Sheriff Jax Turner is worried about going off-grid and leaving his young team of deputies behind. But while his getaway with his ex is meant to help them reconnect, Jax is distracted by signs of a break-in at their rented lookout.
After a string of unsettling events and an approaching wildfire turn their isolated retreat into a danger zone, he’s stunned to find a dead body with marks tying it to a killer he put away a decade ago.
Terrified that his attempt at reconciliation has led them both into a fatal setup, Jax rushes back to his estranged wife before she joins the list of victims. But his dedication to serving and protecting could become an Achilles heel as other players join them among the darkening trees.
Can he fight his way out of the woods before the flames of revenge consume everything?
"Keliikoa is the Queen of immersive small-town mystery. Killer Tracks is cleverly plotted with deftly drawn relatable characters who face off with a deadly threat from the past."
~ James L’Etoile, award winning author of River of Lies and the Detective Nathan Parker series
PROLOGUE
Click. Slide. Clang.
If he never heard that sound again, it’d be far too soon. That, and the sleepless nights under a thread-bare wool blanket that chafed his exposed skin, the looming threat of death... in the yard, the shower, the halls to and from the cafeteria or his cell.
Death and desperation seeped from the pores of this godforsaken place. So thick he could almost taste it. No amount of soap, no amount of ritual, would rid him of the stench that clung to him—though he’d be willing to try.
It was over now. Dying among these second-class men would not be his fate. A man of his intellect, a man far superior to the minions around him, deserved better than what he’d endured these past years.
He’d eagerly reeducate those who believed otherwise. They’d all see it by the time he was through with them, just like those that came before.
Click. Slide. Clang.
A voice echoed off the concrete walls.
“Inmate 22-A-4242. Gather your crap. Time to go.”
He stood, hands to his sides.
“Ready to face the world?”
He remained silent. None would get the satisfaction of his acknowledgement.
The voice continued. “They gave you a goddamn Hail Mary. Bleeding heart liberals anyway. Don’t screw it up.”
He bowed his head to obscure his smirk.
“Right. I know your type. You’re innocent.” The guard continued rambling. “That’s what all you convicts say. ‘I didn’t do it.’ ‘I was framed.’ ‘It’s unconstitutional.’” The guard’s voice dropped to a growl, prickling his skin. “Tell that to the victims and their families. I’d reckon less than one percent of you bastards got a legit claim.”
The guard had forgotten betrayed, of which he surely had been. But he shrugged, not to agree, but to stave off the urge to wrap his hands around the guard’s throat. So close to freedom...
Whether he was innocent or not had no bearing; it had not been among the criteria for the help he’d received. Being wrongfully convicted qualified. According to the junior team that had embraced his cause when he’d written the letter, they agreed that’s what had happened in his case. Even if it took them ten years, he loved a system that allowed more loopholes than the cable-knit sweater Mother had dressed him in for school.
“Sell it to someone else, you psycho,” the guard snapped. “Bet you money. We’ll see you again real soon.”
A jagged smile crossed his face. The guard had part of it correct—but he’d never be back here. Next time, he’d be less gullible.
And he intended to snuff out anything that could hurt him, like the light of every other woman who hadn’t seen his worth.
CHAPTER ONE
Some days, it didn’t pay to get out of bed.
Sheriff Jax Turner had experienced more than his fair share of those mornings in the past six years. First, when his daughter Lulu died from leukemia. Then, when his marriage dissolved—more like shattered into a million pieces. Followed by a couple of cases that had tested his limits of trust. They’d destroyed some, too.
Today was different.
Abby Kanekoa, his ex-wife with whom he’d shared the gutting grief of those past years, had offered hope for reconciliation—the chance to glue a few of those pieces back together. It would never be the same without their little girl... but perhaps they could create something new.
