Introduction

Samantha Cash is the FBI's secret weapon. Her methods are invisible, and she never stops until the case is closed. When missing teens begin turning up dead in a small Southern town, Samantha is assigned to help local chief Connor Wolfe find the killer. And he has two problems with that. There's her faith--in God and herself. And then there's the fact that she looks exactly like his late wife. As they get close to an answer, the case becomes personal. The killer seems to be taking an interest in Connor's 16-year-old daughter, who thinks her dad is getting way too protective. Can't a girl just have some fun? Too Close to Home ratchets up the suspense with each page, and will have readers cheering for the characters they love as justice is served and love grows even in the face of danger. Read this one with the lights on!

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Excerpt

"Wake up, partner," the voice rumbled in his ear as Connor
Wolfe's sleep-drugged mind struggled to keep up. "We've found
another body. In a dumpster behind the BI-LO off East Main."

He shifted the phone and glanced at the clock.

The number 2:08 glared at him. Great. Just the way he wanted
to start his Monday morning.

"Be right there." He hung up and closed his eyes for a brief
moment before gathering the energy to swing his feet to the
floor. Two hours of sleep. Well, he'd gone with less. However,
at the age of forty-two, he seemed to feel the lack a lot more
than he did ten years ago. Shaking his head to fling off the fog
of interrupted sleep, he headed for the shower, wondering if he
should wake up Jenna, his sixteen-year-old daughter, or just
hope she slept through the rest of the night.

He settled on leaving her a note. Fifteen minutes later, hair still
damp, he directed his unmarked Ford toward the crime scene.
His partner, Andrew West, would meet him there.

First a cop, then a homicide detective with SLED, the South
Carolina Law Enforcement Division, Connor had seen a lot in relation
to crime, but this case had him by the throat and wouldn't
let go. Six disappearances and now three dead bodies-and very
limited evidence. The first girl disappeared sixteen months ago.
When the second victim disappeared two months later, speculation
ran rampant. Were the vanishings related?

Then the third girl, Leslie Sanders, disappeared five weeks
after that, and SLED had taken over the case. Connor had been
the lead detective assigned to it, not only because it was his
hometown, but because he'd also requested it. He had a lot of
contacts-and he hoped he'd be able to spend more time with
Jenna if they were living in the same city for an extended period
of time. Since accepting the position as a detective for SLED in
Columbia a year ago, Connor had lived there and Jenna had
stayed behind with her grandparents against Connor's better
judgment. But he had to make a living, and SLED operatives
were required to live within a fifty-mile radius of the state's
capital. However, as long as he was working the case, he could
reside in the city where the investigation took place. And be
near Jenna so he could work on repairing a relationship he was
afraid was beyond help.

On the plus side, he'd been paired up with Andrew West, a
new detective working his first case with SLED, but Connor's
closest friend for many years. A man he considered the brother
he'd never had. The match had been perfect.

Connor knew in his gut the girls' deaths were connected-
he just couldn't prove it. The first two crime scenes didn't even
connect the two girls except for one thing. They'd both had a
baby.

If this third dead girl showed evidence of giving birth, Connor
would know without a doubt they had a serial killer on their
hands. He hoped he was wrong.

Was pretty sure he wasn't.

It was why he and Andrew had been called in on this case.
Sheriff Chesterfield usually hesitated about calling in outside
help, but was professional enough to admit he needed their
help and resources.

Dead girls and terrified parents. Not a pretty combination.

Add gullible kids who thought bad things only happened to
other people, and he had a potentially explosive situation on his
hands. The attorney general's office and the governor demanded
answers he didn't have, the media wouldn't let it go, and the
mayor had resorted to threats.

Unfortunately, Connor had no idea what to tell them.
And very little to show. A fiber here, a hair there, but nothing
that matched up with anything or anyone in the criminal database.
Witnesses whose stories conflicted left them with nothing
solid. And even the similarities in the witnesses' stories hadn't
panned out. The killer was so good it was terrifying.

And then there was Jenna.

Connor's angry sixteen-year-old daughter defied him at every
opportunity. When her mother died four years ago in a car wreck,
it turned his little family's world upside down-and dropped him
and his daughter into the midst of a battle of the wills.

