Samuel's Secret

By Buffy Andrews

Detective Maggie McFadden looked at the naked woman spread out on the patio in a puddle of blood, her neck split wide open and wearing a white cotton diaper secured by safety pins with pink duck covers. She had investigated a lot of homicides during her fifteen years on the police force, but none this bizarre.With a serial killer on her hands and the death toll mounting, will Maggie and her partner be able to catch the Diaper Man before he kills again?

A Psychological Serial Killer Thriller you won't want to miss!

A shocking thriller by the bestselling author of The Perfect Husband

 

 

PRAISE FOR SAMUEL'S SECRET

 

 

"If you like crime/drama/suspense with many unpredictable twists and turns, you will love this book!" -Goodreads review

 

"A real page turner. Believe me, I locked my doors last night! A great read." - VenturaDebora

 

"Highly absorbing. Set aside whatever else you planned to do!" - Reviewer

 

"It consumes you. This is a great book. I couldn't put it down. 10 stars!" - Reviewer

 

"Suspenseful and captivating!" -Reviewer

 

"Samuel's Secret will hold you hostage until the end!" -Reviewer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrews Creative Concepts
• Release date: Aug 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735221601

Book preview

Prologue

Mama held a large white cotton diaper in one hand and two pink diaper pins in the other. She pulled her thin lips back in a snarl, revealing a gummy mouth full of crooked teeth and several that were missing. Git down! She pointed to the floor.

Please, Mama. No diaper tonight. I promise I won’t pee my bed, ten-year-old Samuel pleaded.

Whack!

Samuel’s hand flew to his burning cheek. Tears streamed down his red face. His chin wobbled. He was sure there’d be a mark. It wouldn’t be the first time Mama’s nicotine-stained fingers had left a bruised imprint on his cheek. The last time it happened, he missed a week of school. Don’t need no one come snooping around, Mama had told him. But sometimes Mama got sloppy. Sometimes her anger exploded, and she beat Samuel in places not easily hidden by clothes.

Mama narrowed her dark eyes, the color of newly spread tar. Her stringy brown hair with streaks of gray was a mangled mess. Most days she didn’t bother to bathe or comb her hair. I don’t have time for this, Samantha! Now, git down on the floor so I can put this damn diaper on. A girl like you ought to be ashamed. Pissing in your bed at night.

Samuel gulped. He felt as if there was a cannonball lodged in his throat and imagined it exploding, ripping his throat apart and spewing blood everywhere. He hated being Samantha. He hated being a girl. He was a boy. Why wouldn’t Mama let him be a boy?

Samuel sniffed.

Whack! Samuel’s head jerked as a searing pain coursed through his ear. He hated when Mama slapped his ear with her open hand. It made his hearing ring for hours afterward.

Mama, please. Samuel looked into her beady eyes. He was sure they were the eyes of the devil.

She clenched her yellow teeth. Don’t make me hit you again, Samantha. You know what happens if you don’t listen.

Samuel glanced past Mama to the corner of the bedroom where a large metal dog crate sat. He hated being in the crate. He had to scrunch up, knees against his chest, to fit inside. That’s where she kept him when he didn’t behave. He didn’t want to go into the dog crate tonight. He wanted his bed, if you could call it that. But sleeping in a green cloth sleeping bag that smelled of piss in Mama’s closet was better than trying to sleep in a dog crate.

Samuel laid down on the floor, pulling up the lacey pink dress Mama made him change into when he came home from school. He hated the dress. It made him itch. He had a closet full of pink clothes, mostly dresses. Mama liked pink dresses. When he went to school, Mama allowed him to wear boy’s clothes. But at home, you be my girl. And don’t you be tellin’ no one. You hear me, girl?

She slid the cotton diaper under Samuel’s boney butt, bruised from her beatings. Using the coffee table to steady her 250-pound body, Mama knelt on the thread-bare carpet that smelled like a mix of booze and smoke. She pulled down the white cotton underwear with pink posies she’d bought for him and wiggled them off his spaghetti thin legs. Lift up your hiney, Samantha.

