Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
To Catch A Twisted Killer
At first, they look like suicides. Two bodies within a week--one found floating in New York's East River, another electrocuted in the bathtub. But forensics show that the victims were drugged, then killed. As the death toll grows, so does the brutality of the murders--and the killer dubbed the Flesh Collector continues to prey.
Put Yourself In His Path
NYPD profiler Lee Campbell joins the frantic pursuit of a murderous madman who delights in taunting police with gruesome messages. Somewhere in the killer's terrifying handiwork lie the clues to his twisted psyche. But the case is growing disturbingly personal. Getting close enough to stop the monster means getting close enough--to die. . .
Praise for C. E. Lawrence and Silent Screams
"Pulse-racing, first-rate. . .a wild ride down a dark road."–-John Lutz
"Lawrence delivers finely honed suspense with unique twists."--Katherine Ramsland
"A dark, intriguing thriller."--Publishers Weekly
crossed her long arms over her ample chest. “How can you automatically assume the killer is a man?” Butts rolled his eyes, but Chuck glared at him. “Actually, that’s a good question,” Lee said, trying to maintain the delicate truce they had struck with Krieger. “Though there are female serial killers, they’re very rare. Statistically the odds are against it being a woman.” Krieger made a little puffing sound with her lips and plopped down in the nearest chair with an air of dissatisfaction.
pasted onto a plain sheet of white paper. RetrIbuTion is coMinG, it read. Prepare TO meEt Your FAte.” His first thought was that she might have created it herself, a ploy for the attention she had been seeking all her life to fill the cavernous hole in her soul. But a look at the terror in her eyes banished that thought from his head. She was genuinely frightened. “Have you gone to the police?” he asked. She waved off his suggestion as though it were an annoying insect. “Jersey cops,” she
for such a normally reserved man, squeezing both of them until they pulled away, puzzled at his odd behavior. Lee remembered his words on that night, because they were some of the last words he ever heard his father say. “I love you both very much—you know that, don’t you?” he said, holding each of them by the shoulder. Lee remembered the feel of that strong hand pressing down on him, a kind of desperation in the touch. He could smell the musty aroma of malt whiskey on his father’s breath, and
you. She’s a specialist in linguistic forensics—one of the best in the department. You need someone who can decipher those fake suicide notes, right?” Chuck had never met Elena Krieger, but had heard enough to convince him they weren’t going to get along. But all he said was, “Yes, sir.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if the deputy chief was waiting for him to raise an objection. “Okay, then,” Connelly said finally, sounding surprised that Morton wasn’t arguing with him.
back. “It could be something specific to this victim. Or—” Krieger looked intently at him. “Or what?” “His signature is evolving.” “That’s not good,” Butts said. “In either case, it means something—the question is what?” Chuck asked. “With the eyes, my first thought is there’s an association with watching or being watched,” Lee answered. Krieger cocked her elegant head to one side and crossed her arms. “You mean he doesn’t want the victim looking at him?” “Or he does want to be looked at,