Flashing lights and a yellow tape barrier ahead demanded his
attention. Right now, he had another murder to solve-and at
least three more missing girls to find.

Connor wheeled to a stop and hopped out of the vehicle. Even
in the wee hours of the morning, a small crowd had formed to
gawk at the sight of a crime scene. Quiet murmurs and speculation
filled the air as yellow crime scene tape flapped in the
occasional gust.

He pushed his way through and flashed his badge to the uniformed
officer on the other side of the tape. "Detective Connor
Wolfe."

The man handed Connor a paper suit and booties for Connor
to don in order to protect the crime scene, then wrote Connor's
name, badge number, and time of arrival down in the logbook.
Connor ducked under and paused for a moment to get a feel
for the place. A light breeze held the smells from the various
fast-food restaurants, cigarette smoke-and the unmistakable
odor of a dead body.

Crime scene investigators worked the area. Serena Hopkins,
the medical examiner, hunched awkwardly over the side of
the dumpster. She looked up and saluted Connor when he approached,
then went back to her scrutiny of the body that lay
very near the top. She spoke with her back to him. "Hey there,
Connor. Good thing she was discovered when she was. The
truck comes first thing in the morning to empty this particular
bin. I'll be finished in a minute and you can come up and have
a look."

"Thanks, Serena." He shook his head as he did every time he
saw the woman in action. Tall, willowy, with straight as a stick,
raven-colored hair and ice blue eyes, she was runway model
perfect-with a mind so quick Connor finally quit trying to
match wits with her.

Never in a million years would he have picked this job for
her, but after getting to know her and working with her over
the past year, he couldn't see her doing anything else.
Connor walked closer. The stench in the air grew stronger.
Jake Hollister, thirty-five years old with gray-streaked blond
hair, efficiently led the crime scene unit. He knelt easily, examining
the asphalt about six feet away from the dumpster. Connor
had worked with him in the past. From their first case together,
he'd quickly grown to respect and appreciate Jake as a professional
who took his job seriously. They often met at the gym for
a game of one-on-one basketball.

Connor stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

"Hey, Jake. Is it Leslie Sanders?"

Jake looked up and nodded, his eyes shadowed. "Yep."

"Found anything in common with the other two?"

Jake bagged something that might be evidence, tagged it, and
tossed it in his collections bag. He stood to face Connor, his frustration
obvious. "I found a folded piece of paper, but it's so ratty,
I'm afraid it'll fall apart if I do anything with it here. The lab might
be able to figure out what it is. Other than that, there's nothing
much on the surface. I'll know more later today." He sighed and
used the back of his wrist to rub his nose. "The only thing that
tells me these three murders are linked is the gender and age
of the victims-and my gut. According to Serena, this one was
shot. They've all died differently, but when we get her back to
the morgue, I'll bet Serena'll find she's recently had a baby."
"You know, Jake, this guy is really starting to get under my
skin."

"Yeah, join the club."

"We've been working every medical facility within a thirtymile
radius and nothing. Not a sign these pregnant girls have
ever seen a doctor. I don't get it."

His phone rang. Frowning, he pulled it out of the clip to check
out the caller ID.

Jenna? He gave Jake a sign to hang on and stepped away to
answer. "Jenna, are you all right?"

"Dad? Dad? Where are you?"

"I'm at a crime scene, honey. I left you a note on the counter.
Are you okay?"

Sniffling. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. I didn't see your note. I
. . . um . . . woke up to go to the bathroom and you weren't in
your bed and it . . . I didn't know . . ." A frustrated sigh echoed
in his ear. "I had to make sure you were okay. When are you
coming home?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Why do you have to be a cop? Why can't you have a nice
boring, safe job?" she whined.

Frustration had him shoving a hand through his slowly drying
hair. "Jenna, darling, I can't get into this right now." He glanced
at Jake who shot him a sympathetic look.

"Right. Sorry I bothered you."

"Jenna-"

She'd already hung up.

Connor sighed and scrubbed the stubble on his chin. Guilt
pressed hard on his chest. He knew he let work consume him.
At first it was to escape the pain of losing Julia, the wife he'd
loved-yet seemed to battle with incessantly.

