by Mel Comley
CLEVER
DECEPTION
LINDA S PRATHER
and
M A COMLEY
New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors Linda S Prather and M A Comley
Published by Jeamel Publishing limited
Copyright © 2016 Linda S Prather and M A Comley
Digital Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the site and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
OTHER BOOKS BY LINDA S PRATHER
Sacred Secrets (#1 Jacody Ives mystery)
The Gifts (#2 Jacody Ives mystery)
Bet You Can’t...Find Me (#1 Catherine Mans FBI paranormal mystery)
Eternal Beauty (#2 Catherine Mans FBI paranormal mystery)
Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (#1 Jenna James Legal thriller)
Shadows of Doubt (#2 Jenna James Legal thriller)
Helena’s Diary (A romantic suspense novel)
Food to Die Smiling For (Short stories and recipes)
Keep in touch with the author at
http://jacodypress.blogspot.co.za/
On Facebook
Twitter @jacodypress
Subscribe to newsletter
OTHER BOOKS BY M A COMLEY
Blind Justice (novella)
Cruel Justice
Mortal Justice (novella)
Impeding Justice
Final Justice
Foul Justice
Guaranteed Justice
Ultimate Justice
Virtual Justice
Hostile Justice
Tortured Justice
Rough Justice
Dubious Justice
Calculated Justice
Twisted Justice
Forever Watching You (DI Miranda Carr thriller)
Wrong Place (DI Sally Parker thriller)
No Hiding Place (DI Sally Parker thriller)
Web of Deceit (DI Sally Parker Novella with Tara Lyons)
The Caller (co-written with Tara Lyons)
Evil In Disguise – a novel based on True events
Deadly Act (Hero series novella)
Torn Apart (Hero Series #1)
End Result (Hero Series #2)
Sole Intention (Intention Series #1)
Grave Intention (Intention Series #2)
Devious Intention (Intention #3)
Merry Widow (A Lorne Simpkins short story)
It’s A Dog’s Life (A Lorne Simpkins short story)
A Time To Heal (A Sweet Romance)
A Time For Change (A Sweet Romance)
High Spirits
The Temptation Series (Romantic Suspense/New Adult Novellas)
Past Temptation (available now)
Lost Temptation (available now)
Keep in touch with the author at
http://melcomley.blogspot.com
On Facebook
Twitter @melcom1
Subscribe to newsletter
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book is dedicated to our combined fans without whom this collaboration would never have been possible.
And to The Book Club on Facebook who entertain us every day and help keep us sane.
Special thanks as always go to our talented editor Stefanie Spangler Buswell and to Karri Klawiter for her superb cover design expertise.
Our heartfelt thanks go to our wonderful proofreader Joseph for spotting all the lingering nits.
TABLE OF CONTENT
Cover
Titles Page
Copyright
Other Books by the Authors
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
Gail Dawson cowered in the corner of the musty basement, just as she had every day since the madman had captured her. He kept a constant vigil over her and the solitary exit to the room. The dread of what was about to happen came and went. Each of his frequent tortures elicited a fresh tide of pain. Her hopes of being rescued had diminished over the past three days, and his threats and treatment gave her little hope of getting out of the situation alive.
Another feverish tremor shook her body, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. What have I ever done to deserve such hatred?Years of caring for people as a nurse and treating them with kindness meant nothing to this man. Despite her attempts to hold a conversation with him, he refused to speak with her. He only spoke with the police via telephone, taunting them for their lacklustre ability to locate him, and he made a point of torturing her while he spoke to them. She’d witnessed the pure evil settled in his eyes, the intensity glaringly obvious when he cut her or broke another bone. Her training as a nurse told her that infection had set in on some of the wounds, and even if he didn’t kill her, she would die soon without medical treatment.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he played with the operating instruments laid out on a silver tray. She tried to push aside the images of what he’d already done to her, but the throbbing pain refused to allow that to happen. Two severed fingers on her right hand, a smashed right knee, and a broken tibia had been her punishment when the police officer on the telephone had pissed him off. Can’t they hear my screams? Don’t they know that each time they try his patience, I suffer?
He examined the instruments one by one, then glanced her way and smiled. The terrifying smile caused a high-voltage ripple down her spine, which made him laugh. The physical torture was unbearable, but it was the mental torture that had driven her to the brink of insanity. He revelled in that knowledge.
“It’s time,” he said, walking towards her, a scalpel in his hand. “I’d love to spend more time with you, but one of the officers saw my car. A pretty young thing with blonde hair. I must say, she’s quite piqued my interest.”
