Published by: 82 Mercer Publishing
Release Date: Coming July 1, 2021
Hollywood Detective Pat Norelli is solving cases at breakneck speed, but there's one murderer that still haunts her sleep, the serial killer known as the Poser.
When a close friend of Norelli turns up dead, it's thought to be a heart attack. Then, to the detective's horror, new evidence comes to light that she may have been involved in her friend's murder. A devastated Norelli knows she is being set up by the Poser, and now it's only a matter of time before Internal Affairs brings her in as a suspect.
Norelli has to act fast, and with the help of some unexpected allies, she quickly finds herself in an international manhunt. In a race against the clock and driven to clear her name, Norelli must break more than a few rules in order to bring the true killer to justice.
Can Detective Norelli finally bring the Poser in - dead or alive, saving her career and reputation? Or will this psychopath continue to taunt the detective as he revels in her downfall?
Also in this series:
Excerpt - CHAPTER ONE
Palm Desert, California — Sunday, 6 a.m.
Norelli’s eyes flick back and forth beneath closed lids. Pinched in a permanent frown, beads of sweat dot her forehead. Erratic breathing and twitches punctuate her tanned face. Struggling to get free, she twists in one direction then the other. Pushing aside haunting images, her eyes suddenly snap open. The only light in the dark room comes from a bluish glow—illuminating a familiar face.
“More bad dreams, Patricia?”
She remains motionless, wondering if she is lost in a nightmare, or awaking to one. Disoriented, a sudden flash momentarily blinds her.
“Nice,” the low voice whispers, “another trophy for my collection.”
She slowly reaches under her pillow.
Struggling to gain her bearings, she works to slow her breath then stretches toward the bedside lamp. Her finger finds the switch, and with a turn, the room lights up.
“Morning, Love,” Darius smiles, squinting at the light.
Dressed in black from head to toe, he looks calm and resembles a burglar. But he was neither. His nervous eyes belies his steady demeanor.
Looking down, familiar strips of silk cloth bind her ankles to the footboard. Her naked body—covered in sweat—lures him to sneak glimpses and causes her heart to race.
“Dreams still tormenting you?”
“What are you doing here?” She says, looking around. His eyes follow.
“Just tying up loose ends,” he purrs, tightening his grip on her ankles with his left hand, while sliding the smartphone into his back pocket with the other. “Pun intended,” he grins.
She writhes to get loose, but his grip is vise-like.
Her eyes widen as he removes a syringe from his jacket pocket, and a shock wave of fear shoots through her body.
Removing a plastic cap from the end of the needle with his teeth, he spit it to the floor.
“One could say I’m putting a period at the end of a long sentence.”
“You’re insane, Darius!”
“And why in the hell risk your freedom for—”
“Hah,” he blurts. “What freedom? Knowing you’ll likely never stop chasing me.”
She was losing circulation and patience. “Not likely,” she glares, “certain.”
“Riiiiiight,” he smirks, pointing the syringe between her first and second toes. “When they find you, they’ll assume you had a heart attack. Which will have actually happened because your heart will suffer enough drugs to drop a charging bull. Or a raging Bobby,” he cackles.
With each passing moment, her fear increases. ...