Seeking Evil (Looking Into The Mind Of A Killer Series)

Seeking Evil

By

Mary Eason

PUBLISHED BY:

Mary Eason

Copyright © 2012 by Mary Eason

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Praise for the author

Mary Eason skillfully crafts a tale that sends the characters on a wild goose chase. Everyone's a suspect. No one can really be trusted. This is the type of book you read during the day or you might jump at every little sound others. Gritty and emotional. A wild ride.

LAS Romance Reviews

A fast-pace and deep romantic suspense story sure to grab your attention and make you wish it would go on and on! Extremely good and a recommended read.

Marilyn Rondeau for www.ck2skwipsandkritiques.com

A Note from the Author

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoy
Anna and John’s
story as much as I
’ve
enjoyed writing it. Theirs is a very special love story. One that I hope will touch your heart.

And at the end of their story, I’ve included sample chapters of two of my current release
s
for your enjoyment.

Out Of The Night – Book One of The Night Gives Up Its Secrets is a young adult paranormal romance that brings together two star-crossed lovers torn apart by a curse that has no end. Viktor and Jessie must struggle to overcome the Curse Of The Lamia if they ever want to have a chance at love again.

And
Every Single Beat is a
n
edge-of-your-seat thriller
.
Carrie Sierra woke up from two-week coma after a heart transplant and discovered she had someone else's memories. CIA Agent Kate Willows' life and death, including the memories of the man Kate loved, Agent Booth Raines, are hauntingly vivid. Only Kate's killer remains a mystery.

Prologue

T
he
Monster
Leaves The Abyss

He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss
gazes
also
into you.

Friedrich Nietzsche

He’d promised. Sworn the last time would be the last time. He’d lied. The throbbing pain cruising down the right side of her body, the dark bruises under her eye, served as vivid proof of the extent of those lies. They were staring her in the face just as clearly as the choices she faced.

To stay would all but guarantee death. To leave would mean he’d follow through on his promise to track her down no matter where she went. Even to the ends of the earth. The third choice was unimaginable.

Which meant there was only one real choice after all.

* * * * *

L
ooking out through the sheets of pouring rain as the coffin bearing
her
ex-
husband
’
s body
was
lowered slowly into the weeping earth
Anna
Sorenson
believed this
had to be
the blackest moment
of her life
. Soggy red dirt fell in clumps,
first
framing
then
covering the single red rose
she’d
placed on Aaron
’
s casket.

She
glanced
beyond
the minister who watched
her
with an expression that did not welcome
her
tears or encourage sympathy,
away from
John Delaney who
’
d
been at her
side since Aaron
’
s death, past the handful of mourners
to
where the gravediggers smoked and waited patiently to finish their task.

If only she could go back
in time
. Back b
efore she
’d
made that
very
first
special connection.

A connection
to
a killer.

Chapter One

Sixteen
months later…

“
Oh, hell no.
”
The second he saw the body, Agent John Delaney knew his day was about to take a twisted turn toward past mistakes.

The brutality the female victim had endured was evident from her wounds
a
nd the expression of terror written on her face not even death could
erase
. The end hadn
’
t come quickly but it had been excruciating. Her nude body had been tossed aside like a piece of trash next to the small pond located about fifty-some-odd-yards from the walking path at
Rock
Creek
Park
.

He glanced around the area trying to get a sense of the crime scene.
“
Anyone see anything?
”
h
e asked
h
is rookie partner who
’
d been canvassing the
area
.

The latest victim had turned up just six days after Daphnia Scott
’
s body was
found in the same park.

Both vics had
similar
wounds as the original case. Same cause of death. The only difference? This was one year later and the man responsible for those murders sat in a federal prison awaiting execution.

“
Nope. No witnesses. The person who called 9-1-1 jogs this path every morning around the same time. There aren
’
t any surveillance cameras set up at
this end of the park. No doubt
the perp knew this. A patrol car reported driving by around
two
a.m.
Obviously
the body was dropped something after that.
”

Rick
crooked a thumb back over his shoulder.
“
The ME estimates the time of death around thirty-six to forty-eight hours earlier. She wasn
’
t killed here. Sorry, John.
”
Agent Rick Garner confirmed the rebirth of the nightmare with a terse shake of his head.

“
Dammit.
”
John squatted next to the body, his partner and Medical Examiner Maria Woo leaning over his shoulder.
“
Doc, any chance that these wounds weren
’
t caused by the same type of knife?
”
God he hoped she
’
d tell him yes.

He didn
’
t have to look at Maria to know she
’
d be rolling h
er
eyes and
probably
thinking the same thing he was thinking. This was no copycat.

John got to his feet.
“
We able to ID her yet?
”
He directed that question to his partner
.

“
No. No ID was found on the body. Just the note,
”
Rick
added unnecessarily.
“
Which is a pretty strange coincidence, don
’
t you think?
”

John
didn’t believe in coincidences.

“
Where the hell
’
s he been for a year and why would he let Peterson steal his thunder. I mean, these guys are supposed to be media hogs, aren
’
t they?
”
Rick asked.

John
couldn’t forget
the night that would be forever branded in his subconscious. The night his work became personal. And a serial killer made good on his promise to make the morning headlines.

George Peterson had done all of that and more.

At least that
’
s what they
’
d all
hoped
. Until now…

He watched the ME
’
s assistant zip the body bag closed over the sightless eyes of their unidentified victim. John waited until the woman
’
s body was in the wagon.

“
How soon can you get the prelims to me, Doc?
”

“
Should have something by this afternoon. I
’
ll give you a call.
”
Maria snapped off her gloves off and tossed them in her bag then headed for her Mercedes parked on the street.

“
What do you want to do?
”
Rick asked.

“
Do?
”
His gaze fell on the flattened and bloodied imprint left in the grass. God he needed to be sure. Before this thing exploded in the press again.

“
What
’
s our next move?
”
Rick clarified, arching an eyebrow at John
’
s indecision.

The only thing he could do.
“
I need to t
alk to
Peterson
.
”
John turned from the crime scene. Normally the temperature of these late summer days could reach a boiling point by midday. Today the atmosphere in D.C. had turned cold and foreboding.

As if even the weather might be predicting the future.

Rick scrambled up the slight embankment after John.

“
What do you think you
’
re doing?
”
John jabbed
the unlock button on the Bureau-
issued Crown Victoria. He needed to do this alone.
“
Going with you, of course.
”

John slanted
the younger man
a dark look. Most days, Rick
’
s cheerful demeanor was a bonus. Today was not one of them.

“
Rick—
”

“
I know, I know. You
’
re ordering me to stand down. You
’
re the boss. You can do that.
”
Rick stood his ground, his hand on the Vic
’
s passenger door.

In spite of his foul mood, John had to smile.
“
Yeah. So why aren
’
t you doing it.
”

“
Because you need me, partner. And I have no intention of letting you go back down that black hole alone.
”

* * * * *

He
’
d thought he
’
d seen the last of th
is
place. Prayed the last time
would
be the last. He
’
d
come
here on a far different day. He
’
d watched the gates of the Federal Correctional Institute in
Petersburg
,
Virginia
,
slam shut behind George Peterson, and he
’
d walked away from the prison with only a hollow feeling of justice served.