Once He Longs (A Claire King FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Two)

By Molly Black

FBI Special Agent Claire King dies chasing a killer—and is resuscitated minutes later to realize she has changed. Dark images flash through her mind in a newfound power, visions leading her towards serial killers. But when new victims are found with incense burning beside their bodies, Claire finds herself baffled by the new case, and with time running out on the next victim’s life, she must wonder if her visions will save a life—or betray her.



“Molly Black has written a taut thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat… I absolutely loved this book and can’t wait to read the next book in the series!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder



Once He Longs is Book #2 of a long anticipated new series by critically-acclaimed and #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Molly Black, whose books have received over 2,000 five-star reviews and ratings.



FBI Special Agent Claire King has a reputation for brilliance, for being able to crack serial killer cases that no other agent can. Before she died and came back to life, she relied solely on this brilliance. But now that she has this fleeting, newfound power, Claire is confused: should she follow what she knows? Or what she senses? Are visions more powerful than intellect?



Or will they lead her right into a killer’s trap?



A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured FBI agent, the Claire King series is a riveting mystery, packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.



Future books in the series are also available!



“I binge read this book. It hooked me in and didn't stop till the last few pages… I look forward to reading more!”

—Reader review for Found You



“I loved this book! Fast-paced plot, great characters and interesting insights into investigating cold cases. I can't wait to read the next book!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder



“Very good book… You will feel like you are right there looking for the kidnapper! I know I will be reading more in this series!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder



“This is a very well written book and holds your interest from page 1… Definitely looking forward to reading the next one in the series, and hopefully others as well!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder



“Wow, I cannot wait for the next in this series. Starts with a bang and just keeps going.”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder



“Well written book with a great plot, one that will keep you up at night. A page turner!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder



“A great suspense that keeps you reading… can't wait for the next in this series!”

—Reader review for Found You



“Sooo soo good! There are a few unforeseen twists… I binge read this like I binge watch Netflix. It just sucks you in.”

—Reader review for Found You

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Black
• Release date: Apr 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094330853

Book preview

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O N C E   H E   L O N G S

(A Claire King FBI Suspense Thriller —Book 2)

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; of the TAYLOR SAGE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eight books; of the KATIE WINTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eleven books (and counting); of the RUBY HUNTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); of the CAITLIN DARE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); of the REESE LINK mystery series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the CLAIRE KING FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five 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 © 2023 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 uaurelijus used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY MOLLY BLACK

CLAIRE KING MYSTERY SERIES

ONCE HE SEES (Book #1)

ONCE HE LONGS (Book #2)

ONCE HE TAKES (Book #3)

ONCE HE FEELS (Book #4)

ONCE HE KNOWS (Book #5)

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)

CATCH ME (Book #10)

WATCH ME (Book #11)

RUBY HUNTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IF I RUN (Book #1)

IF I TELL (Book #2)

IF I LIVE (Book #3)

IF I FORGET (Book #4)

IF I RETURN (Book #5)

CAITLIN DARE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

COME GET ME (Book #1)

COME FIND ME (Book #2)

COME TAKE ME (Book #3)

COME CATCH ME (Book #4)

COME SAVE ME (Book #5)

REESE LINK MYSTERY

BEYOND REASON (Book #1)

BEYOND REACH (Book #2)

BEYOND REPAIR (Book #3)

BEYOND DOUBT (Book #4)

BEYOND NORMAL (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

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

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Kym was halfway through her front door, with the light fading behind her, when she first realized something was not right.

She had awkwardly maneuvered herself through the door with her bag between her knees, the oversized bunch of keys accompanying every movement with a jangling melody.

She sniffed the warm air, trying to detect the alien presence. There was a smell, both familiar and unfamiliar but one so out of place in the space she knew more than anywhere else.

Gently placing her bag onto the chair that she had temporarily moved to her small hallway months ago, she inched further into the dim hallway. Her hand went to the light fitting on the wall beside her, hovered over the plastic switch, but some instinct inside her stopped her fingers from going further.

