So I am saying oh my today... As the 100,000 copy of Spoilt was downloaded today, I’m feeling awestruck.

 

As she went to open the door to the station, it came away in her hand and she found herself face-to-face - well more like face-to-chest - with someone leaving the precinct.

She looked up and up, to set eyes on a tall, broad-shouldered man whom she assumed was a policeman. His dark wavy hair was longish and dishevelled. His chiselled, handsome face held an intense expression and the look in his hazel eyes was … she didn’t know what that was. He looked almost dazed.

He seemed for a moment to stare at her before his face become blank and he cleared his throat.

“Is there something I can help you with? I’m a detective here.” His voice was deep and soothing. Chelsea realised she was the one now staring at him. Those intense hazel eyes bewildered her already uneasy mind as she struggled to piece together her words.

Lucas gazed down into her face. Lust rushed through him and his mind went blank. Only one lingering thought remained. Wow! He gave her another once over and his eyes become locked to the vulnerable expression on her face.  Wow!

Eyes the colour of emeralds peered up at him. Her long, dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders. Her smooth, milky skin was calling him to reach out and stroke her face. She was petite. She was exquisite. He felt an overwhelming need to protect her, a concept foreign to him. Her anxious expression brought forth feelings long since forgotten. He wanted to grab her and … Sheer electricity.

“I...I...hope so. I’m worried about my friend, my roommate. She seems to have gone missing.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

Great. He needn’t let her go just yet. “Come with me. We’ll write up a report,” he suggested, as his professional radar switched itself on - another missing girl. At least that was still working. He could scarcely concentrate in her presence. Thankfully, the previous day the two missing girls resembling the recent victims had returned home unharmed. Was this another false alarm?

“Um, thanks,” she murmured. 

She followed his lanky frame towards a room down the hall. Everything inside her was on fire. His broad, strong shoulders and amazing eyes did incredible things to her. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, or to stand.

He’s just a guy, Chelsea. You’ve been alone too long.

Still, try as she might, she couldn’t ignore whatever this feeling was.  Emotions she couldn’t recall ever experiencing before flurried inside her like a swarm of tiny butterflies. The confidence oozing from him rendered her incapable of rational thought.

Totally amazed by the impact she was having on every one of his senses, Lucas attempted desperately to get himself back under control. She’s just another beautiful girl. He saw them every day. But, he couldn’t bury his urgent need to protect her, which was the totally opposite reaction to what usually occurred when he saw a pretty face. 

As they walked into the interview room, his hand shook as he gestured for her to take a seat. Lucas took out a pen clumsily, placed a notepad on the table and sat opposite her.

Perhaps it can be a new genre. 

Yes there is always happily ever after and a formulaic plot but I try to add my own spin.  Whether that is anyone’s cup of tea, well I’m starting to find out.  AGAIN?  No this is about something else.  Well sort of...

I believe there was a writer within me for a long time but I wasn’t listening.  I only wish I realised how much it would become part of me, I would have woken up sooner.  But I didn’t.  When I started it was rough.  No ‘skills’ and a bad memory meant I had to learn again.  I read how to books, I got advice from writers I admired and I tried to get better.  I hope I have.  So when my first story went free on a little place called Amazon Kindle I was so not prepared for what would happen.

So from the first moment of plotting out my first, short, rough draft of my first story to the day I discovered it to be ‘taking off’ as a freebie, three years had passed.  I still don’t think I believe it.   After many, many hours of reading other amateur’s work (like myself) on authonomy, where I could also learn by reviewing which in turn helped me to find out how to improve myself, editing and re-writing scenes and the thing I’m worst at, cutting (I don’t write enough as it is), Spoilt was born.  My first ‘finished’ manuscript.  Was I ever wrong.  After being so dumbfounded by winning the ‘First Chapter of the Month’ competition at Night I went through it all again.  Editing, rewriting.... My point out of all of that is; I am only a ‘young’ writer but I believe I have stories to tell. 

