The sick bastard had framed the picture like a head shot, capturing the ligature marks on her neck and the vacant stare of her blue eyes. On the back he’d written “Your next” in red block letters, followed by a number two. He should have written “You’re next,” but that was the least of anyone’s p...
It took a moment to register. Then she sat bolt upright in bed and looked at the space beside her. Nate's part of the bed was still made. A thread of panic worked through her as she fumbled for her cell. Thank goodness — he'd sent a text: Fell asleep doing laundry. She exh...
The surveillance footage of the parking lot had been little help in identifying the person who’d smashed Sally’s windshield. All they’d been able to see was a man who’d walked onto the property, his face shadowed by a baseball cap, smashed the car with a bat and ran away. Ben’s stomach had been o...