Samuel closed his eyes. He knew what came next and he hated it. He hated her.

Mama picked up his penis and wiggled it. One of these days, we’re going to have to cut this off. Girls don’t have penises. Samuel squirmed. Now hold still, Samantha. Hold still or I’ll jab you with one of these pins.

Mama held onto the coffee table and stood. She reached for her bottle of vodka and took a swig. Stand up, girl. Got you a new nightgown today.

Samuel’s eyes bore into the floor. He wanted to hurt Mama like he’d hurt the cat he found prowling outside. He smashed the cat’s head with a large rock. He liked killing the cat. It made him feel good.

Mama wobbled over to the chair and picked up a pink cotton nightgown with ruffle and eyelet trim. What do you think, Samantha?

Samuel didn’t look up.

You hear me, girl? You want the crate tonight?

Samuel looked up.

Mama’s lips curled. It has tiny hearts on it. See the tiny hearts?

Samuel nodded. He hated hearts. He wished he could cut out Mama’s heart.

Mama walked back to Samuel and removed the pink bow barrette she’d placed in his curly brown hair earlier. Arms up over your head.

Samuel lifted his arms and Mama removed the pink dress and replaced it with the pink nightgown. There, now. Turn around.

Samuel turned around.

That be my girl. Now off to bed!

Chapter 1

Casey O’Brien looked at the clock hanging on her office wall above her framed diplomas. It was already seven, and she wished she hadn’t promised her best friend Natalie she’d meet her for drinks after work. She really wasn’t in the mood. She’d rather work. Work kept her mind busy, and a busy mind was a good mind. No time to think about her husband leaving her for a nurse in his practice.

The affair hadn’t taken Casey totally by surprise. Marcus had been distant for months. Her suspicions were confirmed when she came home from work early one night. She expected to find Marcus asleep in their bed, but he wasn’t there.

When she confronted him the following morning, he dropped the bomb. He wanted out, and she could have the sprawling home they’d built on the outskirts of town, surrounded by fertile farmland. This is the perfect location, Marcus had told her at the time. The perfect place to raise a family. Out in the country yet close to the highway for quick access to the city.

Her cell phone beeped. It was a message from Natalie. Still on?

Casey typed. Be there in 30.

Casey packed the leather satchel her mother had given her when she graduated from medical school. She’d wanted to be a pediatrician for as long as she could remember. When she was little, her dolls were her patients. She’d lined them up on her bed and examined each one using the toy doctor kit Santa had brought her. She loved kids and still hoped to have one of her own someday. A co-worker had suggested looking into adoption, but Casey longed to carry a child of her own. She wanted to feel the baby’s first kick, to watch her flat stomach expand as the child inside her grew. Instinctively, she rubbed her stomach as she stood, aware that she had eaten little that day.

On the way to meet Natalie, Casey called her mom.

You sound so far away, her mother yelled.

Mom, stop shouting. I’m calling you from the car. I’m on my way to meet Natalie.

You shouldn’t be on the phone while you’re driving, Casey, her mother scolded.

"I’m not actually holding the phone, Casey explained. I have it on speaker. That’s why it sounds a little distant. It’s no different than if you were in the car with me, and we were talking."

When are you coming to visit? her mother asked. You know your father’s birthday is Sunday.

Casey stopped at the traffic light. Yes, Mom, I know. I’ll come Sunday, and we can go to the cemetery together to put flowers on his grave.

Casey’s mother lived more than twelve hours away so Casey didn’t see her often. She felt guilty about that, especially since she was an only child. She’d been trying to convince her mother to move in with her, but she loved living in Reynolds Plantation, Georgia, which is where she and her husband had moved after they retired.

Casey pulled into the Country Club’s parking lot. Usually Tuesdays weren’t busy, but tonight seemed to be an exception. Maybe there was an event in the ballroom, she thought.

