Twisted (A Casey Bolt FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Five)

By Molly Black

FBI special agent Casey Bolt, with her rare neurological condition, is able to see and feel patterns other can’t, and when a renowned chef is poisoned at a high-profile culinary event in Portland, Casey’s onslaught of senses may be the only thing standing between a killer and his next victim….

“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
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TWISTED is book #5 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.

Casey, grappling with synesthesia, has the rare ability to perceive senses in multiple ways, enabling her to view crime scenes, and track down clues, in ways others cannot. Her talent has made her indispensable to the FBI, but while her renown in the FBI grows, Casey remains tormented by the case that haunts her the most: her mother’s brutal, unsolved murder from fifteen years ago.

As Casey strives to uncover the secrets of the past, she must rely on every instinct and insight to make it out of the field alive. But can her own senses lead her astray?

A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured FBI agent, the CASEY BOLT 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
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“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
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“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
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“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
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“Wow, I cannot wait for the next in this series. Starts with a bang and just keeps going.”
—Reader review for Girl One: Murder
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“Well written book with a great plot, one that will keep you up at night. A page turner!”
—Reader review for Girl One: Murder
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“A great suspense that keeps you reading… can't wait for the next in this series!”
—Reader review for Found You
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“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
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• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Black
• Release date: Apr 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9781094396170

Book preview

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T W I S T E D

(A Casey Bolt FBI Suspense Thriller —Book 5)

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 ten 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 six books (and counting); of the REESE LINK mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the CLAIRE KING FBI suspense thriller series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the PIPER WOODS mystery series, comprising five books (and counting); of the GRACE FORD mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the CASEY BOLT mystery series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the JADE SAVAGE mystery 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 © 2024  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.

BOOKS BY MOLLY BLACK

JADE SAVAGE MYSTERY SERIES

ALL SHE FEARS (Book #1)

ALL SHE WANTS (Book #2)

ALL SHE REMEMBERS (Book #3)

ALL SHE NEEDS (Book #4)

ALL SHE HIDES (Book #5)

CASEY BOLT MYSTERY SERIES

BROKEN (Book #1)

FLAWED (Book #2)

BLEMISHED (Book #3)

DAMAGED (Book #4)

TWISTED (Book #5)

GRACE FORD MYSTERY SERIES

NEARLY MINE (Book #1)

NEARLY SAFE (Book #2)

NEARLY FREE (Book #3)

NEARLY GONE (Book #4)

NEARLY HIS (Book #5)

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

PROLOGUE

Today was a special day. Fifteen minutes until her personal hero was due to arrive... Marianne had agreed to show up at the same time, but she'd come a bit earlier.

There was so much to prepare.

The first light of dawn had barely brushed the horizon when Marianne unlocked the back door to her kitchen sanctuary. It was a sacred ritual, this quiet communion with her stainless-steel domain before the rest of the world awoke. Today, the air crackled with a particular zest; she was no longer just a chef, but a culinary director—her talent for orchestrating flavors finally recognized.

As the ovens hummed to life, Marianne’s fingers danced over polished countertops, setting out knives that gleamed like surgical tools. She was an artist preparing her palette, each ingredient a vibrant color waiting to be swirled into a masterpiece. The kitchen bloomed under her touch, surfaces wiped to a reflective shine, copper pots aligned with military precision.

She reached for the freshest produce. With a surgeon's care, she sliced, diced, and chiffonaded, the rhythm of her knife against the cutting board a percussive ode. In the back of her mind, she knew time was ticking. Julie was on her way.

The sizzle of garlic hitting hot oil was the starting note of the day’s culinary concerto. Onions followed, their sweet perfume mingling with the sharp tang of citrus zest. Pans clattered, flames kissed the bottoms of skillets, and the kitchen pulsed with the heartbeat of creation. Marianne moved through it all like a conductor, every flick of the wrist, every stir and flip, building towards the crescendo of service.

Steam curled from pots, carrying with it the soul-warming scent of simmering broths and reductions. Marianne paused, a silent audience to her work, inhaling deeply. She took a spoon and dipped it in the pan. She blew, cooling the sauce and then hesitated as steam curled up past her lips.

