A man dedicated to unmasking monsters. The woman who gives faces to the lost➱ Fade Into the Night (Philly Heat) Romantic Suspense by Becky Flade Pre Order Book Tour with Rafflecopter
Evil hides in the shadows.
Fade Into the Night
Philly Heat Series Book 5
by Becky Flade
Genre: Romantic Suspense
A man dedicated to unmasking monsters.
The woman who gives
faces to the lost.
Neither can see the evil hiding in plain
sight.
FBI Special Agent Noah Danes' investigation
into The Beltway Romeo brings him to Philadelphia and leads to a
chance encounter with an old friend. Forensic facial
reconstructionist Sadie Potter hasn't seen Noah since the sentencing
of her mother's murderer four years earlier. Seeing one another in a
new light, they both dare to hope for more.
But before
they can explore their newfound feelings, Sadie's attacked by The
Beltway Romeo.
Fueled with rage and fear, Noah swears to
protect her at all costs. But his fellow profilers turn their focus
on Noah, threatening to reveal his deepest secrets to the world.
Scarred, depressed, and afraid of losing herself along with her art,
Sadie lashes out at the people she loves most...until Romeo makes it
clear he hasn't forgotten the victim who got away.
“Fade into the Night” will grab readers at the first page and not let up until the conclusion! ~InD'tale Magazine
This is a completely unputdownable hold-onto-your-hat book that will take readers on a wild and crazy ride! ~InD'tale Magazine
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Dulcet
tones from bow and string created grace as music soared to the vaulted ceiling
and images of horror panned across the wall. Blood and rose petals littered the
champagne-colored carpet. Candles reduced to hardened puddles on occasional tables,
their frozen drips streaked toward the floor. Every detail designed to draw the
viewer’s gaze to the dead woman spread eagle in the center of the room, her
hands and feet staked with metal tent posts. Her eyelids removed and her torso
carved, she’d been butchered and displayed in the most gruesome definition of
the word. One image transitioned into another, a macabre carousel.
Close-ups
of the damage to the body gave way to distance shots of the room, taken from
separate angles. As detailed and distressing as it was, it couldn’t recreate
the smell of death. Feces, urine, blood, and the sickly, sweet scent of roses
mixed with the sandalwood from the scented candles and permeated the room. The
faint odor of the initial officer's vomit wafted in from beyond the open door.
He could show them, but they’d never know. The last photo, the room after the
body was removed, filled the screen as the music faded to silence.
“Lights
on.” Special Supervisory Agent Noah Danes catalogued the expressions of the
thirty bureau cadets in the lecture hall. He punched back to the first photo.
The full image of the room with the corpse showcased dead center. “This is how
Reston police found the body of Caitlyn Jones. They were responding to a noise
complaint. The music we just heard, Adagio in G Minor, composed by Tomaso
Albinoni, played on the stereo system at full volume. We asked them to secure
the residence, and advised them to touch nothing, not even the stereo, until we
arrived to document the scene. You’re seeing it as I did. What do you see?”
“The
second victim of the Beltway Romeo,” a voice sounded from the back.
Noah
nodded. “That’s the name the press has given him, not law enforcement. The body
of the first victim, Stephanie Jackson, was found in her Frederick, Maryland
home. Because they have, annually, more than four times the violent crime of
Reston, they were prepared to handle the scene there. Reston PD knew they were
out of their depth and were familiar enough with the details of the Jackson
murder to request immediate help to process the scene. Since then, the
Behavioral Analysis Unit here at Quantico has acted as a judicial clearinghouse
in this investigation. Who can explain what I mean, and extra points if you can
tell me how we navigated the multi-jurisdictional morass?” Hands shot up.
“Sciarrillo.”
“One
way to elude law enforcement is to change jurisdictions.” Sciarrillo was a
former military officer. What was euphemistically referred to as a door kicker
but he was smart and had excellent instincts. The BAU would bore him, but he’d
prove a formidable field agent. “Even in our digital age, communications
between local law enforcement in different counties, and differing states,
leave a lot to be desired. The Behavioral Analysis Unit both collects and
disseminates information to various law enforcement agencies. It’s kind of
brilliant. As soon as Romeo crossed state lines, the FBI claimed jurisdiction
over all his crimes.”
“Good.
Hicks?”
The
young woman lowered her hand. She, like so many younger recruits, held a law
degree. Extraordinarily intelligent, overachiever, destined for a career in
government, politics, or maybe a judicial seat. She’d rise through the ranks in
white collar crime. “Doesn’t Romeo present as too intelligent to make the
mistake of earning the FBI’s attention?”
“Yes.
However, let’s remember. By spreading his kills out, he makes them harder to
link. It was a calculated risk.” Though true, he didn’t believe it himself.
There was something more to this pattern. Speaking of. “There are eight victims
to date. Each woman was single, successful, and upwardly mobile. They held
powerful jobs in the capital and lived in communities accessible by the Beltway
or the northeast corridor. As fresh evidence is discovered, we refine our
conclusions and ViCAP is updated. For those of you who may not know, although
by now you should, ViCAP stands for the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program.
It enables local law enforcement agencies to collect, enter, and analyze their
own violent crime information. It facilitates the identification of similar
cases on a regional, state, and national basis. As in all things, it’s only as
good as the information added to it.” He nodded and clicked on another photo.
“What else do you see?”
“He
tortures them. Removes their eyelids and forces them to watch what he’s doing
to them until they die.”
When I was little, I thought everyone had stories in their head. When I found out only special people had stories to tell, I wanted to be one of the magical ones who shared their stories with the world. I wrote my first book in kindergarten with the help of my teacher, Mrs. Daniels. My mom – my biggest fan and most ardent supporter – has that little crayon-drawn book tucked into the pages of her family bible. It took almost thirty years to get from there to published but here I am, making my own dreams come true, one happily ever after at a time.
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I love a good romantic suspense. This one sounds really good.
ReplyDeleteThank you! Your readers can get the book for $1.49 until Wed the 31st
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