Gone Cold (A Becca Thorn FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1)

G O N E

C O L D

(A Becca Thorn FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1)

R y l i e   D a r k

Rylie Dark

Bestselling author Rylie Dark is author of the SADIE PRICE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the CARLY SEE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the MIA NORTH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); of the MORGAN STARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books; of the HAILEY ROCK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); of the TARA STRONG MYSTERY series, comprising six books; of the ALEX QUINN FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books; of the MAEVE SHARP FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books (and counting); of the KELLY CRUZ MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the JESSIE REACH MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the BECCA THORN MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Rylie loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.ryliedark.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2024 by Rylie Dark. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BOOKS BY RYLIE DARK

BECCA THORN MYSTERY

GONE COLD (Book #1)

GONE DARK (Book #2)

GONE SILENT (Book #3)

GONE HOLLOW (Book #4)

GONE FOREVER (Book #5)

JESSIE REACH MYSTERY

HIS OTHER SIDE (Book #1)

HIS OTHER SELF (Book #2)

HIS OTHER SECRET (Book #3)

HIS OTHER WISH (Book #4)

HIS OTHER PLAN (Book #5)

KELLY CRUZ MYSTERY

WHERE YOU GO (Book #1)

WHERE YOU HIDE (Book #2)

WHERE YOU SLEEP (Book #3)

WHERE YOU RUN (Book #4)

WHERE YOU FEAR (Book #5)

MAEVE SHARP FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

WITH MALICE (Book #1)

WITH ENVY (Book #2)

WITH VENGEANCE (Book #3)

WITH RAGE (Book #4)

WITH YOU (Book #5)

ALEX QUINN SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIRST, MURDER (Book #1)

SECOND, DEATH (Book #2)

THIRD, ENVY (Book #3)

FOURTH, LUST (Book #4)

FIFTH, WRATH (Book #5)

TARA STRONG MYSTERY

GIRL WITHOUT A CHANCE (Book #1)

GIRL WITHOUT A HOME (Book #2)

GIRL WITHOUT A TRACE (Book #3)

GIRL WITHOUT A NAME (Book #4)

GIRL WITHOUT A PRAYER (Book #5)

GIRL WITHOUT A PAST (Book #6)

HAILEY ROCK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

BEHIND YOU (Book #1)

BESIDE YOU (Book #2)

AFTER YOU (Book #3)

WATCHING YOU (Book #4)

JUDGING YOU (Book #5)

FOLLOWING YOU (Book #6)

SADIE PRICE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

ONLY MURDER (Book #1)

ONLY RAGE (Book #2)

ONLY HIS (Book #3)

ONLY ONCE (Book #4)

ONLY SPITE (Book #5)

ONLY MADNESS (Book #6)

MIA NORTH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SEE HER RUN (Book #1)

SEE HER HIDE (Book #2)

SEE HER SCREAM (Book #3)

SEE HER VANISH (Book #4)

SEE HER GONE (Book #5)

SEE HER DEAD (Book #6)

CARLY SEE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NO WAY OUT (Book #1)

NO WAY BACK (Book #2)

NO WAY HOME (Book #3)

NO WAY LEFT (Book #4)

NO WAY UP (Book #5)

NO WAY TO DIE (Book #6)

MORGAN STARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

TOO LATE (Book #1)

TOO CLOSE (Book #2)

TOO FAR GONE (Book #3)

TOO LOST (Book #4)

TOO BROKEN (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

The morning sun filtered through the stained glass windows, casting an ethereal glow upon the congregation as Jane pushed open the heavy oak doors of the quaint little church. She could feel the weight of unfamiliar eyes upon her as she stepped into the sanctuary, her footsteps echoing against the polished wooden floor. Forest, Utah was a far cry from her bustling city life in Boston, but she had hoped that by attending Sunday service, she would find solace and a sense of belonging in this tight-knit community.

Good morning, a kind-faced woman greeted Jane with a warm smile before handing her a neatly folded bulletin. Welcome to our service.

