Scathed

By Sue Coletta

On a picturesque fall morning in Grafton County, New Hampshire, a brutal murder rocks the small town of Alexandria. In the backyard of a weekend getaway cabin, a dead woman is posed in red-satin, with two full-bloomed roses in place of eyes.

In her hand, a mysterious envelope addressed to Sheriff Niko Quintano. Inside, Paradox vows to kill again if his riddle isn’t solved within 24 hours.

With so little time and not enough manpower, Niko asks his wife for help. But Crime Writer Sage Quintano is dealing with her own private nightmare. Not only did she find massive amounts of blood on the mountain where she and her family reside, but a phone call from the past threatens her future—the creepy mechanical voice of John Doe, the serial killer who murdered her twin sister.

Together, can Niko and Sage solve the riddle in time to save the next victim? Or will the killer win this deadly game of survival?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
• Release date: Jul 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463607176

Sue Coletta

Sue Coletta is an active member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, and the bestselling, award-winning crime writer of psychological thrillers and mysteries (Tirgearr Publishing). For true crime fans, PRETTY EVIL NEW ENGLAND will hit bookstores by Nov. 1, 2020 (Globe Pequot - trade division of Rowman & Littlefield). Feedspot and Expertido.org awarded her Murder Blog as one of the Top 100 Crime Blogs on the Net (Murder Blog sits at #5). Sue's also the communications manager for Forensic Science and the Serial Killer Project and a proud member of the Kill Zone, where she blogs every other Monday.

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Prologue

October 16, 2008

6:00 a.m.

The unknown shattered my reality. Before entering hospital room 339, I rapped my knuckles on the doorframe. A gentle tap, tap, tap so I wouldn’t startle my husband. Pup, it’s me. Deep inhale, and I pushed open the door, with Noah straddled on my hip.

My heart collided with my ribcage.

Niko lay in the hospital bed, the sheet coin-tight across his chest. Clear tubing ran to intravenous medication, hanging from a metal pole, to clear bags secured to the bed frame, below the thin mattress. Five or six tubes in total. His pallid color worsened when he reached for me, his strong fingers grasping air, urging us closer. The fingers which soothed my pain with one touch, the hand I held as we recited our wedding vows—twice. Those very fingers weaved with mine for the last two decades, through agony, through despair, through sorrow, through excitement, through endless days and passion-filled nights. The man in that bed possessed the ability to wash away my darkest fears. Yet, in this moment, the hand that reached for me did not look like Niko’s. Its skin mottled, gray, ill.

Frozen in place, I gaped at his suffering.

This is not your fault, he claimed. Please don’t blame yourself, babe. Balls of white cornered his dry, colorless lips. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Tears flooded my eyes, my vision clouding more and more with each soul-crushing second that crawled by. What’re you saying? I don’t understand.

Don’t let our son forget me. Promise me.

Don’t talk like that. I rushed to his side, pressed my lips to his forehead, sheathed in sweat. You’re gonna be fine, pup. You’re the strongest man I know.

I love you, Sage Quintano. From the first day you strutted into the Hilltop Steakhouse, wavy hair cascading down your back, to this moment right here, right now, I’ve been helplessly, desperately, in love with you. Always remember that, remember me.

Pup, I don’t understand. I cried harder, my chest heaving so heavily I struggled for each and every breath. Noah wailed, too. At twenty-months old, he was too young to grasp the severity of Niko’s words, but he sure sensed something wasn’t right. "Talk to me. Please, I begged. Tell me how and why you’re here. Who did this to you?"

You’ll find love again, as much as it pains me to say. Consider this my blessing to move forward. I can’t bear to think of you, Noah, and the kids living alone in that big house.

Stop talking like this. I don’t want another love. I want you, pup.

A slight grin arched beneath his straggly goatee. Glints of silver more prominent in his dark hair than ever before. I know you do, babe.

When he forced the second grin, albeit weaker, the charade did not fool me. My husband feared the worst. What happened in the hours after he dropped me off? If Paradox was responsible for Niko’s grave condition, maybe there’s a riddle that points to a clue to reverse the effect.