But now, if he were honest with himself, work was his escape
from the stress of constant fighting with a stubborn sixteenyear-
old.

When he'd gotten assigned to this case, he leased an apartment
so he wouldn't have to disturb his parents with his crazy hours,
and he'd hoped Jenna could stay with him as often as possible.
But those crazy hours meant that Jenna ended up staying more
with her grandparents than with him, simply so she would have
more stability in her life-especially during the school year.

This last week had been a little slower than usual, and Connor
was trying to spend some quality time with Jenna. Like
last night he'd picked her up from a friend's house and taken
her out to eat. She'd come to the apartment and fallen asleep
watching a movie.

Unfortunately, it looked like Jenna wouldn't be spending any
more nights with him. Instead, she was going to have to go back
to her grandparents' for a while. A fact she'd fight him on, but if
she couldn't handle waking up and finding him gone . . .

And she shouldn't have to handle it. It wasn't fair to her.
But not much was these days. Poor Jenna.

He sighed and, not for the first time, wished he'd never become
a cop. Then again, if he wasn't a cop, he didn't know who
he would be.

In the confines of his pocket, Connor balled his hand into a fist,
resisting the urge to hit something. Slipping the phone back in
his clip, he said to Jake, "Guess I'll have to talk to her tomorrow
. . . er . . . later today." And call his parents in the morning. He
turned to the dumpster. "Hey, Serena, can I come up now?"
Serena shoved herself back from the edge of the bin with a
grunt. "Sure, Connor, I think I've got everything I need. Harley
got the pictures so I'm sure he'll be emailing them to you." She
looked down into the dumpster, a sad look crossing her face
before she could clear it. "I guess she's yours for now. After we
get her to the morgue, I'll be able to tell you a lot more."
Serena made her way down the strategically placed step-
ladder and allowed Connor to replace her. He climbed up and
peered over the edge. The smell assaulted him and he turned
his head away for a moment. She'd been here for at least a day,
although, in the steamy, southern, September heat, it was hard
for him to tell exactly how long. And she could have been dead
somewhere else for a period of time before landing here. He'd
leave that speculation to Serena.

Leslie had disappeared a little over a year ago. Now this.
Dear God, why?

It was the only thought he'd allow to pass through his mind
before professionalism took over. "Blonde, eighteen years old.
A hundred pounds or so." Ignoring the stench, Connor spoke
into his voice-activated recorder to register the details. Later, he
would write out the transcript to study.

Jake grunted.

Connor continued his assessment. "Face up, arms above her
head, gunshot wound to the chest. Fully dressed, jewelry on
both hands, bracelets, earrings. Miniskirt and sandals. Cuts and
bruises on both knees."

He turned and looked down at Jake. "Who found her?"
"Guy over there in the car."

Connor's gaze followed Jake's pointing finger. "Homeless and
looking for something to eat?"

"Yep. Guy's crazy as a loon. Kept saying something about the
black monster who was going to eat him."

"Black monster?"

Jake shrugged. "Like I said, he's nuts."

"Let's see if there are any cameras around here that might
have caught something," he said, and motioned to the guy who
worked with Serena. Johnny St. James, late fifties, gray hair, and
a potbelly. One of the nicest guys Connor knew. After all this
guy had seen on his job, he still managed to enjoy living.
Johnny arrived, gurney in tow, and Connor shook hands
with him. "Good to see you again, Johnny. Sorry it has to be
this way."

Johnny nodded and stepped over to the dumpster. "Yeah,
me too. Crying shame. Where are the parents of these kids
anyway?"

"Wish I knew, John."

Guilt stabbed him again as he thought about Jenna. Parents,
himself included, had to work and couldn't keep an eye on a
teenager 24/7. Still . . .

Connor walked over to greet the detective standing beside the
police car. "Hey there, partner. Heck of a way to start a Monday.
You get any sleep?"

Andrew heaved a long-suffering sigh. "About two hours."

"Yeah, me too. How's Angie?"

"Mad."

"Whew. That's not good."

"Tell me about it." Andrew slapped a manila folder on the
hood of the car. "Here are the photos from the other two crime
scenes. Wanna take a look?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Pulling the photos from the folder, Andrew spread them out.
Connor separated the pictures, his gut twisting at the sight of
the ugly deaths these girls had suffered.

