Sneak Peek!
Killer Knows Best (Fallon Baxter FBI Mystery Series: 4)
Book Description:
In a world where every shadow hides a predator, trust is the most dangerous game.
In the glittering world of high society and the dark streets of the underworld, a predator lurks—striking fear into the hearts of women from all walks of life.
FBI Special Agents Fallon Baxter and Jack Stone are back, facing their most chilling case yet. A ruthless serial killer is targeting women in Denver, from glamorous socialites and college sorority girls to vulnerable prostitutes. The killer is ruthless, leaving a trail of terror in their wake.
Clean language and heart-stopping twists that keep you glued to the edge of your seat until the very last page.
A brand new FBI Mystery Series by New York Times, USA TODAY, and Wall Street Journal bestseller Addison Moore.Addison’s work has been featured in CosmopolitanMagazine.
Chapter 1
Delaney Riggs
The Victim
“This is fun,” Gwen insists, nudging me with her elbow.
Fun isn’t exactly how I’d categorize what the terrors this night promises to hold.
I knew this was a bad idea from the start. But as fate would have it, I’m not exactly immune to bad ideas. Some might say I specialize in them.
It’s a cold and windy night. That storm they’ve been promising is about to deliver. Crimson autumn leaves tumble around us, curled and dry like necrotic confetti as if they’re paying homage to Colorado itself.
I love everything about the dying season the world knows as fall. They say flowers give their best fragrance once they begin to die, and leaves show off their brightest colors. That is nature in its very best irony. And I can’t help but feel the irony of what I’m about to do as well. But I have a feeling my actions tonight will cling to me like a stench for the rest of my life, and if I’m very unlucky, which I am, it might even follow me into the afterlife, too.
As soon as we step into the Grand Meadows Hotel, I’m hit with the scent of money. Not literally, obviously, but that kind of clean, polished, expensive air you can only find in places where a single night’s stay costs more than my entire month’s rent.
Everything around me sparkles, from the chandeliers hanging like diamonds overhead to the marble floors gleaming under the hotel guests’ designer shoes.
I might be in my junior year at Winston Grand University, an elite private school no less, but I grew up with not enough food, parental guidance, or rules to abide by.
I used to pride myself in keeping on the straight and narrow despite the fact. While my friends put in an honest effort to overdose on drugs and alcohol, I somehow managed to steer clear of any chemical reprieves and chose books as my drug of choice, my escape from the armpit of a neighborhood my mother had sunk us in.
This place looks like a fantasyland for the rich and infamous. I don’t belong here. I’m certainly not rich. However, it seems I’m shooting for infamous tonight.
I tug at the hem of my dress, feeling more out of place than ever.
Gwen, on the other hand, strides through the lobby like she owns the joint, flashing a smile at the bellhop as if she’s an A-lister and not a college student about to turn a trick.
Gwen is a senior at Winston Grand. We met in abnormal psych while exchanging thoughts on our far-too-hot professor.
How I wish that would have been the end of it. But Gwen glommed onto me, and to be fair, I sort of glommed onto her as well. And now it’s safe to say Gwen could talk me into just about anything. Case in point.
“Let loose a little, would you?” She loses that toothy grin of hers long enough to frown at me. Gwen is a beauty with shoulder-length blonde curls that turn dark at the roots and a pretty face outside of the fact she’s caked on inches of makeup that ages her twenty years. And those pink glittery eyelashes she’s glued on aren’t exactly helping the effort either.
I kept my look natural tonight. Combed my dark hair straight, nude lips and nude blush to match the fact the rest of me will be nude soon enough.
Actually, none of that was on purpose. I wanted to look plain, unappetizing, but the first thing Gwen said when she saw me this evening was that she loved the ingénue thing I had going on. It made my stomach sink like a stone. The last thing I wanted was to offer myself up as some fantasy.
“Try to actually enjoy yourself,” Gwen whispers as we pass a beautiful woman in a long black dress. She looks as if she belongs here—as if she’s not earning her stay on her knees tonight. “Hey, remember back in high school when you had to sneak out to have fun? This is like that, only you’re not going to get in trouble with your parents.”
