MASKS blog hop!

When Stars Are Bright–Blog Tour! LINEAGE Audio Book Tour!

MASKS blog hop!

Welcome to this leg of the Filles Vertes Publishing MASKS blog hop!
I’m so glad you’ve made it! And, if you somehow landed on this page and haven’t heard about the blog hop, click here: HOP

Make sure you add MASKS to your Goodreads TBR: HERE
And…guess what? Pre-orders are now available! Just click on your choice of retailer below!
FVP
AMAZON
BARNES AND NOBLE
BOOK DEPOSITORY

Now, sit back and enjoy this entertaining glimpse of one of the intriguing stories awaiting you in MASKS. Remember to look for the keyword/phrase and write it down!
Happy Hopping!

The Sin Exchange

Ponte Dei Morti Bridge loomed in the distance as I made my way down Sepulchre Crossing. A white police barricade blocked the small dirt path that lead to the water. My headlights illuminated the small group of people standing on the curb behind yellow crime scene tape, across the street from the entrance to the riverbank. Two police cruisers sat on opposite ends of the street, lights flashing, doors still open, while a third sat directly in the middle. Two officers stood in front of the onlookers. I even spotted Hayden Snow, my friend and reporter for the Silverwood Gazette.

I parked my car next to my partner Raphael’s truck. Leaving the air conditioning blowing, I took a long sip of my coffee. Damn I was tired. I’d gotten the call just before midnight when I’d finally been able to quiet my mind enough to go to sleep. Rest never came easy for me. I’d tried sleeping pills, but they never worked. Finally, I’d gone to Madame Marie Boisseau for a cure. She gave me Valerian root. Even now, the euphoria was riding me, pushing me to just close my eyes.

After draining the last of my coffee, I pulled a handful of latex gloves from the box I kept in my center console and stuffed them in my jeans pocket. When working a scene, I liked to use a different pair of gloves for every point of contact. It wasn’t required. But I figured it was the best way to ensure the scene wasn’t contaminated.

Engine off, I pushed open the door and stepped out into the warm, humid air. Silverwood rarely dropped below eighty-five degrees even at night.

Dressed in a tank top and wrinkled jeans, I pulled my thick, curly hair up off my neck and secured it with a thick rubber band. By the time I slipped on a blue long-sleeved shirt—to protect myself from the mosquito’s—sweat had already accumulated at the base of my neck.

The hushed whispers of the crowd pulled my attention. More people were making their way toward the scene. I studied them for a moment. The flashing red and blue lights from the police cruisers created a sort of macabre mask of duality on their faces. I was looking for someone who showed more than just morbid curiosity. It was a known fact that more often than not, the killer would return to the scene of the crime to watch. To see how their crime affected others.

Sadly, in the seven years I’d been a detective at the Silverwood Police Department, I’d never seen this happen.

“Detective Monroe, can you tell me what happened?” Hayden Snow yelled as I made my way toward the barricade.

“No comment.”

“Oh, come on Beatrice. Give me something.”

I turned around, walking backward toward the barricade. “I just got here myself. Maybe you can tell me what happened.”

She narrowed her eyes. Hayden and I had gone to school together. She’d always wanted to be a reporter. Hell, I even entertained the idea for a while. But she was the one who’d made it. She was also the closest thing I had to a best friend.

“I should have a statement for you later.”

“Can I have your word on that?” she asked, smiling. She knew I’d fill her in. I wouldn’t tell her everything, but I would give her the scoop.

I stepped around the barricade and onto the path. Switching on my flashlight, I followed the hardened dirt path toward the riverbank. A cool breeze blew in off the Tulare River. Not enough to make a dent in the thick heat, but it was something. The sound of rushing water filled the night, mixing with what I liked to call “night sounds.” Crickets, frogs, the buzzing of flying insects all mingled together. Crime scene markers lined the dirt, marking footprints that lead toward the clearing near the water. (KEYWORD: ONLY)

My partner, Detective Raphael Sinclair, stood in the bay of lights wearing a wrinkled black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Hands on his hips, he scanned the area and only turned when I was right next to him. His dark hazel eyes roamed over me—no doubt noticing the large coffee stain on the front of my tank top.

“You look beat, Beatrice,” he said, turning back to the crime scene.

“Oh, just what every woman wants to hear.”

“The truth?”

I chuckled. “I can’t argue with that one.” I glanced over at the scene. “Have you been over to look at the body yet?”

He shook his head. “You know how Charlie gets.”

Yeah, Charlie, our coroner, could be a little abrasive when pressured. He’d go on long tirades about our impatience and his need to work in peace. Often with the use of some very colorful language. We took it all in stride. What can I say? We loved the man, despite his less-than-cheery disposition.

“Besides.” Raphael glanced at me. “Thought I’d wait for you to get here.”

“To do all the work?”

“I have absolutely no shame in admitting that, yes, I will let you do all the work.”

Did I forget to show you the grand prize??? WHAT!!!