"This can’t be the end; it just can’t be. I’ll never make it without you. Hang on. Please, pup."

That might be out of my control, he countered. Remember how deeply I love you guys. You’re my whole world, my everything. Thank you for so many blissful years together, years I didn’t always deserve. I haven’t always been the best husband, especially when it came to recognizing your fears. Why didn’t I listen? His warm, caramel-colored eyes rolled closed. From under his thick lashes, tears trickled down to the pillow. I’m… so… tired.

Pup? By the shoulder, I shook him. Pup? My gaze shot to Noah, still bundled in my arms, and I fell to my knees, hands held in prayer around our son. "Dear God, no. You can’t take my husband. Not now. We’ve just begun this beautiful new chapter. It can’t end yet. Please, I’ll do anything. Noah bawled with me as I rose. To my husband’s chest, I pressed an open hand. Fight harder. Don’t you dare give up. Fight for us." Sweeping my hair around one ear, I lowered my cheek to his heart.

Thump… thump… thump.

Dr. Rollinsford strode up behind me and rested a supportive hand on my back. Mrs. Quintano, may we talk?

Without turning around, I said, Only if you’ll give us hope. Otherwise, save your bullshit condolences for someone else. We don’t need ‘em. I whirled around. How did he wind up here? He was fine earlier. Maybe a little run down, but nothing to indicate his life was in danger. Was he poisoned? Shot? Stabbed? I can’t tell what’s wrong with all these tubes.

Let’s go back to my office so Sheriff Quintano can rest.

No, dammit. I stomped my foot. I’m not leaving him. Whatever you need to tell me you can say right here.

With the saddest eyes I’ve ever had the misfortune of witnessing, he started slow. Your husband ran into trouble earlier today when… His words trailed off, his voice muffled by my devastation. The doctor’s lips moved, but I was trapped inside my own head, silently pleading with God, begging for mercy. If my husband died, I’d never recover. Not ever.

Chapter One

Three Days Earlier

October 13, 2008

Sometime after midnight

Granted, as a crime writer my suspicions tended to pique at times, but this was different. An enormous truck ground the gears outside the loft window, and I leaped out of bed. A moving truck sputtered past our driveway and kept going. We lived on a dead-end road, so where was it headed? Had the twenty-four-acre parcel farther up the mountain sold? Beautiful piece, surrounded by one-hundred-forty-four acres of woodlands. My intuition screamed at me to pay attention.

Who moves into their new home after midnight?

Blackness overshadowed everything in its path. Even the stars didn't dare shine tonight. Plus, there wasn’t even a house up there yet. Logging trucks had hauled grapple load after grapple load of timber down the mountain, but no building contractor or supply truck drove up afterward. Everything about this situation felt wrong. If our new neighbor had nothing to hide, why not move during daylight hours? Around my neck, I slid the Gemini charm back and forth across the gold chain.

Unable to impede the rising flutter from entering my chest, I jostled Niko awake. He’d know what to do. Someone’s outside, I whispered.

Lightning fast, his training instinctively took over, and he tore open the drawer of his bedside table for his Glock. He jolted to his feet, racking a bullet into the chamber. Stay here— his penetrating stare bore straight through me—while I go check it out.

I squinted, my nose crinkling in confusion. Check what out? They aren’t inside the house. See? I dragged the curtain aside. Cherry red tail lights trailed into the darkness.

As Niko’s tense shoulders eased, he lowered the gun. You woke me about a truck?

Something hinky is going on. Something sinister. When’s the last time you saw anyone drive up this road after dark? I winced, the memory of last March still raw.

The look my husband gave me likened to a doctor ready to call a team of white coats. In the next moment, his tone turned calm, too calm, like he feared riling the mental patient. Babe, you’ve researched the criminal mind so much that lately, you’re suspicious of anythin’ out of the ordinary.

I slapped the side of my leg. That’s not fair. You mean to tell me, you don’t find it strange for someone to move onto bare land in the middle of the night?

I’m not having this conversation, Sage. He slogged around the footboard to his side of the bed, disarmed the gun, and tucked it back in the drawer. Punching his pillow, he tossed one last spiteful glare my way before resting his head.

