Roses from My Killer
A Miranda and Parker Mystery
Book 11
Linsey Lanier
Copyright © 2018 Linsey Lanier
All rights reserved. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, please return to your online distributor and purchase your own copy.
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Felicity Books
ISBN: 978-1-941191-45-3
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Acknowledgements
My thanks to Donna Rich, who suggested the Outer Banks as a setting for this book and provided important information about the area during my research.
Book #11: Another gripping Miranda and Parker mystery-thriller, with lots of twists, turns, and chills—including an insane serial killer on the loose.
Despite fallout from her last few cases, Miranda travels to the Outer Banks of North Carolina to help solve the grisly murder of a young woman. But when she sees the state of the body, she knows she’s walking into a living nightmare.
Can she hold back the monsters from her past this case is reviving? Or will they destroy her? Especially when the killer has her in his crosshairs.
Edited by
Editing for You
Donna Rich
Books by Linsey Lanier
Linsey’s Amazon Author page
THE MIRANDA’S RIGHTS MYSTERY SERIES
Someone Else’s Daughter
Delicious Torment
Forever Mine
Fire Dancer
Thin Ice
THE MIRANDA AND PARKER MYSTERY SERIES
All Eyes on Me
Heart Wounds
Clowns and Cowboys
The Watcher
Zero Dark Chocolate
Trial by Fire
Smoke Screen
The Boy
Snakebit
Mind Bender
Roses from My Killer
The Stolen Girl
(more to come)
OTHER SUSPENSE BOOKS BY LINSEY LANIER:
Chicago Cop (A cop family thriller)
Steal My Heart (A Romantic Suspense)
Contents
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter One
Josie Yearwood gazed out at the blue-black night waters of Roanoke Sound and the twinkling lights of fishing boats in the distance.
She’d always loved living here on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, with its miles of beaches, its luxury vacation homes, its close-knit communities. Even in the off-season when the vacationers left and shops closed down and the winds turned cold, the barrier island coastline had its charms. And at night under the stars and the vast expanse of midnight blue sky and ocean, the coves and inlets and seashores took on a majestic beauty that was hard to surpass anywhere else.
She was glad she’d come back home, she thought, as she stole a glance at the man behind the wheel of the Mercedes she was riding in.
Tall and lean, with casual ease he wore a pair of slim tapered Dockers, a navy-and-white dot half-knit shirt, and a dark sport coat. His face was intriguing. Great bone structure framed by wavy amber blond hair cut long on the top and short on the sides. His deep penetrating eyes were as blue as the ocean.
He was better-looking than she expected from his online profile. Having dated several dozen prospects from various dating sites, she’d decided to try a new one. And so far, this guy was rating higher than average. He got extra points for being a CFO of a logistics company in Charlotte.
Josie always did have a soft spot for rich men.
He’d taken her to her favorite restaurant in Manteo and had spared no expense, earning him more points. When he’d asked her if she’d like to go to the microbrewery in Kill Devil Hills for dessert and a handcrafted beer, she couldn’t say no. Even though she had a rule about not going anywhere with a guy until the third date.
Something about him made her break it this time.
They drove across the bridge and a few miles along South Croatan Highway, then he turned onto a side street and into one of those pricey oceanfront neighborhoods. After a few yards, he made another turn.
Looking out the window, she smoothed the skirt of the heather three-quarter sleeve jersey knit dress she’d paired with a plaid jacket and leather ankle boots. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He gave her a heart-stopping smile.
They drove past more homes and condos. Three- and four-story luxury homes like the kind her grandmother used to clean for a living. Josie had lived in a penthouse when she’d been in New York, but she hadn’t been inside one of these edifices since she was a child. Most of them were rental properties, and this time of year over half were vacant.
They went a little farther and he pulled into a drive and came to a stop.
Josie gazed up at the massive three-story structure. Under the yard lights she could see it was painted a sunny yellow and had pretty white trim. A long white staircase led to the front door and two white wooden decks that ran all around to the back of the house.
“Is this your rental?” she giggled, suddenly realizing she’d had too much Sangria at the restaurant.
“I’m using it while I’m here.”
He’d told her he was on vacation for three weeks.
“I thought we were going to the microbrewery.”
“I wanted to take you here first.”
She could just imagine the amenities on the inside. Plus there would be a breath-taking view of the Atlantic.
