Bitter Seeds: The Madness of Miss Rose, #2

By Christopher Stanfield

Murder was easier than this.

In the wake of Apple's bold choice, the Bloody Rose is caught and the community is ready to move on. As the trial looms near, Apple and Cindy look ahead to a brighter future. The terror of the East Bay's most notorious killer has ended but not everyone is convinced. The unscrupulous reporter, Felicity Raven, is determined to prove that Apple Rose is the real culprit and she'll stop at nothing to find the truth.

While Apple struggles to adapt to her new life, Cindy battles with the traumatic memories of the night she nearly died. But that isn't the only complication they have to face. A haunting figure from Apple's past returns and the game he sets in motion could unravel the new life she longs to build.

The truth may be dangerous, but the past can kill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Stanfield
• Release date: Oct 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223088929

Book preview

Bitter Seeds

The Madness of Miss Rose

Christopher Stanfield

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Copyright © 2023 by Christopher Stanfield

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Christopher Stanfield ([e-mail])

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Firefly Creative Designs

Editing by Baker Street Revisions

1st edition 2023

Contents

Epigraph

Dedication

Preface

1.Fool Me Once

2.A Wounded Bird

3.These Bloody Little Things

4.A Stranger Beckons

5.The Trial of the Bloody Rose

6.A Fine, Lovely Thread

7.The Moonlit Ball

8.A Scarlet Message

9.The Fear Will Get You

10.Rumors Dark and Cold

11.On the Hunt Again

12.The Boldest Move

13.Honeyed Words, Bitter Tongues

14.A Warning Too Late

15.The Haunted Past

16.Old Sins Born Anew

17.Let the Game Begin

18.The Raven and the Rose

19.A Troubled Path to Walk

20.Recompense

21.Dire Petals, Bloody Thorns

22.Into the Bloody Web

23.’Neath the Blood Moon

24.What Now Remains?

25.To My Dearest One

26.Epilogue

Coming Soon

About the Author

Thus you may understand that love alone is the true seed of every merit in you, and of all acts for which you must atone.

— Dante Alighieri, Volume 2: Purgatorio

To my wife, whose steadfast support and unwavering belief has fueled me throughout this journey, especially in those moments when I began to doubt whether or not I was cut out for the road ahead. And to those readers out there who have discovered the madness and beauty of Apple Rose, none of this would have been possible without you. Her story has captured my imagination entirely and I hope that you will stick with me as I explore the rest that her world has to offer.

Preface

Please note, that while no depictions of sexual violence (graphic or otherwise) appear within this novel, it does touch heavily upon sexual violence as a theme within the story. Some scenes may still be uncomfortable for some readers and though I will always strive to handle these sensitive topics with care, I know that it may be triggering for some.

With that said, I welcome you back to the mad world of Miss Apple Rose…

one

Fool Me Once

The boom echoed behind her. A deep clang of iron colliding as the final barred door rolled shut.

It was the last place she wanted to be.

There was so much to occupy her mind. A hundred different thoughts to pull her in a hundred different directions. But this. This was a goddamn waste. And then there was the sight of her. Pale skin and red-haired. A slender girl adorned in the dark blue of a prison jumpsuit.

Yeah, Felicity thought wearily. This is going to fuck up my whole day.

And the coy smirk curling the corner of her lips spun Felicity’s stomach into knots.

Any time she found herself in this godforsaken place, she felt the strong compulsion to glance over her shoulder. It was a nervous habit by now. If for no other reason than to make sure, one more time, that the guards were actually nearby. They were, of course, but that didn’t do much to ease the worry creeping up.

You actually came.

An unsettling grin dazzled on Sarah Sharpe’s face as soon as she uttered those words. Felicity stepped forward with as much care as she could manage.

It was a game. Each step she took. Every careful word she offered up.

Felicity didn’t move another inch. Determined to keep her distance for at least a moment longer. Even when Sarah gestured to the empty chair across from her, Felicity didn’t move. Not yet.

You can sit, Sarah offered. Cold chains rattled when Sarah jerked her hands, the cuffs secure around her wrists. It’s not like I can do anything impolite.

I’ve been wondering why you wanted to talk to me.

Because, Sarah simpered, you’re the voice of the East Bay. Isn’t that what all those groveling TV reporters like to say?

The moment unsettled her all over again. With a few shaky breaths, Felicity finally stepped forward and took that empty seat. She kept her hands folded in her lap, keen eyes never leaving the young woman across from her.

Don’t be fooled.

She’s too cunning for her own good.

Felicity leaned forward slightly. You’ve got a court date coming up.

That I do.

You seem pleased.

Even Sarah’s giggle wormed beneath the skin.

