Her deadly end, p.1
Her Deadly End, page 1
Her Deadly End
Tanya Stone FBI Mystery Thriller
Tikiri Herath
A Gift for You
Thank you for picking up my book.
There’s a twisty bonus epilogue for this novel. Learn the surprising turn of events at Paradise Cove a year after the events in this story.
Paradise Cove Twist!
You’ll find the secret link to the bonus story at the end of this book.
Enjoy the read.
Best wishes,
Tikiri
There is no explicit sex, heavy cursing, or graphic violence in my books. There is, however, a closed circle of suspects, many twists and turns, fast-paced action, and nail-biting suspense.
NO DOG IS EVER HARMED IN MY BOOKS. But the villains always are.
Tropes you’ll find in this mystery thriller series include: female protagonist, women sleuths, detective, police officers, police procedural, crime, murder, kidnapping, missing, creepy cabins, serial killers, dark secrets, small towns, plot twists, fast-paced action, shocking endings, revenge, vigilante justice, family lies, intrigue, suspense, and psychological terror.
Her Deadly End
Paradise Cove is the perfect vacation getaway. So, FBI Agent Tanya Stone thinks...
Until a Porsche slams into the café where she and her detective friends are enjoying a morning coffee. To their horror, the driver shoots a man dead. Then, she turns the gun on herself next.
The sheriff is quick to call it a case of extreme road rage, but Tanya realizes not all is well in this idyllic small town. The sinister secret behind this brutal crime lies buried deep in the nearby woods. But no one wants to see the truth.
With the help of her friends and her K9 partner, Max, Tanya becomes obsessed with unraveling the deadly mystery. But the more lies she exposes, the more dangerous it is to stay in town.
A serial killer is hiding in plain sight, watching her....
Chapter One
Is someone inside my room?
Eveline Hart blinked and stared into the darkness.
A sense of dread crawled through her body, but she had no idea why.
The backlit clock on the master bedroom wall said it was five thirty in the morning. The windows were shut, and condensation had formed ghostly patterns on the glass. It was still dark outside.
A rustle in the far corner of the room made her freeze.
She wanted to raise her head, but her body had turned to lead. It was like someone had drugged her.
Is this a nightmare? Am I hallucinating? Didn’t the doctor say it was going to be rough the first night back?
Her heart thudded like a bass drum.
Did I forget my pills last night?
The rustle came again.
Eveline tried to cry out, but her throat constricted.
A sliver of pale light from the waning moon streamed through the old lace curtains. Her eyes widened as she spotted the shadow in the murky corner by her antique armoire.
The shadow moved.
She glimpsed his face. It had been painted in combat colors. The moonlight fell on a gloved hand and glinted on the sharp edge of a knife.
She gasped in horror.
How did he get in?
Her heart raced. She wanted to scream for help, but no one would hear her. She lived alone in a large house at the end of a cul-de-sac in a quiet neighborhood.
Her phone was on her bed stand, but she lay petrified like a comatose patient, able to hear everything but a prisoner in her body.
Is this how I will die? Raped and murdered in my own bed?
The silhouette moved out of the shadows.
“Where are they?” said a deep voice.
Eveline jerked up with a start.
His voice was muffled, but she recognized it.
So, you came back.
Her stomach lurched.
She now knew why he had painted his face. It gave him sufficient camouflage when he broke into her home, but without a mask, he was making sure she knew who he was.
She knew him all right.
He stepped up to the edge of the bed, the knife pointing at her throat.
“Did you hear me?” he snarled. “You know why I’m here.”
Eveline opened her mouth, but no sound came out. He pushed the knife into her neck, drawing a trickle of blood. Every fiber in her body trembled.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispered. “Please.”
He laughed a dry, sardonic laugh—one of a man who knew he held all the cards.
“How could you…?” Eveline’s voice cracked.
“I know you took them!” he thundered. “Show me where they are!”
His bellow almost deafened her.
The roar reminded her of her past. A past filled with screaming, hitting, hurting, fighting. Fighting to keep her two sons safe. Fighting to live another day.
She looked into his eyes.
How could you do this to me? Of all people? After all these years?
A coil of fury swirled up her spine, giving her strength and hardening her resolve.
His dark eyes bored into hers. They were like laser beams burning into her heart, but she had made her decision.
She raised her head and steeled herself. “You’ll get nothing from me.”
The backhanded blow stung. Eveline fell back on her pillow in shock. The throbbing pain pulsated on her cheek.
“You witch!”
He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out from under the covers.
She tried to push him off, but he was stronger than an ox. Just like his father had been.
He thrust the knife into the soft spot in the middle of her throat. She clasped her hands around his and pulled, but his grip tightened even more.
She gasped for air.
“Get up.”
He picked her frail body up by the throat like a puppet master controlling a marionette. He must have known she had just come home from chemotherapy. He must have known she would be too weak to fight.
