Short Excerpt

Her keys cut into the palm of her hand.
Genevieve Alexander couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She hadn’t gotten more than two steps into the house before her instincts had warned her to run. The backs of her knees shook as she took in the blood. Shadows distorted the face of the victim, but she didn’t need the lights on to identify the woman staring back at her. The killer's MO was already familiar, but crime scene photos were nothing compared to the real thing.
The Contractor.
It was impossible. The killer she’d prosecuted for stringing his victims from their own ceilings like marionettes had been sentenced to life behind bars without parole. This… This was something else. This was her home.
But the holes the medical examiner would find in each joint of the victim’s body weren’t the worst part. Posed with the help of industrial-strength fishing line and steel eyelet screws, the woman stood there as though she’d simply been waiting for Genevieve to come home from work.
Because she had been. Waiting.
Reality pierced through paralyzing confusion and fear. Unpocketing her phone, she stumbled away from the scene in her once pristine living room. She couldn’t contaminate the scene.
She collided with a wall of muscle.
Her scream cut short as a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.
“Hello, Genevieve.”