Gregg Olsen - Victim Six
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- Book:Victim Six
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- Year:2010
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Heart of Ice
Gregg Olsen will scare youand youll love every moment of it.
Lee Child
Olsen deftly juggles multiple plotlines.
Publishers Weekly
Compelling, engrossingan absorbing, enjoyable read.
Romantic Times
Fiercely entertaining, fascinatingOlsen offers a unique background view into the very real world of crimeand that makes his novels ring true and accurate.
Dark Scribe
A Cold Dark Place
A great thriller that grabs you by the throat and takes you into the dark, scary places of the heart and soul.
Kay Hooper
Youll sleep with the lights on after reading Gregg Olsens dark, atmospheric, page-turning suspenseif you can sleep at all.
Allison Brennan
A stunning thrillera brutally dark story with a compelling, intricate plot.
Alex Kava
A Cold Dark Place
A page-turnera work of dark, gripping suspense.
Anne Frasier
This stunning thriller is the love child of Thomas Harris and Laura Lippman, with all the thrills and the sheer glued-to-the-page artistry of both.
Ken Bruen
Olsen keeps the tension taut and pages turning.
Publishers Weekly
A Wicked Snow
Real narrative drive, a great setup, a gruesome crime, fine characters.
Lee Child
A taut thriller.
Seattle Post-Intelligencer
Wickedly clever! A finely crafted, genuinely twisted tale of one mothers capacity for murder and one daughters search for the truth.
Lisa Gardner
Tightly plotted, grippingan outstanding addition to the suspense genre.
Allison Brennan
An irresistible page-turner.
Kevin OBrien
Complex mystery, crackling authenticitywill keep fans of crime fiction hooked.
Publishers Weekly
A top-notch thrillera powerhouse of a book.
Donna Anders
Vivid, powerful, action-packeda terrific, tense thriller that grips the reader.
Midwest Book Review
Keeps the reader guessing and gulping from the very first page.
Jay Bonansinga
Tight plotting, nerve-wracking suspense, and a wonderful climax make this debut a winner.
Crimespree magazine
Wonderfulcompelling and horrifyingly real.
Seattle Mystery Bookshop
Olsen writes a real grabber of a book. If youre smart, youll grab this one!
Linda Lael Miller
A compelling story, tightly woven, that kept me riveted to the final page.
Susan R. Sloan
A Wicked Snow s plotabout a CSI investigator whos repressed a horrific crime from her childhood until it comes back to haunt hermoves at a satisfyingly fast clip.
Seattle Times
Heart of Ice
A Cold Dark Place
A Wicked Snow
The Deep Dark
If Loving You Is Wrong
Abandoned Prayers
Bitter Almonds
Mockingbird (Cruel Deception)
Starvation Heights
Confessions of an American Black Widow
PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
For Rita Ticen Burns
Contents
Exact date and time unknown
Somewhere in rural Washington State
Quiet, bitch, he said. Be a good girl and do as I say.
His words came at her with the smell of sweat and motor oil. They were delivered in a strangely calm, almost soothing, cadence.
The young woman was terrified, her body, her very presence, shrinking under his power.
Dont! she said, the words falling from her trembling lips.
Good girl, he repeated.
Tears rolled. A coppery flavor filled her mouth. It was as if she tasted spare change, yet her mouth was empty. She was bleeding where he had struck her.
And her pleas for help were called out only in her head, God, help me!
No answer. Just a slow fade. A curtain pulled. A moon eclipsed. Then absolutely nothing at all.
That was before. Just how long ago, she couldnt be sure. Her memories were a mosaic. They came to her, not the seamless movie reel she had imagined people saw in their minds eye when their final moments came and their life flashed before their eyes, but in tiny shards and splinters: Her high school graduation. How she and her best friend Danita had bought a bottle of screw-top wine from a mini-mart near the Tacoma Dome, where the ceremonies were held. Theyd guzzled it in Danitas old car. Real tough, shed thought. The only bad thing shed ever done in a childhood of helping her mother raise her siblings, making solid-B grades, and working part-time jobs when she could fit them in between her household chores.
What did I do to deserve this? she asked herself in a blip of lucidity.
Her mind jumped to how her mother had sat her, her brother, and her sister in a neat row on the old floral davenport that faced the relic that was their TV. Mom snapped off a soap opera and fought back tears. The other kids were younger, but she knew right away before she opened her mouth what this little family meeting was about.
Your papa and I
Another splinter drove into her. She recalled how shed stolen a handful of candy corn from a bin in the produce section in the market when she was seven. She never told anyone that shed done so, but to that very day the sight of the triangular orange, yellow, and white Halloween confection made her stomach churn with guilt. She never stole anything again, never broke any law. One time when she was stopped by a state trooper, she cried because she thought shed been speeding and was going to get a ticket. Instead, the affable cop with a soup strainer of a mustache told her that her taillight was out, flashed a smile, and waved her on to the nearest repair shop.
Need to be safe, he said. Have a daughter of my own and wouldnt want her driving with a winking tail light.
Some thoughts materialized as if underscored by the divine, reminding her not to steal, that parents dont always stay together, that there are good men out there too. Some were more random. Things that came to her that felt like filler, a recap of moments that had never been important. She lost her car keys the week before. She threw up on a merry-go-round when she was four. She hated ravioli from the can and could remember the slap she got from her aunt when she told her so at the dinner table.
Shutting her eyes did nothing. The images still bombarded her.
Stop, she thought. Think. Think. You dont want to die. Not here, not in this place.
The man on the other side of the wall that separated them had his own flood of recollections. He steadied himself by leaning against the small doorway. The rumble of an old refrigerators ice machine soothed him like one of those cheap motels with Magic Fingers attached to the bed frame. Drop in a quarter, ride the pulsating massage. Feel good. He thought of her begging for mercy.
Dont do this. You dont want to do this!
But he did want to. So very, very much.
He remembered how, after that, everything had been about the killing.
Even when hed watch TV and a potato chip commercial would come on, hed rewrite the familiar tagline in his head: Nobody can kill just one .
In the shadows, the young woman was growing a little stronger, a touch more coherent. She felt the rumbling of something outside the space that held her prisoner. She was on her stomach. Her hands had been bound by tape. Her feet too. She realized that she was breathing hard. Fast, out of fear. She told herself to slow down. She didnt want to pass out. Not like before.
She remembered his hand reaching around her as he held her from behind. Hed had what looked like a dirty T-shirt balled up in his fist. At that moment she had known she was probably going to die.
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