What I got from all this, the most amazing thing of all, was the friends I made.  From all over the world I have a community of writers who I can share my woes with and they will pat me on the back, give me a reality check and send me on my way.  I can share my news with them and they are excited.  I can share their joys and say yay for them.  All of that plus many others who support me, always, is how I keep going.  Nothing could ever replace that community and what it has done for me and my writing.  At the top of that is Tim.  I have shouted out for him this week already.  When I considered throwing in the towel this week, Tim supported me through every high and low.  To him I am the most grateful. 

Then there is the emails I have received, the 'fan' type ones that aren't public, that people don't see... these are touching and make it all worthwhile.  But writing isn't just about the 'accolades', it is about the love of it but knowing you are bringing something to someone's life... that's pretty cool too. 

At the end of the day, I was lucky but with that luck came nastiness.  I may be an average writer with three stars who disappointed people enough to write bad reviews but 17 out of 60,000 isn’t too bad.  Maybe the people who haven’t reviewed are enjoying it.  That is all I can hope for. 

I may write poorly and maybe I should give it away... yet I will still write because I love it.  Because the muse comes calling and being in the zone...is unexplainable.  I do the best I can to hopefully give someone a few hours escape, like reading has been for me.  So yes the bad reviews really, really hurt and I thought about giving it up.  Instead I’m going to take a few days and re-group.  Becoming a ‘bestseller’ was amazing and unbelievable and I wish I had been able to enjoy it more.  After my retreat I hopefully will.

I have never said I wrote anything but adult fairytales.

This has been a remarkable journey.

Before we dive into the next FreeRead I wanted to say a big thank you to all who have supported me during the rollercoaster of a week.  I am dumbfounded by the 12000 odd (albeit free) downloads of Spoilt and my current No. 2 position in US and UK for free bestsellers on kindle.  It has been an amazing ride. 

This week is Chapter 2 from Spoilt.  Next week a sampler from Fire Starter due out March / April.

Chapter 2
Chelsea
Friday

Chelsea sat on her overstuffed suitcase and forced it closed. Although she’d planned a three day trip, she’d packed enough for a week. She thought back to her last visit and realised it had been months since she’d visited her home town. Eagerness to escape from her busy schedule, along with excitement about seeing her family, rose within her. After hopping off the case on the bed, she threw the remaining items into a bag.

“I think you’ve packed enough,” said Elle.

“Probably. I never pack light.”

Chelsea shrugged before glancing over her shoulder at her friend and roommate. Elle’s tall, slim frame leant gracefully against the doorway. She flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder as she studied Chelsea through dark blue eyes.

 “I’d better get going. If I’m late I’ll never hear the end of it.” Chelsea lugged the suitcase off the bed.

“Let me help you.” Elle took most of the heavy burden. “Seeing I have the house to myself this weekend, I might ask my new guy over for ... dinner.” She grinned.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

“If all goes well, this weekend.” Elle nudged Chelsea with her elbow. “Maybe we can organise something when you get home.”

“Sounds good.”

They walked into the garage and Chelsea hit the button to open the automatic door. Elle loaded the suitcase into Chelsea’s sleek, compact car while she jumped in. 

Chelsea stuck her head out the window as she backed out. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Doesn’t leave me much,” Elle grumbled before waving.

Chelsea waved as she drove away before glancing back at her home, which held many memories, happy and painful. The two storey contemporary house with a small colourful garden - which Chelsea tried to keep tidy when time permitted - was welcoming, while the two balconies extending from the front bedrooms added charm and a view. Regardless of the sadness that surrounded her within its walls, she felt a smile tug at her lips at the comforting sight of home. 

Leaning forward she turned the radio up and settled in for the long drive ahead.

Amy
Monday

Lucas drove in brooding silence while Maggie scanned Libby’s murder file and Amy Miller’s statement about Kate. When finished, she turned to stare at him.

“What?” he asked and grinned, hoping it would deter her questions.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah.”

“I just thought ...”

“I’m fine, Mags.”

