Now Available For Pre-Order - Book 2 in the Jenna James Legal Thrillers - Shadows of Doubt

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PROLOGUE

Kerri studied the notes she’d added to the diary, comparing them to the ones before. The writing was close, but a handwriting expert would see the subtle differences. She would eventually have to recopy the entire book just in case it was ever found. His legacy had to live on without blemish.

“But what about your legacy?”

She ignored the voice in her head, much as she’d ignored Keira most of their life. She would have her legacy in time, but not until Simone’s work was finished, and not until the world was ready to recognize her talent as an artist.

She closed the book, picked up her glass of wine, rose and went to study the painting of Jake Savior she’d hung on the den wall. Simone would have been proud of her. It was some of her best work. She’d captured not only his handsome face, but also the quintessence of his soul. She’d painted him while he watched his wife feeding ducks in the park. The deep blue eyes had revealed so much to her. His compassion, and his deep love for this woman. But there were also shadows in his eyes. Shadows of pain and loss not quite forgotten. She knew where those shadows came from. It must have been horrible for an eight year old child to watch his mother beaten day after day until finally in a moment of sheer desperation she attacked her attacker and gave her son a chance to escape and run for help. Help that came, but much too late.

A deep rattling cough came from behind the bedroom door. Kerri’s shoulders slumped, and the hand holding the glass shook as anguish ripped through her like a thousand tiny paper cuts that throbbed and ached. It was their fault Simone had been hurt. He’d been upset because the job wasn’t finished. Like an artist when the painting was incomplete or an author when the book was only half written. No true artist could live with that. It ate away at your soul until you slowly starved to death.

She opened the door slowly, watching the sheet covering the withered, scarred body for any signs of movement that would signal he was still breathing. It rose slightly as another rattling cough shook the bed. She blew him a kiss and closed the door, leaning against it for just a moment to steady herself. He no longer bore any resemblance to the man she’d fallen in love with, but his essence was still in there somewhere struggling to survive. His zest for life was one of the things she’d loved about him.

She poured another glass of wine and went back to the painting. This was the beginning of her legacy. Any normal child would have been driven insane by what Jake Savior had endured with both his mother’s death, and then his father’s subsequent suicide. Instead he’d followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the police force as a champion for justice. People like him couldn’t see the true artistic beauty of Simone’s bombings. Like her, Simone was a true artist. He studied his subjects. Their death was imminent, but Simone made sure they went out in an explosion of beauty.

Her gaze fell on the remaining four paintings sitting near the baseboard. Harry Redmond, Clifford Beaumont, Jenna James, and Marcus Dade. They were all guilty of murdering the heart and soul of the only human being she had ever loved. She would be their judge and jury, and she would mete out justice fitting their crimes.

She picked up her paint brush, and stared into the deep blue eyes of Jake Savior as she sipped her wine. It wasn’t enough just to kill him. She painted a scar running from his right eye to just below his chin. She wanted him to suffer, as she had suffered. To die a little each day as he realized there was nothing left to live for. A soft smile played around her lips as she thought about the plans she’d made. Before she was finished they would all go insane.

A loud moan came from behind the closed door followed by another rattle. She glanced at the syringe and bottle sitting on the coffee table. The doctor had told her the time would come when his suffering would become unbearable. She tossed the paint brush into the fireplace and picked up the syringe and bottle before walking slowly to the bedroom door. It was time for his suffering to end and theirs to begin.

Coming in 2012--Bet you can't. . .FIND ME

"Imagine a killer that can kill at will, from a distance. No gun, no weapon. Nothing more than a thought. And then imagine a world of women, men, children, that occasionally, sometimes without conscious knowledge, reach out intuitively."









PROLOGUE

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me . . .

But He wasn't with her.

She leaned against the cold steel door, her eyes closed in prayer. "Father, why have you forsaken me? What sins have I committed that you would punish me this way?"

When you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide my eyes from you; even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood.

"Fiank-o!" she screamed.

Her eyes flew open, and she spread her hands in front of her. Blood rimmed her manicured nails. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the blood soaked blouse plastered to her chest. So much blood for such a tiny body.

Ripping at her blouse, she mewed like a wounded animal. "Then take my eyes so I no longer see the blood of my child on my hands. Take my ears so I no longer hear the shrieks from below, the clanging of the chains."

Silence met her cry. God was no longer listening. She sank to her knees and ripped at her hair, bordering on madness. How could they do this to her? Had she not served them well for more than ten years?

