Summers’ Deceit
The Hunters Trilogy: Book 1
Sara J. Bernhardt
Lavish Publishing, LLC ~ Midland
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SUMMERS’ DECEIT - Copyright 2018 ©
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Lavish Publishing, LLC.
First Edition
The Hunter’s Trilogy – Book 1
All Rights Reserved
Published in the United States by Lavish Publishing, LLC, Midland, Texas
Ebook edition
ISBN-13: 978-1-944985-48-6
ISBN-10: 1-944985-48-4
Cover Design by: WYCKED INK
Cover Images: ADOBE STOCK
www.LavishPublishing.com
For my Adam
Table of 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
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Prologue
He sat at his desk, chewing on the stump of a cigarette. He didn’t crave the nicotine anymore, only the action. The phone on his desk broke the silence.
“Shit,” he muttered and picked up.
“Mr. Styles, it’s Detective Brown. We have a situation here.”
Styles sighed. Situation meant another murder. They were gruesome. The first was a young girl, no older than fifteen—stabbed to death. Her case along with three others had gone cold. Nobody could figure out anything. This one…was worse.
Styles drove his silver Mercedes to the crime scene. Yellow caution tape surrounded the rundown apartment buildings. On the dirty ground near the dumpster was the body of a boy, his face covered with a tattered piece of newspaper.
“Any I.D.?”
“Daniel Callahan,” Detective Brown answered. “I called the number found scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket.”
“Who’d you get?”
“Friend of the family,” he answered. “His father had gone to a friend’s house to play some poker and had given Daniel the number to call. He told us his son was going to visit a friend to play some video games.”
“How old is the victim?”
“Fourteen.”
Styles shook his head. “Same as the girl?”
Brown nodded. “Stabbed to death, jagged edges in the torn flesh, exactly the same as Mary Wallberg.”
“I’m going to need the name of the person Daniel had seen that day.”
Brown nodded and handed him a slip of paper.
He kept his eyes on the boy as he spoke.
“I don’t know anything!” he demanded.
“I doubt that,” Styles answered. “You were the last person to see Daniel alive.”
“I didn’t do anything to him!”
“You from around here?”
“Yeah.”
“Got a nice place?”
“I guess. Look, this buddy-buddy crap isn’t going to work for me, okay? He left my house Saturday night around six. He lives a few blocks down, so he walked. Danny was my friend. I would never hurt him!”
Styles nodded. “Thanks.”
Dr. Taylor Mandolin had just finished stitching up the body when Styles came in.
“What can you tell me?” he asked, trying to hide the sense of anguish he felt for the victim and his family.
“There are a couple of things I find puzzling,” he answered. “He was almost completely drained of blood.”
“What?”
He nodded. “There were two very thin shards of bone in the stab wound. It was definitely the stabbing that killed him.”
“A bone knife?” Styles asked.
“It’s possible.”
“This is a sacrificial killing. I’ve seen this before.”
Mandolin nodded. “That was my guess as well.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” he answered. “Why would they dump his body in an alleyway?”
He shrugged. “That’s your job. There was very little blood on his shirt. Nobody knows what happened to the rest of it.”
“Styles, it’s Detective Brown again. I just got a call from the coroner, and there is a huge problem.”
He moved the phone to his other ear. “What kind of problem?”
“Well, Mandolin wanted to run some more tests on Daniel Callahan, and well…you’re not going to believe this.”
“Well?”
“He’s missing.”
“Missing?” Styles shouted. “What do you mean he’s missing?”
“I mean he isn’t here. The freezer is empty.”
Styles sighed. “Oh, this just keeps getting better.”
The crime scene photos were horrific. It was hard for Styles to believe that the pasty, lifeless face had ever been the other boy in the photos—dark hair and perfect blue eyes. Styles opened the file and peered at it, re-reading, checking for anything he might have missed.
Daniel Callahan, fourteen years old, high school student in Southern California, died of a stabbing in November. Body drained of blood and found in an alleyway by a construction crew. There were no fibers on his clothes, no DNA other than his own. There was no evidence of where he was killed or why he was drained of blood. No ideas why he would be moved to an alleyway. This guy was good. Family and friends were clean. Nobody at his school knew anything, and now his body was missing. Wonderful. Fourteen-year-old Daniel Callahan was going cold.
Chapter One
I had never actually thought about the whole reason behind my leaving. Now that I look back, I feel selfish for abandoning my mother the way that I did. The liquor didn’t help anymore, and the house was a constant reminder of what I had lost. It seemed the only alternative was to run away. I was so sure that it would change everything—that everything would get better if I just left. I didn’t know at that time exactly what was waiting for me just around that corner.
