Girl Six: Forsaken (A Maya Gray FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 6)

By Molly Black

12 cold cases. 12 kidnapped women. One diabolical serial killer. In this riveting suspense thriller, a brilliant FBI agent faces a deadly challenge: decipher the mystery before each one is murdered.

In the Maya Gray series (which begins with Book #1—GIRL ONE: MURDER) FBI Special Agent Maya Gray, 39, has seen it all. She’s one of BAU’s rising stars and the go-to agent for hard-to-crack serial cases. When she receives a handwritten postcard promising to release 12 kidnapped women if she will solve 12 cold cases, she assumes it’s a hoax.

Until the note mentions that, among the captives, is her missing sister.

Maya, shaken, is forced to take it seriously. The cases she’s up against are some of the most difficult the FBI has ever seen. But the terms of his game are simple: If Maya solves a case, he will release one of the girls.

And if she fails, he will end a life.

In GIRL SIX: FORSAKEN (book #6), victims of a new serial killer are found with strings, tied up to look like puppets. What is the killer hinting at?

Who will he strike next?

But time is running out, and Maya’s sister’s life is on the line. Can she solve the case in time? Or has she finally met her match?

A complex psychological crime thriller full of twists and turns and packed with heart-pounding suspense, the MAYA GRAY mystery series will make you fall in love with a brilliant new female protagonist and keep you turning pages late into the night. It is a perfect addition for fans of Robert Dugoni, Rachel Caine, Melinda Leigh or Mary Burton.

Books #7-#9 in the series—GIRL SEVEN: CRAVED, GIRL EIGHT: HUNTED, and GIRL NINE: GONE—are now also available.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Black
• Release date: Jun 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094375458

Book preview

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G I R L   S I X:

F O R S A K E N

(A Maya Gray FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 6)

M o l l y   B l a c k

Molly Black

Bestselling author Molly Black is author of the MAYA GRAY FBI suspense thriller series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the RYLIE WOLF FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the TAYLOR SAGE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); and of the KATIE WINTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising nine books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Molly loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.mollyblackauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2022 by Molly Black. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Scott Book, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY MOLLY BLACK

MAYA GRAY MYSTERY SERIES

GIRL ONE: MURDER (Book #1)

GIRL TWO: TAKEN (Book #2)

GIRL THREE: TRAPPED (Book #3)

GIRL FOUR: LURED (Book #4)

GIRL FIVE: BOUND (Book #5)

GIRL SIX: FORSAKEN (Book #6)

GIRL SEVEN: CRAVED (Book #7)

GIRL EIGHT: HUNTED (Book #8)

GIRL NINE: GONE (Book #9)

RYLIE WOLF FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

FOUND YOU (Book #1)

CAUGHT YOU (Book #2)

SEE YOU (Book #3)

WANT YOU (Book #4)

TAKE YOU (Book #5)

DARE YOU (Book #6)

TAYLOR SAGE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

DON’T LOOK (Book #1)

DON’T BREATHE (Book #2)

DON’T RUN (Book #3)

DON’T FLINCH (Book #4)

DON’T REMEMBER (Book #5)

DON’T TELL (Book #6)

KATIE WINTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SAVE ME (Book #1)

REACH ME (Book #2)

HIDE ME (Book #3)

BELIEVE ME (Book #4)

HELP ME (Book #5)

FORGET ME (Book #6)

HOLD ME (Book #7)

PROTECT ME (Book #8)

REMEMBER ME (Book #9)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER ONE

If there was one thing that Tommy Delany didn’t like, it was people who wouldn’t do their jobs properly. People who promised that they would be hard workers, but never quite lived up to it.

All his life, it seemed that he’d been dealing with slackers and incompetents. Well, he’d learned a long time ago how to handle people like that.

Sam! Get over here!

He was currently standing in the back room of the Lucky Duck, the bar he owned out in Grantston, New Jersey, staring at the mess that threatened to overwhelm the place. He was not happy, and Tommy was a man who liked people to know when he wasn’t happy. He liked the looks of respect and fear that he got from them.

He was a big man, broad shouldered and heavily muscled, with a shaved head and the kind of cold blue eyes that could look right through someone when he wanted. The kind of look that made people back down, because of what might come next. He wore a sharp suit, because a man should dress for success, but never wore a tie, because he didn’t want anything that someone could grab in a fight. When Tommy had been growing up, that kind of consideration had been important, and even now that he was in his thirties, some habits died hard.

It wasn’t that he went looking for fights, but you couldn’t be seen as weak. People took advantage if you showed even the slightest hint of weakness.

Sam! he repeated. I told you to get in here.

Sam came in. He was in his twenties, far too cool for his own good, with his hipster beard, his flannel shirts, and his designer jeans. If he weren’t so good at working the kitchen at the bar, Tommy would have fired him a long time ago. That would have been the easy thing to do. But Tommy wasn’t a man to look a gift horse in the mouth. Sam was a good cook, and he brought in money. That was more important than anything, so Tommy wasn’t going to let him go. Just whip him into shape a little.

