February:Torment: A Prentiss Park Murder Mystery

By Valda DeDieu

Somebody objects to the Bank of America settlement with investors to tune of 315 million, and expensive properties are going up in smoke.

The arsonists are not only incinerating dreams, they're taking lives. Prentiss Park gets involved in a case that promises to leave behind a whole lot of nightmares that will haunt her for some time to come...

The local FBI liaison is convinced that there is a connection to Detective Prentiss Park's recent “Apocalypse 2012” serial murder cases.

With the help of a sinister stranger--a man she was sworn to kill--Prentiss begins to unfold a plot that takes her deep into the heart of the supernatural, terrible enough to plunge the whole world into darkness...

This is a serialized novel. Look out for March: Trespass.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eEdgeMedia, LLC
• Release date: Dec 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781301064571

Valda DeDieu

Valda DeDieu is the talented author of numerous novels, poetry and non-fiction. Her original and exciting novels always touch on pertinent social mores in revelatory styles because, she says, she "collects people" --in a good way, of course. Her next project due is MY STUD, but she may become distracted and develop any of the five book ideas she may have, at any time.... She is always interested in a good read, and giving her readers *extra* bang for their buck!

Book preview

The Prentiss Park Murders: February: Torment

Valda DeDieu

Copyright © 2011 by I. Didier

The Smashwords Edition

***

"When you’re a Homicide cop, everyday is murder." Det. Prentiss Parks

THE PRENTISS PARK MURDERS Hi, my name is Prentiss Park, Daughter of the Sun. We are the Warrior People, sent to help govern Earth 2000 years ago. Most of us are in Law Enforcement. Some of us are rogues. My orders are to kill the rogues on sight, protect Earth at all costs. Being a mythological warrior woman is not bad; I still must obey strictly within my orders. (But I’m working on that.) Those of us who have this odd life, after we kill, we have a half-life. But there are some among us who belong to the afterlife...

***

TORMENT:

"I am not doing your dirty work for you anymore!" I hissed at Haai. "You have an agenda that is sinister, and opportunistic. I will not be your patsy--your-your puppet! Jumping through hoops, cleaning up after you..." I was bitter as I slammed my motorcycle helmet against the Suzuki Hayabusa GSXR1300--truly the fastest bike in the world-- that I had jumped on to meet him after his urgent request for meeting. It was dangerous for him to meet me at my house. There were people watching...

And don’t look at me that way! I stormed. He was giving me his best mournful-quizzical look, the wise mentor/sidekick to my headstrong must save the world heroine. I was sick of it. I was sick of them all. Ramming my helmet on my head, I revved up the engine, drowning out his words. Wheeling the Hayabusa around, kicking up dirt and gravel, I turned my back on him and sped off, on my merry way. This much speed should be illegal...well, it was, but I am a cop. So who you gonna call...

There was nothing like the feeling of the big, powerful engine humming between your legs as you hug the road, feeling the wind whip up around the you. The feeling is so elating that it defies words...you can only feel...

I looked around to see if Haai was in pursuit, hoping he was not foolhardy enough to engage in a chase with me, of all people, a cop, considering the havoc he had wreaked in my life lately. No he was not. But somebody was following me...

A black Escalade was coming at me, bearing down at ninety miles an hour. Well, we’ll see about that. Let’s kick this baby up a notch. Passing a line of vehicles stuck in a line waiting to exit, I zoomed past them all, then I recklessly peeled off, waiting until the last minute, then twisting right to take the 1-95 Exit to Stirling Road. As soon as I go on that I opened her up, wide to about 100 miles an hour.

Zig-zagging, weaving in and out of traffic I sort of mentally dared a Hollywood cop to pull me over after I sped past the next two exits, then took the next left on to I-95, heading back down to Miami Beach.

No sign of my tail. Good. I was not in the mood for company anyhow. Besides, I had to get dressed, and I needed time to bathe and moisturize. I had an event to go to...

***

It’s a pity sociopaths don’t have some visual identifying characteristic, like pock-marked skin, or a forked tongue--or horns, sprouting right out of the sides of their heads. Instead I have to rely on the way they make