As a wave of murders sweeps Southern California, an unlikely pair must unravel the mysterious patterns of an elusive killer. A thrilling new series from New York Times bestselling author Jeffery Deaver and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Isabella Maldonado.
Curious? Then read on to find out the synopsis and an excerpt from Jeffery Deavers and Isabella Maldonados Fatal break-inwhich will be released on September 1, 2024.
Carmen Sanchez is a tough Homeland Security agent who plays by the rules. But when her sister is attacked and a connection to a series of murders in Southern California comes to light, she realizes that conventional investigations will not be enough to stop the ruthless perpetrator.
With no other choice, Sanchez enlists the help of Professor Jake Heron, a brilliant and quirky private security expert who, unlike Sanchez, believes that rules are just suggestions. The two have a troubled past, but he owes her a favor and she repays him. They team up to catch the attacker, who, puzzlingly, has no discernible motive and doesn’t fit any classic criminal profile. All they have is a distinctive tattoo and a singular obsession that earns this frighteningly efficient tactician his nickname: Spider.
Over the next 72 hours, Sanchez and Heron find themselves locked in a deadly game of chess with the killer as they try to prevent the bloodbath. As the number of victims increases, so do the risks. Because this web of intrigue is darker – and goes much deeper – than anyone could imagine.
CHAPTER 1
Walter Kemp had no intention of letting her escape again.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he murmured, singing.
She couldn’t hear very well, but he still proceeded cautiously, not wanting to stumble through the dense forest and scare her. He wanted her to remain quiet and unaware until he was very close to her, so he had to keep a low profile.
And deceptive. To further conceal his position, he threw a pebble deep into the lush foliage.
Located on the outskirts of San Diego, the secluded park felt far away from civilization. And from prying eyes.
“You can’t hide forever,” he whispered. “Not from me.”
Walter, a burly man in his sixties, was not the least bit stiff or out of breath from the hunt. He was in almost the same condition as he had been thirty years ago. A little less hair, but so what? There were more important things in life.
For example, what he was planning to do right now.
She had eluded him, and he had spent the last half hour tracking her. This time, when he found her, he would not let her out of his sight until he was done.
A faint rustling to his left caught his attention. Was that her? He squinted in the direction of the sound.
She peeked out from behind a bush and his heart pounded with excitement. She was just as beautiful as when he first saw her.
When she saw him, she froze. But no matter, she couldn’t escape. “Now I have you.”
She had not been his first and would not be his last, but she was perhaps the most beautiful.
He reached into his vest and felt the finely worked metal and plastic with his thick fingers. One of his tools. Slowly and carefully he raised his hand and aimed. He would only have one chance.
She opened her mouth wide as if she wanted to scream.
He pressed the button and held it down. At a rate of thirty frames per second, the Nikon took ninety pictures – in a stunning forty-five megapixels – of the Lampropeltis zonata pulchraalso known as the San Diego mountain kingsnake, before slithering into the undergrowth.
Walter had pictures of several males, but had been hunting for an elusive female for weeks. Only through careful study had he been able to see the subtle difference in the subcaudal scales – those under the tail – and the slightly shorter portion compared to the total body length, which indicated the reptile’s sex.
Unlike many other species, where females were not as brightly colored as males, all San Diego mountain kingsnakes had their bodies covered in alternating red, black, and yellow bands. The vibrant display, which mimicked a venomous coral snake, was an illusion to deter potential predators. This species was harmless to everything except the small mammals and lizards it fed on.
His mission accomplished, Walter covered the expensive lens and put the camera back in his vest. Now without worrying about making any noise, he trudged back to the path that led to the parking lot at the park’s entrance.
He would much rather go for a walk in nature than attend another groundbreaking ceremony. In the beginning, many years ago, property development had been exciting. His life’s passion. He had started with a small loan and slowly built it into an empire.
After more than three decades in the industry, however, things were different. He thought about all the formerly forested lands he had destroyed and turned into suburban paradises, and began to change his approach. For the past year, he has been an advocate for affordable housing and working to improve blighted areas of the community that had fallen into economic difficulty. He lost money on each project, but felt he had regained some of his soul. Plus, he was able to look his only child – a grown son – in the eye again. If he were blessed with grandchildren, he would give them a better world.
Walter made it to the parking lot and thought about how his son’s high school science project over a decade ago had led to them bonding over the study of reptiles and amphibians. They had both volunteered at the local herpetological society, though only Walter was still a member.
He was almost at his car when a faint clatter caught his attention. He looked down and saw a small white ball roll past his boots. He watched in fascination as it rumbled across the asphalt and disappeared under his car.
Hasty footsteps came from behind, frightening him and making him nervous. As he turned around, the blade of a heavy shovel crashed into his head.
He screamed in shock and pain.
He stumbled and threw his arms up to protect himself, but another devastating blow forced him to his hands and knees. The agony was worse than anything he had ever felt. It gripped his entire body, clouding his thoughts and slowing his reactions.
Darkness fell as his sluggish brain tried to make sense of what was happening.
“Why?” he gasped.
See also
Or maybe he just Thought the word.
Then, as if in slow motion, he fell face down on the oil-stained floor of the deserted parking lot.
He sank deeper into unconsciousness, unable to raise his leaden arms. He managed to look up. The shovel was about to come down in another vicious arc, and he knew that would be the final blow.
Someone was trying to kill him…
A moment before the tool struck and the emptiness surrounded him, Walter Kemp looked not at the face or torso of his attacker, but at the hands, clad in clear plastic gloves, tightly gripping the shovel.
In particular, the striking and carefully inked tattoo of a black widow that adorned the pale inside of the man’s wrist.
His last picture before the world went dark.
****
Dennison Fallow swung the shovel with all his might. The satisfying hit of metal on bone, followed by an ominous crunch, told him that his work here was done.
He paused to look at his work. “Good.”
The pressure deep in Fallow’s soul was satisfied. For now.
The man lying at his feet hunted snakes, but this time he was the one being hunted by a far superior predator – a spider.
Different species of these creatures used many ingenious methods to catch their prey. Some wove a web and waited patiently for an unsuspecting victim to be caught. Others built trap doors or disguised themselves. Today, Fallow had attacked from ambush, like a wolf spider, one of the most aggressive arachnids in the world. They don’t bother to spin webs. Or disguise themselves. They attack their prey like a mountain lion.
He watched Kemp for a few more minutes, making sure the man’s chest had stopped rising and falling. One could never be too careful.
That thought made him think of the shovel he still had a tight grip on. Even though he was wearing gloves, he would make sure to remove all traces of his presence from the handle and shaft, for he would leave them at the crime scene.
Because how could you tell a story without setting the stage?
