Lisa Beth Darling
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Helen Makris tried to make a new life for herself in Tarrytown, Maine where she expected to quietly live out the rest of her days pursuing her passion of photography. She never expected to attract the attentions of Colonel Kevin Smith or those of The Shaw Street Strangler a serial killer hunting the young women of the picturesque New England village.
Two Second-Chance lovers both with painful pasts, Helen and Kevin grow closer as the bodies pile up until suspicion forms around Helen's new lover and his noticeable absences from town. As The Strangler zeroes in on Helen Kevin is determined not only to prove his innocence but to keep her from becoming The Shaw Street Stranger's next victim.
Come along for a spine tingling ride that descends deep into the diseased mind of a serial killer. This chilling suspenseful thriller will have you on the edge of your seat to the very last word.
At first, Helen balks at his touch. Looking down at his strong hands, she sees them covered in blood and lets out a groan. Then, before her bewildered eyes the blood fades away, soaks into his skin, and disappears. She needs him now, needs him near, needs his strength and soon leans against him for support. Support he offers with willing gratitude. "S-s-sou-" she takes a deep breath and lets it out quickly forcing out the word as well, "Souvenirs," the slight tremble turns to a wracking shake as it shoots from her whirling head to her toes. "Do you think he…takes…souvenirs?"
"What kind of souvenirs, sweetheart?" Kevin gently sits her down, pulls the crocheted blanket from the back of the sectional and wraps it around her slender shoulders before taking a seat next to her. Brushing the hair away from her worried ashen face his heart sinks in his broad chest. Taking up her hands in his he waits for her to collect her thoughts and answer him.
Things are missing, lots of things are missing lately now that she's thinking about it. She's blamed her aging mind and her own stupidity along with the washing machine but, "My glasses? They were right there," she holds both hands out to the book on the coffee table, "I was reading the book, I was tired, I put it down, I put my glasses on top of it, and I went to bed. I know I did. In the morning they were gone."
Sheriff Natick opens his notebook as he takes a seat in the rocking chair by the fire but diagonally across from Helen. "Anything else missing Mrs. Makris?"
Helen looks over at Kevin, leans in and whispers, "A pair of my panties…and the bra. Would he take those?"
"Lingerie," Kevin says in a voice loud for everyone to hear, "panties and bra." He watches Natick write it down before looking at her. "Yes, he would definitely take those. What else?"
"I think maybe some candles are missing and, well, the sash of my robe went missing." They are all such small insignificant things. Why would she think anyone was stealing them before now? One thing wasn't quite so small or insignificant and the fact that she'd misplaced it upset her. "My necklace," she looks over to Rafe, "the diamond and ruby one your father gave me for our twentieth wedding anniversary," she catches Anderson's gaze, "I went looking for it a few days ago and it's not in my jewelry box. I thought it was just me."
Across the room Rafe let out a growling groan, "Anything else, mom?"
"Cologne," Helen whispers and holds Kevin's hands tighter, "sometimes I think, sometimes I smell, musk but it’s cheap not like your father wore, not really. The smoke?" Her eyes roll over to Kevin, their usual sparkle extinguished. "It's not wood, is it? It's pipe tobacco."
About the Author
I'm 47 years-old and I've been married to wonderful and talented husband, Roy, for the last 27 years. Together we've raised two beautiful daughters to adulthood right here in my hometown of New London, CT.
Through my full-length novels and series I strive to bring conflict, passion, love, and suspense to unique couples--how about a Greek God and a Fey, a retiring military man and an aging widowed hippie, a famous writer/director and a lonely hitch-hiker, or a b-grade actor and a very lucky first-time author? Since I'm never one to shy away from the less pleasant things in life, indeed I believe that it is in the Darkness where Character is created, determined, and defined, my heroes and heroines have their love tested by demons from within and without.
ALL of my works are intended for a Mature Audience Only this includes most of my non-fiction books. They are intended for those who like their reading on the dark and gritty side. They are not intended for the faint of heart or those who enjoy a sweet read.
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