Contents
Dead Girls Don’t Blog
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Afterword
Better Dead Than Wed
Welcome to my blog
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Epilogue
Afterword
Coins and Cadavers
Welcome to My Blog
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Epilogue
Updates
Afterword
About the Author
DEAD GIRLS DON’T BLOG
The Murder Blog Mysteries #1
Copyright © 2014 Pamela Frost Dennis
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 149537159X
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of the book without permission of the author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: 2014
For permission requests:
[email protected]
Dead Girls Don’t Blog Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Afterword
Prologue
DEAD GIRLS DON’T BLOG
Saturday
May 4, 1996
12:05 a.m.
Lindsay woke to muffled rock music. She turned her head, gasping at the sharp pain that exploded into an excruciating headache. She scrunched her eyes, willing it away, but the pain throbbed in agonizing waves.
She reached out for her bedside Tinker Bell lamp, squinting to prepare for bright light, but instead her arm flailed into a void where the lamp should have been.
Lindsay sat up slowly, each fraction of elevation slamming her first-ever migraine. She held still waiting for the roaring pain to back off. She noticed her top was bunched down around her waist and her bra was popped up over her small breasts. She adjusted her bra, vaguely wondering why that hurt.
Across the dim room, a lava lamp pulsed an orange glow. Where did that come from? Why is my dresser over there? Where am I?
She started to get u
p and found her legs tangled in the sheets. Reaching to pull the bedding away, Lindsay’s fingers touched something warm. She slid her hand further and felt something rough and bristly. Someone’s in my bed? She jerked her hand away, yanking the sheets off and scrambling to her feet. The sudden move drained the blood from her head and the room exploded into blinding white light before she crumpled to the floor.
Lindsay opened her eyes. She lay sprawled on her side facing a dark shadow that focused into a body shape. She shimmied back toward the bed frame and pushed herself to a sitting position, the pain threatening to split her head open. Her stomach lurched. She clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing her lips tight.
While Lindsay waited for the nausea to subside, her eyes darted around the room, desperately trying to understand what was happening, but her muddled mind would not cooperate.
Maybe this is a bad dream. She reached out and poked the body. It felt solid. Real.
On hands and knees, she crept around the body to the door and opened it, peering into a dark hallway. No Doubt blasted downstairs, the loud bass notes drilling into her skull. Raucous voices attempting to be heard over the din drifted up from below. She ducked back as a pair of legs walked down the hall. A light flicked on illuminating the battered green walls of the hall before a door shut.
The tiled bathroom echoed the gush of a man urinating, and Lindsay’s bladder responded with sudden need. The toilet flushed, the bathroom door opened, and the legs passed the room again.
Once the hall was clear, Lindsay attempted again to stand, but nausea forced her back down, and she crawled to the bathroom.
Inside, she closed the door and groped in the dark for the light switch. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting until she could tolerate the bright, amber glare, then slit her eyes open. When she could see, she hauled herself up to the pedestal sink, held her long, silky blond hair out of the way, and sipped cool water from the faucet.
Her stomach clenched and roiled, spewing up hot vomit, splattering the sink, the floor, and her pink jelly shoes. She clung to the sink until the wrenching heaves went dry, then rinsed her mouth and face.
The nausea eased and she raised her head, jolted by her grotesque image in the cracked mirror. One eye was swollen and blood leaked from a gash in her eyebrow. She touched the cut, wondering what had happened as her fear mounted.
The pressure in her bladder became too much and Lindsay lurched to the toilet, knocked the seat down, pulled her short skirt up, and was bewildered to find her panties gone. Gingerly, she lowered herself onto the toilet seat, clutching the edges. As urine trickled out, the searing burn startled her, rendering her breathless and releasing a flow of tears. She gently dabbed herself dry and was alarmed to see blood on the tissue. Then she saw dried blood on her thighs. Did my period start?
