Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Control has always been my greatest strength—the key to my empire, the shield that silences my enemies, and the force that hides my darkness. And Detective Francesca DeMarco threatens to shatter my carefully crafted world.
With every day that passes, she’s inching closer to uncovering the truth—about the murders...and about me.
When she finds an old photograph, she thinks she’s uncovered my darkest secret.
She’s wrong, but the fear in her eyes tells me she’s afraid I’ll be next. And it’s unraveling everything I’ve worked so hard to protect.
She’s falling deeper, getting closer, and if she keeps digging, she’ll uncover the truth—about me, about who I am.
And when she does, I’ll either be her salvation or her destruction.
Continue the dangerous journey of love and secrets in The Perfect Deception, book two of the Shadows and Strings trilogy.
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CHAPTER ONE
Frankie
“We got five fuckin’ vics now, Frankie. This is bullshit.” The tension in Jay’s voice is completely understandable. With five dead bodies splashed all over every newsstand and tv in the city, the pressure is on us to find this asshole.
But to do that, we have to figure out how—or if—these victims are connected. “I’m sure there is,” I tell him as we head inside the morgue to meet with the medical examiner, Dr. Chris Montgomery. “We just haven’t found the connection yet. We will,” I assure him.
“Yeah, but probably not before another body drops.” He grumbles and shakes his head. Pissed off vibes radiate from his broad shoulders. “We have to be missing something and with the Chief breathing down my fucking neck we have to find it sooner rather than later.”
I agree with Jay. There are enough bodies with just enough similarities that even the top brass is using the two words no one in law enforcement wants to use. Serial killer. A total of five bodies. Five lives taken for no good reason. Five men who will never see their families, hug them or celebrate with them ever again. And why? Because some asshole freak out there gets off on torturing people and then killing them.
Jay pushes open the door to Chris’ office with more force than necessary and the doctor looks up with a frown. “Good morning, detectives. Everything all right?”
I roll my eyes in apology for my partner. “Jay is just frustrated that victimology isn’t panning out fast enough.”
“Frustrated? I’m goddamn livid.” He raises his hand and smacks it against the door. “Doc, tell us you have something, anything that’ll get us closer to this prick?”
Chris stands, taking a sip from his coffee cup before setting it back down and grabbing a chart from his desk. “I’m not sure.” His gaze bounces between us and then down at the chart. “Have you considered groups that don’t exactly have a membership list?”
My mind instantly starts racing as I try to come up with a mental list of organizations that might not keep a list of members. “Like church?”
Jay snorts. “Trust me, churches know exactly who their members are so they can ask ’em for money at every opportunity.”
“You’re right,” I reply, drawing the words out with a sigh. “So not church.” Weight loss groups are out because men are statistically unlikely to attend those, and gyms require memberships. “Support groups?” I blurt out like a rookie.
“That’s what I was thinking.” Chris points at me, a smile on his face.
“Like a grief support group?” Jay asks. “They don’t usually keep a list of members because there are no dues to pay, and people show up at different times.”
The victims are all young men, so it’s unlikely they’re widowers. “Could be a 12-step group, maybe even children of addicts’ support group.” Shit, that’s a real possibility.
“There’s gotta be hundreds, if not thousands, of meetings in the city, never mind the county.”
Chris shrugs his shoulders and goes to his desk, shaking the mouse to wake up his computer. “Donavan and Petrovic had cocaine in their system, but nothing that shows anything other than recreational usage.”
I jot down a few notes. “So, what makes you think we should check out 12-step groups?”
Chris looks up from his computer, his eyebrows lifting just a bit. “These groups are about support. If our killer is pulling from those spaces, we’re talking about someone who preys on that pain. Addicts often feel lost, and someone like that could easily take advantage.” His fingers fly across the keyboard again, his eyes glued to the screen. “We’ve got to figure out how these men are linked—whether it’s through the groups or something else. It’s about finding out what pulled them in and who might’ve been lurking in the background.”
I tilt my head, not quite buying it. “Why support groups, though? Why not church?”
Chris leans back in his chair, giving my question some thought. “Support groups offer a different kind of closeness, Frankie. People are in there sharing their worst fears, their biggest mistakes, their regrets. It’s raw and personal in a way you don’t always see in church. At a group, they’re bonding over the struggle, and that builds trust. A predator? They could walk right in and become someone’s shoulder to lean on, blend in without raising any red flags. Plus, it’s not as structured as a church service. Things can get messy, and it’s easier for someone with bad intentions to slip through the cracks.”
He pauses, like he’s weighing his words, then adds, “And not everyone’s turning to religion. Some people feel more at ease surrounded by others who’ve been through hell, not sitting in a pew.”
“Okay, I get it. Thanks,” I tell him.
“For nothing,” Jay adds under his breath.
“Sorry. Not making progress apparently turns him into a toddler.” I aim a thumb at Jay with an apologetic smile for the doctor. “See you soon.”