I give her a side-eye. I could count on one hand how many times I’ve seen my father in my life. And as for my mother, she chided me for not getting in enough trouble like she did back in the day. The way she recounted those horror stories from her checkered past, you would think they were accolades on par with winning the Nobel prize. A stint in juvie at twelve, pregnant at fifteen, an abusive relationship that led to six different broken bones by the time she was twenty—no thanks. And yet here I am, looking for trouble, wondering what bones I’ll have broken thanks to the effort.
“If we get in trouble tonight, it’s going to be with the police,” I hiss, scanning the lobby for any sign of authority. Or worse—someone I might actually know.
Gwen rolls her eyes, unfazed by the only shred of truth shared between us tonight. “Anyway, I didn’t have to sneak out to see the guys when I was in high school. I snuck the guys in to see me,” she says, biting down on a mischievous smile like it’s something to be proud of. “My mom was obsessed with Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy,” she continues with the backstory I didn’t ask for. “I had guys sneak over all the time. And you can bet when the front gate started to squeak, it was me who hit it with a shot of canola oil. Between seven and eight, I could get away with anything—and I did.”
I nod along, half-listening because, honestly, I don’t need to know the mechanics of Gwen’s teenage love life. What I do need to know is how the heck I ended up here. Not that this is my first rodeo when it comes to men. Although the guys I was with were barely out of the awkward teenage stage, more like boys who thought a Netflix password was the key to my heart. Now I’m about to meet someone’s grandpa, for all I know.
As we approach the elevators, I catch my reflection in the shiny gold doors. I look different. The sort of different that makes me want to crawl right out of my skin.
The white dress I’m wearing—Gwen’s idea, of course—is tighter than anything I’d normally wear and it’s hugging curves I didn’t know I had. My face looks foreign with fear, and my hair, usually tied up in a messy bun, is now slicked down, making me look like someone else entirely. And with the white dress, I’m giving off strong bride-on-the-run vibes. If I were truly smart, I’d do exactly that, run.
Gwen looks like the call girl she is in that shiny hot pink pleather dress and crystal clear platform heels. I might actually be mistaken for someone who belongs here, in this world of polished marble and crystal chandeliers.
But I know better.
We’re not here to sip martinis and people-watch. We’re here because a man—whose name I don’t even know—has cash, and we desperately need it.
The elevator dings, and we step inside. My stomach twists in knots as the doors close, sealing us off from the world outside. I force myself to breathe. Deep breaths, in and out.
Gwen stands next to me, tapping away on her phone like she’s about to order room service and not walk into a situation that could go south in about a hundred different ways. Although at this point, she’s basically a seasoned pro. She let me know she’s been doing this as a side gig for the last three years and that she’ll be graduating debt-free, with a brand new Dodge Charger she bought in cash, not to mention the shopping sprees I’ve witnessed.
Gwen has been living the good life and she’s earned it all lying on her back.
Heaven knows I can use a couple of nickels to rub together. I don’t make nearly enough to survive with my job down at the local library. I could pick up a few more hours, but then I wouldn’t have enough time to study or write the endless stream of papers that are constantly piling up. Not to mention my nonexistent social life because of those two outstanding factors. That’s actually what got this nefarious ball rolling, my nonexistent social life.
A sweet woman down at the library was constantly encouraging me to go out and have some fun with people my age. She said meeting decent men, once I graduated, would be like finding a needle in a haystack. She said to go for the cream of the crop, choose someone with strong values, someone who treats me like a queen. She leaned in close and told me that the secret to a great relationship was to find a man who fell hard and fell first. Don’t chase after anyone. Make sure you’re the only star in his universe.
It seemed like sage advice at the time, a good idea in general. But then again, I seem to magnetize toward bad ideas, and that’s exactly why I pressed my feet into six-inch stilettos this evening.
“You really need to chill,” Gwen says, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “This isn’t a big deal. It’s just one night. It’s easy money.”
I shoot her a look.
Easy money?