Lindsay finished and tugged her skirt as far down as it would go. Cracking the door open and seeing no one, she ventured into the hallway, using the walls for support as she made her way to the other end. Stopping short of the stairway, she peered around the corner and saw a crowd of people blocking the bottom. Frantic, she glanced around for another way out and saw none.
Gripping the wood banister with both hands, Lindsay overstepped the first tread and lost her balance, thumping down the stairs on her rear-end and slamming into a fat, bearded guy lounging against the wall on the bottom step.
He laughed at her. “Hey, party girl. Havin’ a rough night?”
Holding her skirt down, Lindsay scuttled back up a few steps and used the rail to pull herself to her feet. Across the packed, rowdy room, she saw her escape. The open front door. Ignoring the snickering man, she tried to ease around his hefty bulk in the tight space but swayed against him and clutched his shoulder for support.
“Whoa. You’re totally shit-faced.” He reached to steady her and then offered his water pipe. “Want a hit?”
The pungent odor gagged her and she slapped it away, knocking the glass pipe out of his hand to shatter on the wood floor.
“You bitch.” He grabbed her wrist, twisting it hard. “Get the fuck outta here!”
“Let go of me!” Lindsay wriggled out of his clammy grasp and shoved her way through the crush to the door. Outside she tumbled down the porch steps and landed hard on the flagstone path, skinning her hands, knees, and chin, her teeth sinking deep into her lower lip. She lay there weeping, hurt, confused, and scared.
Long minutes passed as people coming and going stepped over her prone body. The brisk night air revived her and finally she stood and limped to the sidewalk, where she leaned against a parked car.
Lindsay pressed her fingers into her temples, willing the pain to stop and her head to clear but accomplishing neither. With no idea where to go but needing to get away from where she was, she began walking.
Chapter One
DEAD GIRLS DON’T BLOG
THURSDAY, APRIL 4
NOW
“Daisy! Get back here.” My papergirl was supposed to retrieve the morning newspaper at the end of the front walk but had opted instead to chase a squirrel into the next yard, leaving me no choice but to leave the shelter of my vine-covered porch to chase after her. When I caught up, she had the scoundrel treed and was waiting for all the hugs and atta-girls she knew I’d bestow upon her.
“Bad. Bad, naughty girl.” I wagged my finger at her. I’d rarely scolded my near-perfect yellow Labrador since rescuing her from the pound four months before, and her smile drooped along with her head and tail.
“Thanks, Daisy,” said a masculine voice nearby. “I really needed another squirrel in my yard.”
I looked across the yard and saw a tall, hunky guy standing by a silver BMW sports coupe convertible and he was drop-dead gorgeous. Tan, perfectly mussed honey-blond hair, dazzling white teeth, male-model two-day stubble. Nordic looking, like a Viking.
He waved. “Hey, Cookie. We finally meet.”
Cookie? That’s kind of creepy, I thought.
“I’m Josh.”
I waved back weakly. “Hi.”
“Nice slippers.”
He was referring to my fuzzy bear claws, a Christmas gift from Grandma Ruby back in my college days.
“Thanks.” I ran my fingers through my auburn bedhead mess, fluffing it back behind my shoulders, trying to act like I always ran around the neighborhood in my pajamas. “I’m Katy, and you already know who this is.”
“Hi Daisy.”
My dog was grinning from ear to ear and her tail was wagging so hard I thought her butt would fall off.
“Nice finally meeting you two.” He backed out of his driveway and zoomed away with a screech of rubber.
What a show-off. So not impressed, I thought, curling my lip with disdain.
Daisy nudged me. She was ready to go home with Josh’s paper in her mouth. To her dismay, I left his paper on his porch. She made amends by pouncing on the newspaper at the end of our front walk and proudly trotting it into the house.
I curled up with Daisy on the comfy, overstuffed chair by the living room French doors to read the paper, but my mind wouldn’t focus on the top stories of the day. Instead, I found myself obsessing over my humiliating meet-up with Josh-the-creepy-Viking. I tossed the paper on the floor, revealing my flannel clad, Oreo print legs.
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 1