That’s it? I flung my arms to shoulder-level. You’re not even the least bit curious?

He flipped onto his side, with his back to me.

Some detective you are, I mumbled as I crawled under the covers. Seated upright, I crossed my arms over my chest. Hope we don’t die in our sleep.

To appease me, he swung his arm over his hip and gave my knee a condescending pat.

Ugh! You can be so infuriating at times.

* * *

5:00 a.m.

Come five a.m., I was at the kitchen counter sifting flour into a bowl of ingredients for pumpkin spice muffins. Colt sat by my feet, squared hips, hopeful eyes watching my every move—praying if only she’d drop a few morsels on the floor. Ruger stayed upstairs, sacked out across the doorway of Noah’s bedroom—his usual spot—on guard, willing to attack anyone who threatened the lifeblood of this family.

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

To stop the kitchen timer, I thumbed the keypad. Golden crust burst from each cup in the pan. Sugar crystalized atop each muffin, the aroma of nutmeg, pecans, and pumpkin encircling my head. With paw-printed pot holders, I slid the tray from the oven and set it on the cooling rack.

While I stirred the ingredients for batch number two, Niko plodded into the kitchen. Whatcha got cookin’, good lookin’?

A flush warmed my cheeks. The old pick-up line still worked. Pumpkin spice muffins to welcome our new neighbor. I flashed a quick hand. Don’t say it.

Say what?

Had he forgotten that I’d woken him last night? Doubtful. But just in case, I played along. Keep your mitts off the muffins. We have French toast.

Ooh, with cinnamon?

Is there any other way?

He waved praying hands toward the ceiling, mouthed, Thank you. Then his gaze roamed the length of the counter. I smell something else. Fruit maybe? Nose wiggling like a bloodhound, he stepped on the lever of the trash barrel. I knew it. Cantaloupe rind. You made those mini fruit cups, too. Didn’t you? When I didn’t respond, he gripped the handle of the refrigerator.

I slapped a flat hand on the door. Why could men never wait? Go sit, please.

Hands held in surrender, he backed away, yammering, Okay, okay, I’m goin’. His stomach roared so loud Colt’s left ear swiveled toward Niko. Only the left. Aimed on the counter the right never moved, nor did his stare.

I don’t know what I did to deserve all this, but thanks, babe. My husband tried to distract me with a kiss while he reached around me to steal a muffin off the rack. Classic. After two decades together, this was not the first time he’d tried that move.

Don’t. You. Dare, I warned, my voice muffled against his lips.

Breaking our embrace, his shoulders sprang to his ears. What? I’m just sayin’ good morning to my beautiful wife.

With an unflinching stare, I flared my nostrils. Uh-ha.

Can’t fault a guy for tryin’. Besides, since when do you greet neighbors with baked goods?

I raised splayed fingers to my chest. I’m friendly. That’s what neighbors do. No harm in that.

Sage, he cautioned. What’re you up to?

Nothing. My voice pitched so high it exposed my deceit.

C’mon, let’s hear your theory. He leaned against the counter, arms folded on his chest. I know you’ve got one, so you might as well tell me. Or would you rather wait till I fall asleep tonight?

My jaw tensed, and I flung my hands above my head, slapping my thighs as they dropped. Who moves in the middle of the night?

As though this conversation bored him, he picked lint off his shirt sleeve. Someone who works long hours during the day, I imagine.

And then what, pitch a tent? The more he downplayed our mystery neighbor’s activities the more heat jagged up my chest. There’s nothing but woods and wildlife up there. Rummaging through the dishwasher for Niko’s favorite coffee mug, ceramic clashed with glass. I slammed in the top tray, dragged out the lower, silverware clanging against the force. Where’d I put the damn thing? I whipped open three cabinet doors. The mug sat dead-center in cabinet number four. A slight shake shook my head. Why would I stack it atop dinner plates?

"A better question might be, who do you think moved up the mountain?"

I don’t know yet. When I banged the mug on the granite next to the coffee maker, a thin crack fissured around the seam of the handle. Still, I poured Niko’s caramel-apple java in the hopes he wouldn’t notice. I’ll tell you one thing. I intend to find out.

