A Trace of Crime (a Keri Locke Mystery--Book #4)
Blake Pierce · Completed · 71.1k Words
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Introduction
“A dynamic story line that grips from the first chapter and doesn't let go.”--Midwest Book Review, Diane Donovan (regarding Once Gone)From #1 bestselling mystery author Blake Pierce comes a new masterpiece of psychological suspense.In A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4 in the Keri Locke mystery series), Keri Locke, Missing Persons Detective in the Homicide division of the LAPD, follows a fresh lead for her abducted daughter. She winds her way through a twisted underworld, and step by step, she gets closer to finding her daughter.Yet she has no time. Keri is assigned a new case: a dad calls from an affluent community and reports that his teen daughter vanished on the way home from school.Shortly after, ransom letters arrive. Twisted, filled with riddles, they make it clear that there is little time to save the girl. They also make it clear that this is the work of a diabolical killer who is toying with them.Keri and the police must scramble to find the kidnapper, to understand his demands, to decode the letters, and most of all, to outwit him. But in this master game of chess, Keri may find herself up against a foe even she cannot understand, and for the missing girl—and her own daughter—she may just be too late.A dark psychological thriller with heart-pounding suspense, A TRACE OF CRIME is book #4 in a riveting new series—and a beloved new character—that will leave you turning pages late into the night.“A masterpiece of thriller and mystery! The author did a magnificent job developing characters with a psychological side that is so well described that we feel inside their minds, follow their fears and cheer for their success. The plot is very intelligent and will keep you entertained throughout the book. Full of twists, this book will keep you awake until the turn of the last page.”--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Once Gone)Book #5 in the Keri Locke series will be available soon.
Chapter 1
PROLOGUE
Carolyn Rainey could sense something was wrong. It was hard to explain the feeling. But as she walked along the winding residential street to meet her twelve-year-old daughter, the skin on the back of her neck tingled.
On the surface, nothing was out of the ordinary. Carolyn always left the house around 2:30 to meet up with Jessica. She enjoyed the solitary, if brief, walk. It allowed her to clear her head for the second half of the day.
Playa del Rey Middle School let out at 2:35 and Jessica biked home every day. By the time she got everything from her locker into her backpack, made it to the bike rack, said goodbye to her friends, and got on the road, it was usually around 2:45.
Mother and daughter invariably met up at about the halfway point between the school and house around 2:50. Then they would return home together, Carolyn walking, Jessica biking slowly beside her, occasionally circling her mom playfully.
They would talk about the events of the day: who had a crush on whom, which teacher accidentally used a curse word, what song they were working on in choir. When they got home, there was always a snack waiting, after which Jessica would dive into her homework and Carolyn would get back to her own work. They had their routine and it was always the same, give or take a few minutes.
But Carolyn had been walking for close to a half hour now. It was almost 3 p.m. and she was nearly two-thirds of the way to the school. She should have run into Jessica by now.
Maybe her daughter had needed to go to the bathroom. Or maybe she had gotten caught up in a conversation with Kyle, the cute boy from her English class. But the tingling sensation on her neck told Carolyn that something else had happened.
When she rounded the next corner, she saw that she was right. Jessica’s purple bike, covered in stickers from the live-action
Beauty and the Beast
movie and photos of her favorite singers, Selena Gomez and Zara Larsson, was lying on its side, half on the sidewalk, half on the road.
She ran over to it and stared, frozen with fear. Looking around desperately, she caught a glimpse of something in the bushes of the nearest house. She hurried over and pulled at it. A branch snapped and the thing came loose.
She looked at it, almost unable to process what she was seeing. It was Jessica’s backpack. Carolyn dropped to her knees, her legs suddenly unsteady. Her heart pounded nearly out of her chest as the realization hit her: her daughter had vanished.
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