“If you want to talk about it ...?”

“I know where you are.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

Their silence resumed and continued for the rest of the journey.  Lucas parked out the front of the small townhouse where Kate lived with her sister Amy. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he said.

The girl who answered their knock appeared to be a younger version of Kate and there was no doubt they were in the right place.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m Detective Hudson.” He showed the girl his badge. “This is Detective Johnson. We’re here in relation to Kate Miller’s disappearance.”

The hopeful smile which greeted them disappeared from her face.

“Did you find her?”

“Yes, Ma’am, we believe so,” Maggie said. “May I ask your name please?”

“Yes, my name is Amy Miller. Is she okay?”

“Are your parents at home?”

“Only Kate and I live here. Please will you tell me? What is it?”

“You might want to sit down. Can we come in?”

“Please, where is she?”

Amy’s anxiety-filled eyes darted between Lucas and Maggie.

“We believe we found your sister this morning.”

“Where is she? Is she ...?”

“Perhaps it would be better if we came in.”

“Okay.” 

Amy led them to the sitting room and perched on the edge of the couch. Maggie sat beside her and Lucas took the chair opposite.

Amy stared at them for a moment wide eyed before asking in a broken voice “Please, where is she?”

“We’re really sorry ... your sister has been murdered,” Maggie said gently.

“Oh no, please no,” Amy whispered as the blood drained from her face. “Kate ...”

Tears streamed down her face as she sat rigid for a moment, her face full of shock and disbelief. She buried her face in her hands and broke into wrenching sobs. The two detectives glanced at each other; they hated this part of the job. Several heartbreaking minutes passed before Amy’s tears subsided and her composure returned. She took a deep breath and with a determined set to her chin, looked at Maggie.

“We’re very sorry about your sister but we do need to ask you some questions so we can find out what happened to her. Would you like to call someone? We could continue this later.”

“I want to help.”

“If you need time,” Maggie said.

“No, I want to do it now. What do you need to ask me?”

“When was the last time you saw Kate?” Lucas began.

“On Sunday night as I was leaving to go out with friends. About six, I think, as the movie started at seven.”

“Was she here when you got home?”

“I don’t know. It was about eleven and her door was closed.”

“When did you realise she was gone?”

“The next day. She’s usually home from work by six, so when she wasn’t home by eight, I began to worry. I rang her work and they said she hadn’t been in ...” Amy’s voice trembled. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“This was when you reported her missing?”

“I rang her phone first and heard it ringing from her bag in her room.” She paused. Lucas and Maggie exchanged another glance. Libby’s possessions had been left at home too. “I rang everyone we know and no-one had seen her ... so I reported her missing.” 

Amy picked at the tissues scrunched in her shaking hands and chewed on her lower lip.

“Did she say if she was going anywhere or meeting with someone?” Lucas asked.

“No.”

“Do you know if she was having anyone over?” Maggie asked.

“Um, she mentioned she’d met this guy but she didn’t say if she was meeting him.”

“Did she tell you his name?”

“No.”

“Perhaps she had him over or he came to pick her up?”

“I doubt she would have invited him here. She’s really ... cautious.  She might have planned to go out but she didn’t say anything. Kate would have told me if she was seeing anyone special. We are … I mean were, very close.” She bit her lip again and fresh tears threatened.

“Could there be anyone who may have held a grudge against her?”

“No! She’s a kind, beautiful person. I don’t know why anyone would want to do this.”

The tears Amy held back now ran down her face. 

“Just a few more questions and then we will leave you in peace,” Maggie said.

“Do you or your sister have a lot of money?” Lucas asked.

“What?”

“Is your family well off? Were you spoilt?”

“No. Why are you asking me this?” She furrowed her brow.

“There was a ... note left at the scene.”

“No, our parents are working class. We rent this apartment. We pay our own way ... I ... I don’t understand.”

“Can you think of anything else about the man she was seeing?” Maggie asked.

She shook her head. Amy didn’t bother wiping away the flowing tears now.

