By Jennifer Chase
In the thin light of the moon, the woman’s limp body hangs from the iron fence amongst the redwoods. Looped over the railings is the little gold locket her mother gave her when she turned sixteen. The picture of the girl inside smiles out at a future she’ll never see…
As day breaks over the fairground, Detective Katie Scott forces herself to take in another disturbing scene in front of her. A woman, the same age as her, found slumped in the carriage of the Ferris wheel, red lipstick dragged across her lips, her throat cut.
Katie doesn’t want to believe that the serial killer picking off women across the state has found their way to the small town of Pine Valley, California, but when her team finds a gold engagement ring hanging nearby, it’s a terrifying, but undeniable fact.
With a twisted killer on her doorstep, Katie knows if she doesn’t act fast, she’ll find more women left out in the cold like broken dolls. Her team hit dead end after dead end, but only she can see the vital link between the victims: a connection with Katie herself.
Katie has spent years pushing traumatic memories of her years in the military far out of reach, but she must confront them now or more innocent women will die. But as the killer circles closer and closer to Katie, what if the only answer is to give him what he wants? There must be another way…
Warning – This absolutely unputdownable thriller will keep you up all night! Fans of Lisa Regan, Rachel Caine and Melinda Leigh better hold on tight for a nail-biting rollercoaster ride!
PRAISE
5 Stars! “This is the first book in the series I have read – and I want more! Suspense up to the end, characters I enjoyed, and K9 units. Loved it!” – NetGalley
5 Stars! “As always this Jennifer Chase thriller just cries out to be read in one sitting. Here we see Katie get tangled up with a serial killer although it takes time before anyone takes her seriously. Great characters and a great story, I loved this book.” – NetGalley
PROLOGUE
The neighborhood remained quiet; the light blue one-story
cottage eerily so. No outside illumination or motion lights
flooded the front area. The blooming climbing vines and
perfectly manicured bushes were eclipsed by the darkness.
Headlights approached.
A small, dark vehicle pulled into the driveway. Waiting a
moment before turning off the engine, a woman pushed open the
car door and stepped out. The young redhead was dressed for
the evening, in a sparkly blouse and tight black pants.
Wavering a moment in her spiked sandals, she looked at the
house in curiosity—and then in disappointment. Quickly
grabbing a warm jacket from inside the car and slipping it on,
she walked up the driveway.
“Jeanine, where are you?” she whispered and headed to the
front door, ignoring the shattered light bulb on the step
crunching under her feet. She knocked on the door. “Jeanine,”
she said, more loudly, leaning closer to the opening. “We
waited for you… you missed a great party.”
No response.
The front door pushed open, revealing a darkened interior.
“Jeanine?”
The woman hesitated but seemed to be pulled by an unknown
force. She stepped over the threshold, not bothering to close
the door, and moved through the living room. Confused by the
darkness, she turned on a lamp sitting on a small table. The
room lit up instantly. Everything seemed in place. The
oversized beige couches with brightly colored throw pillows,
the dark mahogany coffee table with neatly stacked magazines
and books precisely centered appeared usual for Jeanine’s
house. It was always neat and organized.
“Jeanine?” the woman said again. “Are you here?”
The woman walked around and checked the kitchen and small
bedroom, but there wasn’t any sign of her friend. She eyed a
piece of paper on the counter and decided to leave a quick
note, scratching out that she had stopped by and asking
Jeanine to call her when she got the message.
She suddenly noticed a strange high-pitched whistling noise
coming from the other side of the living room. Curious, the
woman moved closer to the sound. The back sliding door was
slightly open. The crack was enough for the wind to invade and
make a strange noise.
Her foot touched something. A tall turquoise vase that had
been sitting on a shelf nearby was now lying on the carpet. It
seemed strange to her that it had been knocked over. She bent
down and picked up the vase, replacing it on the shelf.
She retrieved her cell phone from her pocket and tried calling
Jeanine again. It rang numerous times and then went to
voicemail where Jeanine’s upbeat voice said,
“Hi, sorry I missed your call but please don’t hang up.
Leave a message and I’ll get right back to you.”
The greeting was followed by a quick beep.
“Jeanine, it’s Mandy again and now I’m standing in your living
room. Where are you, girl? Everyone was asking about you
tonight. Hey, and you left your front door open. Call me.” She
ended the call.
Mandy was about to head back to the front door to leave, but
something stopped her—it didn’t feel right—and instead, she
stood at the sliding door staring out into the large backyard
where dense rows of pine trees and acacia bushes huddled
around the house’s boundary. During the day, the property
appeared green and lush, but now it looked gloomy and
foreboding.
Mandy flipped on the outside light, but it only lit up the
patio areas directly outside the house, and the extended
wooded region still looked dark.
She pulled open the sliding door and the wind whipped through
the house. It chilled her. Goosebumps scuttled up her arms.
Worry now set in and she didn’t know what to do. Redialing
Jeanine’s number, Mandy listened to it sound again and in
unison heard the faint, far-off ringing of a phone somewhere
in the distance.
She stepped outside, trying to decipher where the ringing was
coming from. “Jeanine?” she said, noticing that one of the
outside chairs had been toppled over and lay precariously on
its side.
Moving off the stone patio and pulling her jacket more tightly
around her, Mandy slowly trudged toward the trees, a bit
wobbly in her shoes. She turned on the flashlight mode on her
cell phone and moved forward.
She dialed Jeanine again. This time, she heard the distinct
ringing of the cell phone coming from the trees—low at first
and then it rang louder.
“Jeanine,” she said, with barely a whisper. Her
voice sounded oddly distant.