The spoon still hovered near her lips, a droplet of sauce clinging stubbornly to the curve of the silver. Her brows furrowed as she searched for familiarity in the taste, but it eluded her grasp. A subtle bitterness had crept into the flavors, an uninvited guest lurking amidst the layers of her culinary composition. It was wrong, misplaced, and her mind raced to uncover the source of this dissonance.

Odd, she murmured, turning the spoon over in her hand as if it were the key to an unfathomable riddle.

Her heart skipped... Was Julie here yet?

She couldn't serve something like this to her friend and role model...

Her thoughts churned, dissecting each step of the preparation process, seeking out the anomaly. Had she mismeasured? No, her hands knew the dance of quantities and measurements too well to misstep. An errant ingredient? Impossible. Her pantry was a fortress, each item vetted for quality and freshness.

Footsteps echoed faintly, ascending the staircase that led to her culinary sanctuary. They were rhythmic, unhurried—the familiar tread of companionship approaching, unaware of the storm clouds gathering inside Marianne's mind. She glanced toward the stairs, the wooden steps creaking a soft greeting with each footfall.

A figure emerged, frowning briefly at a phone in their hand. It seemed, at first, as if they were troubled. But just as quickly, the expression vanished.

Morning, called out a voice, warm and buoyant, the sound a stark contrast to the unease that clung to Marianne like a second skin. It was Julie . Marianne managed a tight-lipped smile, a brittle facade that veiled the turmoil beneath.

Hey, Julie, she replied, setting the spoon down with a clink against the pot. The metallic sound rang out, a tiny alarm bell that only Marianne seemed to hear.

The morning sun spilled its golden light through the kitchen windows, anointing Julie's hair with a halo as she stepped inside. Her eyes sparkled with the effervescence of good news pending on her lips.

Guess who just aced her interview? Julie twirled, her arms wide, inviting the world to share in her victory. She was a whirlwind of vibrant energy, a stark contrast to the stagnant apprehension that clung to Marianne.

Fantastic, Marianne managed, the word forced out through a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She watched Julie dance closer, her own heart tapping out an erratic rhythm. The scent of freshly baked bread and simmering spices did little to ease the tightness in her chest.

Something smells incredible, Julie said, her enthusiasm unabated as she beelined for the stove. Marianne's hand hovered over a spoon, the metal cold and unyielding beneath her fingers. She drew back, a silent spectator to her friend's impending taste test.

Marianne wanted to protest, but too late.

Julie scooped up a small bite, the anticipation clear in her crinkled nose and wide grin. Mmm, this is divine. She closed her eyes, savoring the burst of flavors, unaware of the undercurrents hidden within the culinary creation.

'This can't be happening,' Marianne thought, her mind racing to pinpoint the anomaly, the dissonance in the symphony of her cooking. 'She likes it. But why does it taste so off to me?'

Right? Marianne echoed, the agreement hollow. She observed Julie devour another mouthful, the joy in her friend's expression painting a sharp pang of guilt and confusion onto Marianne's heart.

And then...

Julie paused, frowning. Her fingers flicked up, touching against her lips. Marianne stared, trying to read her friend's inscrutable expression.

Julie's laughter, a bright chime in the morning air, faltered. Her hand flew to her throat, fingers clawing at an invisible assailant. Eyes wide with confusion turned to glassy orbs of terror.

Ju-- Marianne's voice broke, her tongue a useless slab of meat in her mouth.

A violent cough erupted from Julie's lips, a desperate attempt to dislodge the malevolent morsel. She staggered, back arching as if trying to escape her own skin.

Marianne's heart thrashed against her chest, a wild thing seeking escape. The scent of rosemary and thyme, once comforting, now twisted into a noxious fume. She lunged forward, arms outstretched, reaching for Julie for sanity in the chaos.

Julie, oh god—breathe! Words tumbled over each other, senseless, impotent.

