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    The Route 9 Killer (A Mystery/Thriller)
    The Route 9 Killer (A Mystery/Thriller)
    The Route 9 Killer (A Mystery/Thriller)
    Ebook110 pages1 hour

    The Route 9 Killer (A Mystery/Thriller)

    By Kelli A. Wilkins

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    About this ebook

    The Route 9 Killer
    (A Mystery/Thriller)

     

    Detective Jim Rourke suspects a serial killer is hunting women in Central New Jersey. The victims are held captive, brutalized, then murdered and dumped along deserted stretches of Route 9.

     

    There's no physical evidence, no witnesses, and the killer is smart enough to leave no clues.

     

    Rourke is alone on a manhunt, and time is running out. Eight victims have already fallen prey to this madman.

     

    Can Rourke catch the killer and rescue the next victim before it's too late?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKelli A. Wilkins
    Release dateMay 23, 2023
    ISBN9798223874287
    The Route 9 Killer (A Mystery/Thriller)
    Author

    Kelli A. Wilkins

    ABOUT THE AUTHOR Kelli A. Wilkins is an award-winning author who has published more than 100 short stories, 20 romance novels, 3 horror ebooks, and 7 non-fiction books. Her romances span many genres and heat levels, and she’s also been known to scare readers with her horror stories. In January 2021, Kelli released Journaling Every Week: 52 Topics to Get You Writing. This fun and innovative guide to journaling is filled with hundreds of thought-provoking prompts designed to get you writing about your feelings and emotions. In 2020, Kelli published Love, Lies & Redemption, a western romance set in 1877 Nebraska. This novel blends a sensual love story with mystery and danger. She released Romance Every Weekend: 104 Fun Ways to Express Your Love, a non-fiction guide to romance in 2019. The book features 104 fun and easy ways you can express your love to that special someone in your life. Perfect for men or women, it focuses on tender, everyday gestures that let your partner know how much you love him or her. Kelli published Extraterrestrial Encounters, a collection of 18 sci-fi stories, in 2019. If you like horror fiction, don’t miss her disturbing novella, Nightmare in the North. Her writing book, You Can Write—Really! A Beginner’s Guide to Writing Fiction is a fun and informative guide filled with writing exercises and helpful tips all authors can use. Kelli posts on her Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKelliWilkins and Twitter: www.Twitter.com/KWilkinsauthor. Visit her website www.KelliWilkins.com  to learn more about all of her writings.

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      Book preview

      The Route 9 Killer (A Mystery/Thriller) - Kelli A. Wilkins

      A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

      This book is a work of fiction... however, the names of the towns used in the story are very real, as are some of the major roads (like Route 9). As I was writing, I was tempted to fictionalize the town names, but was advised that using the real names would make the story more authentic.

      The minor roads, locations, and character names are all a product of my imagination and are not intended to represent any actual person or place.

      This story has been a work in progress for a while, and I have several people to thank for their help along the way:

      Robert: for encouraging me to keep writing, especially when I wanted to give up

      Deborah, Diane, John, and Pat: for their edits and suggestions to the manuscript

      Rich & Gina: for listening to my story idea and offering excellent technical advice

      And to my readers:

      Thank you for your support over the years. I hope you enjoy the story—especially the ending.

      Happy Reading!

      Kelli

      CHAPTER 1

      The stabbing pain in her head snapped her awake. She winced, and hoped the agony would fade. It didn’t. It was the world’s worst migraine, but instead of being focused behind her eyes or in the center of her forehead, the throbbing ache filled her skull.

      She opened her eyes and squinted against the bright sunlight. Damn. The light hurt her eyes and made her headache worse. What time was it? She was lying on her back in bed, one arm bent up next to her shoulder. She moved her right arm to block out the light and heard a rattle. Her arm only moved six inches. What the hell?

      She pulled her arm again, harder this time. Another rattle and a clunk. She bent her head backward and looked up. Silver handcuffs were attached to both of her wrists. A metal chain was hooked to the handcuffs and linked through a wooden slat in a headboard.

      Her heart raced faster as she stared at the cuffs, trying to make sense of things. What this some kind of a joke?

      She studied her surroundings. Thin orange curtains barely blocked the light streaming in from two narrow windows. The walls were covered in ugly brown paneling. There was no furniture in the room except for a small night table next to the bed. Where was she?

