The Murders That Made the Podcast

My latest book in the series, A Priest, a Rabbi, and a Baptist Minister, will be out just in time for your beach excursions!

Below is Chapter 1 just to get you started!

And as always, thanks so much for your support!

It has been such a blessing to me!

Chapter 1

20 years ago…

        Amber Minnetti coasted to a stop and leaned her bicycle against the crumbling brick wall of the abandoned warehouse. Sweat trickled down her back, the July humidity thick enough to chew, but excitement kept her bouncing on her toes. Ricky always thought up the cutest surprises: concert tickets, midnight milkshakes, and once even a goofy scavenger hunt. She grinned just thinking about him. Today may be even better. But when she looked up at the building, her smile wavered.

        The place loomed like a half-dead giant, its shattered windows gaping open, rust trailing down the metal siding like dried blood. Ricky wouldn’t normally pick somewhere like this. Not for a date. Not for anything romantic.

        A thin shiver slid down her spine, so out of place in the suffocating heat that she swiped at her neck, half expecting a spider. Nothing. Just nerves.

        It’s fine, she told herself. He said fifteen minutes. Said it was a surprise. That was all. Still, she twisted her long brown hair into a bun, her fingers fumbling slightly. She stepped through the busted doorway, ducking beneath a jagged opening where a lock used to be. The air inside was worse—thick, musty, alive with eerie echoes. A loose metal sheet groaned somewhere deep in the gloom, long and low like a warning.

        Her heart thudded once, hard. “Ricky?” she tried, but her voice barely rose above a whisper, swallowed by the stale air. She waited. No answer. She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack. Maybe this was part of the surprise? Perhaps he was hiding. Maybe he’d jump out laughing any second, calling out “Ambs!” in his adorable Mexican accent, wrapping her up in one of those hugs that always made her melt. But surprises didn’t smell like rotten wood, oil, and…something else. Something sweet and spoiled.

        She took a few cautious steps, each one echoing across the cracked concrete. Then something ahead caught her eye, a small glow. A light flickering. As her eyes adjusted, she gasped.

        A little table stood in the middle of the warehouse like a movie set dropped into a nightmare. Two mismatched chairs, a white tablecloth, and a tall vase overflowing with Maryland’s beautiful wildflowers like Queen Anne’s lace, black-eyed Susans, and cornflowers. Perfect, bright, impossibly fresh in a place that smelled like a grave, and beside the vase was a candle, winking softly.

        Amber’s breath loosened. Her shoulders finally uncoiled. This was the surprise.

        She hurried forward, smiling now, and picked up the envelope propped against the vase. Her name sprawled across the front in Ricky’s messy handwriting. Warmth blossomed in her chest. She opened it, unfolding the card. His words spilled out…love, forever, future. Her future. Her cheeks heated. Was he…?        Was this a proposal? Her heart fluttered wildly at the thought.

        But then Texas drifted back into her mind. Her scholarship and the dream she’d built since she was twelve. All those years of planning, all those late nights studying. That life waited 1,600 miles away from Ricky Sanchez.

        Her smile trembled. She lowered the card, eyes stinging, and then froze. Something moved behind a pillar. “Ricky?” she called, hopeful despite the tightness creeping into her voice.

        The figure that stepped out was not Ricky.

        A man, muscular and thick across the chest, his face shadowed beneath a sweat-stained baseball cap. His T-shirt was faded and ripped in several places. A black gun in his right hand, held easily, like he’d done it before.

        Amber’s blood iced over. For a heartbeat, terror roared through her, and then…recognition. Her lips parted. “What are you doing here?” Relief washed through her, foolish but real. She knew him, and the fear melted, if only for a second.

        He didn’t return the familiarity. His gaze swept the table, then pinned her down like a hawk sighting prey. “Where is it?” His voice scraped along her nerves, iron and gravel.

        Her mind stuttered. “Wh-where’s what?”

        “The package,” he said. “He said he gave it to you.”

        Ricky? Was he talking about Ricky? Why would Ricky give her anything except the envelope? “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, stepping back. “He just told me to meet him. That’s all.”

        The man’s jaw clenched. “Don’t lie to me.”

        “I’m not!” Her voice cracked. “I swear, I don’t have anything!”

        “Then why the note? Why the setup?” He gestured sharply at the table. “You expect me to believe you came here alone?”

        “Yes! I…I came early. He said…please, you’re scaring me—,”

        “You’re lying, and I hate liars!” He lunged before she could finish. His hand clamped around her arm, fingers bruising. The gun lifted, aimed directly at her chest.

        “No, wait—!” The crack split her world in half. White heat exploded all over her body. The floor rushed at her. The table collapsed as she hit it, flowers scattering, glass shattering beside her. The candle went out. Her vision blurred, doubled, swam. Her cheek hit the concrete with a sickening thud as she grabbed at the hole in her chest, blood congealing on the warehouse’s dirty floor. She tasted blood, coppery, hot, and thick. Her fingers twitched uselessly against the floor.

        She tried to push herself up. Her arm didn’t move. Her legs wouldn’t answer her. Thoughts scattered, slipping away like birds frightened from a wire. She looked down at the chest wound, blood creeping onto her blouse, turning it an ugly color.

        The man crouched beside her. She felt his fingers pat her pockets, searching. Her head rolled slightly, vision narrowing to a dark tunnel with a flickering edge of candle smoke.

        “I knew this was a waste of time,” the man muttered, his voice distant, muffled, as if underwater.

        Her breath rattled softly.

        He stood, then walked away. A door hanging on rusty hinges slammed. Silence.

        Amber lay on her side now, her hair uncoiling across the concrete, blood warm to the hands covering her wound. The white envelope lay inches from her fingertips. She tried to reach it, tried so hard, the tip of her finger brushing nothing but a smear of her own blood.

        Texas. Ricky. Sunflowers at graduation. Her mother’s laugh. Her future. A fragile breath shuddered out of her, barely a sigh.

        Then darkness.