He shoved her across the bedroom, holding the knife to her neck, one hand crushing her spindly arm so tightly she was sure he’d snap it in two.
He pulled her down the marble staircase. She stumbled, barely registering the pain of banging into the wooden banister.
He dragged her across the living room and threw her into her favorite Empress chair. She spotted the rope lying on the floor.
He came prepared.
Within seconds, he tied her to the chair. Then he leaned in, his angry eyes lit like volcano fire, bubbling and ready to explode.
Eveline was too exhausted to speak, but she knew her time was up.
“If you don’t tell me where they are,” he growled, his mouth inches from hers, “I’ll burn this house down with you in it.”
Terror rose inside of her. But it was mixed with a twist of sorrow. She stared back at his soulless eyes, catching a sob in her throat.
You aren’t the boy I raised.
Her eyes filled with tears. She closed them as if that would help her unsee the grown man standing in front of her.
You’ve become your father’s son.
Chapter Two
He pulled off his right glove and threw it on the floor.
Eveline instinctively knew what would happen next.
Skin on skin hurt more than that soft wool glove. He’d learned that from his father.
The man cracked his knuckles and clenched his right hand into a fist.
Her eyes grew wide as she noticed the scar on the back of his hand. A glaring red heart burned into his pale skin. The wound had healed, but it was still gruesome.
So, he’s been branded too.
“Are you ready to talk?” he roared.
“No.”
He slammed his fist into her face. Her head flung back. She reeled. Stars danced in front of her blurred eyes. A metallic taste came to her mouth and blood trickled from her torn lips.
“Don’t you want to live, witch?” he shouted, raising his fist, ready to punch again.
She had known this day would come. She just hadn’t realized it would be this soon, but she was going to die, anyway. What did she have to lose?
“No.”
He hit her again.
And again.
Until she went numb.
With a furious hiss, he kicked the chair violently. It tilted back and crashed to its side, taking Eveline down with it. A searing pain shot through her weakened body like a lightning strike.
Then she blacked out.
She didn’t know how long she lay, oblivious to her surroundings.
When she came to, she found herself in a crumpled heap on the floor, still tied to the back of the chair. She lay quietly in that agonizing position, listening to him ransack the house.
“Where are they?” he hollered from somewhere in the dining room.
Something got smashed. The sound of shattering glass came soon after. Her hand-blown wineglasses, the beautiful set she’d bought in Prague, were now gone, she was sure.
She moved her arm and winced at the stinging pain. She felt something strange on her, like a snake had coiled around her.
The rope.
It had loosened when the chair had upturned.
Inch by inch, Eveline pulled at it, ignoring the pains shooting through her body. Soon, the knot came undone, and the rope fell to the floor.
She pushed herself up with shaking arms and glanced around.
A hurricane had passed through the living room. He was upstairs now, cursing lo
You’ll never find them there.
Eveline got to her feet and leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding with the effort as much as the terror she felt.
Holding on to the wall, she made her way toward the kitchen. Step by step. She passed the pantry, not daring to glance inside. Instead, she put a trembling hand on the smaller door next to it.
She stepped into the garage and closed the door behind her. Passing her dead husband’s Cadillac, she walked toward the Porsche SUV at the end. He used to yell at her for leaving her keys inside, but she only did it because she kept losing them.
Eveline pulled open the driver’s side door and crawled inside. She reached toward the cubby-hole and clicked it open. A sigh of relief went through her as she saw her old-fashioned revolver tucked inside.
Her husband had never known she kept it there. If he had found out, he would have confiscated it. She knew it wasn’t legal to carry it, especially loaded, but she always felt safer with it.
It took a minute for her to focus.
Foot on brake.
Turn on engine.
Open garage door.
The garage door had pulled up halfway when he came storming through the small door from the kitchen, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Eveline heard the sharp clank of the knife as it hit her back windshield. She jumped on the gas pedal. The Porsche propelled out of the garage, the top scraping the door that was still pulling up.
She rocketed down the driveway and onto the road, grasping the steering wheel like her life depended on it.
She only looked in the rearview mirror once. He was coming. His black pickup truck was gunning out of her driveway, heading in her direction.
She pressed on the gas, glad for her car. She had overheard her husband boast to a friend one day that it had five hundred horsepower or something like that. Whatever it was, she needed everything to beat the heavy-duty flatbed that was coming after her.
Her engine revved as she sped through the quiet streets of Paradise Cove.
She wiped the blood from her face, unsure where she was heading. Her instincts had taken over now and were guiding her toward the town center.
It was still early and most of the town was asleep.
Paradise Cove was a quiet peninsula, inhabited by wealthy retirees and moneyed families who didn’t have to get up every day to work. The main street stores were opening, but there was hardly any traffic.