Maybe for her. But for me, every alarm in my brain is screaming for me to find the exit.
But I can’t. Not now.
I’ve already agreed, and the cash is too good to turn down. Tuition is looming, rent is due on a loop, and my options are limited.
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. “Just one night.”
The elevator stops, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Twelfth floor.
This is it.
Chapter 2
Delaney Riggs
Gwen and I step out into the hallway on the twelfth floor of the Grand Meadows Hotel, where everything is eerily quiet, a luxurious silence only an exorbitant tax bracket can buy. I feel the quiet hush of money with every step I take.
The click of Gwen’s heels enlivens the silence as we trek along the plush carpet, my own footsteps muffled as if I’m trying not to leave a trace.
A man stands in a doorway. He’s older—gray hair, glasses, the whole bit. He’s wearing a suit, but there’s something off about it. It’s like he’s trying too hard by playing a role that doesn’t quite fit him. His eyes sweep over us, lingering on Gwen a little too long before settling on me. I feel a shiver run down my spine, but I force myself to stay still, to smile.
This might be him. And horror upon horror if it is.
“Ladies.” He tips his head our way, but Gwen just grabs me by the arm as we pass him by and a flood of relief hits me. He’s too old. Not attractive. He had a greasy feel about him in general.
Gwen has already let me know that just about anyone can be good-looking in the dark, especially when your eyes are closed. And believe me, I plan on shutting them tight until this entire nightmare is over.
“This is the one,” Gwen says, stopping in front of a dark mahogany door. She lets us in with the keycard and flashes that same fearless grin she’s been wearing all night. “They won’t be here for another twenty minutes at least. But whatever you do, don’t freeze up. Just follow my lead.”
I take a deep breath and step inside. The room is just as opulent as the lobby—plush furniture, dim lighting, the faint smell of cologne lingering in the air. My hands tremble as I clasp them in front of me, trying to steady myself.
This is fine. Everything is fine. It’s just one night.
But I know—deep down, I know—that nothing about this is fine.
What would my mother think if she knew? Honestly, this might stoke a hint of pride in her. She’s always had a soft spot for creative ingenuity when it comes to utilizing our feminine wiles to our best efforts. And this definitely fits in that category.
I think of Jeremy Winters and what he might think. He’s the only boy I ever loved. We were together for our junior year in high school before his family moved to Germany. His father was in the Army, and Jeremy said he was going into the service as soon as he graduated as well. We exchanged text messages profusely at first when he left the country, but that died down after about six months. I still think of him, so kindhearted, so devastatingly handsome, so very devoted to me, albeit for the briefest period of time.
For that magical year we were together, I was the only star in his universe.
I think I’ll try to contact him tomorrow. A sprig of hope enlivens in me for a better life.
Yes, I think what happens tonight will be a one-off.
This isn’t for me. I can already tell.
I’ll make the money I earn tonight stretch. I’ll go without. I’ll skip meals. Heck, I’ll forage in dumpsters. I don’t need to derogate myself like this forever.
This might be Gwen’s easy out, but it’s not mine.
I wonder if Jeremy still has feelings for me like I do for him? They say true love never dies, and that’s exactly what I had with him. Still have. It’s true and it will never die.
The door handle jiggles and both Gwen and I straighten.
A figure dressed in black from head to toe steps in—we’re talking ski mask with slits for eyes, no mouth, dark gloves, dark boots.
I shoot a look to Gwen. I knew this was going to be weird, but I had no idea how weird this was going to get. If they pull out handcuffs, I’m leaving.
Suddenly, silver bracelets are my hard line. It’s nice to know I still have boundaries lurking in me somewhere.
They speed our way and pull something silver from a sheath on their back. It’s silver, all right, but it’s not handcuffs—it’s the blade of a knife.
My adrenaline hits its zenith and they swoop upon us and my entire body lights up with pain.
The blade slices through the air like a violent dance, and before we know what’s hit us, both Gwen and I are bleeding from our throats. We stagger on our heels, gurgling in an attempt to scream, but the blade keeps coming. I hold up my arms to deflect and my hands explode with blood.
