Author: Jennifer Chase
Publisher: Bookouture
Pages: 377
Genre: Thriller/Crime
He looked down at the little girl, sleeping peacefully,
her arms wrapped around a teddy bear. He knew he was the only one who could
save her. He could let her sleep forever.
An eight-year-old girl, Chelsea Compton, is missing in Pine Valley, California
and for Detective Katie Scott it’s a cruel reminder of the friend who
disappeared from summer camp twenty years ago. Unable to shake the memories,
Katie vows she won’t rest until she discovers what happened to Chelsea.
But as Katie starts to investigate, the case reveals itself to be much bigger
and more shocking than she feared. Hidden deep in the forest she unearths a
makeshift cemetery: a row of graves, each with a brightly coloured teddy bear.
Katie links the graves to a stack of missing-persons cases involving young
girls—finding a pattern no one else has managed to see. Someone in Pine Valley
has been taking the town’s daughters for years, and Katie is the only one who
can stop them.
And then another little girl goes missing, snatched from the park near her
home.
Katie’s still haunted by the friend she failed to protect, and she’ll do
anything to stop the killer striking again—but can she find the little girl
before it’s too late?
Compulsive and gripping crime fiction for fans of Lisa Regan, Rachel Caine
and Melinda Leigh. Katie Scott’s first case will have you on the edge of your
seat and gasping with shock.
Readers love Jennifer Chase!
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Book Excerpt:
Prologue
The oversized
tires obliterated the rural roadway before the large truck came to an abrupt
stop. The driver stalled the engine. Dust rose in a curious flowering cloud,
swirling in front of the vehicle’s hood and creeping toward the back of the
camper shell. When the surrounding vicinity finally cleared, a dense forest
landscape emerged.
The truck
overlooked the sheer cliff and rugged scenery that had become a permanent
roadblock. The usual silence of the deserted region was interrupted by the
incessant and rhythmic sound of a cooling engine.
Tick… Tick…
Tick…
The vehicle
remained parked. No one moved inside the cab or got out. The truck stayed
immobile as if an unlikely statue in the vast wilderness—a distinct contrast
between nature and manufactured steel.
The truck sat at
the ideal vantage spot, which was both mesmerizing and terrifying for any
spectator; but still the occupant chose to wait. The intense high beams pierced
ahead into the picturesque hills, leaving a hazy view of the area above the
massed trees.
When the driver’s
door finally opened, a man stepped out, his steel-toed leather work boots
hitting the dirt. They were well-worn, reflecting the many miles he had walked
and the many hours he had labored. Swiftly the door shut as the man, medium
build and wearing only a plain dark T-shirt, walked to the back of the truck
and, with a loud bang, released the lift gate. He moved with purpose and with a
calm assertiveness, as if he had performed this particular task many times
before. His weathered hands, calloused from years of working with heavy tools
and machinery without the protection of leather gloves, had a certain agility
and speed.
He grasped two
well-used shovels, a large arching pick, and a bulky utility garbage bag. As he
tossed the bag onto the ground, the top burst open and several medium-sized
teddy bears spilled out. Their smiling faces accentuated the brightly colored
ribbons tied around their necks, contrasting with the muted shades of their
surroundings.
The man pushed
the floppy bag aside with the toe of his boot. He worked in quiet solitude, no
humming, no whistling, and no talk.
He flipped on the
flashlight fixed to his baseball cap. Straight ahead and slightly arced, the
large beam illuminated his path while he strode steadily toward a particular
wooded area.
The surrounding
thickets and trees remained still without any wind to rustle the leaves. The
only audible sound was the man’s quick footsteps—never with any hesitation. He
walked with the gait of a young man, despite his stature of someone older.
He hesitated as
if he had forgotten something, standing motionless with his arms down at his
sides and his head hung forward as he shone the bright light at the ground and
the tops of his boots. He still held firmly to the tools. He mumbled a few
inaudible sentences of a memorized prayer, which sounded more like a warning
than a passage from the Bible, then he raised his head and continued to walk
into the dense forest.
Dropping his
tools, he carefully pushed a pine branch aside and secured it with a worn piece
of rope that had been left for the purpose. An opening was exposed—a tunnel
barely large enough for a man to enter.
He grabbed his
digging tools once again and proceeded. The flashlight on the front of his cap
brightened the passageway as it veered to the right. He followed, only ducking
his head twice before the path opened to an area with several boulders sticking
out of the cliff. Clusters of unusual rock shapes, some sharp, some rounded,
made the terrain appear more like a movie set or backdrop.
A narrow dirt
path of crude, sloping man-made steps dropped fifteen feet to a landing jutting
out from the rock formation. A small yellow flag was stuck into the earth, marking
a spot. A slight evening breeze picked up, causing the flag to flutter.
The man balanced
the shovels and pick against the hillside and pulled a hunting knife from a
sheath attached to his belt. Pressing the bone handle tight against his palm,
he drew the blade through the packed dirt to mark a rectangular pattern on the
ground.
He stared
intently at the soil, then retrieved the pick, gripping it tight, and swung it
hard against the dry, heavily compacted earth. It dented the surface, spewing
chips of dirt in every direction. A few small rocks buried in the soil since
the beginning of time hampered his progress, but after several more arced
swings, the ground began to crumble, exposing the fresh earth.
The heavy pick
was exchanged for one of the shovels. Soon there was a small pile of California
soil, comprised of sand, silt, clay, and small rock. The repeated movements of
dig, scoop, and deposit continued for more than forty-five minutes at a brisk
pace. The hard work of manual labor didn’t deter him. It only made him more
determined to create a work of genius—his ultimate masterpiece.
At
last he stepped back and admired his handiwork, perspiring heavily through his
shirt from the effort. Exhilaration filled his body, keeping his muscles flexed
and his heart pumping hard. He leaned against the shovel, a smile forming on
his lips as he waited for his pulse to return to normal, and marveled at the
unmistakable outline of a freshly dug grave.
About the Author
Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and best-selling
crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer
holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in
criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out
of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience
with a violent sociopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in
every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial
crime and criminal profiling. She is an affiliate member of the
International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the
International Thriller Writers.
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