Did I Kill You?: A Thriller Novel

By Harper Shaw

The monster never stops, and it’ll never stop…coming for her.


At fifteen, Iris Sinclair was always the more outgoing of the twins. That’s how she convinced her more reserved sister to sneak out for a Halloween party.


She can’t ever forget…


She ditched her sister on the side of the road when she refused to stay in the car while the other kids smoked pot. Except it was laced with PCP. Later, high on the drugs, Iris went back, and found her sister… Dead.


They never found the killer. Just a Jack O’Lantern near her sister’s head.


It’s affected her all these years and it was enough to drive her to become a NYPD detective. But when her parents are killed, Iris finds herself returning to the estate she grew up on, and she quickly realizes one thing.


The killer that was never found is ready to finish the job.
 The question is...is it her?   

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Dec 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094449500

Harper Shaw

Harper Shaw is an emerging author of thrillers living in central Florida. Her hobbies include watching crime thrillers on TV. She watched Gone Girl and was hooked on writing thrillers except work and family always got in the way. Then she realized that if she spent an hour writing after dinner every night she’d have a book in no time. Nowadays she waits until her family goes to sleep to begin to write her psychological thrillers with twisty endings. She doesn’t let her kids read what she writes so as not to scar them for life.

Book preview

Chapter One

Iris crept through the tree-lined streets of Sage’s Creek, confusion causing her to furrow her brow. It’s Halloween, she whispered. Where is everyone?

The crunching of fall leaves beneath her feet were the only sounds on the otherwise eerily silent road. Even the streetlights that usually lit the way for the children in their costumes to beg treats from house to house seemed too dim.

The streets should have been full of children and teenagers laughing and having a good time. Instead… she paused as something appeared up ahead. Squinting to see through the darkness, her heart rate doubled as she caught sight of something so terrifying she fell back and landed on her backside, her jeans soaking up the rain from a mud puddle.

A man stalked her, but he wasn’t simply an ordinary man. No, this man had long been dead. She scrambled to her feet to run, but it was too late. He was upon her, worms crawling out of his eye sockets as he reached for her with curled fingers like claws. She screamed as maggots dripped from his rotting mouth onto her hands and face. She frantically wiped them off her flesh, turning to run and get away.

As she spun, she came face to face with a naked woman, cries of agony ringing through the air. Razor blades protruded from her skin at all angles. Her face was bloody, and only a gaping hole remained where her mouth used to be. Even with no mouth, the woman managed to screech, Help me, as she chased Iris through the silent streets of the once-peaceful town.

Turning a corner, out of breath and terrified to her very soul, Iris finally thought she had outrun the ghastly duo. She leaned against the side of a house, trying to slow her breathing and heartbeat, and noticed the Halloween decorations leered at her. A man hanging in a tree turned to giggle in her direction, his voice becoming louder until it filled her ears.

Iris ran again, only to find a headless horseman waiting for her at the end of the street. He carried his pumpkin head under his arm, only… it wasn’t a pumpkin, was it? He raised the head of Iris’s dead twin high and galloped toward her.

You did this to me! her sister screamed at her, even as Iris opened her mouth to deny it. It’s your fault I’m dead! You killed me! You killed me!

She tried to back away, the accusations her dead sister threw her way like sharp daggers, but it was useless. She was surrounded, tall shadows creeping everywhere. Dark creatures closed in, deformed shapes crawling out of the darkness, and they all screamed the same thing… she had killed her sister. The screams, accusations, and giggles were more than Iris could handle. Clasping her hands over her ears, she sank down in the middle of the rain-soaked street as the monsters from her past gathered around.

Iris Sinclair bolted upright in bed, sweat making her simple baby doll pajamas cling to her slight frame. The breeze blowing through the open window on the other side of the room did little to cool her.

It was just a dream, Iris, she muttered low.

She repeated this phrase to herself more and more often lately, like a mantra she hoped would anchor her to reality. She had thought the nightmares were finally over, but they came back in full force after her parents’ recent deaths.

