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In his time on the police force, Mitch had never felt more helpless with a case than this one.
The newspapers were calling for Fala to be caught, and the citizens of Oxford were frightened where he would strike next.
Mitch had to find the link to these murders. He mentally checked off the clues: bloody handprints, a knife, a truck, a blond hair and C.J. The last one hit him like a punch in the stomach. For some unknown reason Fala had chosen to put her in the middle of the worst murder spree in the history of Oxford.
Chills raced up Mitch’s spine as he wondered what Fala had planned next for C.J. He had to find Fala. No way was he going to let C.J. end up as the next victim.
“If you want to get to her,” Mitch muttered, “you’ll have to kill me first.”
MILLS & BOON
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SANDRA ROBBINS,
a native West Tennessean, was a teacher and principal in Tennessee public schools. She now writes full-time and is an adjunct college professor. She is married and has four children and five grandchildren.
Her fascination with mystery and suspense can be traced to all the Nancy Drew books she read as a child. She hopes her stories will entice readers to keep turning the page until wrongs have been righted and romance has blossomed in her characters’ lives.
It is her prayer that God will use her words to plant seeds of hope in the lives of her readers. Her greatest desire is that many will come to know the peace she draws from her life verse, Isaiah 40:31—But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
To find out more about Sandra and her books, go to her Web site at http://sandrarobbins.net.
Final Warning
Sandra Robbins
If we believe not, yet he abideth faithful: he cannot deny himself.
—2 Timothy 2:13
To the memory of DJ Stewart “Stewman” Byars, who gave hours of enjoyment to his listeners. Without his invaluable information this book wouldn’t have been possible.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Paul Tinkle, President and General Manager of Thunderbolt Broadcasting, for opening the doors of WCMT and giving me a behind-the-scenes look at the world of radio.
To Chris Brinkley, thank you for answering my questions and allowing me to experience live broadcasting as a part of Good Times in the Morning with Chris and Paul.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Let’s play a game, C.J.
Her skin prickled at the words in the subject line of the e-mail. C. J. Tanner’s finger hovered over the delete key, but she pulled away, unable to press it. She clicked the mouse, and the message came into view.
Let’s play a game, I’ll send a clue,
The hidden answer must come from you.
To win a round you have to know
Where I will strike a deadly blow.
Fala
The strange message made no sense. A deadly blow?
As the talk show host of C.J’s Journal on WLMT radio, she’d received lots of creepy messages. But this one was different. How, she didn’t know, but it made every nerve ending in her body tingle.
The angry remarks from callers to her show flashed into her mind. Perhaps the e-mail was from Jimmy Carpenter. Maybe he didn’t like his suspected illegal drug activities being discussed by listeners of her program. One caller the night before had been irate because the police had only been able to charge Jimmy with drug possession during his latest arrest. To make matters worse, the caller had said Jimmy made bail right away and was probably already peddling his drugs on the streets of Oxford, Tennessee.
The shrill ring of the telephone jolted her from her thoughts as it pierced the morning quiet. Her heart still pumping in fear, her hand snaked toward the phone, but struck the coffee cup sitting next to the computer. With a cry, she steadied the mug with both hands before picking up the handset.
“H-hello,” she said.
“C.J., this is Mitch. How are you?”
She gripped the handset more tightly and closed her eyes as the soothing tone of her ex-fiancé’s voice poured over her. She wanted to cry out her