Why wouldn’t I be? Sarah asked. The trial of the Bloody Rose. The media sensation of the year. I’m all a fluster.

I have to admit, I was a bit surprised by your plea.

Maybe I have a few surprises left.

Felicity dared not smirk. Even if the temptation was clearly there. I don’t doubt that for a second.

Be sure to get a front row seat. Sarah said, her voice almost a whisper. You won’t want to miss it.

I can only imagine what you have in mind.

Sarah’s whole face lit up. It was a sight to see. The way her green eyes widened. That coy smirk spreading into a full-blown smile. She was loving it. Every damn bit.

Felicity leaned back in her chair. Every ounce of effort focused on hiding the first inkling of a tremble that tried to ripple through her.

Not guilty, hmm? Felicity added. By reason of mental defect, at least that’s what your lawyer said. Is that your real plan, try to convince them all that you’re a ginger nutcase?

Sarah rolled her eyes. Come on, Felicity, you can do better than that.

Of course. Why else would she drag me all the way out here?

Anger erupted beneath the surface of her deceptively calm exterior. All you wanted was to waste my time, didn’t you? Bring me out here so you could show who’s in charge. Miss Sharpe’s power play.

It worked, didn’t it?

Her lips tightened into a thin line. Eyes narrowed at the conniving witch. Sarah leaned forward, hunger in her gaze.

Felicity had her own thoughts. Theories spinning in the back of her mind. Coalescing around one singular idea …

This girl is a killer. As cold as they come.

But she’s not the one they think she is.

I do have one regret though. Sarah almost sounded sad. Then the timbre of her voice changed, and Felicity itched to get away. Do you know what it is?

That you didn’t get the chance to finish high school?

The hunger raged feverishly. Felicity almost squirmed right out of her chair, that itch skittering up her arms.

No, Sarah answered simply. I really did have a chance to kill you once and I didn’t take it. What a perfect night that would have been.

Felicity didn’t want to entertain whether that was true. To do so would send her thoughts down the kind of dark alleys she’d rather avoid. There was only one thing waiting for her down that profoundly unpleasant path. Madness and fear.

Given enough time, Felicity could conjure any number of scenarios in the past year when someone could have happened upon her in such a way. How many nights did she work late at the office? More than she could count. A dozen times in a month alone.

And on those blithely ordinary nights, without a care in the world, she would walk right across the empty parking lot, the only illumination from a single lamppost near the street. Was Sarah lurking in the dark on one of those crisp fall evenings?

Her own stalker waiting for the chance to strike.

Felicity squirmed. The gleam in Sarah’s eyes hinted at sinister thoughts taking shape once more. It was an effort to push those fears aside, but with a heavy breath, Felicity found the nerve to grin. As bold a move as any she could think of in that moment.

Don’t give the bitch the satisfaction.

Felicity rose to her feet, sparing a quick gesture to the guard near the door.

I guess you missed your chance.

The quip made Sarah snicker, that same delightful look painted all over her pale face. Aww, are you leaving already?

I’ve got a trial to cover, remember?

She wouldn’t give Sarah the chance to play her game again. She enjoyed this whole fiasco far too much, and Felicity was quick to turn her back, making a beeline for the door.

I heard you’ve nabbed a deal to write a book about me. The definitive word on the Bloody Rose.

Word traveled fast. Even here. But when those words slithered past her lips, Felicity stopped. Her own coy grin curled her lips.

You’re right. Felicity refused to turn around. She stood facing the door, flanked by guards on either side. But it won’t be about you.

Chains shook. The screech of a chair sent a nervous shiver across her skin. Of all the words Felicity could have said, that one pissed her off. It was a silly risk. Perhaps even reckless in the larger scheme of things.

But Felicity had bigger thoughts on her mind. She couldn’t be bothered to listen to whatever retort Sarah fired back. With that uncomfortable moment firmly behind her, she stalked a path out of the prison. Past the glaring expressions of the guards, some of whom remembered well the scathing words she had for law enforcement over the breadth of her career.

Let them think whatever they damn well pleased. There were plenty in the East Bay who’d made their minds up about her long ago. It didn’t bother her in the least.

It was the price to be paid for the work she did. In the grand spectacle of the public arena, one learned to live with it. Or be trampled underfoot.

When she finally made it outside, free from the walls of the women’s correctional facility, calm settled over her once more—fleeting though it might prove to be. It was already early spring now, and the trial was indeed drawing near. But all of that paled to the one nagging thorn that wouldn’t go away. It lodged deep underneath the skin, and every time Felicity felt compelled to pick at it, the uncomfortable reality reared its ugly head.

She barely made it three steps to the car when she fished her cellphone from the pocket of her stylish jeans. And dammit if Jenna didn’t answer on the second ring.

