Orrora

By Linda Mooney

Deep in the heart of New York City, a killer is stalking a select group of individuals. A killer whose M.O. matches a series of murders that have been going on for more than eighty years.

Orrora Dalca is brought in by the U.S. Government to identify and find this murderer...but there's a problem. Orrora is hiding a dark secret. And although she's met with the task of finding this killer, she must also hide that person's identity from ever becoming known.

Joel Powers produces independent horror films, and he gets many of his ideas by tailing the police when he gets wind of an unusual homicide. When he encounters Orrora at one of the crime scenes, there is something about her that draws him inexorably to her. These cases intrigue him, as does the girl. But the more he uncovers, the more he isn't sure he wants to put the pieces of this puzzle together.

Determined to see her again, he does everything he can to learn all about her, not realizing there will be a price to pay for his curiosity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Mooney
• Release date: Apr 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781941321706

Linda Mooney

Linda loves to write sensuously erotic romance with a fantasy, paranormal, or science fiction flair. Her technique is often described as being as visual as a motion picture or graphic novel. A wife, mother, grandmother, and retired Kindergarten and music teacher, she lives in a small south Texas town near the Gulf coast where she delves into other worlds filled with daring exploits, adventure, and intense love. She has numerous best sellers, including 10 consecutive #1s. In 2009, she was named Whiskey Creek Press Torrid's Author of the Year, and her book My Strength, My Power, My Love was named the 2009 WCPT Book of the Year. In 2011, her book Lord of Thunder was named the Epic Ebook "Eppie" Award Winner for Best Erotic Sci-Fi Romance. In addition, she write naughty erotic romances under the name of Carolyn Gregg, and horror under the pseudonym of Gail Smith. For more information about Linda Mooney books and titles, and to sign up for her newsletter, please visit her website. http://www.LindaMooney.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

Attack

The night was charged with electricity. As thunder rolled like a timpani player gone berserk, lightning flashed across the heavens, throwing streaks of bristling energy over the tallest towers in New York. The news that night would later report that the Freedom Tower would sustain no less than two dozen strikes within a few short hours, a record.

Over at JFK and LaGuardia, commercial flights were stranded and left circling high above the clouds shrouding the landing strips, leaving air controllers taxed and on-edge with bringing in each plane safely.

Before midnight, the clouds finally opened up to pour upon the city. The rain fell hard, fast, and cold, and late-night revelers ran for cover from the stinging drops.

In one dark abandoned building, however, a solitary figure stood silent and still. Water sluiced off the hooded cloak, puddling beneath a pair of black leather boots. A few inches away, a heavy-set man lay unmoving on the broken tiles. Despite the chill, the man on the ground wore a short-sleeved t-shirt. His arms were covered with tattoos, which would make identification later by the police very easy.

The silent figure grabbed the man and dragged him over to the far end where a stairwell was located off a bank of elevators. No attention was paid to the band of red marking the floor in their wake.

It took several minutes to carry the man up to the third floor and dump him inside the first open room. As the rain continued to beat down, filling the empty building with white noise, the silent figure bent over the man and drank, taking in as much as possible. As the rain intensified, the figure stood, turned, and left.

It wasn’t long before the dark blue carpet turned black with blood from the man’s torn throat, spreading outward like a gory pillow beneath his head. But it mattered none to the killer. What was done was done, and there were never any regrets.

Chapter 2

Pursuit

As he did every morning, Joel Powers started his first cup of coffee as he fired up his computer to check his newsfeed.

Fire, burglary, knifing, traffic accident, traffic accident, domestic disturbance, another break-in. He grunted with disappointment. It was the usual gamut of misdemeanors and felonies. Nothing that would spark his creative imagination. As if anything could, considering he’d woken up with another one of those persistent headaches.

He grabbed his coffee and bottle of Tylenol, and returned to the table, taking the seat that allowed him to look out the window by his elbow. The day was overcast. The street below was already wet. One person passed with a dark blue umbrella, but a couple of women hurried along without one. He peered again the gray clouds, then pulled up the forecast on his laptop.

Sixty percent chance of rain today. Chance of sleet. Great mood enhancer.

In the distance he heard his cell phone go off, reminding him that he’d left it charging on the bedside table in the bedroom. Recognizing the ring tone, he hustled to get it, grabbing the phone and popping the cord from the base as he raised it to his ear.

Yeah, Wes?

Last night. Fortieth and Columbus. Looks like something right up your alley.

Joel didn’t ask his informant what he meant by that remark. He never asked anything other than for the man to repeat an address if he didn’t catch it the first time.

Thanks, Wes.

The line went silent as the call was disconnected. Tossing the cell on the bed, Joel hurried to get dressed. Pouring his coffee into a paper to-go cup, he also grabbed his notebook and pen before leaving his apartment.

Since the address was a good distance from his location, and because he was a bit of a cheapskate, he opted to walk the dozen or so blocks. It wouldn’t do him any good to rush anyway. If whatever Wes wanted him to see happened last night, that meant the police, the coroner, and CSU had already been at the scene.

He sipped his coffee and tried to recall if anything he’d glanced at on the newsfeed bore that address. To his knowledge, he came up blank, but that didn’t mean anything. He may have just inadvertently glossed over it while skimming the police docket.

He finished his coffee, tossing the paper cup into a waste container he passed on the sidewalk. The rain started coming down again, and he ducked inside the first corner market he came to and bought a package of powdered donuts and a cheap umbrella for five bucks. The umbrella wasn’t all that durable, but at least it would help keep most of the wetness off of him for the time being.

He stuffed a donut into his mouth as he continued on to Columbus. When he reached the corner, he turned to cross the street and continued on until he got to Fortieth three blocks over.

