Bad Bones (Claire Morgan)

by Linda Ladd

  Her eyes remained closed, but Claire found his hand and threaded her fingers through his, the strong sedative apparently beginning to take effect. Her voice was now slow and slurred and sleepy. “Yeah, that’s all I got to say. Tahiti sounds nice and warm and fine with me. So I’m in. But don’t forget Jules Verne, if we’re really stayin’ for a year. . . .”

  After that, Claire slept deeply and peacefully without moving and hopefully without dreaming. Black lay there with his arm around her, her head resting against his chest, her arm across his waist, and he stared at the ceiling and then at her bruised face and then at her split lip and fought down more anger and regret and frustration. But he had been nothing if not serious. He had meant every single word he’d said to her. Tahiti sounded good to him, too, all right, very good. So did a wedding. Maybe elopement was the way to go, after all, fast and easy and alone and happy and lying on a private beach with Claire alive and uninjured for a change. No snow, no sleet, no broken bones, no guns, no crazy lunatics with baseball bats and hammers. Oh, yeah, he could live with that, all right. Maybe he’d buy a beach house there, one that was a million nautical miles away from her police work.

  But right now, and as far as he was concerned, tomorrow morning and a flight to paradise could not come soon enough. After a very long time spent lying there and thinking things through, Black came to terms with what had happened. Okay. Good enough. She was all right. Things were going to turn out okay. It was going to take her some time to get over what happened, but maybe, just maybe, she had finally had enough, too. Now maybe he could get some rest. Maybe he and Claire could even have a normal life together someday. Yeah, maybe they could. Stranger things had happened. Sighing one last time, Black finally shut his eyes, and eventually fell asleep, still holding Claire in his arms.

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  Prologue

  A Very Scary Man

  The first time the scary man realized that he liked to frighten people was when he was twelve years old. His little sister was his favorite victim because she was only six and small for her age. Late one night, he sneaked into the room where Mandy was sleeping so peacefully, snoring with little whiffs and snorts because of her allergies, and all snuggled up under the covers with her pink stuffed Easter bunny and her three favorite Barbie dolls. Earlier that day, he had waded through the brush lining the bayou until he finally caught a tiny black garter snake. So, now, at last, it was show time.

  Grinning, trying not to laugh with anticipation, he opened up the white Kroger’s plastic sack and dumped the wriggling little reptile onto Mandy’s pink Cinderella pillow. He let out a loud hissing sound so she’d wake up, and then he took off for the doorway. But the snake had already slithered onto her and stopped right on top of her chest. He paused in the hall and waited with tingling nerves. Her Snow White night light was on beside her bed, and when she sat up, all flushed and sweet with sleep, she immediately laid eyes on the snake wriggling around on her blanket. The little girl let out a shriek like he just couldn’t believe. She probably wet her pants, too, he thought, racing back to his own room, ready to put on the best acting job of his life.

  The greatest lesson he learned that night was that if he was very careful and planned ahead, he could escape punishment for something truly horrible that he’d done. So, he was back in his own bed in his own room when his parents came rushing down the hall to see what was wrong with their little darling. He got up again, feigning sleepiness and concern like the little angel he wasn’t, but he was laughing so hard inside when he remembered the absolute terror on his sister’s face.

  Unfortunately, he thought it best to go back to bed and pretend disinterest in Mandy’s drama. So he had to miss all the screaming and sobbing and hysterics, not to mention his dad’s frantic and comedic efforts to catch the harmless little snake. Truth was, of course, he really didn’t want to hurt his baby sister. He loved Mandy a lot; she was just the most precious little thing in the world. But he loved to see the utter fear on her face even better, and that was the Gospel truth. He loved mind-boggling distress contorting anybody’s face, actually. As long as they were absolutely terrified and showed it, it was good for him.

  Keenly disappointed that he had been robbed of seeing the hourlong ordeal of rocking her back to sleep, he vowed that someday he wouldn’t have to hide his secret obsession. Someday, somewhere, he would find someone that he could torment for his pleasure and never have to miss a single tear or shriek or scrambling flight away from perceived mortal danger. He would plan and plan and plan some more, until he could enjoy himself with no fear of capture or punishment or retribution or grounding. Yeah, and that day was gonna be so sweet. Oh, yeah. He could hardly wait.

  And that day came a lot sooner than he expected, right after his Aunt Pamela and Uncle Stanley came to visit for the weekend, because they brought along their tiny little baby boy, Donnie, who was only eighteen months old. So the good thing about that was that the baby couldn’t talk yet. Not a damn word, except for babbling for his mama and dada. Yep, he was the perfect little victim with his red curly hair and big blue eyes and chubby little cherub’s face. His mommy and daddy loved him so much that they doted on him incessantly, snuggling him and spoiling him and kissing him and hugging him, as if he were the greatest kid ever born. Yeah, it was little Donnie this and little Donnie that and little wonderful Donnie, blah, blah, blah. It was downright disgusting.

