Coming soon from Kensington Publishing Corp.
Keep reading to enjoy a sample excerpt . . .
Chapter 1
The killer sat naked in front of the mirror and put in the cosmetic contact lenses to change his eyes from brown to blue. Nine months ago he’d shaved his head, and since then used a razor each week to keep up his bald appearance. He now carefully attached a hairpiece to his scalp that made him look as if he had neatly trimmed sandy-brown hair. It was an expensive hairpiece, and the killer was pleased with the way it altered his appearance. After taking a moment to admire the hairpiece, he glued on a fake goatee the same color as the hairpiece. Earlier that morning he had shaved off his eyebrows, and he now glued on fake ones that were the same color as the hairpiece and goatee. He also had other fake eyebrows that matched his natural hair color. Later, when he removed his disguise, he would use those until his real eyebrows grew back.
He put his face through a series of exaggerated contortions. According to his reflection, his fake hair held in place and looked natural. His entire adult life the killer had dressed casually. Chinos, either a button-down plaid shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows or a polo shirt, and always running shoes. He couldn’t remember the last time he wore a suit. But when he left later today he would complete his disguise with an elegant Versace pinstripe, button-down tan shirt, a muted yellow tie, and a pair of calfskin Italian loafers that also matched the color of his fake hair. Finally, he would slip on fake glasses and a fourteen-thousand-dollar Hublot watch that he had bought specifically for this occasion.
The killer got up and wandered over to the kitchen area, and used his Nespresso machine to brew a single serving of caramel-flavored coffee. Right now his target was in a Pilates class. He had plenty of time before he’d have to leave. As he sipped his coffee, he was amazed at how calm he felt. He had spent a year of planning and preparing—really two, when you considered that he was forced to throw away a year’s worth of plans because of that meddlesome Morris Brick. Now his vision was so close to coming to fruition that he could taste it. He smiled as he thought of how it tasted even sweeter than his caramel-flavored coffee.
The killer’s mind drifted to thoughts of everything he had done since finalizing his plans six months ago. It was remarkable when he added it all up. Of course, he wasn’t finished yet. There was still so much more to do, but if things worked out later that afternoon, tomorrow his masterpiece would be unveiled. People wouldn’t see it in its entirety at once, since it would take ten days to play out, but once completed it would be absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. The world would never forget it. Nor would the city of Los Angeles ever be the same.
Art of this magnitude didn’t come cheap. You had to bleed for it, or in this case, have others bleed. So far the killer had to take four lives. He didn’t enjoy killing these people, but it was necessary and he had murdered them quietly without anyone noticing. Soon thousands more lives were going to be taken, and those deaths weren’t going to be so quiet. He stood spellbound as he thought about how all these people were going to die, and how Morris Brick was going to be thrust into the center of the carnage.
A sensation below his waist caused him to glance downward, and he realized that these thoughts had given him an erection.
Chapter 2
Parker spotted Natalie first as she waited alone at the outdoor table. The bull terrier let out several excited pig grunts and bulled his way forward, dragging Morris along. The dog scooted under the thick velvet rope that the restaurant used to mark off their outdoor café area, while Morris had to step over it and at the same time switch the leash to his other hand to keep from getting tangled up. Natalie watched with amusement. As always, she looked gorgeous. A petite, slender dark-haired beauty who still made Morris feel weak in the knees with a smile, even after twenty-four years of marriage.
“Parker caught me off guard,” Morris explained.
“He’s good at that,” Natalie admitted.
Natalie readied herself for the bull terrier’s onslaught, grabbing Parker by his thick neck while the dog’s rear end wiggled like crazy, his tail wagging at 200 beats a minute, as he fought to lick Natalie’s face. While this went on, Morris snuck in a kiss of his own and took a seat adjacent to his wife. After a minute Parker calmed down enough to sit, panting.
“He’s happy to see you,” Morris said.
“Nah, he’s just trying to soften me up for some heavy-duty mooching.”
Morris laughed at that. The dog could certainly mooch food with the best of them.
A waitress came over with menus. She was new here, otherwise she would’ve known better than to bring Morris a menu. He was a creature of habit. Ever since the actor Philip Stonehedge had turned him on to this Beverly Hills restaurant, he had ordered only their fish tacos, and he did so again. Natalie took a menu, gave it a quick look before asking for an arugula and tomato salad. Morris also asked the waitress to bring a roast beef and cheddar sandwich for Parker. “You can skip the bread, horseradish, lettuce, and tomato. Just put the meat and cheese on a paper plate.”