Thank you, Jane murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she scanned the rows of pews for an empty seat near the back. As she made her way down the aisle, she couldn't help but notice the curious glances and whispered conversations among the members. The feeling of isolation settled heavily upon her chest like a leaden mantle, making it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Let us begin our worship today with hymn number 203, announced the pastor, his voice reverberating throughout the small church. Jane clutched the hymnal tightly in her hands, concentrating on the familiar words and melodies to anchor herself amid the sea of strangers.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound... she sang softly, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to blend in with the harmonious chorus around her. The discomfort continued to gnaw at her, but she held onto the pastor's words about community and faith, hoping they would provide some semblance of respite from her anxiety.

Remember that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ, the pastor declared, his eyes sweeping across the congregation. Let us strive to be supportive and compassionate towards one another, especially those who are new to our flock.

For a brief moment, Jane allowed herself to imagine being embraced by this community, the loneliness and fear dissipating like tendrils of mist under the warming sunlight. It wasn't much, but it was a start – a fragile foothold in an unfamiliar world that she desperately needed.

May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all, the pastor concluded, his words echoing through the hushed sanctuary.

As the congregation dispersed, Jane's eyes were drawn to a man standing by the stained-glass window. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that cast shadows over his face, obscuring his features. His intense gaze unsettled her, making her feel exposed and vulnerable.

Thank you for the warm welcome, she said with a polite nod, trying to ignore her discomfort.

The man didn't respond, only continuing to stare at her from beneath his hat.

Have a blessed day, she muttered, her voice barely audible as she hurried out of the church. Her heart raced in her chest, eager to return to the safety of her home.

Wasn't it a lovely sermon? a woman asked, reaching out to touch Jane's arm as they stepped outside. Jane forced a smile, her mind still preoccupied with the man's unnerving gaze.

Yes, it was, Jane replied, pulling away and hurrying down the sidewalk. She glanced back once, but the man seemed to have vanished into the crowd. She wanted to ask the woman about him--about who he was--but before she knew it, the woman had slipped away, and Jane was alone again, heading home by foot under the glare of the early morning sun.

The sun was shining brightly, casting a golden glow over the small town. Colorful flowers dotted the streets, and trees were starting to bloom. But even with the cheery sights of spring, there was a sense of quietness and emptiness in the streets. Most of the houses were empty, their occupants gathered at the church for post-service socials. The streets were mostly deserted, except for a few people walking to and from the church. There was a strange stillness in the air, as if the town itself was holding its breath.

Jane decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway downtown that would lead to her new neighborhood, quickening her pace as the man with the hat emerged in her mind's eye. The alley walls closed in around her like a dark embrace as she walked, her footsteps echoing in the empty space.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid, she thought to herself, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease. People are always a bit strange when you first meet them, especially in a small town like this.

But the feeling gnawed at her, refusing to let go. She couldn't shake the image of the man's eyes piercing through her, as if he could see straight to her core. And as she continued down the alley, the silence weighed heavily on her shoulders, pressing down on her until she felt trapped, smothered by her own thoughts.

Suddenly, a discordant sound of footsteps shattered the silence and sent shivers down Jane's spine.

She felt her heart skip a beat as she turned around in terror, her eyes widening at the sight of the man with the wide-brimmed hat now trailing behind her.

Paralyzed with fear, Jane could only watch as the man began to close the distance between them. His footfalls echoed ominously in the narrow alleyway, a cacophony that drowned out her frantic heartbeat.

Take a deep breath. Calm down, she told herself, forcing her legs to move. She needed an escape plan.

Jane glanced around and noticed a rusty fire escape ladder dangling from one of the buildings ahead. If she could just reach it...

But before she could even think of her next move, the footsteps grew louder, faster--until they were right behind her.

Jane spun, only to find the man, backing her into a wall. The man said nothing, his face obscured by the shadow of his hat, but the intensity of his gaze bore into her.

Stay away from me, Jane warned, her pulse racing with every step he took closer, backing her into the brick wall.