By the time he neared his destination, he’d finished his donuts, stuffing the wrapper inside his jacket pocket and dusting his fingers off on his pants leg. Ahead he could see two police cars, one marked and one unmarked, pulled up next to what appeared to be a vacant shop. Police tape roped off the front door and display window, but he was able to see part of the shop’s interior through the grimy glass. In the rear, two uniformed officers stood watch as two other men in suits, obviously detectives, went in and out of a door.

A third officer emerged from the front entrance and noticed Joel standing there. The man glanced around the area, then gave him a nod. I had a feeling you might show up, the cop acknowledged.

Propping his umbrella between his knees, Joel whipped out his pen and pad. Care to spill a few details, Chas? Enough to wet my whistle?

You know I can’t do that, Joel. The man glanced around the area again, as did Joel. With the exception of the two of them, the place was clear. Obviously there wasn’t enough drama going on here to get the folks interested in hanging around. As of this moment, it’s another homeless guy who got jumped by another. Probably a dope head.

A homicide, eh? Moving closer, Joel peered again through the window. Looks like an awful lot of investigative work for a homeless man. Listen, Chas, you don’t have to give me specifics, you know. Just a few odd details. Enough to where I can use them—

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Enough to where you can use them in another one of those horror movies you like to produce?

Joel chucked him a grin. I’m between gigs, and I need something nice and juicy to spark the old imagination. So, whaddaya say? Toss this old dog a bone, will ya?

The officer waved a finger above his upper lip. First you gotta take care of that snort you forgot to hide.

It took Joel a second to realize what the man was talking about. Smiling, he pulled the remains of his donut package from his pocket. Oh, you mean the sugar from these? Thanks for the warning. He wiped his mouth as one of the plainclothes detectives exited the building. Joel recognized him. Detective Hyram Chesterfield, very straight-laced and by-the-book. Partial to Chinese food, college basketball games, and warm Guinness.

Chesterfield nodded to the uniformed officer. Chas threw Joel another glance, then vanished inside the building.

Nothing here for you to see, Powers.

Nothing more than somebody attacking a homeless guy?

The detective started to answer when his attention was diverted to another unmarked police car pulling up. Joel watched as it stopped a few feet away, and another detective exited from the driver’s side to open the passenger door.

For one heart-stopping moment he stared at the brunette beauty climbing out of vehicle. She cast him a single glance, narrowed her eyes, then dismissed him as both the other detective and Chesterfield escorted her inside.

Momentarily left alone, Joel pressed his face to the dirty glass and cupped his hands around his eyes to get a better look-see. From everyone’s body language, he could tell she wasn’t a suspect.

After a brief consult with the men, she went inside the back room by herself as the police discussed something between themselves. Clicking the pen’s cap, he hastily scribbled in his notebook.

Learn to read lips, or have someone who can read lips. Have hero/ine use that ability to crack a case wide open, or lead to a discovery crucial to solving one.

Less than a minute later, the woman re-emerged to speak with the detectives, giving him a chance to examine her fully. She had long, thick black hair that she wore tied back at the nape of her neck. Her outfit consisted of ankle-high black boots, scruffy jeans, and what appeared to be a simple white t-shirt underneath her black leather jacket. She wore no jewelry, as far as he could tell. At least nothing that was gaudy enough to catch his attention.

Every so often she’d turn her head as if glancing his way. He didn’t know whether it was because she was curious about him, or if his presence bothered her. As he continued to study her, Officer Chas exited the building again.

Yo, Joel.

He straightened to face the man. Who is she?

The cop pursed his lips. Some expert the bigwigs flew in from Washington to help them on this case.

Immediately, his interest piqued. They flew in an expert from Washington to help them solve the murder of a homeless man? Sounds a bit extreme, don’t you agree?

Listen, Powers, this goes nowhere, understand me? I’ve already said too much already.

Yeah, yeah. I gotcha. Just one more thing, and I’ll be on my way. What’s her name?

The cop shrugged. All I know is the code word they use for her.

That being?

Orrora.

Chapter 3

Investigation

Sometimes the best place to get an idea or a lead was in the location where all the juicy gossip came together. In Joel’s opinion, that was at the police station over on Pollock, a few blocks from his apartment building.

The cops were used to him coming in and taking a seat in the foyer. It’s where family members were allowed to wait while their kin was either being questioned, or was filing a complaint. Taking one of the chairs closest to the front desk, Joel would spend sometimes two to three hours listening, observing, and taking notes in his little pocket journal he always kept with him.

After seeing the woman named Orrora with Detective Chesterfield, he’d wasted no time hiking down to the station where he hoped to glean a little more information. Or at least catch another glimpse of the stunning brunette.

Feigning interest in the news items on his cell phone, Joel kept a surreptitious eye and ear on the passing conversations from the officers coming and going through the doors.

Hey, Chuck! Did your cable go out last night?

Yeah, just as my show was about to come on. Figures.

Murrow, I heard you’re taking Coniff’s shift today.

His wife went into labor last night, so I volunteered.

Two more officers passed by. I hate it when the grid goes down.

Why? Lose connection with those porn sites you like to visit? his partner smirked.

Joel shook his head as he hid a smile behind his hand. Luckily for him his laptop had been fully charged, so he’d still been able to get some work done.

A movement from the side caught his attention. A woman dressed in a blouse and pair of slacks came striding into the foyer. She had a gold shield clipped to her waistband, a folder in her hand, and a scowl on her face. Her hard-soled shoes made a steady tapping sound as she made her way to the other side of the room and turned down a narrow hallway, nearly brushing against Joel’s shoulder as she passed by. He watched from the corner of his eye as she reached for the door that suddenly opened. She