Excerpt Wednesday – Silent Dreams

Kami climbed into her king-sized bed and pulled her comforter to her chin. She put her hands beneath her head and stared up at the ceiling. She needed to come up with a plan, but had no clue where to begin. Time definitely was not on her side. Josh had made that perfectly clear. She chewed her bottom lip. She had to be cautious with Blaine, enticing her without letting her know it was a trap. Josh wouldn’t be put off any longer. If only she could think of something, anything, to stall him for just a little longer. She removed her hands and rolled onto her side. She stroked the silk sheet. Her apartment was lavish compared to the rattrap Blaine called home, but if she made one wrong move, she’d be back in the gutter and all of this would be gone in a flash. She blew her breath out. If only Blaine was someone she didn’t care about it would be so much easier. But she did care about her. Blaine was not only her friend, but Blaine trusted her. Kami loved Blaine like a sister and treasured their friendship, but how would Blaine feel about her when she learned the truth? More importantly, Kami wondered how she would ever be able to live with herself after she betrayed Blaine in the worst imaginable way. Her lips trembled as tears stung her eyes. Her breathing became raspy as the threatened tears brimmed, and then fell from her eyes.

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Excerpt Wednesday – The Black Heart

Carter threw his hands up. "What the hell happened, Jake? Does anyone know?" His eyes searched the older man's face for some sort of explanation.

Jake slowly shook his head. "We don't know anything for certain yet, Carter. It might take some time to find out what exactly happened."

"You must know something!" Carter demanded. "What about my mother?"

Jake's eyes swept over the smoldering debris. "Carter, you can see for yourself…she didn't have a chance. I'm sorry," he said sympathetically.

"The investigators must have some idea of what happened here. A house just doesn't explode! Was it a gas leak? Hunter said there was no smell of gas when he walked her inside the house."

Jake looked uncomfortably at the ground for a few seconds before raising his eyes to meet Carter's. "It wasn't an accident or a gas explosion. You have a right to know that."

Carter froze. "What?" His body shook. "Are you saying what I think you are?" He choked. "She was murdered?"

He thoughtfully scratched his chin. "We've never had anything like this happen around these parts, Carter. You know that." He looked evenly at him. "We need to determine the motive."

Carter emphatically shook his head. "What vendetta could anyone possibly have against my mother? It doesn't make sense! Who would want her dead?" His eyes narrowed. "My mother didn't have any enemies. You know that, Jake. Could it be a random act?"

"I don't know, Carter."

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Excerpt Wednesday – Twisted Lives

Lightning streaked through the late afternoon sky, followed by ear splitting cracks of thunder. Rain pelted the lifeless form lying on the sodden ground.

"Trevors, get over here!"

Daniel Trevors moved away from the crowd of curious onlookers that had gathered, at the same time wondering what it was about tragedies that brought people out. He motioned to two officers to relieve him, and then rushed to his partner Ben Wilson's side.

"Look at this." Ben pointed at the corpse lying face down.

Daniel squinted, and then focused to where Ben was pointing. He examined the puncture wounds in the man's jacket. "He must have been stabbed twenty times!" He looked at his partner. "You don't think this is connected with the other three, do you, Ben?"

Wilson shrugged. "What do you think?"

"I think we have a serial killer on our hands."

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Excerpt Wednesday – Maggie Quinn

Patrick Quinn, a thin, handsome, dark haired boy of fourteen, squared his shoulders as he looked over the soggy field. He was dressed in a tattered shirt and soiled trousers; his well-worn shoes wouldn't last much longer, but he didn't worry about himself. His family depended on him. His nostrils, filled with the nauseating stench of rotting potatoes, made his stomach lurch. This year he'd hoped for a crop. Anything to sustain them. Now it was gone. He felt the weight of the world come crashing down on him.

He stooped down, surveying the field, and then picked up a rotted potato. He studied it carefully for a few seconds, and then stood and holding it tightly in his hand, thrust his arm toward the sky.

"Why!" he cried as he dropped to his knees in the putrid field. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
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A cottage with a thatched roof and walls made of stones sat almost obscured by the brown countryside, seeming to blend into the landscape. Once it had been a beautiful cottage with lush green grass surrounding it, but now it had fallen into disarray. Still, it was home to the proud Quinn family.

Catherine Quinn, the matriarch of the family, lay in her bed, gravely ill. She was a frail woman in her late forties, who looked much older. She'd been a beauty in her day, but now her once dark silky hair had turned gray. The past few years had taken a heavy toll on her, and now she was succumbing to the fever that had claimed so many of her loved ones. Her feeble hands clutched at her threadbare nightdress. She struggled to speak. Her once bright eyes were now dull and almost lifeless as she tried to focus.

The inside of the cottage was sparsely furnished, with many of its possessions sold long ago. The main room contained Catherine's large bed, which had been brought out of the room she'd once shared with her husband and placed in the main room to provide more warmth for her. The other two rooms belonged to her children. Next to the bed where Catherine laid, the family Bible and a bowl of water sat on a little table. The opposite end of the room contained a small wooden table with four chairs. On one wall was a long shelf where food and dishes were stored. All of the furniture was crudely made. A large window stood at the front of the room, and a smaller one at the opposite end. The walls
were bare except for some religious pictures. The floor had no covering, and many of the boards were rotting. A large fireplace took up almost one entire side of the room, and was used for cooking as well as heat. The home used to be filled with fine furniture and two couches and comfortable chairs. They were gone now, having been sold to purchase food for the family and pay the ever increasing taxes. But it was never enough, and money was as scarce as food.

Catherine shifted in the bed. She opened her mouth and again struggled to speak. Her words were faint and garbled.

Maggie Quinn, a beauty at the age of twenty-two with flowing dark auburn hair, looked up from where she sat at the table quietly mending her brother Patrick's shirt. Around the village, Maggie Quinn was known for her determination and strong willed feisty character. It took a lot to break her spirit. Not even this desolation could break her pride in her beloved Ireland. The land would come back, she was sure of it, and voiced it to whoever would listen. Soon the fields would be prosperous, and there would be enough money to purchase proper food and clothing once again, she would say. But friends were long gone, and the family rarely had a visitor…not even Maggie's fiancé Ian O'Malley. But she knew that he had his own family and crops to deal with. His family hadn't fared any better than hers. The lazy days of strolling through the meadows were gone, but she prayed every day that they would soon return. When they did, though, she knew nothing would be the same. Those taken due to the fever would never return. A pang pierced her heart.

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