“We don’t want to make this any harder than it already is but we need to send over some crime scene investigators to check for fingerprints and evidence, in case she invited someone in.”

She nodded her assent.

“We appreciate it.” Maggie paused. “We also need someone to come down and identify her. Would you like us to arrange for your parents to do it? We would have gone to them first but we didn’t have any contact details.”

“It’s ok, I’ll ring my parents. I don’t know how I am ... Can we do it later?”

“Yes, when you’re ready. Are you sure you’re ok?”

She nodded.

“Again, we’re sorry,” Maggie said as Amy showed them to the door.

Once in the car Lucas and Maggie sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts.

“More of the same,” Maggie spoke breaking the quiet. “Both had a mystery guy and were missing five days or longer. Neither spoilt nor well off but had the words cut into them. Why use these particular words?”

“I’m having trouble with that too. They both have dark hair and are short and petite too. Maybe they resemble someone or they dressed well and he assumed they were rich.”

“Hopefully Dave will have something for us.”

Next week:  First Chapter from the upcoming release Fire Starter

So I’ve decided Friday can be a sampler.  Where to start?  Well at the beginning is probably best. 

The terror in her eyes and the realisation she’s going to die is sweet medicine to my soul.
Her eyes widen, and then concede, when the spoilt bitch knows her time is over. 
Her blood spills as I carve into her flesh my hate for her perfect existence. 
Oh, the gratifying sound of her last breath.  
She too will taste the feeling of nothingness.

Chapter 1
Lucas
Monday

Lucas tried to shake off his nightmare as the icy water prickled his skin. The hollow pain living in his chest threatened to suffocate him. He stuck his head under the spray while their faces haunted his mind and forced the torment deep down, back where it came from, where it belonged. 

The shrill of the phone broke through his troubled thoughts. He held their images in his mind for a moment before allowing them to fade. As he cleared the haze, they disappeared. Chilled through, he stepped out and his aching body protested with a shiver. Physical pain was easier. 

Throwing a towel over his hips, he ran to answer the insistent ringing.

“Hudson.”

“It’s me,” Maggie responded.

“What’s up?”

“We got another one.”

“Dammit. Where?” 

As Maggie gave him directions, Lucas pulled a suit, shirt and tie from his well ordered wardrobe.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he told her.

Lucas returned to the bathroom and shaved quickly. He glanced in the mirror and noticed his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He shrugged. What did it matter? Running his fingers through his hair, he took a few deep breaths in preparation for what he was about to face. He threw on his clothes and after a tedious ride in the lift, he jumped into his unmarked car. 

As he drove, memories of that day came with a vengeance. The day he’d successfully put behind him, until last week. The visions refused to fade night and day now. He looked down and saw the blood, so much blood.

He shoved himself back to reality. He needed to concentrate. During his twelve years as a cop, he’d seen the horrors, dealt with them all before pushing them aside. Some were harder than others but he’d gotten through mostly unscathed, until now. This case was different. It was affecting him.

Lucas parked next to his partner’s car and as he climbed out the humidity warmed his still cold limbs. The oppressive heat would only get worse as the day progressed. Maggie leant against her car, waiting.  When she spotted him, she strode over, her frame athletic and expression grim. Even with a scowl, she was a stunner. With her short blonde hair and penetrating blue eyes her beauty was unique. She certainly didn’t look like your average cop. Her physique and angular features turned heads. 

“Definitely the same?’ Lucas asked.

“’Fraid so.”

A long forgotten yet familiar lump surfaced in Lucas' throat as they flashed their badges at the taped-off scene. An officer directed them towards the dank alleyway in the rear, which was undetectable from the road. The unmistakable stink of rotting garbage assaulted them as they turned the corner. 

The victim lay face-up, naked and brutalised. She appeared to be in her mid twenties and would probably have been beautiful, like the first victim once was. Her wrists and ankles were lacerated as though she’d been bound and at her throat remained a gaping smile. The absence of blood implied she’d been murdered elsewhere. Purple and yellow bruises speckled her body indicating days of abuse while her face was battered and swollen. Lucas could see the fear frozen in her unseeing eyes. 