"You know what you must do, Aggie. I have seen the feux-folet. She is the child of Diable and she has cursed you."

For a moment rage blocked the pain squeezing her heart. "You!" Her eyes filled with hatred, fists clenched at her side. "You brought this upon us with your superstitions and your curses."

"Mwen pòv zanj pèdi, you know I speak the truth. I was here when she was born without life, her body blue, her soul already beyond this world. Five years have come and gone. As she grows, so does the evil. They warned you this day would come."

The old woman's words washed over her like a river of ice, extinguishing the fire of her rage, leaving only a cold, still emptiness. "I begged them, Mother. Begged for her life as her blood seeped through my fingers.

I have served God, and I have served the spirits. But they have forsaken me."
She raised tortured eyes to beseech the old woman, her efforts met with stony silence and beady eyes filled with accusation.

"I begged them!"

Her voice tapered to a whimper. "She is only five. I have lost one already. Must I lose them both?"

The old woman knelt beside her. Taking her right hand she prized open the fingers and closed them around the cold steel of the knife. "You can't cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down. You disobeyed. You have been punished. Now pick up your cross and carry it."

The silence in the room was broken only by her whimpers; the old woman had left as quietly as she'd come. The knife lay heavy in her hand, just as the task before her lay heavy on her heart.

She rose and opened the door to the basement, ignoring the shrieks and clang of the chains. Her feet descended the steps slowly, the old woman's words echoing inside her head: "You can't cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down."

Who Wants To Live Forever - Short Story

This story actually started out as something much different, but took a turn of its own. First draft, and I'm sure it needs some work, but I hope you enjoy it.

Who Wants To Live Forever

"I don't understand, Professor Crims, wouldn't it be better for you to make this assessment?"

Alexander Crims simply shook his head and patted me on the back. "You'll do fine. Just remember not to let him get too close. You're the best I've ever seen, Jamie. Get inside his mind. Find out what makes him tick, but most of all, find out where he put those poor girls."

I stared though the glass at Daniel Desario. It wasn't hard to understand why the girls went with him. The dark curly hair and deep blue eyes. That sexy smile with perfect white teeth. Not to mention a body that made even the oldest woman on the street stop and stare. He was an Adonis. The perfect male specimen. And he was a killer.

"Shouldn't I at least look over the file? Get a feel for his method and why he took these particular girls?"

Sergeant Ames stepped up beside us. "The less you know the more likely he is to open up to you. Talk about the girls and why he killed them. Where he put them."

I glanced back at Desario to find he was looking at me. Straight through the glass, right down to my soul. A shiver ran down my spine, quickly followed by guilt. It wasn't a shiver of fear, but instead a shiver of excitement. One of anticipation. Almost sexual in its intensity. Dear God, what was wrong with me. This man had killed six women, and five of the bodies were still missing.

Picking up my notebook, I took a deep breath and gave Crims and Ames my best "shame on you" look. I felt like a fly caught in the spider's web, waiting for the moment when the poison would enter my bloodstream and life as I knew it slip away. "I hope you know what you doing."

The sound of laughter filled the room when I stepped inside. "Now this is just too rich. I think I've died already and gone to heaven."

Desario's voice shocked me. It wasn't loud and boisterous as I'd expected. Instead it was soft and soothing, with a quiet melody I couldn't quite put my finger on. Much like the sound of birds on an early spring morning.

"Mr. Desario, I'm Dr. Jamie Worthington. I'll be doing your assessment for the court. "

"Have a seat, Jamie. "

My hands trembled slightly as I pulled out the chair. My name had rolled off his tongue with just a little emphasis on the "Ja". The way a lover whispers your name just before he pulls you close and claims your lips in a kiss to die for.

Shaking my head to clear the image that had already started my blood on a slow boil, I opened the notebook and quickly jotted down the date and time, conscious that although we appeared totally alone, at least two sets of eyes were watching our every move, listening to every word.

"They didn't tell you, did they?"

I glanced up from my notes, seemingly calm and in control. "Tell me what?"

"Why you were chosen."

"I assure you, Mr. Desario, I was chosen because of my skills. Nothing more. Nothing less." I spoke the words with a confidence I didn't feel. "Now, why don't you tell me about yourself."

The deep blue eyes darkened. "Why don't we skip the bullshit."

I met his gaze, swallowing hard. I was out of my league. I knew it, he knew it and I had a sneaky suspicion that Professor Crims and Sergeant Ames also knew it.

"So what would you like to talk about?"