Treading softly, her sneakers made no sound on the tiled floor as she slowly, carefully made her way to the door on the left. To her bedroom. To the place where the same instinct that had told her to remain in darkness told her the smell was coming from.

Kym’s mind groped for exactly where she knew the aroma from, but she had other priorities right now. Her hand gripped the keys, finding one and holding it so it protruded through her clenched fingers like she had been shown in that self-defense class last year.

She cursed the keyring again as its tinny jingle announced her presence. Suddenly, it seemed a whole lot more dangerous than the simple annoyance of mere seconds ago.

Her heart was beating fast, thudding against her ribcage. She struggled to slow her breathing which was threatening to get out of control. A voice in her head willed her to calm down, telling her she was overreacting. Asking why she was going overboard about a strange smell that more than likely had a logical explanation. A smell that she knew she recognized if she could just calm down and think straight.

The door to her bedroom was ajar.

Through the gap, she could make out the end of her bed and part of her small dressing table. Both were lit by a flickering light.

Her confusion grew.

So did her fear.

The light was like candlelight. But she knew the only candles in the house were those she had bought years ago when the threat of power cuts had loomed. She wouldn’t even know where they were now.

But somehow there were candles burning in her bedroom. If that was what they were.

Her ears strained to pick up any sound, any clue to what was happening, what alien presence had invaded her place of sanctuary.

But there was nothing. Only her hammering heart and her ragged breathing.

Hello … she whispered, not even sure if it was loud enough to travel into the room just in front of her.

Her hand crawled towards her cell phone in her pocket.

Carefully, slowly, she took it out, her eyes never leaving the flickering light.

The shadows the moving light created seemed to form into terrible shapes as her fear started to run away with her.

She dialed 9-1-1.

She moved one step into the bedroom. Then another, the door opening slightly as her shoulder pushed against it.

She could hear the phone connect and start to make the call.

The smell that had greeted her in the hall was stronger here. Way stronger.

She peered around the door.

The floor was littered with burning candles. On the bed was what looked like a large, silver incense burner, a wispy curl of smoke snaking its way to the ceiling in the draftless room.

Nine-one-one. Caller, what is your emergency? The voice from the cell in her hand filled the room.

But she hardly even heard it.

She turned, ready to flee, to get away.

But she was too slow. Too late.

From her left, a figure leapt out from behind her couch.

She was almost out of the door when the figure’s bulk threw her into the door jam, knocking her onto the floor. Her keys and phone skidded along the floor towards the door she had entered for the last time only two minutes before.

Caller, what is your emergency?

CHAPTER ONE

Agent Claire King stared at the postcard on her desk. Even through the clear evidence bag, it seemed to hold her gaze, taking her back to the monthslong investigation. The death of Tyler, her partner. The boat chase. The oh-so-brief moment of triumph when the cuffs were around his wrists, when she had thought that horrible chapter in her life was over.

Then the explosion and … she tried to blank the rest out of her mind. The crazy week that followed waking up in the hospital bed. Another serial killer. Three women killed. Almost a fourth.

Then when she thought it was all over. When she was looking forward to mending her mind and her body, this postcard had come. From the Artist.

Her eyes went to the report next to the evidence bag. Once more, she read the line saying there was a seventy-five percent chance the writing on the postcard was the same as the writing in The Artist’s letters to his victims.

Seventy-five percent. 

She didn’t bother reading the line beneath it saying no fingerprints were detected apart from her own and the mailman’s. She knew that would have been the case anyway. The Artist was many things, but he was not stupid. That was why she hadn’t caught him yet.

She reached out, her hand hovering over the bag.

Her body had healed in the three days she had been forced to stay away from the office, but her mind had done anything but. How could it when he knew her address, and when he was mocking her? She had checked into a hotel under a false name. Pretended that would throw him off the scent but deep down she knew if he wanted to find her, he would.

Her fingers nimbly opened the seal, then they held it open. The tips an inch from the shiny card.

The Chief had barred her from entering the precinct, threatened to restrain her if she didn’t take the three days recouperation. But that hadn’t stopped her from doing her own digging. Making her own calls. 