Is something wrong? Sam asked, and there was something about the easygoing way he said it that was just guaranteed to set Tommy off. He had to know it by now. He ought to know how to behave around his boss by now.

Is something wrong? Tommy asked. "Is something wrong? Look at this place! Why is nothing put away where I want it?"

There were boxes out of date order, some stacked up on the floor, trays that seemed to have been moved, as if someone thought they knew better than Tommy where things ought to go.

I don’t know, Sam said, and that was another stupid thing to say. It was his job to know, damn it.

You don’t know? Tommy was instantly there, right in front of him. He found that his bulk helped to concentrate people’s minds, whether it was the patrons or the wait staff. It reminded people of all the places this could go. Is that the best you’ve got? You don’t know?

What do you want me to say? Sam asked, with a note of defiance that Tommy wasn’t about to accept. He didn’t seem to get how this worked, even now. It was about respect. It was about him remembering who was in charge here.

Tommy pushed him then, in a sudden, sharp reminder that Tommy wasn’t the kind of man you messed with.

"What I want is for you to do your job. Clear all this up. Put it where it’s meant to be."

Tommy went upstairs to the bar, enjoying the sensation of being in charge. The Lucky Duck was full, because it was a Friday night, and it was always full then. Currently, it was the after-work crowd, and the first few people out on dates. Later, it would be the harder drinkers, the ones who planned on staying out all night if they could. Tommy liked those. He often joined them, and if one of them got out of hand, well, he dealt with it.

Crystal, one of the wait staff, came up to him then. She was twenty-three, dark haired, and lovely in that slightly hard-edged way people sometimes got when they’d worked in a bar too long. Annoyingly, she’d always turned Tommy down when he’d suggested the two of them might work well together. She wasn’t in her uniform for the bar, with its slightly too tight t-shirt with the bar name. Instead, she was in her street clothes, with a skirt and a dark sweater. She was holding out her door key.

Tommy wasn’t in the mood for this, whatever it was. What’s this now? I’ve just had to bawl out Sam for messing up my stockroom, and now you’re… what? Trying to leave early?

Not leaving early. Quitting.

What? Tommy demanded, not caring who heard, not caring that people in the bar turned around to stare at the two of them.

You heard me. I’ve had enough. I heard you shouting at Sam. The way you treat people-

I treat people with respect, until they disrespect me, Tommy said, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. Like threatening to quit, for what? So you can try to get more money out of me?

So I don’t have to put up with this bullshit, Crystal snapped back.

Tommy moved closer to her, looming over her, the same way that he’d loomed over Sam. "Now, listen to me. You aren’t quitting. Not in the middle of a shift. Not if you want to see any of your paycheck for the last month. You think you can quit on me? I’ll tear down your entire life if you try. You think for one moment that I can’t?"

He could see the fear there on Crystal’s face. Good, the bitch deserved it.

So stop whining, put your uniform back on, and get to work, Tommy said. He was sick of dealing with people who wouldn’t do what he wanted today. His life would be so much easier if people just did what they were meant to do.

He stalked off through the crowd at his bar. People got out of his way. They always did. He headed for the back of the place, out of the main bar area and through into the office space behind it. He kept going, opening up the rear exit to the building, deciding that this was a good moment to get some air.

This wasn’t the kind of night that did anything good for his stress levels. His doctor had told him that his blood pressure was too high, but what was he meant to do when he was surrounded by idiots who seemed to be actively trying to mess up his business?

Tommy knew that people didn’t like him shouting, or getting in their faces; but if they didn’t want that, maybe they should do their jobs properly. It wasn’t easy, trying to run a business like his in a small town like Grantston. It would only work if everyone had the same need to succeed that Tommy did. If people couldn’t handle him being passionate about his work, then that was their problem, not his.

For now though, he headed outside, into the night air, taking deep, calming breaths. Not that there was anything particularly calming about an alley behind a bar, with its dumpsters and graffiti, but at least it gave him a place to smoke, the way the law didn’t allow him to in his own bar these days. The full moon was out up above, casting a pale sheen of moonlight down onto the ground.

Tommy heard a sound nearby and turned towards it on instinct. Was it that punk, Sam? Maybe he thought that he could have it out with Tommy. Maybe it was Crystal, trying to tell him that she was quitting again, like he was going to allow that. Either way, they were going to pay for it.

Tommy was still looking that way when the rope slid smoothly around his neck. He fought back on instinct, hands going up to the rope, fingers scrabbling for purchase. He tried to drive an elbow backwards, but it didn’t buy him any space. No, he wouldn’t allow this. He was tougher than anyone. He was Tommy Delany. He was…

He was on the ground, unable to breathe, and as the blackness closed in around him, he realized that he was dying.

CHAPTER TWO

To Maya, the tattoo parlor looked as if it didn’t quite know what it wanted to be. Half of it seemed to be some kind of vintage clothing store, with racks of old dresses and ripped jeans, while it seemed to have a sideline in selling art pieces, too, with sculptures and weird Gothic paintings set around the walls with discrete price tags.

The front of the place was a brightly lit neon confection that shone even in the daytime to attract customers like moths to a flame. It seemed almost overwhelming to think that the Moonlight Killer had gotten his tattoo here, of all places. It just didn’t fit with everything Maya thought that she knew about the killer.

Yet that was what Samit, her tech back at the FBI, had told her, and Maya was nothing if not impressed by the tech’s competence. If he said that this was where someone had gotten the tattoo that Maya knew was on the Moonlight Killer’s arm, then Maya wasn’t going to stop until she was sure.

Maya got out her burner phone, texting Marco. She’d left her normal phone back at the office, because she was sure by now that the Moonlight Killer had found ways to listen to it. That could be useful when she needed to feed information to him or tell him that she’d completed one of the cases he set for her, but for now, she didn’t want it with her. He couldn’t find out that she was trying to track him down like this.

I’m there. Will text again once I know anything.

Maya stepped inside the tattoo parlor, wondering how much like a typical customer she would look to the people in there. She was tall, dark haired, with an athletic build and striking features, but there was definitely nothing alternative looking about her: nothing that screamed out that she was looking for new ink. She was wearing a standard dark suit with her firearm holstered beneath, and she wasn’t even wearing any makeup, let alone anything like the array of piercings the receptionist who greeted her had.

The receptionist was a young woman in her early twenties, with purple dyed hair, wearing an artfully ripped dark dress, with tattoos covering most of the skin that Maya could see. She smiled up at Maya.

Hello, do you have an appointment? Or are you perhaps here for some of our vintage clothing?

Maya shook her head to both. The last thing she needed was a collection of authentic 1950s dresses. She took out her ID. I’m with the FBI. I’m here because I’m trying to identify a tattoo on a perpetrator that has been described by a witness.

The receptionist looked a little surprised by that but seemed to recover her composure quickly.

Is it a gang tattoo? she asked, obviously trying to guess what it was all about. Because all of our artists are pretty careful about what they ink. We don’t get involved in that.

Maya found herself wondering just how true that was likely to be. The FBI’s gang units kept extensive records of gang tattoos to make it easier to identify which organizations might be involved in which crimes, but she doubted that a small tattoo parlor would do the same. Probably, a smaller place like this wouldn’t even know that a particular tattoo was linked to a gang when someone asked for it.

For now, though, that wasn’t her main concern. She wasn’t here about gangs. She had to focus on the Moonlight Killer, and on the tattoo that she’d been told her sister had seen on his arm as he kidnapped her. She’d gotten that information from a woman who had only been released because of the work Maya had done solving cold cases for the Moonlight Killer, a woman who would otherwise have been killed by him.

Not quite that, Maya said. This is an unusual piece, and our people suggested that there’s a picture of it in one of your artists’ portfolios. We hope that it may allow us to identify the individual we’re looking for.

She deliberately didn’t say who that individual was. The last thing she needed was news getting out that she was searching through tattoo parlors looking for the Moonlight Killer. This was not a case that needed more media attention, not when anything that got out there would get straight back to the man she was trying to hunt. It really wouldn’t help to keep her sister or the other kidnapped women safe. More attention meant more pressure to take risks to get them back, which in turn risked all of their lives.

Maya had enough pressure on her to save them already. If she didn’t, then six women, including her sister, were going to die.

The receptionist seemed pretty shocked by all of it, but she still reached for a set of big, leather-bound folders that sat by the desk, obviously there so that clients could look through previous work for inspiration.

You’re sure that it was one of ours? she said, as if hoping that Maya might somehow be mistaken.

Our techs identified the design on your site. A snake eating an armadillo under a full moon.

Maya saw the receptionist’s face change as she said the words, a horrible kind of realization coming over her. It was obvious that she recognized the description of the design. Maya knew then that she was in exactly the right place.

Damn, that’s one of Charlie’s. I remember him doing it.

Do you remember anything about the man he tattooed? Maya asked. If she could just get a description, that would be far more than she currently had. If there was a name attached to that description…

She might be able to catch the Moonlight Killer.

A guy in his thirties. Muscular, looked like he might have been a wrestler in high school, or maybe in the army or something, you know?

The latter had been one of Maya’s guesses when it came to the Moonlight Killer, just from the kinds of things he’d done when evading the FBI: luring them into traps, using claymore mines, being good with infiltration and explosives as well as simply being a deadly killer. It spoke to a professionalism and a level of training that went beyond just a serial killer working things out for himself.

Do you have a name for him? Maya asked.

I guess we might still have his details in our appointment booking system. It would have contact details and what he wanted in the tattoo.

The Moonlight Killer had used fake details before, and was usually careful about hiding his identity, but in this case, why would he feel the need? Why do something like that when getting a tattoo that had nothing to do with his more deadly activities? If anything, fake details were an additional risk. No, there was a

Reviews for Girl Six

[Stephanie Kaywork · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I like this series! Very easy to follow and the characters are interesting.