She still remembered the phone call she received in the middle of the night, telling her that her parents had died on the same rain-slickened streets she had just been running down in her all-too-familiar nightmare.

So much for my therapist dollars put to work, she said sarcastically, brushing away the stray locks of hair that were plastered to her forehead. Her latest therapist had insisted her nightmares were a byproduct of Iris not wanting to remember what really happened to Ivy.

She had fired him with a few very impolite words and had quickly determined that seeing a shrink wasn’t the way to get her memory back. She had tried everything from therapy to drugs, her need to remember what had happened that fateful Halloween night almost all-consuming. Nothing had worked over the years, and she spiraled further into depression and grief at losing her sister.

She recalled the night she heard her parents arguing over having her committed, their voices coming at her through the fog of memory. She remembered her mother saying that Iris was just a child, and that she couldn’t be blamed for what had happened. Yet, her father hadn’t been as kind. He said she was faking it, and she couldn’t bear to admit she had caused the death of the only good child they had. That night, her mom broke down in tears and collapsed into her father’s arms.

Iris, who had come to tell them goodnight, stood in shock at overhearing her father’s words. Instead of telling her he didn’t mean them, he’d sat her mother on the bed, walked over and closed the door firmly. More than just locking her out of his room, he had locked her out of his life.

Iris shook her head to ward off the memory of that heartbreaking night. Shoving her feet into her bedroom slippers, she went into the tiny kitchen to make coffee. She was going to need the life-giving brew if she was to make it to Sage’s Creek in one piece later in the day.

She jumped in the shower while the coffee brewed, hoping it would wake her up enough to make the long drive. The last thing she needed was to die as she made her way back to her hometown. She wasn’t sure whether the Sinclairs were cursed, or if it was the entire town itself. All she knew was she had lost her whole family to Sage’s Creek, and she wanted to get in and out as fast as possible. It was only a matter of burying her parents, sorting out the details of their will, and putting the house on the market. Once that was done, she’d return home to New York, where she felt she finally belonged.

Getting out of the shower and feeling no better than she had when she got in, she quickly dressed in jeans and an I love New York T-shirt. She left her hair free to air dry, and instead of fooling with it, she crammed a New York Yankees baseball cap over the unkempt locks. Sipping her mug of coffee, she checked to make sure she’d packed everything she needed to stay for a couple of weeks in the tiny town.

Instead of getting on the road, she found herself sitting at the kitchen table sorting through some mail. Most of it was addressed to Iris Sinclair, but a few letters—the ones from her therapist—had come in under her assumed name. Thanks to her parents being wealthy and important in Sage’s Creek, she had been able to see a shrink under another name.

When she’d finally been old enough to put Sage’s Creek in her rearview mirror, she had put her nose to the grindstone and joined law enforcement. One of her many therapists over the years said her career choice was a way of making up for not being able to save Ivy. She wasn’t sure of that hypothesis, but the fact remained she had busted her ass and made detective in record time. She was one of the best on the force and never let anyone forget that fact.

It was ironic, though, that such a good detective couldn’t remember the one murder she had been involved in. It had happened a lifetime ago, sure enough, but her fragmented memory still haunted her.

All Iris knew was she did not remember ever leaving the manor that night. Since all of the girls’ so-called friends couldn’t say which of the twins were with them that night, the cops had assumed Ivy went to the party alone. Iris knew what she had been told and no more. The nightmares, night sweats, and the fact that she slept with her gun under her pillow were the only reminders that something wasn’t quite right with her memory.

Jesus, she breathed out when her cell jolted her out of her journey down memory lane. Putting the letters from her therapist aside, she fished the cell out of her purse.

You on the road yet? Her best friend in New York was beyond worried about her traveling home, and she kept on insisting Iris handle everything from New York rather than travel.

"Not yet, Mom," Iris teased. The last remnants of the nightmares and her own uncertainty vanished when she heard Tabby’s voice on the other end of the phone.

Are you okay? Tabby paused for a moment. You had that nightmare again, didn’t you? I can hear it in your voice.

You know me better than I know myself, don’t you?