The blade flashes like lightning in the dim light as my body locks up.
Time slows down as my mind struggles to catch up with my new reality. A thousand thoughts race through my head—too fast, too jumbled to make sense. My legs want to move, to run, but they won’t. I’m frozen, completely paralyzed by fear.
Gwen gives a garbled scream, but it sounds distant, muffled, as if I’m underwater.
My chest tightens and my heart slams against my ribcage, beating so hard I think it might explode. I hope it will.
My breath comes in shallow gasps.
This can’t be happening. Not like this.
I try to shout, to fight back, but the words die in my throat.
The blade comes at me again—cold steel slicing through my chest and a pain so deep it takes my breath away.
It’s a searing heat that detonates in my side, spreading like wildfire. I try to scream, but no sound comes out.
The world around me fades as my legs buckle, and I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs.
Can’t move. My arms feel heavy and numb, like they’re not even attached to my body anymore. I try to lift my hand to stop the bleeding, but it’s useless. All I can do is lie here, helpless.
Is this it? Is this how it ends?
My vision blurs, the edges going dark. Every breath feels like I’m drowning. I can taste blood, metallic and bitter as it mixes with the bile rising in my throat. I’m fading, slipping into a darkness that I can’t pull myself out of.
One very bad idea and I’ve ruined everything.
The last thing I see is the blade, slick with my blood, before everything goes black.
Chapter 3
Evil
They never make it easy, do they?
I slip out of the hotel and the cool night air hits me like a slap. The bare branches from the army of maples surrounding this place rattle like skeletons as the wind picks up steam.
We’re knee-deep in fall. My favorite season. Nature is one of the only things that brings me joy as of late. People can be so disappointing.
It’s over now.
It’s all done.
One less—two less public nuisances traipsing around the planet.
I did what I had to do with expert efficiency. They say practice makes perfect and I’ve had plenty of that. Although this method was particularly messy, I must say it’s one I prefer. So quick, so to the point, so very final. I’m not here to make anyone suffer. That’s not what this is about.
My heart races wildly, thumping against my chest like a drumbeat that won’t quit.
I expected one. Just one. But when I opened that door and saw two of them standing there, well—plans changed. It’s not like I had much of a choice.
Two girls selling themselves. Their desperation was practically oozing out of them.
Those trashy dresses, those sky-high heels—they were begging for trouble.
It disgusts me.
They were so young, so full of potential, and yet they were bartering their worth away like cheap goods. They had no idea how wrong it is—how much damage they do, to themselves, to everyone around them. And they were college students no less. At least I know for a fact one of them was. You would think they would be brighter than this. In the least that they could be teachable. How I wish someone out there would have taught them a lesson before I was forced to step in.
A thought occurs to me. Could I have been the person? Not like this, not tonight. Maybe there’s another woman out there I could help, but not those two. For them it is far too late.
This was a favor. For them, for the world. I know that. Deep down, I’d like to think they knew that, too. It was destiny that our paths would cross. I’m sure they would thank me if they could.
It’s always hard in the moment—harder than anyone would guess—but it is just and it is right.
What I did was necessary. It’s a mercy, really. If I didn’t stop them, who would? They would’ve just gone on, getting worse, falling deeper into their own filth.
I glance down at my hands, still trembling from the adrenaline.
The things I’ve done… They haunt me. Not because I regret it—no, never that—but because no one understands the burden I carry.
It’s a thankless task, but someone has to do it.
Someone has to be willing to do what others can’t. And that someone is me.
After all, this is my cross to bear.
I take a breath and do my best to rein in the adrenaline. My heartbeat slows as I glance around the parking lot. No one is watching. No one even notices me. I blend in, invisible like always.
I know how to hide. I’ve done this enough times now. I know how to disappear. I’m practically a seasoned pro at not existing. Ironic when you think about it. I’m also a seasoned pro at making sure others cease to exist.
No, I’m not the Almighty. But even he has his minions. I’d like to think I’m on the cleanup committee. And with so much filth covering the earth, there is a lot of cleaning up to do. There’s enough to keep me busy until I am swept off the planet.