He placed the scalpel in his pocket, grabbed each of her ankles and yanked her towards him. The back of her head hit every protruding stone in the wall on the way down to the concrete floor. She screamed, silently praying for the darkness to claim her as she did her best to kick him away with her good leg. She was too weak to put up much of a fight, and he quickly overpowered her, wrapping a nearby rope around each of her ankles and wrists. Then he placed a noose around her neck and pulled it tight. The thick rope cut into her windpipe, and she gasped for air—any air, even the stale air of her surroundings.
He stopped for a moment, staring into her eyes. Something akin to compassion crossed his face. “It’s his fault I have to do this.”
“Please, don’t... I have two kids. I’ll do anything you ask. Just please, don’t hurt me again.”
The rope loosened for a moment, and hope sprang inside her breast for only a second before he leaned over her with the scalpel in his hand once more. “It’s all his fault.”
He placed a hand over her mouth and inserted the blade under her chin, cutting deeper and deeper, until her breath faded.
CHAPTER ONE
<
br /> Alexandra Fox shuddered as she got out of the car on the chilly October morning. The dampness quickly seeped into her bones as the eerie forest ahead made her apprehensive. The emotion was strange and new for her. She had no reason to fear for her own safety with the other members of the investigation team alongside her.
She rushed to her detective inspector, aware that she was the last to arrive at the scene. That’s all I need to piss off the middle-aged fart any more than usual. They had a fraught working relationship at the best of times. Usually, he simply tolerated her.
An owl hooted overhead before it disappeared into its nest to spend the day snuggled up to its mate. Knowing what lay ahead of her, Alex shuddered again. The crime scene was the last place on earth she wanted to be. The forensics team were busy erecting the tent to protect the corpse from the rain dripping from the overhanging branches. The killer had dumped his latest victim where he knew it would be found quickly. All they’d managed to learn so far was that he wasn’t a risk-taker, more a wind-up merchant. He was proving to be a real pain in her team’s side.
The woman was the tenth victim they’d discovered so far this year. The vile excuse for a human being had tortured, raped and murdered ten women for his own sick amusement. He taunted the detectives working the case with abhorrent threats, taking great pleasure in calling to tell them how each of the women would die before targeting his next victim. The inspector had brought in a psychologist for her opinion on the brutal beast, however Alex didn’t need any shrink to tell her what a warped mind the sick individual had. The killer was certainly living up to the nickname the press had given him—The Escape Artist.
The cracks in the team’s façade were deepening, and Inspector Maurice Jordan was rapidly losing patience. Superintendent Wilmot’s tolerance was also at breaking point. Heaven knew what it was going to be like in the days ahead with the pressure mounting upon them after locating a new victim.
“Fox, nice of you to join us. Are you going to blame your tardiness on a traffic jam, again?” He looked at his watch. “Even though it’s only just past six a.m.”
“No, boss. Sorry I’m late.” No excuses from her. There was no point—he usually just beat her over the head with them in front of the other team members anyway.
“Well, at least you had the foresight to put your protective clothing on, for a change. I’ll chalk that one up, if nothing else. Right, let’s see what the pathologist has to say about the grisly crime.”
Alex nodded and approached the body, gulping in a few lungfuls of fresh air as she plodded through the damp leaves to stand alongside DI Jordan at the corpse’s head. “Oh God!”
Jordan glared at her. “Your stomach should be used to atrocities like this by now. Five years on the bloody force, and you still have trouble dealing with a dead body?”
Alex stared at Jordan for a moment or two, floored that he should have the audacity to chastise her when confronted with one of the most violent crime scenes she’d ever encountered in her career.
Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s have it, if you’ve got something on your mind, Sergeant.”
Alex shook her head. “No, there’s nothing on my mind, sir. Except wanting to string up the bastard who did this.”
“At least we agree on one thing. Okay, Jeremy, what do we have?”
The pathologist was crouching beside the body. He looked up at them and shook his head. “Nothing concrete yet. I’ll give you my report once the autopsy has been performed. You know better than to ask me that at a crime scene, Inspector. Physically she isn’t as bad as the others, except for the face and scalp. Either something interrupted him, or he rushed this one.”
“Yeah, I know how you like to do things by the book, but look at it from my point of view for a change, Jeremy. The quicker you give us something to work on, the easier it’ll be to slam a prison door on this piece of shite.”
“I’m well aware of your anxiety levels, Maurice. It won’t alter the way I work, though. I can give you a snippet of evidence to get the ball rolling.”
Maurice motioned for Alex to take notes. She unzipped the protective jumpsuit and withdrew her notebook from her pocket. Ever impatient, the inspector tutted her movements until finally the notebook and pen were poised for action. “Go on?” the DI told the pathologist eagerly.
“Well, in my expert opinion, we’re looking at a brutal case of murder.”
Alex swallowed down the urge to giggle as DI Jordan inhaled a large breath and let it out slowly between his taut, thin lips.