All I had left to do was pray the new guy wasn’t armed. Or worse, psychotic.

Chapter Two

6:00 a.m.

When the alarm clock blared the most annoying buzz ever invented, Deputy Frankie Campanelli slapped the snooze button for the second time. A naked man rolled toward her, and she startled. How much did she drink last night?

Good morning, beautiful. Lips puckered for a kiss, he extended his neck.

Against her will, her upper cheek twitched. What’s your name again?

Kane.

As in, candy? She had better things to do than rehash small talk from the night before. If she didn’t roll into the Sheriff’s Department in one hour, Niko’d jump all over her shit. All set with this conversation, she dragged the sheet with her as she swung her feet to the floor.

No, he said. As in, cock, only with a K.

Her gaze shot toward him, and she paused. Who does this joker think he is? Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a shocked response, she turned back around. Uh-ha. Well, it’s been fun, Kane with a K. But now, it’s time for you to leave.

Wait. He reached for her, but she rotated her shoulder out of range.

With the sheet swaddled around her breasts, she slid her arms into Chance’s old button-down shirt, the tails hanging to mid-thigh. Listen, pal. Once she covered her nakedness, she tossed the balled sheet on the bed. We had a good time together last night. Now that time has come to an end.

So it’s like that?

When Kane stood, tight abs rippled above a beautiful, well-endowed member. Now it made sense why she’d let him stay the night. The fact that he was at least ten years younger also helped. But the last twelve hours blurred. How many cocktails did she drink?

That line of inquiry morphed into eyeing him up and down. Mm-mmm, what a stud muffin. Dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, a V-d upper body, and arms that could bench-press double or triple her weight. His smooth golden skin glistened in the sunlight, and she bit a hooked forefinger.

Kane, is it? She stepped closer. Great name, by the way.

Shame she couldn’t recall the finer details of their time together. With a body like that he must’ve been a great lay. She ran one black-polished fingernail down his tanned chest. Whaddaya say if— she kissed him hard, dragging her teeth down his stretched bottom lip— we meet up later for round two?

Ow. With his thumb, he dabbed a spot of blood. Don’t you mean, round four?

Tingles shot to her honeypot, and she purred in his ear. I’m gonna devour you later.

A visible chill ran through him. Name the time and place, and I’ll be there.

Hm. That might be tough. My schedule is so unpredictable these days. Leave your digits on the nightstand, and I’ll buzz you when I’m on my way home. Now, get dressed. It’s distracting, and I gotta jump in the shower.

Yes, ma’am.

She leaned in real close. Call me ma’am again, and I’ll slap you into next week.

Kane laughed and then must’ve realized she wasn’t kidding. His mouth clamped shut. My bad. Won’t happen again.

Good boy.

Wade, one of the pit bulls she’d rescued from a drug dealer who took advantage of his sweet nature, trotted into the bedroom. For a two-year-old pup, he was an easy-going fella. Annie, his sister, had twice the energy, but Frankie couldn’t bear to separate them. Neither sibling could ever replace Gunther, her Saint Bernard who crossed the rainbow bridge in his sleep one night, but they’d already won a permanent place in her heart.

She scratched Wade’s muscular head. You’re a good boy, too. Aren’t you, handsome? As her hand moved behind the ears, paws thundered up the stairs. Yeah, you are. Annie raced into the bedroom and hip-checked her brother out of the way.

Frankie chuckled. Gotta love her spunk.

Kissing both dogs on the snout, she ignored lover boy as he slipped into tight-fitting jeans. Okay, so maybe part of her attention stayed with Kane. In her defense, he took eye candy to a whole new level. Mm-mmm.

Forty-minutes later, after Frankie had blown-dried her chestnut locks and combed mascara on her thick lashes, she blew herself a kiss in the mirror above the sink. Not bad for forty-something. She snapped her fingers at her reflection. Campanelli’s still got the goods. On her way out the bathroom, she flicked off the light and scuttled into the bedroom.

Kane was long gone, his phone number left on the nightstand as instructed. When she reached for the scrap paper, she did a double-take at the freestanding, full-length mirror. Zings tingled the back of her scalp. Every tiny body hair stood on end. Erect, but not in a good way.