Leaving for the mountains just after Labor Day was less than ideal. Though with the tourist season coming to an end in Misty Pines, and Abby due a vacation at the Bureau, it was the best time. Deputy Rachel Killian, his new hire and right hand, was turning out to be as capable as he’d hoped. Applicants for filling the gaps at their station had been sparse. Few, it seemed, wanted to work these days—or work at the often cool and foggy Oregon coast. He’d at least been able to get most of his young crew on full-time payroll, so Rachel had help.
Bottom line, getting away was Abby’s idea. He would not tell her no.
Now to get through the pep talk with the team. The two major events of the past year had allowed them to punch a few notches into their experience belt, but wisdom and reliance on gut instinct were born with time. Leaving them to run Misty Pines without his guidance had his muscles taut.
He entered the sheriff’s office with his duffle flung over his shoulder.
“Oh hon, don’t tell me that’s all you’re taking for the week?” Trudy said. Jax’s long-time secretary, and overall, Team Mother to him and his ragtag group of deputies, lifted the headset off her ears.
He suppressed a smile. “Glad to see your accident hasn’t made you any less opinionated.”
Eight months had passed since the event that had nearly stolen her from him and the team. A warm and fuzzy Trudy would be hard to get used to—he was grateful he didn’t have to learn.
Trudy rested the headset around her neck. “Looks like Abby hasn’t given you any clue about where you’re going.”
“Other than the mountains, not much. I’ve tossed a few essentials in my truck.”
“Like?”
“A good book and a board game.” He smiled. “A couple of bottles of wine.”
She arched her brow.
“What? I’m assuming she’s arranged for us to be at some luxury resort.”
“You think so?”
“Abby likes her massages, saunas, breakfast in bed.” Not to mention time basking on the deck with a steaming cup of coffee. For being a tough no-nonsense woman, and a hell of an FBI agent, she liked the finer things—and she’d earned every damn one of them.
“And what do you like?” Trudy asked.
He chuckled. Not much of what he’d just mentioned. “Roughing it.”
“Hmmm…and she arranged this for the two of you to reconnect?”
His smile faded; he dropped the bag at his feet. “Are we camping?”
Trudy laughed and shook her head. “When it comes to women, you do take a minute to catch up. Might I suggest a few more items?”
“Like a tent?” He’d have to dig it out of his garage, which wouldn’t take long.
“No. But a communication device might come in handy.”
“Abby said something about our phones being off for the week.” He shifted on his feet. “Are you saying we’re headed somewhere with no service?”
She returned to her desk in response.
Of course they were. Several interruptions to his and Abby’s conversations had come from the station over the past months. Too often, when they’d just settled into talk or were on the edge of a sensitive topic. Tourist season was like that every year with the random fender bender, a too-loud party on the beach, a drunken brawl at the pub. Some infraction demanding his attention.
Added to that, Brody had slid his motorcycle on wet pavement and nearly dislocated his shoulder in the spring. Garrett had a few interviews in Portland, one in Seattle. Matt was called in to stock shelves by his boss at the IGA grocery store when they were short staffed, which had become more consistent.
Time with Abby had been the price, although the last time they’d carved out a night together still brought a smile to his face. Maybe this trip signaled her intention of wanting more quality togetherness. That thought alone made having limited phone access worth it regardless of where they went, even as the uneasiness of being out of contact with his crew niggled at him.
He flung the bag back over his shoulder and headed to his office.
The click of claws on the linoleum sounded behind him.
“Boss.” Rachel and Koa, her black lab, came out of the kitchen. “You all set?”
“Almost. Picking Abby up soon for what appears might be a wilderness retreat.”
Rachel laughed. “Don’t look so concerned.”
“I’m not.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you have a crease between your eyebrows.”
He rubbed the spot. “Guess I’m not fond of surprises.”
“Never have been myself, but I have a feeling you’ll have fun.”
“According to Trudy, I will. Hope Abby does.” It was sweet she’d chosen a place that appealed to him—more imperative if she enjoyed herself. She’d never been one to sleep on the ground.
“Believe me, she did good.”
“Take it you know where we’re headed?”
“Not precisely.”
“How about a hint of what you do know, so I’m better prepared?” Having spent far too much time in the dark, he preferred to be ahead of things these days.
