Blessed–or cursed–with a connection to the souls of others, Sloan Jordan can see the best in people… and the worst. For twenty-seven years, she’s kept her ability to judge the innocent from the wicked a secret, but eleven young women have been murdered in the mountains of North Carolina, and Sloan may be the only hope of finding their killer.
She has just agreed to help Detective Nathan McNamara with the case, when a stranger—who is as alluring as he is terrifying—shows up at her doorstep with a dark past and another puzzling mystery: she can’t see his soul at all.
Now Sloan is on the hunt for a deadly psychopath with two irresistible men.
One of them would die for her, and the other would kill to keep her safe.
Read an Excerpt
Nathan’s rigid stance was making me nervous.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I sat down in my chair and pressed the power button on my computer.
He folded his arms across his chest, tucking the papers against his side. “How did you know that Byron Milstaf was dead?”
It was my hope to never revisit that conversation.
I turned my palms up. “I told you. It was just a guess.”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I’m an interview and interrogation specialist. I know when people are lying.”
Laughing, I cocked my head to the side. “Are you planning on interrogating me, Nate?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “No ma’am. I would just appreciate you telling me the truth.”
I pointed to the chairs and narrowed my eyes. “Have a seat, Detective.” Any flirtatious desire was suddenly quelled.
My icy tone caused his eyebrows to lift. He sat in the chair and rested the ankle of his tactical boot on top of his knee. His stare was expectant, and his perfect lips were shut.
Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on the desk. “First of all, I don’t appreciate being clotheslined at my office door with accusations about being dishonest. I especially don’t like it when it comes from a detective who is apparently suspicious about a deceased victim. Don’t barge in here and shut my door and demand answers from me without telling me why you’re here.” I splayed my palms face down and leaned toward him. “I may be young and I may be a woman, but I’m not going to be bullied by anyone. Not even you.”
For a moment, he was speechless.
His tense shoulders relaxed a bit. He leaned forward and dropped his stack of papers on my desk. On the top was a report sheet with a photo stapled to it. It was a picture of a child, a little girl. She had blonde ringlets and a bright, cheerful smile. Her eyes were captivating; one was blue and one was bright green. My stomach twisted in knots.
“What is this?” I asked, looking at him instead of at the photograph.
He tapped his finger on the picture. “This is Kayleigh Marie Neeland. Last night, there was a raid on a suspected meth operation in Leicester. Her mom’s boyfriend, Ray Whitmore, panicked when the cops busted down the door. He grabbed Kayleigh and held a Taurus 9mm to her head, using her as a shield to escape. At 3:19 this morning, we found his abandoned car in Haywood County with blood on the back seat.”
I was horrified but determined to keep a clear head. I sat back in my chair and turned my hands up in question. “What do you want from me?”
I could tell he wasn’t sure exactly what he expected to find out in my office, but it was obvious this wasn’t an excuse for a social call. “I guess I just want your opinion,” he replied.
I pushed the papers back toward him. “My opinion is that you should do your job, Detective McNamara, and stop wasting your time in the office of the department publicist.”
He let out a frustrated huff and stood up so fast his chair threatened to topple backwards. He reached into the velcro pocket on his thigh and slammed down a business card before picking up the stack of papers. He cut his eyes at me. “Kayleigh is about to turn six. For her birthday she wants a Prince Charming to go with the Sleeping Beauty doll she got from her Nana at Christmas. She hasn’t put down that doll all year until she dropped it in the driveway as she was being dragged away. If you think of anything, Sloan, give me a call.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and stormed out of my office.
I picked up his business card and flicked it against my fingertips as my brain scrambled to make sense of what had just happened. Why had he come to my office that morning? What did he think I might know? The bigger question was, what was I going to do?
Kayleigh Neeland was still alive and I knew it.
About the Author
Elicia Hyder is the author of several contemporary fantasy novels such as The Soul Summoner, The Siren, The Angel of Death, and The Daughter of Zion as well as a few contemporary romances, The Bed She Made and To Be Her first. Elicia studied American Literature and Creative Writing at the American Military University. She lives with her husband and five children in central Florida.
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