The countless, nameless, faceless victims race through my mind like a haunted parade of whores.
The first one was the hardest. Always is. It took me days to come down from it. But each one after that, well, it gets easier. Not the killing itself—that’s never easy—but the knowing. The knowing that it’s for the best. That I’m saving them from themselves. And I’ve saved a lot of them now. They’ll never understand that, but I don’t need them to. They dissolved their own relevance once they decided to give their sacred body away in exchange for cold, hard cash.
I did them a favor. All of them. Those two silly girls, the others. None of them should have been selling their bodies. It’s lewd, wicked—an insult to women everywhere.
They were born for more than this. But they couldn’t see it, could they? No, they chose this. And so, they had to be stopped. They were like wild horses trampling through town, destroying everything in their wake, so in turn, they themselves had to be destroyed.
My chest tightens as I walk, while my legs do their best to carry me farther away from the hotel, deeper into the night. With each step I feel lighter, freer.
They’re gone now. I did what had to be done.
I think of the others once again—the women who came before. They were all so lost, so blinded by their choices. Just like these two. It’s always the same story. It never changes. But I’m the constant. I’m the one who cleans up the mess.
The chosen one.
I stop at my car, my hands still shaking as I reach for the door handle. I left my mark, my signature at the scene. I always do. Signed, sealed, and delivered to the afterlife with love. It’s my way of letting them know I care. It’s my way of shouldering responsibility, and shirking it at the very same time.
No one is going to miss them. They couldn’t have been appreciated in this life in order to behave that way. That’s part of the problem. Then they became a problem.
That’s why they had to go.
It’s a difficult task, but that’s why it’s mine. To bring balance, to restore what has been broken.
And I did.
I always do.
I will again.
Chapter 4
Special Agent Fallon Baxter
SAC Hale: Two college girls found dead at the Grand Meadows Hotel. The bodies had markings on them that resembled the same markings a couple of prostitutes had on them when they were killed last month. We got the official invite to the case.
Jack sighs as we put away our phones. “Guess we’re not getting in that hot tub tonight.”
“Nope,” I say, already marshalling my yellow lab, Buddy, for our next adventure. “Another night, another murder.”
No sooner do Jack and I get the message than we hit the ground running. The chill of the Colorado night cuts through the cab of my truck as we barrel down the highway, headlights slicing through the darkness like twin blades. Buddy sits in the back with his tail thumping against the seat, oblivious to the fact that we’re about to walk into another nightmare.
Hale’s text flits through my mind. Two girls dead at the Grand Meadows Hotel.
“He said the markings on the bodies are similar to those from the prostitutes last month,” I say out loud and Jack nods.
“That takes us right into serial killer territory,” he says as he shoots a dark look out the window.
The drive to Grand Meadows Hotel doesn’t take long. Fall in Colorado is one of those picture-perfect experiences, where the golds and reds of the trees shimmer under the moonlight, but tonight, it all feels darker and so much more sinister as we sink into another nightmare.
We pull up to the hotel, and it’s already crawling with local sheriffs and FBI agents. The Grand Meadows Hotel is lit up like a Christmas tree, but the festive glow ends there. Sheriff’s vehicles are scattered like confetti around the entrance, red and blue lights flashing in the cold, crisp air. And the wind is biting and cutting through the calm of the night.
A line of yellow tape flutters in the breeze, cordoning off the main entrance and barricading curious onlookers from what we’re about to step into.
It feels as if every cop in the county has shown up for this affair, and I get the sinking feeling we’ll need every one of them. “Looks like a party,” Jack mutters as we converge onto the cobbled walkway that leads to the luxury hotel before us.
“Too bad they started without us,” I say as I pick up Buddy’s leash. He stretches, sniffing the ground as if he owns the place. “You ready to work, boy?” His tail wags in response.
“Of course, he’s ready.” Jack gives him a quick pat on the back. “Buddy has a better work ethic than half the people who showed up tonight.”
***I hope you enjoyed this preview! Thank you for reading!****