Cora’s Corner Café was just a block away. It was where she always picked up her morning latte.
Eveline was no longer thinking. She was on autopilot. She turned the corner, her wheels squealing on the asphalt.
That was when she spotted the boy. She was sure it was him, even with that goofy blonde wig. Her jaw dropped. Her hands clenched.
How did he get out?
That moment of distraction cost her.
One second, she was speeding down the street. The next, she had jumped the curb and was hurtling like a bullet toward Cora’s Corner Café.
Day One
SPECIAL AGENT TANYA STONE
Chapter Three
It’s too early for cold-blooded murder.
Tanya Stone gazed out the window of Cora’s Corner Café, one hand absentmindedly caressing the sunflower pendant on her neck.
Her Ukrainian-born mother used to tell her sunflowers were a symbol of peace and hope. It was now her good luck charm.
Tanya took a deep breath in. The pleasant aroma of freshly baked buns and chocolate croissants wafted in the air. Asha always knew how to pick the best coffee shops for breakfast.
Seated at a patio table just outside the café doors were her best friends and only family. A slim Asian woman in her early thirties with her long black hair pulled into a ponytail, and an attractive, curvy redhead with bright red lipstick to match her hair. Their heads were bowed, deep in discussion.
Tanya was glad Asha and Katy had wrapped up their most recent cold case. She had been looking forward to spending this week with them, but she wished they’d stop hashing their murder mystery to death.
Didn’t they know they were on holiday?
“One dark coffee for you, honey. A Ceylon tea brewed to perfection, and a large chocolate caramel latte with whipped cream for your gal pals.”
Tanya turned around to face the café owner.
“That’s fifteen dollars,” said Cora.
Tanya reached into her cargo pants’ pocket, pulled out her wallet, and handed over the cash with a five-dollar tip.
Cora smiled in thanks. “You all new to town, then?”
Tanya nodded.
Cora pushed aside a bag of freshly baked sugar buns and leaned across the counter.
“So, where are you gals from?”
Tanya hated small talk. She hated small talk from strangers even more, but Cora didn’t seem to be the type you could ignore and get away from easily.
“Seattle.”
“What are you doing in our neck of the woods, honey?”
From the edge of her eyes, Tanya noticed the only other customer in the store, a middle-aged woman with a cane, had stopped browsing the cookies behind the counter and was watching her curiously.
“Just wanted to get away from the hustle for a bit.”
“Three lovely ladies like you should be out and about in the big city,” said Cora, “shopping, and catching a movie and stuff. There’s not much to see in our quiet little town.”
“We like quiet.”
Cora cocked an eyebrow.
“Anything special you were looking to do in Paradise Cove?”
Tanya gave her a half smile.
Will you stop prying if I tell you I’m an FBI agent? A rookie, but still. And those two ladies outside are my private detective pals.
But Cora was looking up thoughtfully, a finger tapping her chin, as if she was cooking up something.
“There’s the sailing club at the end of Sunset Drive. You should ask Hudson Wyatt to take you out on the bay on his yacht this weekend. I think you gals will enjoy it. Tell him I sent you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Well, he’s the most eligible bachelor in town and he likes his women tall.” Cora winked. “A pretty girl like you should have no trouble finding a date, but he’s quite the catch if you’re single—”
The bread oven in the back kitchen pinged loudly, distracting her from her nosy inquiries.
Tanya picked up the drink tray and stepped away from the counter before Cora could ask more questions. Just as she reached for the door, a gaunt teenager in a grungy blue hoodie crashed through, almost bowling her over.
“Hey,” said Tanya. “Watch it.”
The girl brushed past her with a grunt, leaving an unwashed smell behind her.
Shaking her head, Tanya stepped out to the patio to join her friends. She had just handed Asha her tea when they heard the commotion.
“Stop, thief!”
“Someone stop her!”
Tanya jumped up from her chair and spun around.
The teen was scurrying through the door with the bag of sugar buns tucked under her arm. Cora dashed out, yelling.
“Get back here! Thief!”
Tanya leaped off the patio and grabbed the girl by the arm.
“Hey,” cried the girl. “Lemme go!”
Tanya kept her hold. The kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Her face was scrawny and her arms were so skinny, Tanya could feel her bones.
She was trembling, either out of fear or hunger.
Or both.
“Stop struggling,” said Tanya.
The girl’s shoulders drooped. She let go of the sugar buns, making the package fall to the ground.
Cora marched over and grabbed the bag. She wagged a furious finger in the girl’s face.
“You think you’ll get away with this? Just wait till the sheriff hears about what you did. Bad deeds never go unpunished.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
Cora snapped around to Tanya, her chin jutting out.
“What did you say?”
“I’ll pay for the buns,” said Tanya, still holding on to the girl who’d gone limp. “No need to call the cops. She’s just a hungry kid.”