Julie's knees buckled, a marionette cut loose from its strings. Her body careened towards the unforgiving tiles, a silent scream etched onto her face.

Panic clawed up Marianne's throat, a hot, sour bile. 'This isn't happening,' screamed every neuron, every fiber of her being.

A final, feeble gag, and then stillness.

Julie! The name, a prayer, a curse, fell dead in the space between them.

Marianne's hands hovered, trembled, above the fallen form of her friend. The world contracted to this single, horrific frame – Julie, prone and pale; the dish, a gastronomic betrayal.

'Not real, not real,' Marianne's mind chanted, but reality bore down with crushing weight. Silence thundered in her ears, louder than any scream.

Please, she whispered to the void, to Julie, to anyone who might undo this moment. 

Julie lay motionless, her essence slipping away like steam from a cooling dish, leaving behind only the shell of a vibrant life.

Marianne's breaths came in ragged gasps, mirroring those that had failed to save her friend. The kitchen, her sanctuary of creation, now a tomb of destruction.

Help, she breathed, a lone word swallowed by the vast emptiness. Despair seeped into her bones, cold and unrelenting. HELP! she screamed, her voice tearing through the quiet space.

CHAPTER ONE

Agent Casey Bolt stepped out of her nondescript sedan, the chill in the air seemed to creep under her skin, burrowing into her bones with icy fingers. The steel-gray sky loomed over the penitentiary like a shroud, its high walls exuding an air of impenetrable solemnity.

She'd come for answers, and she wasn't going to leave without them.

Casey approached the double-layered security gates with measured strides, her gaze flicking across the razor wire that crowned the perimeter. A whisper of wind carried the faint echo of clanging metal and desolate murmurs from within. She could almost taste the despair that hung heavy in the atmosphere, thick as the fog that often blanketed the Seattle skyline.

She stepped through the first layer of security, flashing her badge and sliding her wallet and keys through a tray near a metal detector.

Inside the first door, a waiting room confronted her.

Agent Bolt?

Chester Renee, Casey acknowledged, eyeing the man who stepped forward to greet her. He was a walking contradiction—his suit bespoke wealth, tailored to perfection, yet there was something about him that screamed 'ambulance chaser'. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned her as if she were a puzzle to be solved, and his mouth quirked up in a smile that didn't quite reach those eyes.

He had a small, curling mustache, and his features were bony and sharp.

Shall we? he gestured towards the looming entrance. My client is eager to speak with you.

Against your better judgement, if I remember correctly.

Quite, he said, forcing a smile that still didn't reach his eyes.

She allowed him to take the lead. As she followed, her mind cycled through everything she knew about Carlos Rodriguez. The biker gang he belonged to had been the gang of a man named Jake Henderson.

More than ten years ago, Jake had invited Casey's sister, Lily, on a date.

Lily had turned off the security system to sneak out... that same night, her mother had been killed.

Casey had chased lead after lead, and they had culminated in this meeting with Carlos. Jake Henderson wasn't an option... According to the FBI database, he'd died in a shootout six months ago. Carlos was the only hope she had.

They navigated the maze of security checkpoints with practiced ease, Casey noting the pattern of the guards' movements, the flicker of their eyes behind thick glass. She catalogued it all—the subtle tells and signs that one learns to read when delving into the darkest corners of human nature.

Two security guards joined them, nodding to Chester with tired familiarity. They buzzed the visitors through an adjoining, bullet-proof door.

Carlos is anxious to see you, Chester mentioned as they walked down the sterile corridor lined with doors that sealed fates behind them. Though I can't imagine why.

Curiosity, perhaps, Casey replied, her tone non-committal.

Perhaps, Chester offered, a sardonic edge to his words.

The door at the end of the hallway swung open, and they were ushered into the visitation room—a stark space furnished with nothing but a table and two chairs, dividing lines drawn in the form of painted squares on the floor.

Carlos awaited them, seated, hands cuffed before him. His once-imposing figure seemed diminished by the orange jumpsuit, which hung off his frame. Tattoos snaked up his arms and neck, remnants of a past and present he