“It’s got a hot tub on the second deck. You’ve got to see it.” Without waiting for an answer, he hopped out of the car and came around to open her door.
A warning bell went off in Josie’s head and she hesitated.
Chuckling he leaned in
. “What are you waiting for?”
What was she waiting for? She really wanted to see this place. Was it the alcohol making her let down her guard? Before she could figure that out, she let him take her hand and pull her out of the car.
When he put his arm around her and led her to the door to the lower level of the house, she stopped. The wind blew against her face giving her a strange chill and waking her brain up a bit.
“We’re going in that way?”
“It’s got an elevator. C’mon.” There was a slight harshness to his tone that set her nerves on edge.
“Maybe we should just head for the microbrewery.” Or better yet, home.
“C’mon, Josie.”
His grip around her grew tighter. He pulled her along, and before she knew it she was inside the dark enclosure.
Most of the houses near the waters had spaces like this for storage and water flow during storms and hurricanes. Some were furnished. This one wasn’t, but it had a concrete floor.
He slid a door closed behind her and reached for a switch. A single light bulb with no shade came on. Beneath was nothing but a single wooden chair. Not exactly the amenity she had imagined.
Before she could ask where the elevator was, she felt cool metal clamp around her wrist and heard it click shut.
She looked down. Handcuffs? Had he had them in his pocket the whole time?
Her heart began to pound. She spun toward him, forcing a smile. “Hey, I’m not into kinky stuff. Especially on a first date.”
“That’s not what I heard, Beauty Queen.”
Beauty Queen? No one had called her that in years. “What?”
“You really don’t remember me, do you?”
She stared at him, trying to recall his features. She’d dated a lot of guys over the years. Tons of them. She didn’t remember this one.
“Look, I think it’s time to call it a night. Why don’t you just take me home?”
His sharp laugh was hollow and frightening. “But the evening’s entertainment is just about to start.”
Her heart began to hammer in her chest, but she knew she couldn’t let him know she was afraid. “I mean it, now.”
“And so do I.” Suddenly his eyes filled with such hate, it took her breath.
He pulled her over to the chair. She struggled, clung to a nearby cabinet for a moment. Then he yanked her off it and forced her down into the chair. Holding her with his body, he jerked her hands behind her.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Not nearly enough.” He fastened the cuff to her other hand.
She twisted and kicked out at him, but he moved away and her foot hit only air. She let out a scream.
“Help,” she cried wildly.
“Why are you making this so difficult?” Swiftly he pulled a pair of dark leather gloves out of his pocket and put them on.
Then the leather clamped down over her mouth.
She screamed into the glove, even though she knew no one could hear her.
His face twisting with irritation, he shoved his free hand into his coat and drew out a pocket knife. With a flick, he snapped it open and held it to her face.
The blade was long and sharp. It glistened under the light bulb. Oh, my God, she thought, her brain fully awake now. This guy was crazy.
“You will be quiet now, won’t you, Josie?” he said to her as if she were a child.
Realizing he’d cut her if she tried to fight, she nodded. Slowly he pulled his hand and the knife away. Then he turned toward the row of cabinets against the wall.
She took several deep breaths, trying to keep panic from engulfing her. If she could talk to him, reason with him, maybe she could get free.
“Please let me go,” she begged softly. “I won’t tell anyone about this.”
Instead of answering, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a roll of duct tape.
She twisted her wrists in the handcuffs, trying to get loose. If she could drag the chair over to that door they’d come through, maybe she could get out. But the chair wouldn’t budge. She craned her neck and saw it was fastened to the floor with metal bolts.
A wild thought went through her brain. He had the cuffs with him. And the gloves. He was prepared. How long had he planned this? Since he’d asked her out online? Before then? Had he done this before?
Oh, why hadn’t she checked him out more thoroughly?
He sliced through the roll of duct tape in his hands and turned toward her, lifting it toward her face. He was going to gag her.
“You don’t have to do that. I won’t scream again.”
A corner of his mouth turned up. “Oh, yes, you will.”
Her blood went cold. “I have money,” she lied. “My family is wealthy. They’ll give you anything you want.”
He forced the tape over her mouth. “You don’t understand. It’s you I want. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you? Do you know how humiliating it is to be rejected by everyone? To live every day in torment? Wanting to die?”
