts off fast and never lets up. It’s one of the best thrillers of the summer.”

  —Red Carpet Crash

  “A Different Dawn is a heart-stopping journey on parallel tracks: police detection and personal . . . Isabella Maldonado has created an unforgettable hero in Nina Guerrera.”

  —Criminal Element

  “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

  “The Cipher by Isabella Maldonado is a nail-biting race against time.”

  —Popsugar

  “Maldonado does a superb job of depicting a woman who’s made a strength out of trauma and an even better job at showing how a monster could use the internet to prey on the vulnerable. Maldonado spent twenty-two years in law enforcement, and her experience shines through in The Cipher.”

  —Amazon Book Review

  “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

  Other Titles by Isabella Maldonado

  FBI Agent Dani Vega series

  A Killer’s Game

  A Forgotten Kill

  A Killer’s Code

  FBI Agent Nina Guerrera series

  The Cipher

  A Different Dawn

  The Falcon

  Sanchez & Heron series (coauthored with Jeffery Deaver)

  Fatal Intrusion

  The Grave Artist

  Detective Veranda Cruz series

  Blood’s Echo

  Phoenix Burning

  Death Blow

  Exit Wound

  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. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2019, 2026 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.

  EU product safety contact:

  Amazon Media EU S. à r.l.

  38, avenue John F. Kennedy, L-1855 Luxembourg

  amazonpublishing-gpsr@amazon.com

  ISBN-13: 9781662536656 (paperback)

  ISBN-13: 9781662536649 (digital)

  Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant

  Cover image: © Stephen Mulcahey / ArcAngel Images; © Paul Christopher / Getty

  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

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Careful to hide her suspicions, Detective Veranda Cruz bent to examine the dead man bound to a metal folding chair in the center of the open self-storage unit. The distinctive scent of charred human flesh permeated the early-morning air as she scrutinized the image of a wolf’s head seared into the victim’s chest. Light from a pair of buzzing fluorescent tubes ten feet above her head spotlighted the gruesome tableau, reinforcing her growing sense that the scene had been staged specifically for her. To draw her in.

  Hands sweating inside tight latex gloves, she pointed to the outer ridge of burned skin. “The brand is fresh,” she said, turning to her partner.

  Sam Stark, senior detective in the Phoenix Police Department Homicide Unit, stroked his thick silvery mustache. “Is it legit, or could this be misdirection?”

  She straightened, pushed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear,
and gave him a curt nod. “He’s with the Villalobos organization.”

  More than two years spent chasing the international criminal conglomerate at its North American base of operations in Phoenix had made her a subject matter expert. And a target.

  Her thoughts raced. They would never have left a victim on display without a reason. She knew of no connection between Desert Bloom EZ Storage and the Villalobos family or any of its front companies. So why here? Why now? Missing facts compelled and frustrated her in equal parts.

  Lieutenant Richard Diaz ducked under the perimeter crime scene tape and shouldered his way past the Crime Scene techs clustered at the entrance to the unit. She wasn’t happy to see the Homicide lieutenant. The tenuous alliance forged between them during a recent crisis had settled into an uneasy ceasefire over the past month and a half.

  She felt the weight of Diaz’s dark stare when he addressed her. “What have you got so far?”

  By directing his question to her when Sam was the senior investigator at the scene, Diaz underscored her status on the case, which was her first lead detective assignment since the last organized crime murder seven weeks ago.

  She gestured up and down the victim’s nude body and delivered a rapid-fire summary of her observations. “Unknown Latino male. Single gunshot to the forehead, no exit wound. Likely small caliber. Fresh brand in the shape of a wolf’s head on his upper left chest.”

  At Diaz’s nod, she supplied further details. “Subject has no clothing, ID, or personal effects. Tattoos on his arms indicate he served in the Mexican military. Lividity and blanching indicate he’s been dead in that chair for at least a couple of hours.”

  The ME would provide a more accurate time of death, but Veranda could tell by the presence of lividity, which purpled the extremities, that the man’s blood had stopped flowing a while ago. Without the heart pumping it through the system, gravity caused blood to pool at the body’s lowest points. Whiteness of the skin under the cords binding him showed the pressure used to restrain him, referred to as blanching.

  “Who found him?” Diaz asked, all business.

  Her eyes flicked from her wristwatch to her notebook. “An employee discovered the body fifty-two minutes ago. Tyler Kendall. He’s worked at Desert Bloom EZ Storage for about six months. No criminal record. No prior contacts.”

  “Where’s Kendall now?”

  “According to the paramedics who showed up, he’s still freaked.” She tipped her head toward the main building. “He’s in the front office sucking on an oxygen mask.”

  “You think he’s involved?”

  She exchanged glances with Sam before answering her lieutenant. “Marci and Tony are interviewing him now, but he doesn’t look good for it.”

