Blake Pierce is author of the bestselling RILEY PAGE mystery series, which include the mystery suspense thrillers ONCE GONE (book #1), ONCE TAKEN (book #2), ONCE CRAVED (#3), and ONCE LURED (#4). Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series and the AVERY BLACK mystery series.
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.comwww.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2016 by Blake Pierce. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright lassedesignen, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
PROLOGUE
Susan Kellerman understood the need to dress nicely. She was representing her company and trying to win over new buyers, so her appearance went a long way. What she did not understand, though, was why in God’s name she had to wear heels. She was wearing a pretty summer dress and had the perfect pair of flats to go with it. But no… corporate insisted on heels. Something about sophistication.
I doubt heels have anything to do with acquiring a sale, she thought. Especially not if the would-be client is a man. According to her sell – sheet, the person in the house she was currently approaching was a man. Given that, Susan checked the collar of her dress. She was showing some cleavage but nothing scandalous.
That, she thought, shows sophistication.
With her rather large and cumbersome display case in hand, she clomped up the steps in her heels and rang the doorbell. As she waited, she took a quick glance around the front of the house. It was a basic little house situated on the outskirts of a middle-class neighborhood. The grass had been recently cut, but the small flower beds bordering the tiny set of stairs to the front door were badly in need of weeding.
It was a quiet neighborhood, but not the kind Susan would live in. The houses were one-story little saltboxes splattered along the streets. Most, she assumed, were owned by older couples or those struggling to pay their bills. This house in particular looked about one strong storm or financial crisis away from becoming the property of the bank.
She reached out to ring the bell again but the door was answered before she could touch it. The man that answered was of average size and build. She guessed him to be about forty or so. There was something feminine about him, something she could see from the way he simply answered the door and gave her a wide, bright smile.
“Good morning,” the man said.
“Good morning,” she said.
She knew his name but had been instructed by those that trained her to never use it until the lines of communication were wide open. When you greeted them by name right away, it made them feel like targets rather than customers – even when they had scheduled the appointment ahead of time.
Not wanting to allow him a moment to ask her questions and therefore take control of the conversation, she added: “I was wondering if you might have a moment to speak with me about your current diet.”
“Diet?” the man asked with a smirk. “I’m not on much of a diet. I sort of eat what I want.”
“Oh, that must be nice,” Susan said, putting on her best charming smile and chipper tone of voice. “As I’m sure you know, not many people over the age of thirty can say that and maintain a healthy body type.”
For the first time, the man looked at the case in her left hand. He smiled again and this time it was a lazy one – the sort of smile someone might flash when they know they’ve been had.
“So what are you selling?”
It was a sarcastic comment, but at least it wasn’t a door closing in her face. She took that as the first victory toward getting inside. “Well, I’m here on behalf of A Better You University,” she said. “We offer adults over the age of thirty a very easy and methodical way to stay in shape without hitting the gym or altering their lifestyle too much.”
The man sighed and his hand went to the door. He looked bored, ready to send her packing. “And how do you do that?”
“Through a combination of protein shakes made with our very own protein powders and more than fifty healthy recipes to give your daily nutrition the boost it needs.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” she said.
The man considered it for a moment, looking to Susan and then to the large pack in her hands. He then looked at his watch and gave a shrug.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I have to leave in ten minutes. If you can convince me in that amount of time, you’ve got a customer. Anything to keep me from going back to the gym.”
“Splendid,” Susan said, cringing internally at the fake cheer in her voice.
The man stepped aside and waved her into the house. “Come on in,” he said.
She stepped inside and entered a small living room. An ancient-looking television sat on a scarred entertainment center. A few dusty old chairs sat in the corners of the room along with a crumpled sofa. There were ceramic figurines and doilies everywhere. It looked more like some old woman’s house than a forty-something single man’s.
For reasons she did not know, she heard internal alarms going off. But then she tried to thwart her fear with shaky logic. So he’s either incredibly off or this isn’t his house. Maybe he lives with his mother.
“Is here okay?” she asked, pointing to the coffee table in front of the couch.
“Yes, right there is fine,” the man said. He smiled at her as he closed the door.
The moment the door was closed, Susan felt something stir in her gut. It felt like the room had grown cold and all of her senses were responding to it. Something was wrong. It was a bizarre feeling. She looked at the nearest ceramic figure – a little boy pulling a wagon – as if for some sort of answer.
She busied herself by opening up her case. She took out a few packs of the A Better You University Protein Powder and the complimentary mini-blender (a retail value of $35 but yours absolutely free with your first purchase!) to distract herself.
“Now,” she said, trying to remain calm and ignore the chill she still felt. “Are you more interested in weight loss, weight gain, or maintaining your current body type?”
“I’m not sure,” the man said, standing over the coffee table and looking at the goods. “What would you say?”
Susan found it hard to talk. She felt scared now and for no real reason.
She looked over at the door. Her heart thumped in her chest. Had he locked the door when he closed it? She couldn’t tell from where she sat.
She then realized that the man was still waiting for a response. She shook the cobwebs away and tried to slip back into