Looking down, she saw where there were crushed weeds and small
broken branches as if someone had walked back and forth
recently. Still, she kept moving forward, into the trees,
swinging her cell phone back and forth which only illuminated
a tiny patch of ground in front of her, creating dense shadows
outside its beam.
Her pulse quickened.
Anxiety escalated.
Something fluttering on a bush caught her eye. She leaned
closer, focusing. As she moved the cell light beam nearer, it
revealed a piece of white fabric with a mother-of-pearl button
still attached.
Mandy gasped.
It wasn’t the fact that she had seen Jeanine wear that pretty
white blouse on so many occasions, it was the droplets of
crimson spattered across the fabric that shoved a spear of
fear into her gut.
Thoughts of dread and horror-filled scenarios ran through
Mandy’s mind. Urgently, she pushed the redial button on her
phone again.
The sound of Jeanine’s ringtone rang in the darkness. This
time it kept ringing and there was no cheerful message.
Mandy walked further into the dark realm of the trees, still
hoping that there was a logical explanation. Stepping over old
branches with loud crunching noises and sidestepping bushes
just before reaching the back fence of the property, she
managed to make her way to the sound of the ringing phone.
Everything went quiet.
Mandy stood a foot from the phone lying on the ground. It
mesmerized her. She slowly bent down to pick it up. With a
startled gasp, she stepped back, dropping the phone as she
stared at her hand. It was covered in blood.
In a frenzied panic, Mandy ran past the phone and continued
along the low wrought-iron fence. The flashlight feature
dimmed and she couldn’t see where she was going. Slowing her
pace, she glimpsed something white and moving slightly.
“Jeanine? What’s going on?” She spoke in a strained
whisper.
Trying to catch her breath and calm her hammering pulse, Mandy
approached. Her cell phone flashlight surged and shone
brightly on the blood-soaked white silk blouse, now shredded
from Jeanine’s right shoulder. She reeled back at the sight of
her friend.
Mandy couldn’t tear her eyes away from the horror. Her throat
constricted as her breath trapped in her chest. She staggered
backwards, taking in the entire scene—unable to turn her focus
away.
Her friend’s upper body was impaled on the iron fence
penetrating from her back through her ribs, and her throat was
slit open. Her head flopped down, lifeless eyes trained on the
ground. Her long brown hair fell forward, some strands
sticking to the blood seeping from her chest. Her arms hung at
her sides, legs crooked, like a marionette waiting for someone
to pull the strings. Blood still dripped from her body,
sliding down her arms to her fingertips before collecting on
the ground—the wet crimson almost matching her fingernail
polish. The body was shoeless and Jeanine’s feet were dirty
and bloody—as if she had been running through the woods
barefoot.
It was the sight of Jeanine’s face that made her sob in
terror. Caked in grotesque makeup, making her look like a
caricature of herself—a hideous broken doll. Red lipstick
drawn heavy around her lips, dark purples for blush on her
cheeks, and dark blues for eye shadow made her look like a
circus clown instead of her friend.
Beside Jeanine’s body, a necklace hung on the fence. It was a
small locket that she always wore, which her mother had given
her when she turned sixteen.
Mandy mouthed the word “Jeanine” but no sound escaped her lips. Realizing she still had her cell phone in her hand, she tried to dial 911 but fumbled a few times with the buttons before she heard the words, “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
5 Things You Should Know About Pretty Broken Dolls
1. Pretty Broken Dolls revolves around Detective Katie Scott who heads up the cold case unit in Pine Valley, California. I'm fascinated with cold cases as well as the people who investigate them. Even though it's sad that these cases have remained unsolved for a couple of years and sometimes decades, I find that the men and women who persevere with the dedication to solve them to give closure to the families are true heroes.
*According to the US Department of Justice, there are approximately 250,000 cold cases in the US increasing by about 6,000 cases a year. There are close to 40,000 unsolved cold cases in California reported by the Murder Accountability Project, which compiles data from the FBI's Uniform Crime Report.
2. Okay, you've probably figured out by now reading any of the books in the Detective Katie Scott series is that I love dogs. Actually, I'm an animal lover and have been even before I could walk. But dogs have always been my go-to buddy. What I truly enjoy is dog training. They are amazing. I prefer active working type of dogs, like Labrador retrievers and German shepherds, which help keep me on my toes. I have trained in obedience, agility, scent and trailing, and dock diving. One of my dogs is trained in German commands just like K9 Cisco in the book.
3. Pine Valley, California is a fictitious town in the Sierra Mountains. This book as well as the series takes advantage of the great outdoors, mountains, lakes, and the abundance of Pine trees. I love being outside so I incorporated it into my stories—and a few crime scenes. I feel it adds more character and macabre qualities increasing the interest in the investigation.
4. Ever since I went to my first carnival and fair, I've been infatuated with the Ferris wheel ride. Did you know that they were originally designed to be easily taken apart and put back together travelling from town to town? I have to say out of all the rides at the amusement park the expression on the faces of people on that ride is so animated—from wonder to pure joy, and some fear too. I had to incorporate this ride in Pretty Broken Dolls. You'll just have to read it to find out how I highlighted this fair favorite.
5. The character Deputy Sean McGaven is loosely based on someone I knew in a law enforcement agency in California and was a deputy sheriff when I met him—he later went on to other positions within the department. Besides being a tall police officer, he had a great personality with a quick wit.
Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and USA Today BestSelling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor’s degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent psychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling. She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers. You can visit her website at www.authorjenniferchase.com or connect with her on Twitter, Goodreads and Facebook.
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