She pulled up to the entrance and jumped out, leaving her car in park for the valet. She found Natalie sitting at the antique mahogany bar with marble columns and slid into the seat next to her.

Natalie looked up from her cell phone. Remind me why I married Pete.

Because you love him, Casey said. And he’s good in bed.

Natalie sipped her wine. True and true. How about you? Have you given any thought to checking out that online dating site I told you about?

Casey shook her head. The bartender held up a bottle of Beefeater gin and Casey nodded. It was nice coming to a place where everyone knew your name and what you drank. And how you liked your French fries prepared (crispy) and steak (medium-well).

I don’t need a man in my life, Casey said.

But I thought you still wanted children.

I do, but I don’t need a man for that.

You have a point, Natalie winked. But it’s a lot more fun if you use one.

Casey picked up her drink. Yeah, I suppose. But I am making progress. I changed my Siri voice to male on my phone.

Natalie laughed. Only you would do that.

I also made him British.

Of course, you did! Natalie said. You’ve always been a sucker for a man with a British accent.

Casey held up her phone. I finally have a man who doesn’t talk back, takes me where I want to go and never lets me down.

Brilliant! Natalie said.

Natalie and Casey had been friends since kindergarten. Casey attended private school and Natalie went to a public school, but they belonged to the same Daisy Girl Scout troop. From the group’s first meeting in the basement of the Lutheran church in the small town they lived in, they’d been inseparable. Casey was happy she was able to return to her hometown to practice even though it was sometimes awkward treating patients whose parents were high school classmates.

Casey shifted in her seat so she was facing Natalie. Anything new with the kids?

Tucker’s voice is beginning to change, and Ericka is worried she won’t be picked for the homecoming court.

Casey shifted in her seat. I can’t believe she’s a senior.

Me, either. She was ten and Tucker was four when Pete and I met.

You’re a great step-mom. And how’s Thomas?

He’s a three-year-old ball of energy. Mom watched him this morning while I went to the dentist. He overheard us talking about me getting a crown. When I picked him up afterward, he had a puzzled look on his face. ‘Where’s your crown, Mommy?’ he asked. I realized he was looking at my head and had expected to see a tiara on top of it.

Casey laughed. Oh, how cute! He thought you were going to be like Cinderella!

What about you? Natalie said. Anything new?

Casey sighed. I’ve been thinking about moving.

Wow! Didn’t expect that!

I know, I know. But it’s a big house, and I’m all alone out there. Plus, it’s soaked in memories that I’d rather wash away. Have you read about the old silk mill they’ve converted into lofts?

Downtown?

Yes. I’ve been looking at those. I love the hardwood floors, high ceilings, exposed brick and timber. And I love, love, love the open floor plans.

Well, it certainly would be a change from your sprawling farmhouse, and it would be a lot closer to your office.

Casey nodded. Yes, being minutes away is a big plus. And I need a change. As much as I love my home, Marcus and I built it together. Everywhere I look there are reminders of him. Moving will be good for me.

Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.

I’m ninety-nine percent sure. I’m meeting with a real estate agent tomorrow. I’m anxious to see how much she thinks I could get for my house.

You’re not wasting any time, are you?

Casey smiled. You know me. Once I decide to do something, it’s done.

After a few appetizers and a couple drinks, Casey and Natalie headed home. On the way, Casey drove past the lofts. If I lived there, I’d already be home. Yes, I’m ready for a change.

It was a beautiful night. Clear and bright, cradled by a crescent moon. Millions of bright specks dotted the sky. Casey opened the door to the patio and stepped out. She laid her cell phone on the table and sat down on a cushioned patio chair. She loved peaceful nights like this. She leaned back on the chair, resting her head on the frame, and looked up at the sky. I won’t have this view if I move to the city, she thought. She closed her eyes and remembered the first night she and Marcus had spent in their new house. It was in the middle of July and they’d sat on the patio, just where she was sitting now, sipping champagne, feeding each other fruit and cheese and admiring the bright night sky. That night, they made love on the chaise lounge and she thought she had found paradise.