Yep, and it helps I’m a little bit psychic.

Laughing, Iris felt like a weight had been lifted. For a moment, she seriously considered doing what Tabby suggested and handling everything remotely. Sighing, she made herself deal with reality instead. Nothing would get done that way, and she really needed to go home and face her demons, whatever those might be.

Promising Tabby she would call as soon as she got to town, she loaded the car and then filled a thermos with coffee. She would need it if she wanted to remain awake.

As she sank into the driver’s seat, she gripped the steering wheel tightly and took a deep breath. She hadn’t been back to Sage’s Creek since the day she left ten years ago, but it was time. Cranking the car, she headed back to the town she swore she would never return to.

It was time for Iris Sinclair to go home.

Chapter Two

Iris drove on the highway, nerves filling her as she traveled. She found herself gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had turned white. With a shake of her head, she tried to settle her breathing.

Four seconds in, she muttered.

Hold for four seconds.

Four seconds out.

Hold for four seconds.

Yet when she passed a sign that read, Sage’s Creek, 17 miles, the anxiety built in her chest, and she did her best to push it down once more.

She didn’t need any of that crap today.

The road lines blurred a little in her vision, and she veered slightly to the left. Those nightmares had left her exhausted. Realizing she was swerving, she pulled the car back into the lane. It had been one hell of a week and getting to her parents’ house safely was what mattered right now.

You’re the last one in your family.

The thought popped into her head, unwanted. Iris shook her head and rubbed her eyes, trying desperately to stay awake though she felt wiped.

Everyone else in your family is dead.

Shut up, she chided herself. She passed a sign but didn’t see how far it said to Sage’s Creek. She didn’t really want to know. This entire trip was unwanted.

You’re the last one left alive.

She shook her head, doing her best to ignore those thoughts. She needed to bury her parents. They deserved to be buried next to her sister. And Iris needed to be there, to lay the remainder of her family to rest.

The pain in her chest grew and morphed to wrap around her lungs.

A quintessential anxiety symptom is banded chest pain, a shrink had once told her a lifetime ago. Great. So, she just had normal symptoms. She’d left that appointment, telling the shrink, Nothing about me is quintessential. Iris was pretty sure she’d switched shrinks shortly after.

She slowed to fifty miles per hour as the highway turned into the main street of the town. A sign to her right said, Welcome to Sage’s Creek! Home of the Halloween Festival!

Iris slammed on the brakes and swerved the car to the right, barely keeping it out of the ditch. Anxiety burned through her chest as she stared at that sign.

Someone had graffitied the words BEWARE THE JACK-O’-LANTERN over the sign.

Iris scrambled for her seatbelt, barely able to release herself from the contraption. The anxiety rose so fast and so hard that no amount of strategies given to her by shrinks could stop the attack. She fumbled with the door and finally got it open, spilling onto the asphalt as the nausea hit her hard.

Barely out of the car, she bent over beside her front tire and puked. Her entire measly dinner and the coffee she’d been drinking ended up on the side of the road.

Beware the jack-o’-lantern, she muttered, spitting the foul taste out of her mouth. Her breathing quickened as the panic attack took hold of her body.

Don’t look at it, she said out loud. You’re good. You’re safe. Her breathing didn’t slow. Instead it became faster and faster. Fuck. She wiped the sweat off her brow, and the world seemed to spin around her. She knew what she had to do, but sometimes it was hard to remember. Especially when she was going hypoxic.

Four seconds in. Hold for four seconds. Four seconds out. Hold for four seconds.

She repeated the mantra in her head, over and over.

The nausea rose again, and she gagged and vomited once more. This time, a flash of the man with the maggots in his mouth from her dream rose up in her vision.

She stepped back, disoriented by the resurgence of her nightmare.

A horn sounded from behind as a car swerved around her, the headlights exploding in her field of vision before they faded. Iris shook her head and got back into her car. The near-fatal collision had cleared her head enough that she figured she could drive to her parents’ manor.