I hope you’re in the office.

Jenna rolled her eyes. Or at least she did in the image Felicity conjured in her mind. Where else would I be?

I wanna go over the Nix crime scene again.

What do you expect to find that we didn’t find on the eighteenth time?

Get everything back out and wait for me. I know I’m stubborn, but there’s gotta be something there.

Jenna was already in her office, if the shuffle of papers and the sharp metallic scrape of file cabinet drawers opening were anything to go by.

How’s it holding up today?

Jenna didn’t bother to suppress her wry laughter. Dixon’s on the warpath.

So, business as usual then.

You keep walking the line you’re walking, he’ll pull you off the story.

Felicity fumbled for her keys and fought the urge to say something bitchy in reply. That your usual worrying or is that shit coming from him?

What do you think?

These days, it was a damn toss-up either way. Lionel Dixon had run the Silver Herald since the day his father handed the business to him. He was a decent enough boss to work for, as long as you avoided the kind of chaos Felicity loved. He was even patient. To a point. But the whole fiasco with a certain blonde teenager and the most notorious killer in the community left her with the kind of ridiculous stain that wouldn’t go away. Not as much as she’d prefer.

Madness and fear.

A goddamn pain in the ass no matter what.

Felicity didn’t bother to offer the usual pleasantries before she ended the call. With hardly a second thought, she tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and started the engine. Jenna knew her well enough not to worry over a perfunctory goodbye.

The drive across town gave her a chance to think. A clear head was what she needed most. It was the only way to find the truth. By the time she made it to the office, slamming the brake as soon as she pulled into her usual parking spot, an unexpected thought had taken hold.

She shoved her phone and keys into her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and hurried up to the building. That singular thought grew bigger by the second.

Felicity was barely through the door of her own office, ignoring a withering glare from Lionel Dixon, when she slammed the door shut. I’ve been thinking about this all wrong.

Jenna startled when the door snapped closed.

I’ve been obsessing all this time over how Cindy somehow managed to both free herself and attack Sarah long enough to get away.

Jenna narrowed her eyes but offered not much more than a halfhearted shrug.

Sure, it seems fishy. But any half-ass could argue it was adrenaline, right?

Jenna nodded slowly.

But that’s not what we should be asking.

With a tired sigh, Jenna leaned against the corner of Felicity’s desk. Then what is?

Why kidnap her at all?

Jenna glanced at the desk, scattered with the remnants of crime scene photos. Some going all the way back to the first killings of the East Bay Ripper. Those bloody remembrances shimmered bitterly and turned the stomach with ease even now, no matter how many times they looked upon them.

Jenna gestured to one. "Why do any of the insane shit she did?"

What have I assumed from the beginning?

The look in Jenna’s eyes was priceless to see. That blank, worried sort of expression a student often wears when the teacher whips out an unexpected pop quiz.

But Felicity didn’t wait for her to come around. That Sarah was auditioning for the real killer. From the first murders on Halloween night. That’s been my thinking from the start.

And that made sense.

What if she already knew who the real killer was?

Felicity nudged Jenna out of her way and shuffled through the mess scattered across her desk, digging through scraps of notes, photographs, and whatever else she’d gathered over the course of the last three years.

This. Felicity whipped out the picture of the poor girl at the pier. Her pale body hung from the wooden beams.

What about it?

The police assumed that Cindy was either simply another random victim, like the girl at the pier, or that she was spooked.

Jenna tried her hardest not to look at the distressing picture.

Still as squeamish as ever.

With a shaky touch, Jenna snatched the picture and laid it face down, no doubt fighting with the unease squirming in her belly. Yeah, I think that’s their working theory now, right? That Sarah realized Cindy might know something? Might be on to her? I mean, after all, they went to the same school. Even knew each other. Sort of.

If Sarah knew who the real killer was, then all of her actions make sense.

How?

"She was auditioning for the killer. The fact that she already knew who it was—that was the icing on the cake. The conniving bitch wanted her attention, but for whatever reason, it wasn’t working."

She was getting desperate.

Exactly.

The way Jenna’s mouth dropped sealed the whole fucking deal. It might take her a hot minute to put the puzzle pieces in the right place, but she managed it all the same.

You see where I’m going, don’t you?

If Sarah knew who the real killer was, she’d want to do whatever she could to make her take notice. Something bold. Reckless. Jenna was damn near breathless when she spoke.

Felicity lived for this kind of shit. Finding the right words to put the story on the page was one thing. The art that gave her work the style it deserved. But a moment like this …

That was where it came alive.

Not in the story itself. But the hunt to find the truth. The hunt was what she lived for.