Chapter 2

Please, Mama, please. Not tonight. My knees hurt, Samuel pleaded. He’d spent the last three nights in the dog crate after Mama found a foul discharge on his pink underwear when she changed him.

I need to git a bigger dog crate, Mama said.

Whack!

Samuel rubbed his disfigured ear, which resembled a bumpy blob thanks to years of Mama’s beatings. What was that for?

For growing. And I don’t like it none that your voice is changin’, Samantha. Now git in the crate.

She slipped out of the cab and walked behind her truck and toward the rest stop’s entrance. A white sedan pulled in just as she walked out. She wasn’t sure where she’d find her next kill, but she was confident she would. Sometimes it took an hour or more; sometimes less. She didn’t know if she’d be young or old, fat or thin, single or married, a mother or motherless. She’d kill her and imagine she was killing Mama. Over and over again. She’d silence Mama’s diabolical voice and free herself from Mama’s demonic hold—at least for a little while. Mama never left her alone for long. She always returned, mocking her. The dirt on the bottom of my shoe is worth more than you. Now git in the dog crate or I’ll whip you some more!

The late May night felt more like a mid-August one. The air was thick and heavy. She inhaled deeply, smelling a mix of freshly cut grass and cow dung. She passed a few houses but was drawn to the distant lights of a large home down a dark lane lined with maple trees.

Just as she approached the lane, she was blinded by the high beams of a minivan. She looked down just as the van swerved around her. The last thing she wanted was for the driver to stop. She turned down the dark lane and headed toward the house, ducking behind the trees as she went.

The closer she got to the house, the more excited she became. She touched her bag, thinking about what she was going to do with the things inside it.

She was about thirty feet away when she stopped dead and crouched behind a tree. She listened to the twill of black field crickets as she pulled her golf gloves out of her pocket and put them on. She liked using golf gloves because they fit snug. Then she opened her bag and pulled out her hunting knife. She headed toward the left side of the house, shrouded in tall, skinny evergreens. Step by step she inched along the side of the house. What’s that? She stopped. Soft music. She peeked around the corner and saw a woman sitting on a chair, facing the opposite direction. The soft music was coming from a cell phone sitting on a small round table next to her. She wondered if the woman was alone. She watched and waited to see if anyone came out. No one did.

The woman leaned back in the chair, her head resting on its frame. She appeared to be looking at the sky. Quietly, Samantha snuck up behind the woman, her hand clenching the knife. Her heart raced. She wanted to kill. She needed to kill. It was a perfect night for killing.

She remembered the first time. For her, it had been like a first kiss. She didn’t want to stop. She knew she’d never stop.

You’ve been a bad girl. Mama doesn’t like bad girls. Whack!

In one swift movement she sliced the woman’s throat, hitting the carotid artery. Her lips curled. She loved watching the blood spew out. It’s why she stopped using her stiletto dagger to kill. While driving the point into the base of the skull and severing the brain stem was quieter and less messy because they just dropped, it wasn’t as pleasing.

She dragged the woman’s body to the patio. She was so excited she nearly wet her pants. This was the part she enjoyed most.

Lay still, Mama. I can’t get your diaper on right if you don’t lay still.

She removed the victim’s pink camisole, black yoga pants and lacy silk panties and tossed them aside. She opened the cloth diaper and wiggled it under her victim’s butt by turning her slightly on one side and then the other. Then she secured the diaper, just like Mama used to do, with pink diaper pins. She smiled. She was happy. Mama was dead.

Samuel pulled off his black wig. I’m a boy, Mama! A boy!

The next morning, Jamila Parker was running late for her eight o’clock appointment. Her two-year-old was sick and instead of dropping Katie off at daycare, Jamila had to drive to her mother’s house. She’d agreed to watch Katie for the day. Jamila called Casey to tell her she was running