Desario smiled, white teeth gleaming. "Ask me what you really want to know. I just might answer it."

The spider was getting closer. Breathing down my neck. "All right. Why did you kill Tabitha Mars?"

He sat back, fingers linked in front of him, eyes locked on my face. Totally at ease. His voice dropped an octave as his eyes darkened in memory.

"I liked to watch her sleep. I could sit for hours watching the soft rise and fall of her bosom as she breathed. The gentle curve of her hip under the sheet. The delicate shadows beneath those long eye lashes. She was an angel of perfection. And that's why I had to kill her."

Desario gave me a dazzling smile. "No one understands. Perfection lasts for such a short time. But I preserve it forever."

Jotting down "crazy, crazy, crazy" I kept my voice steady. "And the others?"
"They were all perfect. Their skin soft as silk beneath my fingers. Hair that smelled like roses. Lips that tasted like wine."

Every word was a caress, washing over me. His voice mesmerizing. His eyes tempting me to explore things I had only dreamed about. He leaned across the table. "I only took what they freely offered."

"You took their life. Was that freely offered?" I had to get back to the job. Back to control before I found myself forever lost inside those eyes, that voice. Before I begged him to take to me too.

"They will remain forever perfect. Forever beautiful. Forever loved. It's what they wanted. What they asked me for."

Closing my notebook I stood up. I'd heard and seen enough to know for sure, and to make my recommendation to the court. The rest was up to Desario. We still had no idea where the bodies of Stacy Newton, Amanda Scarsborough , Katherine James, Beth Turner and Jennifer Strange were. And I knew asking him was a waste of time. He'd never tell me. "Thank you, Mr. Desario. I think we're through."

I walked steadily toward the door, proud that my inner trembling seemed totally masked.

"I'd love to show them to you."

Startled I turned back to Desario. "You'd what?"

He smiled at me, eyes never leaving my face. "I can see you appreciate perfection. I'd like to show them to you. Perhaps then you'll understand why you were here."

I knew Sergeant Ames was watching through the two way mirror. I could almost feel the tension through the glass. Sitting back down I opened the notebook again. "All right. Tell me where they are."

Desario laughed. "I said I'd show them to you." He nodded toward the glass. "I'll even let them come along for the ride."

# # #

The road was long and winding, the house totally obscured by trees. It almost looked out of place, as if it had been transported here from another time. Old and beautiful in a classic Dark Shadows sort of way. No one had spoken since we left the jail. Professor Crims and Sergeant Ames now whispered from the back seat as a group of six armed officers exited the car behind us.

Desario looked at me, his blue eyes darkening to almost black. "Welcome to my home, Jamie."

It was clearly an invitation. One he expected me to smile and warmly acknowledge. His gaze lowered to my breasts, watching the gentle rise and fall setting off a tingling that quickly consumed me. Damn him. He knew his attraction, and he knew how to use it.

"Gentlemen, would you like to come in and meet my family? Perhaps you'll grace us with your presence for dinner."

Crims and Ames exchanged looks before exiting the car. "You try anything funny and the only dinner you'll be having is dirt." Ames slapped the pistol on his hip. "Nothing would make me happier than putting one right between your eyes."

Turning to his officers he signaled them to spread out and start searching the area. "Stay close together. This psycho may not have worked alone."

The night grew quiet. Too quiet. No birds. No crickets. We were in the country, there should have been crickets. Desario turned to me, his voice a mere whisper. "I'd love for you to be a part of my family, Jamie. Stay with me. You'll be loved as you've never been loved before. You'll never grow old. Never wrinkle. You can stay as perfect as you are right now, forever."

I found myself whispering as I answered him. "What do you mean? No one can stay young forever."

He turned his gaze toward the old mansion. "They will."

I followed his gaze as five of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen walked out of the mansion. They could have been sisters, but I knew they weren't. And each of them could have been my sister.

Desario chuckled. "Now you know why they chose you."

They'd used me as bait hoping that Desario wouldn't be able to resist seeing me beside the others. Mentally adding me to his collection. "They're not dead. You said you killed them."

"I took their life and gave them a new one. One where they'll always be perfect."

"You're. . ." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"It isn't what you think, Jamie. If they had left us alone Tabitha would have joined my family, and we would have left with no one the wiser. They interrupted us before the process was finished." He gazed out the window, watching the women approach. "I didn't force any of them to stay with me. I merely gave them a choice."

Ames had pulled his gun. Crims was cowering behind him. "You kill people. What kind of life would that be?"