Two words in red lipstick marred her reflection.

I know.

Blood pressure mounting, the room spun, her ears no longer able to function.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

If Kane knew her secret, why leave the message? He had every opportunity to blackmail her in person. Had someone else snuck into the bedroom while she showered?

Chapter Three

8:00 a.m.

The moment Niko jumped into his SUV—a tan Ford Interceptor with Grafton County Sheriff inscribed on a gold shield—an urgent call crackled over the radio. With no particulars given, other than New Hampshire’s ten-code for homicide, he called Dispatch to determine jurisdiction. If State Police were en route, he might be able to drive straight to the station as planned.

Doris, where’s the 10-50?

10-50, she repeated as if the ten-code was in a foreign language. 10-50, 10-50… hmm…

One would think after several years on the job Doris would at least be familiar with the basics. Why hadn’t he replaced her yet? With a controlled exhale, he said, The homicide?

Oh, right. Sorry, sir. The 187— I mean, the 10-50 is at 2 Adams Road in Alexandria.

The news struck him hard, like someone jammed a Billy club in his gut. Adams Road is around the corner from my house. You sure that’s the address?

Positive, Sheriff. A couple found a body in the backyard of their weekend getaway cabin. When my Brian was little, he used to pal around with the Campbells’ son.

He let his eyelids drop halfway. They’re the homeowners, I assume?

Goodness, no, she said as if he should’ve known. They moved out of the area years ago.

What the hell did this have to do with the homicide? He didn’t dare ask. Doris had a habit of sharing grueling, mind-numbing details about her son. Instead, he veered the conversation back on track. Is anyone on scene?

Local patrol, sir.

By summoning patrol to watch the crime scene, she’d done something right. Amazing. Okay, good. Call Campanelli and tell her to round up my team, please. I’ll meet ‘em at the crime scene.

Copy that, sir.

Niko disconnected, flipped on the blues and banged a right onto Cass Mill Road. A mile down, he hung a left onto Adams and followed the dirt road. An Alexandria patrol car idled out front of a quaint log home. Red-plaid curtains peeked through oversized windows. Off the front deck, an American flag rustled in the brisk October breeze.

From all outward appearances, nothing about the property alluded to murder. No forced entry to the doors or windows. No bloodstains on the front stairs or in the driveway. It wasn’t until he strode into the backyard that a sinister story emerged.

A female lay dead on a bed of autumn leaves. Dressed in a calf-length satin dress—vibrant red—the vic’s crossed hands rested on her chest the way a funeral director might position the deceased for a family viewing. At peace. Almost blissful.

In a weird way, the touch of a full-bloomed scarlet rose protruding from each eye-socket added to her serenity, like her killer yearned for her to find solace. The only hint of violence was a ligature mark sliced several layers deep, blood trickled down the sculptured curve of her neck. Dried crimson stained dead leaves.

Had she been garroted with wire? He hiked his pant legs and squatted. A tourniquet would leave a more purplish impression, but wouldn’t necessarily sever the neck to near-decapitation.

With the stealth of a fox, Officer Henry Reed crept up behind Niko. Clutching his heart, the startle almost knocked him on his ass. Are you tryin’ to gimme a heart attack, is that it? One body isn’t enough for today?

Sorry, sir. His muted expression never changed. I didn’t know if you needed me to hang around.

With a gloved hand on the grass, he steadied himself. Did I dismiss you?

No, sir. You didn’t acknowledge me, either, he mumbled, probably hoping Niko wouldn’t hear the insult.

Rising from the squatted position, Niko raised his eyebrows. If you’ve got something to say to me, Officer, I suggest you spit it out.

Uh, nope. The young officer stared at his boots. It’s all good.

Smart man. Wait out front for my team to arrive, and don’t let anyone on this property. Not your buddies at local patrol, no one. Understood?

A dip of Reed’s chin confirmed Niko’s orders.

Good. If after the scene is secure, you don’t wanna get stuck guarding the property while the Crime Scene Unit does their thing, then I suggest you work it out with your CO. Before