Across her chest the words SPOILT BITCH were slashed in red - light and dark. Lucas determined the varying degrees of colour and congealment indicated the wounds were inflicted over time. Another pretty young woman tortured and left in a dirty alley behind a warehouse, as if she meant nothing. It would not feel like nothing to the people who loved her. Lucas knew this first-hand. Bile rose in his throat. What kind of sick bastard could inflict these horrors?

Techs were walking the grid, collecting evidence and taking photos when the Medical Examiner arrived. David Walker was in his late forties. A short, squat man with pointed features and thinning hair, his compassionate nature complemented his thoroughness. His knees creaked from the strain as he knelt beside her.

“The chest wounds and cause of death appear consistent with the last victim,” he began. “Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles too.”

“Similar dump spot as the last one,” Lucas said.

“Yes, all too familiar.” Maggie shook her head. “Any ID again, Dave?”

“Can you help me roll her over?”

As he crouched, Lucas slipped on latex gloves from his pocket and helped roll the body from back to side. He held her in place as Dave examined the victim, took her temperature and checked for ID beneath her.  Lucas swallowed down the lump still wedged in his throat; handling dead victims never got any easier.

“Yes, here it is,” Dave said. He passed the ID to Maggie’s now gloved hand, which she bagged.

“Kate Miller,” Maggie read.

“Thanks, Dave.” Lucas turned to Maggie. “Same MO.”

She nodded. 

Lucas helped ease the body back again and as he stood, tore off his gloves ready to deposit them in the nearest bin.

“Let’s go,” he said. “See if we can work out what these two have in common.”

*  *  *

At the station, coffee in hand, Lucas logged onto his computer. As it went through its sluggish loading process, he rubbed tired eyes, ran his fingers through his hair and drank his strong caffeine hit, anything to distract his mind. A solitary word became his silent mantra. Focus. He tapped his fingers impatiently, waiting for the missing persons’ database to load Kate Miller’s report. He considered making another coffee when at last the details materialised before him.

Kate had been reported missing the previous Monday night, although she’d in fact been missing since Sunday. He pulled the report on the first victim, Libby Greene, from the pile on his desk, to scan again with fresh eyes, checking the correlations. Libby had been missing for six days before her body was discovered early the previous Tuesday morning. 

Libby had been sexually assaulted several times over the six days, while the letters cut into her chest were also inflicted over time. Her throat had been slashed, leaving the identical gaping hole they’d seen that morning. She too, had been dumped behind a warehouse having been killed elsewhere. ID left with the body but no other possessions.

“Hey,” Maggie said. As she slid into her chair opposite, she aimed a breakfast roll at him. “Here, eat something.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know if I can.” He grimaced. “Kate’s been missing for six days. There’s an overlap.”

“So he might’ve grabbed Kate before he killed Libby.” She paused. “This is one sick puppy we’re dealing with here, Hudson. Holding one girl while stalking another and perhaps holding them both. Can you imagine what they would be listening to ...?”

Lucas nodded. “He could have more than one location too.” He shook his head in frustration. “We’re speculating until we get Dave’s report.”

“A lead would be helpful.” Maggie paused. “I guess it’s time to talk to Kate’s family, see to the notification.”

Maggie studied Lucas as he grabbed his jacket from the chair and picked up his keys without saying a word. This usually indicated he wanted to drive. She noted the tight set of his jaw and the dark smudges under his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping again. She quickened her step as she followed him to his car. He lit a smoke, a habit she barely remembered him having. His dark eyes reflected his far off thoughts and troubled mind. His self imposed solitary life was slowly destroying what little light remained. His passionate nature was being torn apart by loneliness. Maggie was well aware of how much this case would be disturbing him. She wondered whether this would be the one that tipped him over the edge. 

From Spoilt:  http://amzn.to/dlOF17