"We kill in self-defense. They threatened my family. Wouldn't you kill to protect your family?"

I watched as the women disposed of Ames and Crims. I'd expected an eating frenzy or something horrible like I'd seen on the movies. Instead with two swift twists of the neck they dropped the bodies beside the car and stepped back waiting. His hand touched mine sending sparks up my forearm. "You can leave, live out your life, grow old and die." He cupped my chin, his lips close to mine. "Or you can stay with me and never grow old."

My hands moved slightly, one quickly blinking the car lights on and off, as the other reached for the wooden stake just inside my jacket. The sounds of swishing arrows filled the night as I stabbed the stake just below his rib cage and up into his heart. "Yes, Daniel, I would kill to protect my family."

The car door opened behind me and Matthew pulled me out running his hands over my neck, checking for wounds. "You scared the hell out of us."

"I had to be sure she wasn't here." I turned watching as my three younger brothers walked slowly out of the forest. Twins share a bond few people understood, and I could feel Jasmine's pull. For just a moment I'd wanted to join her. Share the world she lived in now. For just a moment.

"Okay, guys, let's clean it up. I heard there were some strange disappearances in Kentucky."

Writing - Character Development - Body Language and Show Don't Tell - Part Three

One of the things I love about writing these blogs is that I learn as much as I share. My approach is rather simple at times, but developing real life characters is as simple as watching those around you or a good TV show or movie. Profiling – the physical looks of your character, as well as their little ticks and quirks, and then adding the internal mental/emotional baggage to their persona.

Kentucky has a comedian that has always used real life episodes for his comedy. He can truly entertain you for hours as real life is often funnier than fiction. Of course, if we’re lucky few of us know serial killers or the “bad” guys/gals we write about. Or perhaps we do, and once again if we’re lucky we don’t become a part of their agenda.

I was watching Criminal Minds last night. It was an old show, and one I’ve seen before. But truthfully I’ve never really seen the killer in the light I saw him last night. The show opens with him in his house and his actions clearly show you in the first few minutes that he’s obsessive compulsive. Perhaps someone unfamiliar with obsessive compulsive order at first glance in the apartment would merely sum him up as a neat freak. But closer examination of his movements, the three turns of the door handle before opening it, the measured number of brushes with the tooth brush, the fanatical placing of items exactly as they were before he picked them up all point to something more than just neatness.

As I’ve been blogging on facial expressions I watched his this time. He has a look of innocence, and possibly a little “book wormish”. Not unattractive, but what some of us older people would have labeled “geekish” in our day. Even though I’d seen this show before I at first saw him as the victim (which if I remember correctly, he was a victim as a child, so perhaps that image wasn’t totally off). He leaves the apartment walking down the street and an older woman drops something as she’s getting into her car. He picks it up and gives it to her. A nice, quiet, helpful young man. And so polite. As I stated, he has a look of innocence, and also a look of skittishness. Not someone you would expect as confrontational.

He approaches a house for sale where he’s greeted by the realtor. This throws me in his character just a little, for this action requires a certain boldness. It’s broad daylight, and anyone could walk into this house at any time. He allows her to see the knife for just a moment before he moves in close, shoving the knife underneath her heart. Here his facial expression is truly a work of art. He closes his eyes, his head tilts back just a fraction, and a look of total satisfaction crosses his face. Perhaps sexual satisfaction, but the one thing you know for sure is something about shoving the knife into this woman relieved some inner need. An inner need so strong it was impossible for him to overcome it.

The woman stumbles away and he asks her in a voice that has just the right amount of innocence and curiosity – “Where are you going?”

He follows her as she stumbles into the living room and sits down on the couch. He isn’t too close, not threatening nor helping. He leans over her and looks into her eyes watching her die. Here once again his face is a painting of curiosity, as if he has no understanding of what he’s done, or the consequences of his actions.

My first thoughts—wow, a perfect killer and one no one would see coming. And even though you fear the character you also have just a little sympathy for him because you realize immediately this isn’t who he wants to be—it simply is what life has made him.

Profiling – your characters must fit your story in age, physical looks and internal emotional/mental baggage and/or needs. Work with them by watching others who have similar “needs”. Start with people you know describing them in ways that would probably surprise them, as well as may surprise you as you look underneath the physical persona. Keep a note pad by your side as you’re watching your favorite movie and profile the characters. Play with it and have fun. The next time you sit down to write I believe you’ll find your characters taking on new life.