She did a zipping motion in front of her mouth. “I get that it’ll be difficult for you, but try not to worry. The men and I have everything covered.”
He nodded. Letting go of the wheel would never be easy, and in law enforcement things could change quickly. But Rachel was solid, and he trusted her… despite his former partner Jameson not agreeing with him hiring his only daughter. Jax had made the right call; he stood by it. There should be no hesitation about him and Abby taking a week for themselves.
“You’ll get a hold of me if there’s a problem?” he said.
“You won’t have any way…”
“I’m taking the satellite phone.”
Rachel folded her arms over her chest. “Suppose that’s smart after the last trek in the wilderness...”
“Exactly my thought.”
Rachel pursed her lips, likely recalling that day when radio silence had left her and the team wrought with worry as they waited for word on whether Jax and Abby were alive. But Abby should understand his decision, if it came up. Probably better it didn’t.
“Let’s do a briefing before I head out,” he said.
Rachel winked. “The men are waiting for you in the strategy room.”
He chuckled. That’s why there’d been no sign of them when he’d arrived.
In his office, he set his duffle bag on a chair, and retrieved the satellite phone, burying it near the bottom in a T-shirt. Once he checked his email for the tenth time and cleared his desk, he started toward the meeting room, until he heard voices in the reception area.
Trudy was holding open the station’s door. The men were grabbing their gear about to file out, Rachel and Koa behind them.
“What’d I miss?” Jax said.
Koa turned at the sound of his voice, trotting to his side. Jax squatted next to her, draping his arm gently over her back.
“Nothing to worry about, boss,” Rachel said.
“Just a routine traffic revision, chief,” Brody said. “We’ve got it.” He’d gelled down his wispy brown hair today, making him look young. Too young.
“I’ve got forty minutes before…”
“Oh no you don’t, Jax Turner,” Trudy said. “It’s a half-hour drive to Abby, and you will not be late.”
“I—”
“We’ve got it, Sheriff,” Rachel said, calling Koa to her. Koa didn’t budge.
“Koa’s siding with me on this,” he said.
Rachel lifted a brow at her black lab, who promptly returned to her side.
Fine. Jax stood. He’d wanted a team he could rely on, and he had one. So why did he feel left out? “Who’s in need of traffic revision anyway?”
“Fire department,” Trudy said.
“There’s an apartment complex on fire at the edge of town,” Rachel said.
Battalion Chief Mike O’Brien rarely requested assistance. With the remaining tourists eking out the last of their holiday weekend there could be a traffic log, he supposed.
“I’ll go with you,” Jax said.
Rachel held up her hands in a stop gesture. “Please. Get out of here and have a good time.”
Before he could protest, Rachel was out the door and Trudy shut it behind them. Through the glass, Jax watched his team slide into two of the patrol cars.
“You heard your deputy, hon. Get your stuff and head to Abby’s. And don’t come back until you and that saint of a woman have worked everything out.”
Trudy was right. He needed to check his ego. Misty Pines could handle a week without him.
A call came through Trudy’s headset which she tapped to answer. She settled behind her desk as he grabbed his bag, her voice fading as he walked outside.
“Yes, Mrs. Harper. Just a small fire. Nothing to worry about.”
***
Excerpt from Killer Tracks by Mary Keliikoa. Copyright 2025 by Mary Keliikoa. Reproduced with permission from Mary Keliikoa. All rights reserved.
Eighteen years in the legal field, and an over-active imagination, led Mary Keliikoa to plot murder—novels that is. She is the author of the domestic thriller DON’T ASK, DON’T FOLLOW, the newly released KILLER TRACKS, the third book in the Misty Pines mystery series which is an IPPY Silver and Bronze Award winner, Silver Falchion finalist, and a Foreword Indies award finalist, and the Shamus and CLUE Finalist, and Lefty, Agatha and Anthony nominated “PI Kelly Pruett” mystery series. Her short stories have appeared in Woman's World and the anthology Peace, Love and Crime.
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