  Hell, his own parents had never treated him like he was their darling little angel. Of course, he wasn’t an angel. He was a devil, really, and proud of it, or maybe he was more like the murderous demons he saw in scary movies. He had never killed anybody or driven anyone nuts, not yet anyway, but he didn’t really consider that to be out of the question someday in the future. Not little Donnie, though, not right now. He was way too little and sweet and innocent to kill, and he was his cousin, after all.

  When the adults decided they wanted to go out for dinner and dancing at the country club, he was elated and quickly offered to babysit the two little kids. His mom and dad and aunt and uncle thought that he was just so loving and kindhearted to offer, which gave him a really big edge on having two little victims to torment, not to mention how he laughed inside his head at how stupid grownups were. For obvious reasons, his sister begged to go along with the adults, but they wouldn’t let her, of course. But she wouldn’t tell on him; he had put the fear of God into her about tattling a long time ago. So, instead, Mandy ran upstairs as soon as their parents left and found a hiding place under her bed where he couldn’t get at her without poking her out with a broom handle. He didn’t care. He had somebody even better that he could make cry.

  Angelic little Donnie didn’t mind being left alone with him, not at all. In fact, he ran over to him and held up his sturdy little arms as if he wanted to be held. So he picked the toddler up and swung him around and made him giggle with joy. But then, within moments, he felt the need, the one he just could not resist or control anymore. Laughing, too, he tossed the little boy way up into the air and suddenly screamed up at him like some kind of a crazy banshee. For a second, the little kid just looked startled, but then he puckered up and began to wail. The scary man caught his baby cousin and cuddled him and rocked him until he stopped crying and was content again.

  Once the child was calm, he put little Donnie down and left the room to get something to eat. When he came back, the little kid was playing with a toy that had holes where you inserted colorful little balls to play music. He sneaked up behind the toddler and yelled Boo! as loud as he could. The baby went completely rigid and then screamed so shrilly that the boy almost had to put his hands over his ears.

  “Hey, now, it’s okay, little sweetie pie. I didn’t mean to scare you, shh, little guy,” he crooned, scooping up the child and sitting down in the rocker by the fireplace. The baby settled d
own quickly; he guessed Donnie felt safe again. So he rocked the little tyke, who was really awfully adorable most of the time. But there was just something in the look in people’s eyes when he scared them that he got off on. It was like they just froze into a statue for a few seconds, rigid and stiff and shocked, and then their brain shrieked out, “Hey, kid, run, run, get outta here fast!”

  Oh, yes, he had plenty of that malice aforethought, like the lawyers on television shows always said. He liked lawyer shows, and he was smart, too, just like those lawyers. Straight A’s in every subject. Maybe he’d become a lawyer someday. Still, that particular phrase intrigued him; it rolled off his tongue somehow and made him feel good. He looked up the definition in the dictionary, just to make sure it was apropos, and there it was, laid out for him in black and white. Malice aforethought: a general evil and depraved state of mind in which the person is unconcerned for the lives and well-being of others.

  Okay, that’s exactly what he had, that evil and depraved state of mind. Maybe he should call himself Malice Aforethought, or just Malice for short, give himself a name like the villains who battled the superheroes in the comics. Because that’s what he came after people with, pure malice in his heart and mind and soul. Maybe he would call himself that, just for fun, and thus, his new moniker was born.

  Malice grinned, thinking about the exact moment when his victims knew they were in trouble, right before they screamed or took off running or wept real live wet-to-the-touch tears. That’s when that strange sense of joy erupted deep inside his gut. It was some kind of release, almost. Satisfaction, that’s what it was. A burst of great personal gratification. He wondered if that was normal behavior, or if he might be a really bad person, or some kind of psycho, even. Then he decided he didn’t care if he was or not, that it felt good and he was going to do it, whenever he knew he wouldn’t get caught.

  Yeah, he could even make it his hobby all right, just something to pass the time. He could gather scary things to use on people and figure out what kind of things gave people the creeps and watch murderers in movies and read gory books until he had his talents honed down to sublime perfection. Smiling to himself, he rocked little Donnie to sleep and then he laid the tiny boy gently in his portable crib and went to look for Mandy. After all, she was his favorite victim, and even more important, she was way too afraid to tell on him.

  Linda Ladd is the bestselling author of over a dozen novels. Remember Murder marks her exciting return to the Claire Morgan series. Linda makes her home in Missouri, where she is at work on her next novel featuring Claire Morgan.

  Visit her on the web at www.lindaladd.com.

  Remember the Darkness

  She can’t remember why he chose her—or what he did to her.