The waitress gave Parker a cautious look before asking whether the dog was friendly.
“He’s a sweetheart,” Natalie volunteered.
Morris concurred. “A bit of a clown, but a gentle soul.”
This was mostly true, even though over the last year Parker had attacked two serial killers and bitten the arm of a hardened criminal who had pointed a gun at Morris during a jewelry-store robbery. But as long as you weren’t trying to kill Morris or others, the odds were good you wouldn’t see that side of him.
The waitress patted the short, bristly fur that covered Parker’s cement-hard head, and the dog’s tail thumped against the terra-cotta–tiled patio. “I’ll make sure to add some extra roast beef,” she said with a wink. Morris waited until the waitress left before asking Natalie how her day was going.
“Busy.” Natalie worked as a therapist and had her private office in downtown Los Angeles. “Before breaking for lunch I barely had time to catch my breath. But I have the luxury of not having to be back for another hour. Yourself? No new serial-killer cases, hon?”
She said this mostly as a joke since Morris had sworn off those types of cases for his investigative firm, MBI, but some worry still showed in her eyes. Deep down inside she was afraid Morris would take on another of those cases, and she had good reason for this concern. The last serial-killer case had left Morris battered and bruised, the one before that had brought a deranged killer to their door, and the very last one Morris had worked on while he was still a LAPD homicide detective almost killed him.
Her question also didn’t come completely out of the blue. Natalie had serial killers on her mind because that night they were going to the Hollywood premiere of The Carver, a movie that was based loosely on the notorious serial killer, Heath Dodd. Since Dodd’s killing ground had been Miami, Morris wasn’t involved in the investigation, but he had still been hired by the movie producers to consult on the film. Even with Morris’s involvement in the movie, they probably would’ve skipped the premiere if Philip Stonehedge hadn’t invited them to a private dinner party afterwards.
“As far as I know, Los Angeles is still serial-killer free,” Morris said. “If that changes, the LAPD will have to handle it without my help. Anyway, as you well know, MBI has gone almost a hundred-percent corporate.”
This was true. After the Malibu Butcher business, Morris had made a concerted effort for his firm to take on only corporate cases, most of which were either company fraud or employee-background investigations, although they were currently knee-deep in a corporate-espionage case that they were hoping to break soon.
“Almost a hundred percent?” Natalie asked. Parker, who had plopped down on the ground and was now lying on his side by Natalie’s feet, let out one of his pig grunts to show that he also found the matter suspicious.
“We took on an unusual missing-person investigation this morning,” Morris said. “A guy up and vanished four months ago. No sign of him or his car since. His wife brought us the case. She’s desperate.”
“She needs closure.”
“Nope. She needs the insurance money.”
Natalie gave him a reproachful look. “Hon, dear, don’t you think you’re being a tad cynical?”
“Not at all. She’s convinced her husband is dead, and she needs a death certificate before she can collect on his life-insurance policy.” Morris grimaced. “I felt sorry for her. She really is in desperate straits, and genuinely seems to have been mourning him. We’re not quite taking it on as pro bono work, but close. MBI will only bill her if we find him or his body, and we’ll be capping the bill off at five thousand.”
Natalie bit her thumbnail as she considered that. “Do you think she’s right?”
“I don’t know. She’s convinced that they were happy enough together and he was content with his life. She’s also adamant that if he were alive he’d be home with her now. Maybe that’s true. Or maybe he decided to start over someplace else. We’ll see.”
The waitress appeared with their food. Parker got to his feet and stared at the tray she carried. The paper plate she had brought held what looked like twice as much roast beef as would normally be used for a sandwich. Parker let out a few excited pig grunts as he waited for it to be placed on the patio surface. As soon as Morris let up on the leash, Parker attacked the food as if he hadn’t eaten in days, even though he’d had half a can of his food that morning.
“Our little guy is getting pudgy,” Natalie said with a sigh.
“Nah, it’s all muscle.”
Natalie gave Morris a funny look, but didn’t argue. As she ate her salad, she seemed to lose herself in her private thoughts. When she shivered, he asked her what was wrong.
Natalie looked at him as if she didn’t understand what he was asking, then offered a wistful smile.
“I don’t know. Just something in the air, I guess.”
Morris glanced upward. Not a cloud in the sky. If a storm was coming, he couldn’t see it.