The town was dead and, with its one streetlight flashing red, Iris made good time to her parents’ house on the other side of town. It wasn’t a house. Not exactly. Iris hadn’t been poor at any point in her life. In fact, her parents had been far wealthier than most of Sage’s Creek’s residents. It was exactly as she called it in her mind—a manor.

Iris pulled down the long, circular driveway. Some trees had fallen over the side and the grass had grown over. Her parents never let the grass get long. It was a point of pride for her father. They could always find him on their riding mower, shirt off, beer in hand, making slow turns around his trees.

Until Ivy died, anyway.

They must have been worse off than how they sounded on the phone. Guilt rose in Iris as she drove by the disheveled outbuildings. Her parents had obviously been struggling just as much as Iris had at the death of her twin.

Why hadn’t she come to see them in the ten years since she’d left? She’d bailed on Sage’s Creek as fast as she could after high school and hadn’t looked back. Her parents would come to New York to visit, and they seemed put together every time. In fact, she’d once bitched to a shrink about how the death of Ivy hadn’t affected them at all.

Driving up to the manor, her heart sank as she saw the state of disrepair it was in. Shutters hung from around windows, the paint flecked on the siding, and a couple of cracked windows had duct tape sealing the fractures.

Anxiety and guilt filled Iris as she drove onward. She hadn’t done her job and checked on her parents. She’d just been worried about herself and her own shit. Clearly her parents needed help, and she hadn’t bothered to ask if they needed assistance.

A man stood at the top of the stairs—Kevin Simpson, an old friend from high school. Iris recognized him right away once she saw him. He’d put on a bit of weight since she’d last seen him in high school, but his identity was unmistakable.

Iris smiled as she put her car in park and stepped out. She needed a friend right now.

Kevin, she called. He looked up from his paperwork and stared. He didn’t return her smile. Taken aback, Iris walked up to him and held out her hand. He took it and shook briefly, but then turned back to his paperwork.

I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, he said tersely.

Me too, Iris answered. How have you been?

Fine, he said. Iris waited for any return of warmth or a mere sign that he recognized her from their time as teenagers, but Kevin didn’t give it to her. He flipped through his folder in front of her. It should all be here, he said. The transfer of wealth and property. I’ll leave you a copy to go over and sign when you have time. He focused on her, his eyes sharp. Considering you’re the only surviving child.

The shot hit Iris like a bullet, and she took a step back. Kevin held out a package of paper and Iris took it, not really knowing where to go with him from here.

That should be all, he added. If you have any questions, you can reach my office by calling the number at the top of the paperwork.

He strode by her, not giving her a second glance.

Thanks, Kevin, Iris breathed.

He slowed only for a few steps and then, without turning, strode to his car, leaving her alone with the remnants of her past.

Taking a deep breath, Iris entered the manor. A couple of staff chattered away in Spanish, but they stopped when they saw her. She gave them a polite smile, but they merely stared at her as she passed. She went through the main floor, trying desperately not to be reminded of her past, but it was in every corner of this house.

She moved through the dining room and went out onto the patio where Silas, the deaf-mute groundskeeper and stable hand, was cutting a tree. He was old, even older than when she left. Her parents once told her that he was in charge of the trees and her dad was in charge of the grass.

Silas looked at her as she stepped onto the back patio. He stared at her with hate in his eyes. Iris waved at him, but the man didn’t wave back. No, instead, hate, anger, judgment passed over his face.

Great, she muttered under her breath, and then she turned and went back into the house. The Spanish speaking stopped as she entered and loneliness and self-hatred filled her.

She turned away from the first floor and pounded up the steps to her old room, passing her twin’s on the way. She tried to ignore the large wooden letters spelling IVY on the door, but the memory of hanging them with her sister filled her head.

This house was poison.

All the hurt, the ache from losing her parents, and the memories of Ivy cascaded out of her. She pulled open the door to her bedroom and almost vomited at what she found.

Her parents hadn’t changed it since she left for New York. Someone had kept it dust-free, but the same pictures sat on her dresser, the same blankets on the bed, the same teenage heartthrob posters hung on the wall.

