The Darkest Secrets by Heather Wynter

The Darkest Secrets

The Darkest Secrets by Heather Wynter (Amelia Slate PI #1)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.8 MB

As a little girl, she was abducted. Facing that trauma could be a fatal mistake.
Nashville Police Detective Amelia Slate remains haunted by her own childhood kidnapping. The unsolved crime left invisible wounds that eventually got her demoted from the FBI. And her current serial-killer case triggers all that old terror when someone breaks into her apartment and steals a vital clue to her mother’s death. Shocked at the personal nature of the attack, Amelia struggles to cope and lashes out at her coworkers. And when another body surfaces and pushes her to connect the dots, the troubled cop fears she’s already next on the murderer’s list. Can Amelia unearth the truth about her past before the killer strikes again?

She rolled her eyes. She knew he wasn’t lying. He wouldn’t stop trying to contact her, even though she’d made it clear she didn’t want to deal with any of this.

“Fine. I’ll be there at three. Text me your address.” 

She shook her head as she hung up. She didn’t have time for this kind of thing, and she wasn’t even the least bit interested in whatever mess her mother had left in her departure from the world. She wasn’t there for her when Amelia needed her most, she’d never forgiven her for that. She didn’t need anything from her now, and this afternoon, she would let this attorney know that once and for all. 

“Are you sure you’re ready to come back?” Trent asked as she turned to face the crime scene. The worry in his eyes infuriated her. “I can handle this if you need a few more days. Most everyone would.”

Amelia looked up at him like he had just punched her in the gut. Didn’t he know how much tougher this would all be if she didn’t have work to distract her? Taking time off now would be detrimental.

“I’m fine.” She knew she probably wasn’t fine. Exhausted emotionally and physically, she was barely hanging on. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night for weeks, but she didn’t want to sit at home by herself two days after burying her mother. She didn’t think Trent would understand that.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew she was lying, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. She was the most stubborn woman he knew.

 “We’ve been friends for a long time, Amelia. You know you can trust me.” He wanted to say more, but he had learned the hard way not to press her; she would talk when she was ready. 

She had been through so much, and he was there through all of it. Watching as she’d become hardened to emotions of any kind. None of this stopped him from worrying about her, but he didn’t know how to help. He figured he’d call Brenda later, Amelia’s best friend. Perhaps she could talk to her.

“I trust you,” she said through gritted teeth. “And I am fine.”

“Okay.” He held up his hands in defeat. “Well, if you decide you’re not fine, I’m here if you need to talk.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s canvas the area. See if we can get lucky with any security cameras or witnesses.” 

Trent was a nice guy. She did trust him, and she knew bottling up her feelings wasn’t ideal. But lifelong habits are difficult to let go of. And it wasn’t like she was about to open up to him. Maybe Brenda. Or a therapist when she had time.

She brushed her personal life to the side as an officer motioned them over to where a few uniforms and a CSI tech were standing. “Detectives, you will not believe this.”

Amelia looked over at Trent with a skeptical shrug, then headed over to see what had everyone in a trance. Trent begrudgingly followed her. She’d long since learned that whenever anyone said they found something unbelievable, there was a 50-50 chance of it being a complete waste of time. Most suspects didn’t leave those huge clues, and, often, even if it looked like they had, they proved to be a dead end after all.

This time they were right, though. As she stood in front of them, she could not believe it. Right there in plain view was a perfect fingerprint in blood on the sole of the victim’s shoe. 

Leave a Comment

%d bloggers like this: