A Passion for Murder: A Detective Quaid Mystery, #6

By Yolanda Renee

Another heinous crime occurs in Alaska, and with no time to heal from the last brutal case of The Snowman, and Stowy Jenkins, Detective Quaid returns to his job. PTSD, a former lover, and an odious villain test his mettle and his sanity.

A cold pre-autumn rain fell in straight lines from the swollen gray clouds sitting over the valley. The residents of Anchorage thanked their personal deity an early snowstorm hadn't fallen. While in one lone cabin, a fire burned bright. Warmth and coziness reflected off the colorful furnishings. The man working diligently at his desk hummed his favorite rhyme.

Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe
Grab a slut by the Toe
Blonde-Blue Brown, or Green,
Who's ready to meet Killer Clean?

He chuckled as he turned the pages of a scrapbook.
Choosing from among his collection of beauties was as much fun as planning just how they would die. Although nothing could really compete with seeing them take their last breath. Except, of course, that final thrust of the knife. Still, today was a special day. Making his choice most important. He'd have to choose someone as close to the original as possible. Which meant it would be the beauty with the green eyes. Her golden hair, career choice, and availability hit all tens on his list of go points.
A perfect thirty meant she had to die today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yolanda Renee
• Release date: Jul 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201954116

Yolanda Renee

As a girl from Pennsylvania who would do almost anything on a dare, I flew to Alaska for a two-week vacation and stayed for four years. I learned to sleep under the midnight sun, survive below zero temperatures, and hike the Mountain Ranges. I've traveled from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez, and the memories are some of my most valued. The wonders, mysteries, and incredible beauty of Alaska have never left me and thus now influence my writing. Despite my adventurous spirit, I achieved my educational goals with a bachelor's and master’s degree. I still hope to get my Ph.D. I'm married and have two wonderful sons. Writing is now my focus, my newest adventure. Please connect with me at: [e-mail]

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Rage

August 9

While Dr. Grayson worked , Steven watched as bags of blood arrived, IV lines were inserted, and Sarah was prepared for surgery. The paralysis caused by Stowy Jenkins's drug was finally beginning to disappear. Still, the speed was too slow for a man who just wanted to hold his wife.

Steven worked hard to control his extremities, wiggling and stretching to hurry them back to normal. Before he could truly stand, he’d thrown his body from the wheelchair to the gurney, so he was at Sarah's side. She lay helpless on the bed, her eyes struggling to remain open. Steven took her hands in his and said a silent prayer. He kissed her forehead. I love you. Angel, you've no idea what a hero you are to me. Thank you, our son is beautiful.

She smiled weakly. Steven leaned closer to her ear. Don't say a word, not a word about what happened. Ever. I'll take care of it.

She blinked and whispered. My warrior, my love. Her hand weakly touched his face. He held it in place as she faded into unconsciousness.

"Sorry, Steven, she's out. If you want to stay, get suited up. I'll be doing intricate surgery on her legs, and I want it to be sterile. The bastard nicked an artery.

Conner, Grayson said to the aid helping him, See what’s holding up that blood and put a guard on the outside door. No one enters. No one. Doctor Grayson glared at Steven. Make up your mind. Time is of the essence.

Steven nodded. He hurried to the incubator, where his new son was sleeping. The new father gently kissed his son's forehead. No one will ever harm you. I promise. Now keep watch over mommy for me. I’ll be right back.

On his way out, he said, Give her back to me, doctor.

Dr. Grayson saluted.

After one final glance at his unconscious wife, Steven left the room and said a prayer. The rest of the cabin was empty, but he could hear men outside, so he followed the sound. Men in uniform stood guard, guns at the ready. He didn't understand the need. The monster was dead.

As the word monster formed in his brain, his attention moved to the deck floor. At his feet lay the body of Stowy Jenkins. His anger exploded. With the strength of ten men and a pure animal sound, Steven lifted the dead man's body above his head and hurled it over the railing. Stowy Jenkin's body hit the ground and rolled. Much to everyone’s shock, the body kept moving. The energy behind it took the corpse fifty feet to the cliff's edge and over. Jenkins's body bounced through the brush and hit the rocks with a sickening thud. When the stiff finally quit moving, the men broke out in shouts of hoorah that echoed through the mountains.

The cheers didn't stop until Frank Stover's helicopter appeared. Once it landed, Frank headed straight to Steven. What the hell are you doing?

Taking out the trash, Steven said. Why the security detail? The bastard's dead.

Frank cleared his throat. Jenkins sent a few of his minions to test the lines. They've been trying to break through security all day. We're cleaning up the mess, but I didn't want to trust the reports that no one got through.

Steven's hands clenched. No one got through, just the killer. Steven pulled out his phone and texted his security team and his uncle, Sky Quinn. Clean up the forest. It’s full of Jenkins henchmen. Bring them ALL in.

Turning his back on Frank, he walked to the woodpile, tore his shirt off, and picked up an ax. He methodically began chopping logs.

Frank tried to communicate with his friend in between whacks of the ax. How’s Sarah?

Steven grunted.

We need to talk. Elliott is giving his statement now. I'm here for yours.

I'll bet, Steven muttered and split another log.

Frank stepped back. He knew not to broach the subject again, at least not yet. He went to the cabin, but an officer at the door stopped his progress. After getting the information he sought, Frank spoke to the officer in charge of the security detachment.

"Get a detail to bring that body back. This time bag it and load it on the chopper.

Frank watched the man work nonstop as though he were a machine. Never once missing his mark, he completely decimated the cord of wood. Once he split the logs, he began stacking the pieces. Never once looking at or speaking to his friend.

Doctor Grayson joined the men, and Steven stopped working. How is she?

Awake, and wondering where you are? The woman is a miracle, he said with a smile.

Steven's muscles finally relaxed. He took his torn shirt and wiped off the sweat. Thanks. He rushed back to the cabin with an impatient Frank right behind.

Dammit, I need to speak to you.

It can wait. I need a shower before I see my wife. Steven said as he stripped on his way to the bathroom. He stepped into the shower despite Frank's presence.

No. Steven, it can't. I need to know what happened.

Simple, Steven answered as he lathered. The Bastard attacked Sarah. I shot him, but not before he gave me a dose of that damn drug. Sarah delivered our son alone and while injured. And now...it's over."

Frank looked at him with doubt. That's it, that's the story?

It's the truth. What else do you want? Now, excuse me. My family's waiting.

Frank decided to leave him alone. But Steven's story of events troubled him. He rubbed his forehead and paced the living room. A moment later, he sneaked a look into the birthing room.

Steven had his son in his arms and was standing beside Sarah. The look between them brought understanding and softness to his all-business attitude.

Well, shit.

Frank left the family to heal.

CHAPTER TWO

Choices

September 1st

Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe

Grab a slut by the Toe

Blonde-Blue Brown, or Green,

Who's ready to meet Killer Clean?

Acold pre-autumn rain fell in straight lines from the swollen gray clouds sitting over the valley. The residents of Anchorage thanked their personal deity an early snowstorm hadn't fallen. While in one lone cabin, a fire burned bright. Warmth and coziness reflected off the colorful furnishings. And the man working diligently at his desk hummed his favorite rhyme. Eeny Meeny Miny Mo. He chuckled as he turned the pages of a scrapbook.

Choosing from among his collection of beauties was as much fun as planning just how they would die. Although nothing could really compete with seeing them take their last breath. Except, of course, that final thrust of the knife. Still, today was a special day. Making his choice most important. He’d have to choose someone as close to the original as possible. Which meant it would be the beauty with the green eyes. Her golden hair, career choice, and availability hit all tens on his list of go points. A perfect thirty meant she had to die today.

Felica Federica Franklin, or Féfé, as her friends liked to call her, was the perfect target. She lived in a cabin-like home amongst a group of houses of similar design. A new old neighborhood for those wanting the advantages of city living and the feel of a mountain home. Meaning each property had an acre or more of a wooded landscape. Her screams would go unheard. Féfé had bought it last year with the life insurance money from her military husband's death. Originally from Oregon, the young couple had come to Alaska and were determined to stay. Even after his loss, her job with the University as an English Lit professor made the decision easy.

Still caught up in her grief for her husband, Killer Clean knew she'd hit the gym after work. Then come home for a long hot shower before dinner and tackle the book she always said she'd write.

Just like clockwork, Féfé unlocked her front door at 6:30 PM.

Naked and almost shaking with anticipation, he waited in her closet. Watched as she disrobed. While she bathed, he set up his tools of torture.

Rubbing her hair dry, she walked into her bedroom and did a double take. But too late. Killer Clean grabbed her from behind. He ripped the towel from her body and threw her on the bed. Once on top of her, he stuffed a pair of underwear in her mouth. Tied her hands to the bed frame and did the same with her legs.

The goose bumps on her skin made him smile, but the tears made him frown. Don't worry, sweetheart. You'll survive. All I want is your beautiful body to perform for me. He caressed her face. Ah-ha. You do remember. Just like the last time, I promise. And just as then, you'll never regret my visit. I’ve wanted you again for a long time. In fact, this might not have been so dramatic a moment if only you'd accepted my dinner offer.

He removed the gag and squeezed her mouth between his fingers. Pucker up, baby. Now kiss me like you want it as much as I do. Or this knife does its magic.

Discovered the next day, after a call from the University for a well check call. Féfé’s body told the story of her horrific end.

This is our third body. Same MO as the ones found in May and July, Captain Reed of the Anchorage Police Department's investigative division explained to Frank Stover, a top profiler for the FBI. Each one killed on the first, raped, tortured, murdered, and covered in bleach.

Frank sighed. Well, Stowy Jenkins is dead, so we're good there. Sure didn't take long for a new copycat to come out of the closet. Son-of-a-bitch, Reed, what kind of men do you grow in the wilderness? Frank said.

I keep asking myself the same thing. But if you recall, several of the most heinous killers were from the lower forty-eight.

True, Frank responded. How are you proceeding? What have you done regarding Jenkins's former inmates?

We're looking closely at all his old cronies and even have one in mind for the killing. I reached out to you to see how you'd feel about calling Steven?

Frank laughed but sobered quickly. I think a phone call would be our safest bet. The man chopped a whole cord of wood while the doc took care of Sarah last month. I value my life too much to take the chance in person.

Reed sighed. Why do you think I called you?

Good thinking, but damn. Frank hesitated. All right, I'm in DC and much safer than you. I'll make the call. Just listen close. I'm sure you'll hear the whole animal kingdom roar in revolt when our mountain Tarzan first hears the request.

CHAPTER THREE

Too Early

September 4

G od dammit, Frank. It hasn't even been a month. You can't do this to me. I need time off. I've earned it. Hell, my family's due.

I agree. But the first two murders by this asshole were attributed to the Snowman. We made a mistake. You need to correct it. Tell you what, share the truth with me about what really happened on the mountain when Jenkins died, and I'll get someone else to take the case.

Bullshit. Besides, I've told you what really happened. The bastard showed up right before we were getting ready to deliver our baby, he put a needle in my neck, and I shot him right between the eyes. Then Sarah delivered our son all by herself.

What about the part where he attacks your wife? Witnessed by both Dr. Jamison and Dr. Listten. That's when they called me. I know your wife did not put you in that wheelchair.

As I said, he attacked Sarah. I walked in, he attacked me, and I shot him. Sarah helped me into the chair and then delivered our son. Case over. Ask again, and I'll resign.

I don't understand why you think the truth should be kept quiet, but you win. I'll not ask again. Just do me a favor and take this case until I find someone else. Reed is breathing down my neck for help. This son-of-a-bitch started killing last spring. We attributed it to Jenkins because of the bleach. Since the Snowman is dead, and this guy is still killing, I need you. The city needs you. Captain Reed needs you.

Don't beg, Frank. It's ugly. Give me a moment to consult the boss. Steven said just after Sarah walked in with Tiama. He sat the phone down to reach for his son.

I just finished feeding him. Do you have a minute for the important part? Sarah asked.

Always. Steven kissed his son on the forehead and laid him against his shoulder. Frank's on the phone, he informed his wife. He has another case, Steven said as he softly patted his son's back to get that all-important burp.

Sarah placed a hand towel over his shoulder and under Tiama's head. I thought so. Your shouts were echoing through the house. She leaned against the desk. If you're looking to me for your answer, I'm with you, whatever you decide. But I know you. You'll never be able to ignore a killer in your city. I wouldn't want you to.

Steven kissed his wife's hand. Thank you. When you're right, you're right. He stood to hug her just as Tiama burped nice and loud.

Steven and Sarah laughed. Steven returned his son to his wife and picked up his phone to finish his conversation.

Okay, Frank, I'm assuming you heard that?

I did. Hello Sarah and Tiama, sorry to take him away, but I need him.

Uh-huh, Frank, I know, Sarah said to the phone on the desk.

Steven rolled his eyes, kissed his wife, and whispered, Love you.

You too, Sarah whispered back as she took Tiama from his arms. Tiama and I are going to take a nap. When you finish here, Emma will have your lunch ready. Later, she said and kissed him softly.

Steven watched her walk away before picking up his phone. Okay, Frank, you have my attention, Steven said once Sarah was gone. Tell me about the case. How many women have died?

Three, he killed on the first of May, July, and three days ago September 1st. Every other month so far. You'll be happy to know we have a suspect. Do you remember the young girl killed in the cabin where Denise died while Jenkin's was still in Arizona?

Jenny Dutton, Steven said. I remember.

It's been an open case since then, but we finally found a fingerprint in the cabin, which belongs to Earl Fowler. He served time with Jenkins. We think he looks good for these murders. We're betting Fowler killed to Jenkins's instructions and now has a taste for the horror.

Why haven't you picked him up?

He went underground. All you have to do is track him down.

Why are you trying to make this sound so easy? Shit. Steven knew Frank was lying. So, you're telling me I have two cases to wrap up for you.

I honestly don't know. Fowler is the best bet. I've sent a file in an email attachment, but all the files will be delivered today by overnight mail. Study it this weekend, and report to work Monday.

Steven sighed. Overnight mail, which means you sent it yesterday. So much for choice?

Frank laughed. What can I say? I understand the men I hire. In fact, there's a new rookie detective on the case, Alex James. He was the first one to recognize these killings weren't the work of the Snowman. I think you two will get along. He's a go-getter, like you. Besides, if you take the case, maybe we'll arrest the bastard before he escalates and before I'm scheduled to go on Sabbatical.

I've read the papers. You haven't caught the bastard because he covers everything in bleach, just like Jenkins. Wait a minute, what sabbatical?

Ignoring Steven's question about his scheduled time off, Frank said, There are clues. We just haven't found them, but I've no doubt you will. Thanks, Steve. I'll owe you big time. We'll call it even for all you've ever owed me.

What Sabbatical? Steven pressed and heard his friends sigh through the phone line.

Like you. I promised my wife I'd take time off. It starts on the first of December. I really need you to clean this up for me.

You're a son-of-a-bitch. An unfair son-of-a-bitch. Steven rested his head in his hand.

Since when did life get fair? Frank chuckled. Besides—

No fucking besides, Steven said as he finally gave up the argument. You've won this one. I'm on the case.

After lunch and before tackling his new assignment, Steven checked on Sarah. Tiama was sound asleep in the bassinette. Beside him, Sarah was curled up under a throw on their bed. Steven was going to leave as quietly as he'd entered, but still, Sarah roused. She moaned, then cried out. He pulled the blanket back from her face, shocked to see tears. She was still asleep. Suddenly she jerked, and a full-throated scream shattered the quiet. He pulled her in his arms as she slowly awoke—his eyes on Tiama, who didn't budge.

It's all right, sweetheart, he whispered. It's just a nightmare. Shh, I've got you. You're safe,

Once fully awake, Sarah curled herself in his arms and held on tight as the fear dissipated.

Her ordeal with Stowy Jenkins was still haunting her. In this dream, Jenkins had cut Steven's throat, and the image would not fade.

How long will that bastard haunt us? she said through tears.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sanctuary

September 10

Steven walked into the Holy Reverential Chapel with purpose. The stone structure with a bell tower and wood interior with arched columns was impressive. Pews sat on either side of the aisle, and colorful stained-glass windows portrayed the beatitudes. The chancel area was just as remarkable as the two-hundred-year-old building—with a life-size rood or crucifix at the peak. You could feel the spiritualism. Steven shook off the sacrilege of his mission and, with ID in hand, approached the pulpit where a lone man was kneeling. Steven cleared his throat, and the man stood. The priest crossed himself, kissed his rosary, and approached. How can I help you?

In the nave, or main body of the church, Steven couldn't determine if there was a place to hide a man, but he couldn't search the back rooms or the basement without a warrant. I'd heard, Father Jacob, that you've given sanctuary to your half-brother Earl. Is it true? Steven's first question was a lie, but he wanted results.

It is, but he left a while ago, Father Jacob admitted. As soon as he found a way out of the state, he left.

Steven got the result he wanted. How did he manage that? He's been on the most wanted list for a year?

The padre hesitated, rubbed his forehead, then quickly answered. A friend of his drove. That's all I know.

You're a lousy liar, Steven said with irritation. What, friend?

I have no idea. Earl didn't give me that information, Jacob insisted.

Where is he? In the basement? Steven had guessed right, and now he knew there were other rooms for the man to hide. He hoped a search warrant could be had with the padre's confession of asylum.

The priest stepped forward. Sweat covered his forehead. I told you, he's not here. I've no idea where Earl landed. He hasn't contacted me. I told him not to. I knew you'd be asking.

You realize that he killed a young girl on the orders of Stowy Jenkins.

So, you say, Father Jacob said evasively.

No, Father, the evidence says. We have his fingerprints at the scene.

Jacob wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. Are you sure? Jacob took a step back. He looked as though he wanted to run.

Positive. So are you. Your demeanor gives you away.

Detective Quaid, I shouldn't have to remind you that the sacrament of confession is protected.

So, you do know the truth.

No! You're putting words in my mouth.

"I'd love to argue the moralistic sentiment of the law, but I won't. I'm sure it'd fall on deaf ears, but please understand, Father, Steven said with emphasis. We will bring your brother to justice. Sacrament or smokescreen, Earl Fowler will pay for his crimes."

You must understand, Earl, he isn't a bad man. He's a follower. And Stowy Jenkins was a demon. Earl had no choice but to do what that demon asked of him or pay with his life. He's...he's very confused and extremely remorseful. Father Jacob rubbed his rosary as though making a wish with each bead. He's nothing like that devil Snowman, nothing.

"There