      She glanced down at herself and saw that she was covered with a white sheet decorated with faded blue daisies. A second later, she realized she was naked.

      She started screaming.

      DETECTIVE ROURKE SAT at his desk, sipping his coffee as he scrolled through his emails. Nothing pressing had landed in his in-box since Friday: meeting reminders, department memos, and a few follow-ups on active cases. Then again, it was only nine o’clock on Sunday morning, still too early for a crime wave. Maybe he would—

      I’m telling you, she’s gone. Why won’t anyone listen to me? a man shouted from the front desk area.

      He heard a murmured reply, then the man yelled again. I don’t care! You have to do something. Don’t just sit there on your ass drinking coffee.

      Rourke rose and walked to the front desk. Sergeant DiGennaro was talking to an agitated twenty-something man with brown hair.

      Everything alright? Rourke asked.

      The man turned to him. No, everything’s not alright. I’ve been trying to convince this guy, he gestured at DiGennaro, to get off his lazy ass and do his job.

      DiGennaro stuck his finger in the man’s face. Don’t start in on me, or I’ll throw your snotty ass in a cell, he growled. I told you three times already; a person isn’t considered missing for twenty-four hours. Your girlfriend probably got sick of your attitude and took off with another guy, or a girl.

      You miserable prick. And you wonder why people hate cops? You’re all a bunch of—

      Okay, enough, Rourke barked. So much for a peaceful Sunday morning. DiGennaro was an old timer, up for retirement soon, or maybe past the age where he should have already retired.

      Sir, what’s your name? And what’s the problem?

      My name is Marc Baylor. My girlfriend is missing and this asshole doesn’t give a shit.

      Why should I? DiGennaro snarled. She’s only been gone a few hours.

      Rourke shot DiGennaro a nasty look. That’s not the right attitude, Sergeant.

      "Yes, Detective. DiGennaro said it in a screw-you" tone.

      Rourke closed his eyes and counted to ten. DiGennaro had never liked him from the instant he met him. As far as DiGennaro was concerned, Detective Jim Rourke was nothing but a Black, troublemaking, 43-year-old hotshot from Philly who transferred to Jersey to make him look bad. It wasn’t hard.

      He addressed Baylor. I’m Detective Rourke, come with me. Let’s have a chat. Most people wanted to be listened to. If Baylor thought he was being taken seriously, he’d calm down.

      He motioned for Baylor to follow him to his desk. He sat down and Baylor took the chair across from him. I apologize for Sergeant DiGennaro. Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what’s going on.

      Like I was saying, my girlfriend is missing. She’s been missing all night. I was here before, and that jerk kept blowing me off, saying there’s nothing the cops can do.

      Rourke heard tension in Baylor’s voice, and took a minute to look him over. Medium build, white, short brown hair, square face, probably 27 or so, scruff on his chin, bags under his brown eyes. He looked like he’d been awake all night.

      Okay, take a breath and relax. Do you want anything to drink? Coffee or water?

      No. I want to find my girlfriend.

      He took a notepad out of his desk drawer. Let’s start at the beginning. Your girlfriend’s name?

      Allison Kendrick.

      Okay, and the last time you saw her was when? And where?

      Baylor let out a long breath. We went to a party at her friend Stephanie’s last night. We started arguing before we left. Then we had a fight in the car. She got out... He stared down at his hands in his lap. ... and now I can’t find her. She’s vanished.

      She got out of the car and... what? I’m not sure I understand.

      Baylor fidgeted in the chair. We had a fight, she got out of the car... we yelled at each other... and... I drove off.

      You what?

      I drove off. I was pissed at her and I drove off. I left her standing in the road. I know it sounds shitty, but we were both mad and she was being such a bitch. I figured she’d walk back to her friend’s house.

      Rourke jotted down a few notes. Baylor was agitated, and probably mad at himself for leaving Allison. Where did this take place?

      On Edgington Road. It’s kinda deserted and dark.

      Yeah, I know it. He wanted to ask, If you knew the road was dark and deserted, why did you leave your girlfriend? But he didn’t. It wouldn’t help. What time was this?

      I’m not sure, maybe twelve-thirty or one, replied Baylor.

      Then what happened?

      Baylor shifted in the seat. "After I drove away, I felt bad. I realized I couldn’t leave her there. I went back for her and she was gone. That’s why I said she’s missing. I was gone maybe ten minutes, and she wasn’t there.

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