Iris threw herself on the bed and wept. Wept for what was. What had been. What was to come.

Chapter Three

Iris looked at herself in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were puffy and her nose red, so it was obvious she’d been crying hard. She let out a long sigh, allowing her shoulders to sag. She hadn’t been here for more than an hour, but Sage’s Creek was already busy mauling her. Might as well let it finish the job at the funeral home.

The drive didn’t take long and Iris sat in the parking lot for a while, staring at the sign that read, Sage’s Creek Funeral Home, est. 1922. As if people hadn’t been dying before 1922. Or, because they had been burying people for nearly a hundred years, they were the best? Iris wasn’t sure what they wanted to accomplish with the sign. It was made out of stone and wood and, honestly, looked expensive.

Burying the dead wasn’t cheap.

Iris stayed in the car, listening to the crummy country station from one town away. She missed New York, and not just the amenities. She missed Tabby. She missed her life, her work, and the distance between her and the immeasurable sadness Sage’s Creek held for her.

You can do this, she said out loud into the car. "You can do this. For them."

Hardened, she left her car and walked to the door of the funeral home. She knocked a few times and waited. An old man in a lab coat and glasses hurried over from somewhere and unlocked the door.

Sorry, he said, puffing a little from his effort. We’re not open today.

I’m here to see my parents, Iris said. William and Lily Sinclair.

The man looked her up and down. I didn’t know they had any family, he murmured, other than…

My sister Ivy was murdered, Iris decided to just get it out of the way. I’m her twin. May I see them, please? Mr…?

Francis. Francis Gullard. And yes, he adjusted his glasses, you most definitely can. I’m sorry, Ms. Sinclair. I forgot Ivy had a twin. It’s been so long since you were in Sage’s Creek. Still, I don’t know if it’d be good for you to see them in their current—

Mr. Gullard, Iris said. She held up her New York Police Department badge. I can assure you I’ve seen it all. And I want to see my parents.

It’s not a good idea, he said. The amount of trauma isn’t something I’d allow anyone to see…

Frank, is it? He nodded and Iris continued. "Look, I want to see them. I’m going to see them, whether you want me to or not. He tried to interrupt, but Iris held up a hand, stopping him. I’ve seen my share of trauma. I don’t need you to protect me. He stared at her, slack-jawed and silent. And if I can’t handle it, you can blame me. Sound good?"

Without waiting for an answer, Iris pushed her way inside of the funeral home. It had received a new coat of paint since they’d buried Ivy. It was actually a nice place. Hardwood floors, dark gray paint, flowers lining the walls. Inside, a number of caskets and urns were on display for purchase. Iris caught the price of an urn and blanched.

Dying definitely wasn’t cheap.

Mr. Gullard caught up with her and led her through the retail part of the funeral home and down some stairs. The walls went from dark gray to metal, and the smell changed from flowers to formaldehyde. He stopped at a metal, swinging door.

I still must insist that you not see them, he tried again. The accident—

Just let me in, Iris said. I’m ready.

However steady her voice sounded, her soul was in turmoil. The anxiety rose in her chest as Gullard sighed and pushed the door open, allowing Iris to walk through. She took a

Reviews for Did I Kill You?

[Marissa Simek · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I am incapable of not finishing a book once I start it but oh how I wish this trash had never shown up on my recommended list. The dialogue is stilted, the characters are not believable, there are so many plot holes I often thought I had skipped a page somewhere... I could go on but just trust me and do not read this book I honestly don't know how it ever got published.

[heatherbleu1818 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Too cliché, it's just a bit too much for me..

[Kayla Lyons · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

It was just interesting enough to keep you reading. Horribly written and too many unbelievable story lines

[Cherry · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

My takeaways: You killed me. Coffee coffee coffee. You killed me. Coffee coffee coffee. More coffee. Mentions coffee a lot. Too much coffee talk it gave me acid reflux.

[Heidi · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Terrible characters, writing lacking descriptions and details, messy, confusing story-telling

[Lavi Davis · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Great book I enjoyed it? gonna read another one of her books