Again he thought about Jenna. Just the thought of her ending
up like those girls.

He shuddered. Somehow he had to figure out a way to be
there for her more.

"All right, let's talk through it." Andrew pointed to Amanda
Sheridan. "Sixteen years old, strangled, had a baby."

Connor tag teamed with Andrew, bouncing facts and ideas off
of each other helped keep everything straight in his mind-and
helped solve more than one case. "She was found in a ditch off
the side of I-85 approximately two days after she was killed.
Scared that poor trucker to death."

"Bet he'll use rest areas from now on."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Connor ignored the sweat
running down his back and looked over at the dumpster. "The
second girl, Bethany Whitehouse, she was drowned."

"Yeah, the marks around her neck show the guy held her
with her back facing him. Thumbs pressed against the back of
her neck."

"No prints, though. He wore gloves."

"Uh huh. Couldn't make it easy for us."

Connor stepped away, then walked back and looked at the
pictures once more. "I don't get it. What's the connection? There's
got to be something to link these girls and we're not seeing it-I
mean besides the baby angle. This dumpster is in a really busy
area, fully visible to passing traffic. The side of the road, also in
plain sight. But the girl who drowned washed up on a man-made
beach at Lake Bowen twenty miles out of town."

Andrew rubbed his eyes. "If there's a link, it's subtle."

"Or something we just haven't even come across yet." Connor
gathered the photos back and stuffed them in the folder. They
called out to him, demanding justice. "Go make nice with Angie
and I'll see you in the morning."

"It is morning, but I got you. She's just gotten over being mad
at me from the last time I had to get up and leave. Now, I get to
start all over again." He slapped Connor on the back. "No, Angie
can wait. You go handle the parents, I'll hang around here and
see what else I can come up with."

Angie and Andrew had been married less than three months.
They were both still adjusting to life as a couple-and all the job
entailed. Thirty-two-year-old Andrew had been a detective for
six months. Angie might act mad, but Connor knew how much
she loved the guy. Connor wasn't worried about his friend's
marriage.

Right now, he dreaded telling Leslie Sanders's parents that
their daughter would never come home again. He practiced his
speech all the way to the morgue.
... view entire excerpt...

Discussion Questions

From the publisher:

1. In the opening scene, Connor is pulled out of bed because of a murder. What would it be like to have a job as a detective or someone who deals with crime on a daily basis? Would you want his job?

2. Connor's sixteen-year-old daughter seems to be caught in the middle. He loves his job and he loves his daughter. He's good at his job and kind of lousy at fatherhood. Do you think he should have quit his job to build his relationship with Jenna? Or do you think he had to do what he did? Without quitting his job, could he have done anything differently to rebuild their relationship?

3. Samantha has a love/hate relationship with her job. Have you ever experienced something like this with your job? What did you do about it?

4. Connor is mad at God. He lost his wife, he thinks his daughter hates him, and he's being thwarted by a serial killer. What do you think of his reaction? How do you think you would react if you were in his shoes? Would you turn away or toward God?

5. Samantha had experienced a terrible tragedy regarding her sister. She was mad at God for a while, but she managed to overcome that and see how big God is. Have you ever had anything in your life that you felt was too big for God? Has your opinion about that changed?

6. What is your relationship with God like? Are you mad at him? Tolerate him? Love to worship him? Why?

7. Do you think teenagers spend too much time on the computer these days? Why or why not?

8. What do you think about the plan to draw the killer out of hiding by taunting him? Do you think this was a good tactic or not?

9. What do you think about Andrew's attempts to talk to Connor about God? Was he subtle enough? Did he need to be more blunt?

10. Were you surprised when Andrew died? Why do you think the author allowed this to happen?


11. Andrew's funeral service was held in a "borrowed" church. What did you think about Samantha's explanation of a borrowed tomb?

12. When did you figure out who the bad guy was? What tipped you off?

13. What did you think about the book's ending? Did you like it? Why or why not?

14. What was your favorite scene? Why?

Weblinks

»	Publisher's Book Info
»	Author Lynette Eason's web site

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