What was he talking about? Nobody was rejecting him.
“Of course you don’t. You’re popular. You’ve always been popular. That’s why I have to show you what it’s like to feel real pain.”
He strolled to the counter and picked up the knife again. Once more he turned toward her.
She stared at him, fear clawing her insides. Please, please don’t do this, she tried to beg. But the tape muffled her words.
He came toward her. She tried to plead with him with her eyes.
He ignored her and began to slice open her new dress. She felt the cold air against her skin. Every part of her shivered with terror. No. Please, no. Please don’t do this.
But he did.
And just as he’d said, she began to scream into the tape, though she knew no one could hear her. She closed her eyes and felt the tears start to stream down her face.
And then she felt the incredible pain as he dug the blade into her flesh.
Chapter Two
The sun was just setting over the sound as Officer Cindy Smith made her way up South Croatan Highway in her patrol car. Just past the Dairy Queen, she could see the rosy colors peeking over the rooftops of the vacation homes that lined the horizon, the brilliant hues lighting up the overcast sky.
Maybe she could take in a real sunset once in a while if she wasn’t stuck on second shift patrol every Saturday night.
Her job as a low level Nags Head police officer had turned out to be pretty boring. Oh, she’d processed a few B&E’s. She’d brought in a guy on drug charges a few months ago. But most of the time the work was dull and monotonous. Especially in the off season.
But then, that was her own fault. With a sigh, she wondered what she’d be doing now if she hadn’t quit the Parker Agency a year and a half ago.
She’d been near the end of her training when the instructor, Detective Judd, had started talking about final examinations. At the very sound of the words, she’d frozen and started looking for a way out. Then her father got sick, and she’d used his illness as an excuse to go home to North Carolina’s Outer Banks where she’d grown up.
Three months later her father succumbed to lung cancer, and she told herself she had to take care of her grieving mother. Instead of going back to the Parker Agency and finishing her training, she’d looked for a job at a local police department.
And here she was.
What would she be doing now if she’d stayed at the Agency?
She’d wondered that a lot since she’d come back home. All her life she’d wanted to be a hot shot detective, facing down scary killers, solving crimes others couldn’t figure out.
As a kid, she’d watched all the cop shows on TV she could. Her father used to watch them with her, while her mother fussed at him, saying he was encouraging their daughter to pursue a life of danger.
Her mother hadn’t needed to worry. Cindy had discovered she didn’t have the stomach for danger. Every time she’d had the chance to go for her dream, she
couldn’t do it. Still, she longed for adventure. At times, she’d thought about going back to Atlanta, but she could never work up the courage to do it.
Besides, there was another reason why she’d left the Parker Agency.
Miranda Steele.
Nobody knew who she was or where she came from, though Dave Becker told her once he thought she’d been with the FBI. She was so good. She’d solved the murders of two young girls and an heiress before she was halfway through training. And she had a thing with Wade Parker.
Cindy knew she didn’t stand a chance. Out of insecurity, she’d been nasty to Steele. She could admit that now. But to be truthful, the woman intimidated her.
Cindy knew she’d never be a detective like that. No, for her it was giving out DUIs, checking abandoned vehicles, and driving up and down her designated portion of this narrow two-hundred-mile-long strip of islands.
Today’s feature was a four-fifteen—disturbing the peace. One of the residents in the oceanfront homes had complained someone had left a loud radio on.
Real excitement there.
With a heavy sigh, Cindy turned off the highway and into the quiet neighborhood. Rolling past the expensive rentals, she looked for activity in the yards. There was none.
Some of the owners had come in to do repairs and get their places ready for sale, others to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday with their families on the beach. But unlike the summer months, when vacationers came in and out of the houses like people going through a revolving door, this time of year most of the homes were empty.
Cindy pulled up to the residence of the woman who’d made the complaint and rolled down her window.
The neighbor was right. She could hear the music from the street.
She rolled her squad car along the curb until she reached its source two doors down. She looked up at the big yellow house with the white trim. There were no cars in the driveway or parked along the street. Didn’t look like there was a party going on.
She got out of the car, pulled her jacket around her and made her way across the lawn and up the dozen or so steps to the front door.
She rang the doorbell and waited. No response. She gave the doorframe a loud rap and waited again. Still nothing.
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