And then there was the other elephant in the room.

The one she had tried not to think about in those three days that she sat at her laptop, a series of room service meals cold and forgotten on the bed next to her.

The visions. She had not had one since the one in the interrogation room when she had touched the hair of Tyrone Conrad. In one way, she was glad about that. Wonderfully, wonderfully glad. If she never had another one, she would be able to put that whole strange episode behind her, filed away under post-coma trauma and move on with her life.

Yet …

The cold, hard truth was that without the nudges that those series of visions had given her, given the investigation, it was very likely that Tyrone Conrad would still be loose. That more beautiful, young, innocent women would have had their lives snuffed out.

Slowly, her eyes half shut, her ears blocking out the background noises of the busy office, her hand went forward. Slowly.

Until it touched the postcard.

She braced herself, tense, waiting for the precinct to slip away. Waiting to be transported to somewhere else. Somewhere terrible perhaps …

But nothing.

Well, Claire, she muttered to herself, quietly, it isn’t something you can decide. If they come, they come.

Talking to yourself now, Claire? Do we need to send you back for another few days of R and R?

Claire spun around in her chair to see the Chief standing there. She imagined that if the Chief did smile, he would be treating her with one then. Instead, his dark, lined face was as impassive as ever.

It’s the only way I know I’ll get the right answer, Chief, she said, putting her own smile across her features, a smile she certainly didn’t feel.

Anything new? The Chief nodded at the postcard in front of them both.

Claire shook her head and sighed. No, Chief. No DNA, no fingerprints apart from mine and the mailman’s.

The Chief's face remained impassive. He had been through this before. You know what to do, he said simply.

Claire nodded, sending her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She did. She had to keep looking. Keep investigating. Keep pushing until she found him. Until he was not able to send another postcard in his life again.

If he’s out there, we’ll get him, Claire. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is. The Chief put a hand on her shoulder as if to emphasize his point. It felt warm, even through her sweater, which she had on to protect her from the chill of the Northern Illinois spring that still thinks its winter.

I hope you’re right, Claire said, looking back at the postcard with a frown. I hope you’re right.

We’ve tracked down that he mailed it from Unity, a two-horse town ninety miles from here. The place has three mailboxes, Claire went on after taking a sip from her coffee. Remarkably, all three are to some extent covered by CCTV. I’m having the footage sent over this morning. If you’re right and he isn’t as smart as he reckons, this could be his first mistake.

You think he did send it? You do think he’s alive?

Claire exhaled, unsure of how to put across her feelings. The crazy thing was she had touched the postcard hoping to get a reaction, a vision. An indication of how her life had been turned around, flipped upside down. That would have given her the confirmation she craved.

But there had been nothing.

Just the cold, smooth feel of the card. The mocking message, To Claire, thinking of you. Staring back at her.

I don’t know, she said. But what I do know is that I won’t be able to sleep properly at night until we get him, or we find his bloated body washed up in New Orleans.

It was another hour and a half before the CCTV files came through. Equipped with a flask of coffee, she set about viewing the grainy footage. The three cameras all gave differing views of the three mailboxes. None were ideal. Positioned on the nearby stores, their purpose was more concerned with the scrutiny of the store fronts or the parking bays than the mailbox sat on the sidewalk. Still, it was something, and that was a hell of a lot better than nothing, which is what Claire had expected.

The first hour was spent finding the respective timespans for when the card would have been posted. That cut the footage from a combined fifty-six hours to sixteen. Viewed at triple speed, she figured she could cover it in six hours.

Less than thirty minutes in, she felt a tentative hand on her shoulder. She was so absorbed in watching the jerky figures on the laptop screen that the intrusion made her jump, causing Wilson to draw his hand back as if he had been burnt and brush it through his short, dark hair.

Wilson … sorry, I was engrossed in this. You startled me. She smiled, surprised how reassuring the presence of Wilson was. After all, he was really still new in terms of being her partner. The case with the Artist and the one with Conrad had both been traumatic, but if any good had come from them, they had helped to cement their working relationship a little tighter. Though Claire