People have always told me that I was eccentric, but eccentric is just a nicer way of saying different, and different is just a nicer way of saying weird. So stop sugarcoating it, and cut the foreplay. I’m weird. Unique, original, whatever you choose to call it—I’m weird.
Heaven to me was the dozens of liquor bottles hidden in my parents’ pantry—if you could even call them parents. Since my brother’s death, my mother had become very distant. She was so caught up in her son’s tragedy that sh
e only recently started caring about what I did again—just what I needed—and my father just recently stopped hating her. Though they shared the same pain, they were unable to comfort each other.
I had decided that as long as I don’t let myself get close to people, they can’t hurt me, but that’s just how it works, isn’t it? You can’t help but get close to the people you want to keep as far away from you as possible.
I got up hesitantly, dreading what I was about to do, not because I believed it to be the wrong decision but because I was leaving my mother—all by herself. I knew she could take care of herself, but I didn’t want to hurt her.
I dressed myself in dark wash blue jeans and a casual, feminine, blue blouse.
“I’m sure, Mom,” I whispered when we arrived at the airport. “I just can’t stay here any longer.”
“I understand that it’s too much for you, but are you sure this is the right solution?” She was doing a terrible job of not crying, and it was so hard seeing her that way. She had such a gentle-looking face. Even though her hair was beginning to grow a bit of gray, she still had that shiny, lustrous black hair that I thankfully inherited from her. Unfortunately, I didn’t get her dark blue eyes. I got my chestnut eyes from my dad, which I still won’t complain about. I decided I had to say some comforting words to her, at least so I didn’t have to suffer through seeing her so depressed.
“It’s the only solution I can think of,” I started. “I won’t be all alone, Mom. I will be near a lot of my old summer friends. And I won’t be too far away either. I will see you soon.”
She nodded and dried her eyes with the back of her hand. I tried to smile. She didn’t seem to notice. She stared at my face and wouldn’t avert her gaze.
“Please don’t cry,” I pleaded. I was in no mood to cry, but it was difficult when my beautiful mother broke down. I had only seen her cry twice before. The last time was the divorce. She was still pretty torn up about it. My father, Ethan, never showed how much it really affected him, and that’s when he made her cry, when she felt like he truly didn’t care. It had been almost three years, and she was finally able to get up and go to work and live her life without my dad, and now—I was leaving her too. I had second thoughts racing through my head. Should I change my mind and just get back in the car and go home? No, I thought. I had to do this. I sighed, trying to think of something else to say to her.
“I’ll write you,” I said. “I’ll call. I won’t be on the other side of the world, you know. I’ll come visit you sometime. I promise.”
I hugged her and forced a smile. I had to leave California, though I wasn’t too excited about where I was headed. It was nice, and I would be near some old friends, but I was used to California and the warm summer sun. I was headed to North Bend, Oregon, a lovely, small town full of woodland and rain.
Again came the thoughts of changing my mind and just staying in California. I hadn’t even left yet, and I already missed home. I was packed up with three suitcases and a duffel bag, not counting the things that were shipped to Ethan’s a few weeks ago, including my car. It was a very uncomforting feeling, getting up in the morning to an almost completely empty bedroom, the bedroom that had been mine since before I can remember. And it wasn’t only home I would miss. I had a life here, and, though not many friends, I did have a job. My manager, Amber, seemed very displeased by the move. I guess I was her best employee. I hated talking to people, but somehow, I was still able to sell them magazines, soaps, and other things that were sold at half the price at liquor stores or the nearby supermarkets. I was truly hoping I could get a better job in North Bend.
After a few more hugs and a few more pleads for my mother to stop crying, I got on the plane and rested my eyes. The flight was just long enough to cut blood flow from my thighs and make me feel all tingly and numb. I stumbled off the plane and gathered my bags. When I stepped out into the fog, it was already slightly drizzling. I spotted Ethan climbing out of his silver Honda, the same one I remembered. He walked to me as fast as he could and pulled me into a tight hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Jane.”
I smiled nervously. “Me too, Dad.”
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine. A little sad to see me leave.”
“Come on,” he said. “It’s warmer in the car.”