  She had designated two of her Homicide squad members, Marci Blane and Tony Sanchez, to take Kendall through the start of his day. Before Diaz arrived, Marci had texted a brief but colorful description of Kendall’s borderline hysterical reaction to the grisly discovery.

  When her lieutenant raised an eyebrow, she added, “According to Marci, Kendall got an anonymous call complaining of an odor coming from one of the units, went to investigate, crapped his chonies, and called 9-1-1.”

  “The ambulance crew had to break out the smelling salts,” Sam said. “He still looks a bit green under the oxygen mask.”

  Her partner’s comment jarred her memory. “We got lucky with the paramedics this time. They didn’t mess with the body.”

  She understood that EMTs had a duty to render aid, but she’d seen them compromise a few crime scenes where the victim was what the Homicide squad called DRT, dead right there. Despite obvious signs of death, occasionally paramedics would drag a body across the room, plop equipment on every available surface not trampled by their boots, and leave a blizzard of sterile gauze, white adhesive tape, and other medical debris strewn all over. This time, thankfully, they hadn’t gone through the motions.

  Diaz scanned the bare cinder block walls around them. “Who’s renting this unit?”

  The remaining member of her squad, Steven “Doc” Malloy, was running down the rental history. The PPD Homicide Unit consisted of ten squads. Veranda’s squad had five detectives, dividing tasks according to need. As the newest member of the team, she partnered with Sam, who’d been working murder cases when she graduated from the police academy.

  “The site manager showed about ten minutes ago,” she said. “Doc’s with him in the back office digging through their records, and he got a tentative ID.”

  Beside her, Sam peered down at his notebook through half-moon reading glasses. “A subject named Federico Davila rented it out two weeks ago. Every way Doc ran the name leads to a dead end. The only photo is the copy of the Arizona driver’s license attached to the rental agreement—fake for sure.” He stashed the pad in his back pocket. “They’re reviewing video surveillance of the lot now.”

  Veranda signaled one of the Crime Scene techs opening a reinforced plastic carrying case. “You guys ready to move him?”

  He glanced at her through clear plastic goggles. “I’ll cut the zip ties.” He stooped to pull a flex-cuff cutter from a compartment in the bulky case and moved behind the chair. The tech reached down to fasten the yellow-handled tool onto the black-nylon restraints binding the man’s swollen wrists together behind his back.

  The naked corpse shifted, and something red caught Veranda’s eye. Squatting, she focused on the smooth metal surface of the chair beneath the man’s crotch. The job had taught her there was no dignity in death. Only the attempt to bring whoever had caused it to justice.

  At first, she assumed the speck of crimson was a trickle of blood. A moment later, she realized the shade of red was too bright. The storage facility employee discovered the body close to an hour ago. Blood would have oxidized after exposure to air and darkened to maroon by now. A distant memory tugged at the back of her mind, bringing with it a ripple of unease. She had seen this before, but where? A moment later, realization jolted through her like an electric current. “Everyone out.” She sprang to her feet and whirled to face the others. “Now.”

  Sam stepped toward her, craning his neck to see over her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  Without answering, she turned to the tech, who stood transfixed behind the chair, poised to cut. “Don’t touch him,” she said.

  Eyes widening behind the clear protective glasses, he turned to the highest-ranking official present for direction. “Lieutenant Diaz?”

  “Nobody move,” Diaz said, then shifted his eyes to her. “Explain yourself, Cruz.” She responded with a single word. “Bomb!”

  Spreading her arms, she plowed into Sam, forcing him backward. Thrown off balance, he staggered into Diaz. Veranda lowered her center of gravity and used her legs to push, driving them toward the open bay door of the storage unit. She darted a glance over her shoulder, checking to make sure the tech had followed.

  He sprinted past her to the parking lot.

  Sam grunted as she shoved him again. “What the hell, Veranda?”

  She latched on to the sleeve of the remaining Crime Scene tech and yanked him along with her as she crossed the threshold onto the asphalt.

  Diaz recovered his footing and glared at her. “Where did you see a bomb?”

  She ignored the question. “We need to get farther away.”

  Diaz became an unmovable wall. “I asked you to explain yourself, Detective.”

  She stifled a curse. Her tendency to operate from instinct, skirt rules, and rush headlong into her investigations had caused this.

  Diaz, always uneasy with her methods, demanded clarification before following her instructions. He would have responded immediately to anyone else’s order to evacuate, but she’d given him too many reasons to question her actions in the past.

  Instinctively, she positioned her back to the entrance, using her body to shield the others while she squared off with her supervisor. Unable to move him any farther physically, she had to convince Diaz she’d spotted a booby trap.

  “I saw a red wire sticking out of his . . . body.” She stopped short of using the anatomically correct word. “I’ve seen it before in my background research into the Villalobos family. They do it in other countries, but not in the US.” She paused. “Until now.” Without time to be delicate, she got to the point. “They shove an IED inside a corpse, then use a remote detonator when police show up to investigate.”