“The world is full of bloody comedians, especially in bloody Gloucester. I just hope the poor victim’s family appreciate you taking the piss, Jeremy. Now, give me something I can work on,” DI Jordan said, smiling tightly.
“I’m suitably reprimanded, Maurice. Right, obviously you can see the woman’s face has been skinned, not hacked off as you might imagine. Also, she’s been scalped. My initial findings point to her face and scalp being expertly removed by someone used to carrying out such procedures.”
“A surgeon?” Alex shook her head.
“Yes, are you inclined to think differently, Sergeant? If so, may I ask why?”
Alex shrugged her slender shoulders. “It’s surprising what you can find by searching the Internet.”
Both men nodded. Jeremy looked down and pointed at the victim’s neck. “There are ligature marks here that match the other cases, if I remember rightly.”
“Yes, all ten victims had the same marks around their necks. I just wish we could find out the significance of those wounds. Is the killer trying to tell us something?” Jordan asked.
Alex’s mind was stirred up as if a tornado had roared in through one of her ears. What is this fucker out to prove, or is he just toying with us? A shiver went down her spine, and the morning air suddenly seemed colder and damper. Could this poor tortured soul be Gail Dawson? Is that why he removed the face and hair—to delay identification and give us hope of still finding Gail alive?
The pathologist rose to his feet. “That’s all I’m prepared to share at this early stage, detectives. It’s obvious that we’re looking at the same suspect for all of the murders, but that shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, as the serial killer has been in contact with you all along.”
Alex nodded. “He loves nothing more than to twist the knife. We have no idea who his next victim is or when he’ll attack again, but once he has a victim in his possession, he takes pleasure in taunting us and highlighting how inadequate we are.”
“That’s right.” The inspector scanned the nearby area. “Any form of ID found, Jeremy?”
“Not yet, but if the other cases are anything to go by, we should stumble upon something soon enough.”
Alex called to one of the constables guarding the perimeter tape. “Search the immediate area.”
“Looking for what, Sergeant?” the young PC asked.
“A teddy bear’s picnic. What the hell do you think I’m suggesting?” Alex snapped, her own frustration suddenly getting the better of her. “We’re looking for the victim’s ID. There’s sure to be something around here. There always is with this killer.”
The young officer set off. Moments later, he shouted, “Over here, I’ve found a woman’s handbag.”
Alex waited for the inspector’s clearance to examine the item. He gave one sharp nod, and Alex took off, running as fast as her legs would carry her. “Here’s the keys to my car; in the boot, you’ll find an evidence bag. Bring it to me.”
The young officer sprinted to Alex’s car and back again, all within a space of thirty seconds. He handed Alex the paper evidence bag. Before she inserted the handbag, she opened the catch with her gloved hand and rooted around inside, pulling out a large purse. She unzipped the purse and removed the woman’s driving licence from one of the side pockets. Gail Dawson. Alex’s heart sank, and tears misted her eyes. Coughing to clear the lump in her throat, she placed the handbag inside the evidence bag.
She rejoined the in
spector and the pathologist. “It is her, without a doubt. Poor Terry, how will he cope, knowing that his two kids have lost their mother in such a brutal way?”
The inspector nodded. “We’ll help him cope. I think we should get over to his house straight away before the news slips out through the media.”
The pathologist looked down at the corpse. “I’ll take care of her. I’m almost finished here. You might want to try and dissuade him from wanting to see her down at the mortuary. I’ll use dental records to make a formal ID.”
“Thanks, we’ll be sure to mention that. Come on, Fox, let’s make a move.”
Alex’s head was bowed. Her shoulders slumped as the task of what they were about to carry out dawned on her. She’d carried out this task six times with fellow officers. She’d become familiar with it, having done it many times over her career. It was different with Terry Dawson, though. Even in the beginning, she’d never suspected the killer’s brutality would touch her personal life the way it had.
CHAPTER TWO
Alex climbed out of her car and walked up the path to the three-bed semi in the quiet cul-de-sac, lost in her own thoughts. DI Jordan appeared next to her, and she looked over her shoulder to see he’d parked behind her car.
DI Jordan rang the bell. “I’ll do all the talking, okay?”
“Of course.” Alex’s heart went out to Terry. Her DI was certain to be an unsympathetic pig under these circumstances.
Terry and his two children were standing on the other side of the door when it opened. “Sir, Alex? What brings you here so ea... crap, no!” He shooed his kids back inside the house. “Go eat your breakfast, boys. This has nothing to do with you. I want those plates cleared by the time I’ve finished my conversation here.” Even though he smiled at his two boys, his voice still cracked under the strain. Terry looked at Alex.
She smiled tightly, then averted her eyes as the inspector cleared his throat.
“It’s with regret, Terry, that I have to inform you that we’ve recovered your wife’s body.”