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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictionally, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
Published by Premiere Books.
CHAPTER ONE
Twenty-five Years Ago
West Memphis, Tennessee
When the door from the kitchen into his garage workshop opened, he thought it was his wife coming to tell him she was back home from grocery shopping. Smiling, he continued to run the sander over the wood, thinking of how she would sneak up behind him, wrap her arms around his midsection, and kiss the back of his neck.
She would smell like roses, a fragrance she used in her shampoo, the lotion she smoothed on her skin, and the perfume she dabbed behind her ears and knees. Her small embrace would be a welcome respite from the sawdust and noise in his carpentry workshop. A small break from the work he loved, turning raw wood into beautiful furniture.
It might even lead to other things. They had been married only three years, practically newlyweds. That he, a man of forty, could be so lucky was one of the miracles of his life.
As the footsteps came closer, he whistled one of the Jerone Kern love songs his wife adored.
Wait.
That wasn’t the scent of roses. It was gasoline and axle grease.
He half turned and the garrote came around his neck, tightened until he almost blacked out.
“You took everything from him.” The voice close to his ear was male, deep and gritty. Chilling. “Now I’m going to take everything from you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Dunkin’ Donuts, Memphis
Detective Dudley Stephens and his partner, Detective Jackson “Jack” Jordan, were in a Dunkin’ Donuts in west Memphis grabbing doughnuts and coffee for a late afternoon break when the call came in.
“A hysterical woman is calling for assistance at 1310 Fawn Grove Road.”
Chills went through Dudley. He knew that place.
“We’re on it,” Jack said.
“What’s the nature of the problem?” Dudley asked.
“We don’t know,” the dispatcher told him. “The woman just keeps screaming, ‘Help! Please hurry.’”
Dudley put the siren on and tore toward the house he knew like the back of his hand—his brother Charlie’s new house, the one he’d bought only six weeks ago with his wife Laura.
The car roared along the river and wound among oak trees showing the first greening of spring. Flowering dogwood and wild pear trees dotted the lane with white blossoms.
Nature’s extravagant display of beauty was a stark contrast to the scene he witnessed at his brother’s house. Laura was standing in front of Charlie’s workshop, her face red from screaming, the garage door open, a carnage behind her.
Blood. Everywhere. On the floor, the walls, the workbench, the skill saw, the hammer, the sander, and the wood that was being transformed into a chair by the carpenter, who was nowhere in sight.
Bile rose in Dudley’s throat and terror seized him so it was impossible to move. “Where’s Charlie?” His sister-in-law looked at him without seeing him, her eyes blank, her expression terrified. She kept shaking her head.No. No. No.“LAURA!. Where’s my brother?”
Jack clamped a hand over his shoulder. “Easy now. I’ve got this.” He called for backup then moved toward Laura Stephens, graceful for such a big man, huge and muscular. At only thirty, he had the easy confidence and skills of a much more seasoned cop, tough on criminals but surprisingly gentle with victims. He was a distant cousin to the sports legend Michael Jordan, a connection that gave him bragging rights he never used.
“Can you tell me what happened here?” He leaned close to Laura, his face a mask of kindness and concern. She backed up as if she’d been slapped. “Take your time. Do you need a drink of water first?”
She shook her head as if she were shaking off the shock. Her story came out in disconnected sighs. She’d been at the grocery store and had come home to find the workshop covered with blood and her husband missing. She’d searched everywhere, calling his name though every inch of the house and as much of their five-acre property as she could manage.