Panic seized her as she told herself to run, but her legs refused to move, as if they were bound by invisible chains. She desperately searched for an escape route, but the brick walls of the alley seemed to close in on her like a vice grip.

I'll--I'll scream, she warned.

The man paused then, the brim of his hat rising slightly. She could see his eyes now, clear and piercing under the shadow of his hat. No need to be frightened, he said, his voice as calm as a still pond.

His words didn't reassure her. Instead, her heart pounded harder against her ribcage; her breaths came in short gasps.

Just then, he lunged toward her, and suddenly, his strong hands were wrapped around her neck. Jane mustered a final, desperate attempt to cry out for help. But before the words could leave her lips, his hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her horrified scream.

The only sound that echoed through the empty alleyway was the faint, muffled whimper of her struggle.

Nobody will hear you, the man whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. Righteousness will exact its vengeance. The wicked temptations of your world will be purged, starting with you--you, who have fallen from grace.

He moved his hands back to her throat, but even if Jane wanted to scream, she couldn't, not with her airways constricted. As darkness descended over her, Jane's world blurred into a haze of terror and despair, her hope of finding safety in this new town extinguished in an instant.

CHAPTER ONE

The shrill sound of the alarm pierced through FBI agent Becca Thorn's dreams, yanking her back into reality. She jolted awake, heart pounding in her chest as she fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. With a swift swipe, the noise ceased, leaving Becca with only the sound of her own breathing as she lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Run, she reminded herself. You need this.

She pushed the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cold hardwood floor beneath her feet. The chill traveled up her spine, waking her further as she padded toward the kitchen. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water from the tap. The liquid felt heavy in her hand, and she drank deeply, feeling its weight inside her like an anchor grounding her to reality, preventing her from slipping back into her dreams, where memories of her past still haunted her.

Okay, she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Let's do this.

Before stepping out of her apartment, Becca paused in front of the mirror near the door. Her green eyes stared back at her, framed by the short blonde hair that brushed just above her shoulders.

It was a constant reminder of what she had escaped—the cult she was raised in on the Utah countryside, The First Divine, who required all women and girls to have the longest hair possible.

But Becca escaped. And her short hair was a testament to that.

Never again, she thought, her gaze never leaving her reflection. I'm free now.

With a final nod at her reflection, she laced up her running shoes and stepped out of her condo into the crisp morning air.

The first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and orange as Becca stepped out onto the streets of Salt Lake City, taking in a deep breath of the cool Spring air. With each stride she took, she felt the tension in her muscles dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of freedom. As an FBI agent, it was imperative for her to maintain her physical fitness, but this daily ritual also served as a reminder of what she had gained since escaping The First Divine.

As she ran, Becca couldn't help but remember how different life had been within the cult's confines. The women weren't allowed to work out, their bodies seen as vessels for bearing children rather than temples for self-improvement. A shiver ran down her spine as memories of Father Monroe, the cult leader, invaded her thoughts. His dark eyes seemed to bore into her soul, stripping her of any agency or power.

It had been twenty years since Becca had been freed. The last time she'd seen Father Monroe, she had been eight years old... yet the memories were still so engrained in her, no matter how hard she'd tried to move on or, at the very least, forget.

Get out of my head, Becca muttered, quickening her pace. She shook off the memories, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement and the wind whistling past her ears. I escaped. I don't have to be haunted by them anymore.

She clenched her fists, digging deep for the determination that had pushed her through countless obstacles since leaving the cult behind.

The sun continued its ascent, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. As she rounded the final corner on her route, Becca felt a renewed sense of purpose filling her chest. She had escaped the clutches of The First Divine, and every day was an opportunity to forge a new path for herself—one that led far away from Father Monroe's dark gaze.

Never again, she panted, her legs carrying her forward with a strength she hadn't possessed before. I'm free now.

This was her constant morning routine, the way she began every day to remind herself of what she'd lost and what she'd gained in her new life.

But even though Becca had escaped the cult, she could never forget what life had been like in those confined walls.

So