By J. T. Ellison
Whilst a neighborhood woman falls prey to a sadistic serial killer, Nashville murder Lieutenant Taylor Jackson and her lover, FBI profiler Dr. John Baldwin, locate themselves in a joint research pursuing a vicious assassin. The Southern Strangler is slaughtering his means throughout the Southeast, leaving a grotesque keepsake at every one crime scene-the previous victim's severed hand.
Ambitious television reporter Whitney Connolly is bound the Southern Strangler is her price tag out of Nashville; she's received a scoop that may holiday the case. She has no inspiration how with regards to this tale she rather is-or what it's going to rate her.
As the killer spirals uncontrolled, each person concerned needs to face a terrible truth-the purest evil is born of non-public lies.
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Additional info for All The Pretty Girls (Taylor Jackson, Book 1)
There was a click as Max closed the lid. ’ asked Jochen. He sounded disappointed. ‘You should say something, Max,’ said Hanna, but she didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. Even though tomorrow was the first of May, the night was still surprisingly chilly. I guessed Hanna was thinking about going home and warming up. It was an attractive idea, even if in my case the cost of sitting by the living-room fire was probably a monologue about baking from my father. ’ Izabela was nudging me. She held out a hand; on my other side Timo was also fumbling for my hand with cold fingers.
Achim gave me an unpleasant smile. ’ I took a deep breath. ’ I called at the top of my voice. ’ The smile melted into an ugly sneer, but Achim took the point. Before my father had time to come out of the kitchen, Achim opened the connecting door himself and lumbered inside, not without giving me a backward glance which clearly telegraphed, I’ll see you later. I slipped through the door into the cafe, vowing that I would come downstairs with my mother every day from now on. As the door swung shut behind me I did my best to look calm, smoothing down my apron and trying to breathe deeply and slowly.
This time they were foreign, and since they spoke no German and I spoke no French, it took a long time to serve them. By the time I had worked out that a pain au chocolat was a Schokobrötchen the little clock which hung behind the counter was chiming nine thirty. I wiped my hands and had started moving around the counter to tackle the stack of newspapers when the front door opened and Izabela came in. Instantly I was struck by how terrible she looked. Izabela was always pale – she had the dark hair, the pallid skin and ice-blue eyes of Snow White.
All The Pretty Girls (Taylor Jackson, Book 1) by J. T. Ellison