Kennedy Deadly Games (Elusive Killers, #1)

1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-1-946212-39-9
Verlag: Title Wave Publishing, LLC
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 226 Seiten

Reihe: Elusive Killers

St. Louis, Missouri is known for a high crime rate, but no city has seen anything like this. A sadistic killer, who is bent on creating suffering for his own artistic pleasure, is on the loose and untraceable. SLCPD Homicide Detective Sasha Delossa becomes the killer's deadly obsession while he's on his rampage throughout the city and surrounding areas. He doesn't discriminate either-anyone is good enough to be his victim and muse. When they figure out the killer's secret, will they figure out his identity?
Filled with thrills, chills, and heart-pounding action, you'll become immersed in the brutal and gripping twists and turns of this psychological thriller.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Kennedy, Alexis

Leseproben

    WHEN WE ARRIVED on the scene, there were two patrol cars still there, but the SLCPD Canine Unit was pulling out. I love dogs, and I had been fortunate to work with some of the canines while in the Drug Unit. “Are you ready for this?” Marisol asked, and my pulse raced even faster. “I believe so. I’ve always wanted to join the Homicide Unit, so I’m excited. Isn’t that morbid?” I wondered. She laughed, “I guess it is a little, but then it applies to us all. Someone has to die for us to get paid.” She parked next to the other cruisers, and we jumped out to join our team. When we approached the body, I could smell the metallic scent of a horrid death from several feet away, and it burned my nose. I’d smelled decomposing bodies before, but this was different than a drug overdose. This was the scent of someone’s suffering and pain. Eric noticed me cringing and said, “You’ll get used to it before you know it.” I grimaced at him. “That’s what I’m afraid of. How do you get used to murder?” He sighed, “Sadly, by the constant exposure.” The crime scene was a drastic contrast to the serenity of Post Dispatch Lake. Thankfully, the restaurant wasn’t open yet, and the lake area was void of fishermen. There were plenty of lookie-loos driving down Government Drive, though. The sound of screeching tires bounced off the building as the drivers slammed on the brakes to rubberneck. The less-interested drivers furiously honked their horns and tried to pull around. “All we need is a car wreck out here on top of this mess,” I mumbled under my breath. The distorted body was splayed on the ground in front of the dumpster. She had on slashed remains of a tank top and shorts, which were soaked with blood. The M.E., Chris Edwards, was hunched over her. He glanced up with a look of disgust and announced, “Based on her liver temperature, she’s been dead for about four hours. She has multiple stab wounds and lacerations all over her body”—he turned her head toward us—“including her face.” “And she wasn’t carrying ID, right?” Marisol asked him. Sam Conner, who was one of the officers still on the scene, spoke up. “No, we didn’t find a purse or ID on her or in the dumpster.” “This looks personal,” I observed, and they all looked in my direction. “It’s overkill, to say the least, and why slash her face?” “Keep going,” Liam encouraged, “What else do you see?” I looked at the ground, not enjoying being put on the spot, but I was grateful I had the chance to prove my worth to the team. “Well, there isn’t enough blood here, so she’s been moved from the primary crime scene. Also, the killer is likely male because it would take strength to move a woman of her size, and statistically speaking, women don’t normally mutilate other women. It’s usually a misogynistic male”—I looked back up at Liam—“How did I do?” They all smiled, and he praised my efforts. “I think you made a sound and thorough assessment, especially for a first attempt.” I felt a blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. “Thank you. I’ve done a considerable amount of reading, including FBI manuals.” Eric barked with laughter. “It’s your first day in the Homicide Unit, and you’re already thinking about leaving us for the FBI?” I shook my head with a giggle. “No, I just like to know what I’m dealing with is all.” Marisol clasped my shoulder with a light squeeze. “That’s a good attitude, and it will help you thrive in this unit.” Dr. Edwards stood and told us, “I’m going to take her back to the morgue and begin the autopsy. I’ll let you know when my report is finished and when I have her identity confirmed.” He waved for his techs to remove her remains. Liam cleared his throat. “As Sasha pointed out, we need to find the primary crime scene, and of course, we need to start interviews. Let’s get the sister and fiancé in as soon as possible.” When we returned to SLCPD, I sat in on the interview with Tamara Boyd’s fiancé, John Washington. The distraught man had apparently been waiting at the station all morning. “Did you find her?” he asked as soon as Marisol and I entered the interview room. “We’re not sure, Mr. Washington,” Marisol began. “Can you tell us what she was wearing the last time you saw her?” Through his tears, he sobbed, “She had on a red blouse and a black skirt.” I shared a knowing glance with Marisol. It didn’t match our victim’s clothes. “Are you sure that’s what she had on when she left your house?” I asked, and he nodded. “Why? What do you know?” he questioned us with narrowed eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?” I quickly answered him, “We aren’t keeping anything from you because we don’t know anything for sure yet. I don’t want to upset you further until we know something definitive.” His hands were shaking, and tears streamed down his face. He sobbed, “I heard some officers talking, and they said there was a-a-a body. Oh god! Is it her?” Marisol answered him this time. “We don’t know yet. We’re waiting on dental records. Does she have any tattoos or birthmarks on her body that might help us?” He nodded rapidly. “She has our son’s name inked on her right wrist. It’s Jayden.” “Thank you for the information. Now, if you’d like to remain here, you can certainly do so, but if you want to go home and rest, we’ll contact you as soon as we know something,” Marisol informed him. He stood up so abruptly that his metal folding chair toppled over and clanged to the floor. Instinctively, my hand flew to my Glock, but I didn’t withdraw it. Marisol tried talking to him again in a more soothing tone as he anxiously paced the room. “We’re going to go check on some things, but you can stay here and wait.” He slumped back into a chair and put his face in his hands to cry. He wasn’t going anywhere, so I...