Easton, who took headshots for both girls.”
Kimball perked up. “I heard Easton’s name, too. One of the women I talked with said she saw Charity at a barbecue with him.”
So the sheriff was on his toes. Maybe he would be more helpful than Dane had first thought. He gestured toward the community room. “Take your deputy and canvass everyone here. Maybe we’ll get a break and someone saw something the night Charity died.”
Meanwhile, he’d track down Easton. If Easton was a predator of young women, this film had given him a perfect hunting ground.
Dane’s thoughts turned back to his sister’s case, and hope surfaced. Easton could have pulled the same kind of stunt at the college—played photographer to lure women to trust him. Maybe he’d tried it with Betsy and it hadn’t worked.
Dane would get the truth out of him one way or another. If Easton had killed Betsy, he would make the bastard suffer.
He stood at the edge of the main community room and watched the ripple effect as the local sheriff wove through the lines of young women and men who’d gathered, vying for a part in this local murder mystery about to be filmed.
Laughter bubbled in his throat. Little did they know that they were mired in a real-life murder mystery of their own.
The women were all fakes. Gorgeous girls on the outside with smiling faces, gleaming white-capped teeth, Botox, implants, and whatever other plastic surgery it took to mold them into a pretty face.
Who would play the next victim in this game?
Soft gasps of shock and whispers floated from one person to the next as that local sheriff and his deputy questioned the actors. Eyes that had been laughing a minute ago now peered at the others in the room with guarded expressions and suspicion.
It would take forever for the sheriff and the Feds to question everyone.
Josie DuKane walked back inside with that pretty blonde, Charity’s sister. He didn’t care about Bailey.
He had his eyes on Josie.
In spite of the attention she’d garnered from the true crime book she’d written, she was humble.
With those sparkling green eyes, Josie was attractive, too. Not beautiful like the models and actresses or the high-class women who paid to perfect their faces to magazine quality.
Pretty in a natural way. She mesmerized him because she was real, not superficial. She was also smart and used her brain, not just her looks, to get ahead in life.
Yes, Josie was the perfect one to tell his story.
The others, though—they were simply pretty faces waiting to be carved by his hands.
Pretty faces that would look even more beautiful in death.
He lifted his phone and smiled at the photograph he’d taken of the woman, then traced his finger over her face. His pulse pounded as he studied the claw marks. So fitting that she be marked by claws when she’d tried to sink hers into men to get what she wanted.
Josie turned and glanced across the room as if she sensed someone was watching her.
She was looking for him.
He smiled, blending into the shadows.
“This is just the beginning of our friendship and our fun in Graveyard Falls, Josie,” he murmured. “Just the beginning.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Josie stayed close to Bailey as they left the steps of the community center and headed across the quadrangle.
After the Bride Killer had been caught, the town had built the center hoping to create a more positive spirit in the town and bring people closer together as they struggled through their grief.
The center had been designed for a variety of community events with special recreational areas for children and teens, along with rooms inside for classes, arts and crafts, and an auditorium with a stage for community theater.
“I can’t believe this,” Bailey said in a shaky voice. “What am I going to do without Charity?”
Josie squeezed her arm. “You’ll grieve, Bailey, but you have to go on for your sister’s sake.”
Bailey’s face crumpled. “I don’t know if I can.”
Josie
Kimball perked up. “I heard Easton’s name, too. One of the women I talked with said she saw Charity at a barbecue with him.”
So the sheriff was on his toes. Maybe he would be more helpful than Dane had first thought. He gestured toward the community room. “Take your deputy and canvass everyone here. Maybe we’ll get a break and someone saw something the night Charity died.”
Meanwhile, he’d track down Easton. If Easton was a predator of young women, this film had given him a perfect hunting ground.
Dane’s thoughts turned back to his sister’s case, and hope surfaced. Easton could have pulled the same kind of stunt at the college—played photographer to lure women to trust him. Maybe he’d tried it with Betsy and it hadn’t worked.
Dane would get the truth out of him one way or another. If Easton had killed Betsy, he would make the bastard suffer.
He stood at the edge of the main community room and watched the ripple effect as the local sheriff wove through the lines of young women and men who’d gathered, vying for a part in this local murder mystery about to be filmed.
Laughter bubbled in his throat. Little did they know that they were mired in a real-life murder mystery of their own.
The women were all fakes. Gorgeous girls on the outside with smiling faces, gleaming white-capped teeth, Botox, implants, and whatever other plastic surgery it took to mold them into a pretty face.
Who would play the next victim in this game?
Soft gasps of shock and whispers floated from one person to the next as that local sheriff and his deputy questioned the actors. Eyes that had been laughing a minute ago now peered at the others in the room with guarded expressions and suspicion.
It would take forever for the sheriff and the Feds to question everyone.
Josie DuKane walked back inside with that pretty blonde, Charity’s sister. He didn’t care about Bailey.
He had his eyes on Josie.
In spite of the attention she’d garnered from the true crime book she’d written, she was humble.
With those sparkling green eyes, Josie was attractive, too. Not beautiful like the models and actresses or the high-class women who paid to perfect their faces to magazine quality.
Pretty in a natural way. She mesmerized him because she was real, not superficial. She was also smart and used her brain, not just her looks, to get ahead in life.
Yes, Josie was the perfect one to tell his story.
The others, though—they were simply pretty faces waiting to be carved by his hands.
Pretty faces that would look even more beautiful in death.
He lifted his phone and smiled at the photograph he’d taken of the woman, then traced his finger over her face. His pulse pounded as he studied the claw marks. So fitting that she be marked by claws when she’d tried to sink hers into men to get what she wanted.
Josie turned and glanced across the room as if she sensed someone was watching her.
She was looking for him.
He smiled, blending into the shadows.
“This is just the beginning of our friendship and our fun in Graveyard Falls, Josie,” he murmured. “Just the beginning.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Josie stayed close to Bailey as they left the steps of the community center and headed across the quadrangle.
After the Bride Killer had been caught, the town had built the center hoping to create a more positive spirit in the town and bring people closer together as they struggled through their grief.
The center had been designed for a variety of community events with special recreational areas for children and teens, along with rooms inside for classes, arts and crafts, and an auditorium with a stage for community theater.
“I can’t believe this,” Bailey said in a shaky voice. “What am I going to do without Charity?”
Josie squeezed her arm. “You’ll grieve, Bailey, but you have to go on for your sister’s sake.”
Bailey’s face crumpled. “I don’t know if I can.”
Josie
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