He turned on the car heater and drove down the old familiar streets. We didn’t talk much but exchanged a few comments. When I got home, Ethan helped me carry my bags inside. I looked around at the old kitchen and the living room across the way. It made me feel like I was back somewhere from a past life. I hadn’t been out to visit Ethan or my grandparents in a few years, and it seemed like forever. It was all the same—the old wooden cabinets and the round table with the three nicely cushioned chairs, the white tile with pink grout, even the pale pink drapes on the window above the kitchen sink and the beige carpet in the living room and on the staircase. It was exactly how I remembered it. Even the smells were the same.
I already missed my mom and didn’t feel like concentrating on the old house. It was like my childhood came back to haunt me. Why did I think this house could help me forget the past? I needed to escape somewhere for a while before I tried to get settled in.
“I’m going to run down to the bookstore,” I called to Ethan.
He emerged into the kitchen. “Don’t you want to at least see your room first?”
“It’s okay. I know what it looks like. I won’t be long.”
“All right. Well, I’m going to the store to pick up some food for dinner. Maybe you can remind me how good of a cook you are.” He smiled.
I nodded, though I had no intention of doing such a thing. I hated cooking.
My car was in the driveway like it had been for a few days. This time, I was driving it in the rain and really had no idea where I was going. I tried to map out in my head what I remembered about North Bend and eventually was able to find Books by the Bay. I ignored the spying eyes of the workers. Except for them, the place was empty. I was alone, which was a relief. I walked around to the fiction section and began flipping through books on strange happenings and unlikely romances.
I tucked my dark hair behind my ears and glanced at the dusty, green binding of a very thick, old-looking book. It was tightly wedged in the center of the shelf, and I tugged at it, frustrated. The entire shelf shook, and in an instant, I saw it leaning toward me. I gasped, feeling the brush of flesh against my own and took in the sight of pale hands readjusting the shelf.
“You all right there?”
I looked up to see a pair of lucent green eyes staring into my own. I nodded nervously. “Fine. Thanks.”
He nodded. “I couldn’t let the shelf topple over on you like that, now could I?” He smiled, his perfect teeth catching my eye.
His gaze made me nervous. I had never had anybody look at me that way before; it was so solid and emotionless. I moved my stare to the dancing particles of golden dust in the air. He had quick hands and moved the books with ease. He was graceful. He handed me the book I had been tugging at.
“Sorry for being so impatient,” I started. “I’m feeling a little anxious today.”
He put his hand up. “No worries,” he answered, still smiling.
I didn’t like people, I never spoke to people, but something about him aroused my curiosity. I cleared my throat.
“Well…um…thanks again,” I said and turned away.
“The name’s Aidan!” he called.
I turned around and smiled.
“This is the part where you tell me yours.”
I giggled silently. “Maybe later.”
He smiled and dropped his gaze for a moment, then looked back into my brown eyes and nodded formally as if bowing then turned and left.
I stood up on my toes and placed the book on the top of the shelf, without worrying about dislodging the others. I found that I was no longer interested in it.
I shouldn’t have, I told myself. I sh
ouldn’t have been so friendly. God…what if he would have asked me out? I shuddered and brushed my hair from my eyes.
I left the bookstore, still feeling nervous. I concentrated on the misty air and the small beams of sun pushing through the clouds. I stared at the ground, watching the sidewalk lighten and darken when the clouds moved.
I felt eyes on my back, so I picked up my pace but heard footsteps behind me.
“Hey,” he breathed, catching up to me.
Oh God. I halted and sighed, turning around. “Can I help you?”
He was silent for a moment; he seemed to be searching for the right words. Had he waited for me?
“I…uh…I just wanted to know if I could get your name?”
I hesitated before responding, remembering the effect he had on me in the bookstore. Don’t be too friendly. “Actually, I’d much rather not tell you.”
He stared at me passively. “Why not?”
I averted my gaze, captivated by his green eyes and responded, “I don’t like humans.”
I turned around again, pleased that I hadn’t given in to his charm. I replayed my words and laughed silently. That should keep him confused for a while.
I quickened my pace to the parking lot and fumbled with my keys. I opened the door to my red Aveo and quickly started the engine. I turned up the air conditioner full blast, trying to counter the uncomfortable feelings. I could feel the heat from the blood that had rushed to my cheeks. I took a glance back at Aidan who was still staring at me, almost gawking. I sighed and went straight home.
I opened the cupboard automatically without actually thinking about eating anything. I found nothing appetizing. I had to keep my mind busy with something other than home. Walking around the kitchen, I tried to remember why I had declined my mother’s offer to live with her in California. My mind found the path, and I pushed back the memories and choked back tears. The roaring sound of an engine scattered my thoughts.
Summers' Deceit (Hunters Trilogy Book 1) Page 1