And if I’m right and Apple Rose really is the East Bay Ripper, then going after Cindy wasn’t random. Not one bit.

She wanted Apple to notice her.

Felicity nodded and slammed a fist down on her desk. And Cindy was the way to do it.

Jenna nearly stumbled over with the comical way she swung around and dug through the folders she’d pulled out moments ago. The crime scene photos from that night were right on top of the ruinous pile of mess, and she nearly sent half the heap toppling to the floor.

If that’s the case, what if Apple was there that night?

I know, Felicity answered, her words colored with a sigh. I thought about that on the way over.

And?

Jenna flipped through every picture she could get her hands on, but Felicity stepped close and took hold of her wrist.

She wouldn’t be careless enough to leave evidence behind. That’s the problem.

Disgust twisted the young woman’s face. It was the low that came so swiftly after the high of stumbling over the truth. Jenna’s dark ponytail bounced as she made a dramatic gesture of tossing the whole folder and its contents onto the desk.

Felicity understood it. The anger when the truth seemed, yet again, so maddeningly beyond their reach. If Apple really was there that night, as Felicity believed, she would’ve taken great care not to leave a trace behind. After all, a mind like that doesn’t avoid capture by being careless. Even in a situation as dire as the kidnapping of her closest friend. And for all the joy of cracking open a new angle on the case, Felicity couldn’t help but feel the sting.

Why had it taken so long to come around to this idea?

It was a thought she didn’t like to entertain.

Shit, Felicity mused darkly. Maybe I am losing my damn touch.

Her parents still have that restraining order against you too.

Thanks, Jenna dear. Like I needed that reminder. But right as the pithy remark perched on the tip of her tongue, a sly smile crept slowly across her face. But Cindy isn’t so lucky.

You sure that’s wise?

Felicity shrugged, too busy now thinking over the next step of this dangerous dance. She couldn’t even be bothered to try and straighten up the mess spread across her desk.

Not that it would matter if she had.

I’m always careful, Jenna, you know that.

Yeah. A nervous chuckle bubbled up. But look what happened to the last person who went after her best friend.

Felicity was midway through stuffing pictures back into a wide folder when a thought took shape. What do we know about her anyway?

Cindy?

Yeah.

Want me to run down what I’ve found so far?

No, Jenna. Felicity shook her head, the familiar sly smirk she wore so well set firmly in place. I want you to get me a latte and a bagel.

No need for sarcasm.

Maybe a foot massage after.

Jenna Garcia, never one for playing into Felicity’s random moods, whipped around to snatch her trusty notepad off the credenza by the glass wall, beyond which lay all the chaotic bustle of the Silver Herald. There was a strange comfort to the whole maddening calamity of it all. The ebb and flow might not make sense to others, but Felicity found an odd charm there.

Even if Jenna was doing her level best to act suitably annoyed.

She made a dramatic show of flipping through her notepad until she found the page she was looking for.

Wind her up and watch her go.

Felicity might be inclined to laugh, were she not afraid of the swift response such foolishness would surely bring.

Jenna cleared her throat before Felicity could make up her mind one way or the other. Cindy Anne Nix. Born June fourth, 1979. Mother is named Chiyoh Nix, born Chiyoh Misawa. Immigrated to the United States at the age of nine from Japan. Moved to Silver Falls when she was nineteen years of age … where she met Frank Nix.

Felicity scratched her chin lightly, swiveling slowly from left to right in her chair. The name rang a bell. Why does Frank Nix sound so damn familiar?

Probably because he was a patrol cop right here in good ol’ Silver Falls.

No shit.

You’re not questioning my research skills, are ya?

Wait a minute. Felicity leaned forward, elbows propped up on the edge of her cluttered desk. I do know that name.

Frank Nix, Jenna continued, clearly relishing the chance to show off. A highly decorated officer with the Silver Falls Police Department. Was one month away from taking the detective’s exam when he was shot in the line of duty.

That’s right!

It was a routine traffic stop and—

Guy had a few warrants out. And a Glock in the glovebox.

Jenna sported a smug grin and added the extra flair of snapping her notebook shut.

Life fell apart after that.

Jenna didn’t really need to confirm any of it. Felicity had a knack for this. She might not remember every single detail at the drop of a hat, but give her enough of a nudge and it would all come spilling out of the dark. And there was plenty of darkness to be found in the sad story of Frank Nix.

Pain medication. Addiction. Rehab. Alcohol. More rehab. Rinse. Repeat.

The bitter story of a broken life. Felicity had heard a tale or two like that before. From decorated cop to disgraced alcoholic. And a litany of failed jobs littered in between. It wasn’t enough, of course. But it might be a start. Or at least the promise of