  But Detective Claire Morgan knows that something terrible

  happened to her the night a deranged serial killer

  escaped from the mental ward. Looking for pleasure.

  Looking for pain. Looking for her . . .

  Remember the Terror

  Recovering in a lakeside resort, Claire hopes to sort through her

  broken memories. But after suffering a temporary coma she can

  barely remember her own lover, psychiatrist Nicholas Black.

  Would she be able to recognize her abductor if she saw him again?

  If he came back for more . . . ?

  Remember Murder

  If only she could remember his face or his voice . . .

  if only she could comprehend the evil in his mind

  or the depths of his cruelty . . . if only she knew

  just how close he is—to her and everyone she loves . . .

  With Every Turn in the Case . . .

  After moving from Los Angeles to Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri,

  homicide detective Claire Morgan has at last adjusted to the peaceful

  rhythms of rural life. Until a grisly celebrity murder at an ultra-

  exclusive “wellness” resort shatters a quiet summer morning . . .

  With Every Twist of the Mind . . .

  One of Dr. Nicholas Black’s high-profile clients, a beautiful young

  soap opera star, has been found dead, taped to a chair at a fully set

  table . . . submerged in the lake. Back in L.A., Claire investigated

  the rich, famous, and the deadly—but she never expected the problems

  of the privileged to follow her to this sleepy small town. Just as she

  never imagined crossing the line with her prime suspect . . .

  With Every Beat of the Heart . . .

  Immersed in the case, Claire finds herself drawn to the charismatic

  doctor, spending more and more time in his company—and in his bed.

  Now, to catch a killer, Claire will have to enter the darkest recesses

  of the human mind. But is Black leading her there to help her . . .

  or luring her ever deeper into a madman’s grip?

  Missouri detective Claire Morgan is eager to get back to work

  after recuperating from injuries sustained on her last job.

  But the missing persons case that welcomes her home in the

  dead of winter soon turns more twisted and treacherous than

  Lake of the Ozarks’ icy mountain roads . . .

  The man’s body is found suspended from a tree overlooking

  a local school. He is bleeding from the head, still alive—but not

  for long. Someone wanted Professor Simon Classon to suffer

  as much as possible before he died, making sure the victim had

  a perfect view of his colleagues and students on the campus below

  as he succumbed to the slow-working poison in his veins . . .

  Frigid temperatures and punishing snows only make the

  investigation more difficult. And then the death threats begin—

  unnerving incidents orchestrated to send Claire a deadly message.

  Now, as she edges closer to the truth,

  Claire risks becoming entangled in a maniac’s web—

  and the stuff of her own worst nightmares . . .

  Die Young

  Hilde Swensen is a beauty pageant queen with a face to die for

  and a body to kill for. But by the time Detective Claire Morgan

  finds her in a shower stall—posed like a grotesquely grinning doll—

  Hilde is anything but pretty. She’s the victim of a sick,

  deranged killer. And she won’t be the last . . .

  Die Beautiful

  Brianna Swensen is the beauty queen’s sister—and the girlfriend

  of Claire’s partner, Bud. She tells Claire that Hilde had plenty of

  enemies, including a creepy stalker, an abusive ex-boyfriend,

  and a slew of jealous competitors. But what she doesn’t say

  is that they both shared a dark disturbing secret.

  A secret that refuses to die . . .

  Die Smiling

  From the after-hours parties of a sinister funeral home to the

  underworld vendettas of the Miami mob, Claire follows the trail

  with her lover Nicholas Black, a psychiatrist with secrets of his own.

  But it’s not until she uncovers evidence of unspeakable acts

  of depravity that Claire realizes she’s just become

  a diabolical killer’s next target . . .

  When the Mind . . .

  His doctors are the best in the world, his father one of the most

  powerful men in the state. But they couldn’t stop Mikey from

  succumbing to his darkest demons—the ones inside his head.

  The ones who told him it was time to end it all.

  Plays a Deadly Game . . .

  It should have been an open-and-shut case, especially since

  detective Claire Morgan’s lover, Dr. Nicholas Black, recognized

  Mikey as a troubled former patient. Then Claire finds another

  body in Mikey’s h
ome. Curled inside an oven, charred beyond

  recognition, the method of murder mind-boggling . . .

  of Murder

  Claire’s only lead is a beaded bracelet, believed to ward off

  the “evil eye,” around each victim’s wrist. But by the time she

  discovers what the dead were afraid of, she’s trapped in a mind

  game of her own—with a brilliant sadistic killer. And this time,

  there’s a method to the madness . . .

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

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  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2014 Linda Ladd

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  eKENSINGTON is a trademark of the Kensington Publishing Corp.

  KENSINGTON and the k logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First electronic edition: September 2014

  ISBN: 978-1-6018-3052-4

  ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-328-0