“Please Mommy, can Tessa and I go play on the swing by the creek?” the little girl begs, pushing a blonde curl from her eyes. “We’ll stay together, and we promise to be safe.” Hours later, their mother waits anxiously for her darling girls to arrive home with a list of reasons why they are late. But the front door never opens…
When the bodies of eleven and twelve-year-old sisters, Tessa and Megan, are found at the bottom of a ravine—dressed in matching pastel summer outfits, their small bodies broken from the fall—Detective Katie Scott is called to one of the most shocking and heartbreaking crime scenes of her career.
Carefully picking through the fragile remains, Katie makes the first of many disturbing discoveries: the girls were not biological sisters. The youngest, Megan, is a DNA match to a kidnapping case years before. The tiny number burnt into her skin the mark of a terrifying killer intent on keeping count of his collection.
Her PTSD from the army triggered, Katie is left reeling as she maps other missing children in the local area. Has this twisted soul found a way to stay nearby his victims? Could he be watching now as Katie hits one dead end after another?
A wild storm building, matching a fiber found during the autopsy to a nearby boatyard is the break Katie needs. But when another girl goes missing, just as lightning strikes and the power goes out, Katie only has her instincts, her team and her service dog to rely on. As time runs out for Katie to finds the stolen child alive, who will become the next number on this monster’s deadly list?
Fans of Lisa Regan, Rachel Caine and Melinda Leigh, you better buckle-up for the ride of your life! BEWARE – this gripping crime thriller is guaranteed to keep you up all night!
Find out more about The Fragile Ones
READ AN EXCERPT
PROLOGUE
“Please can we go?” whined Tessa as
she followed her mother through the living room and into the kitchen. “Please,” she said again, pushing her
blonde curls away from her eyes. “I really want to go to the swing by the
creek.”
“Not
by yourself,” countered Mrs. Mayfield, ignoring her daughter’s angry stare.
“We’ve talked about this before.”
“Yes,
and you said I couldn’t go alone, and I’m not. Megan will be with me.” Tessa’s
older sister was barely a year older and her best friend. Her mother began
emptying the dishwasher, putting plates and glasses away in the cabinet. It was
unclear if she was thinking about what Tessa had said or not, so she tried
again. “I’m almost eleven and Megan
is almost twelve. We’re practically
teenagers,” she said. “Besides, Janey and her brother will probably be there.”
Mrs.
Mayfield laughed. “You know, you would be a good lawyer the way you make your
case.”
“I
don’t want to be a lawyer. I’m going to be a vet,” Tessa said, grinning.
“Well,
I know you are going to be whatever you want to be.” Mrs. Mayfield laughed to
herself as she slipped the last piece of silverware into the drawer and turned
to face her daughter. At the sound of her name, Megan had joined Tessa in the
doorway and they both stood quietly waiting for an answer. Glancing at the wall
clock with a sigh, she said, “You both have to be back by four thirty, not a second
later. Understand?”
“Thank
you! Thank you!” Tessa said, grabbing her sister’s hand in glee. Both girls
were in denim shorts and pastel T-shirts with their favorite matching blue
sneakers.
“Be
home on time,” their mom called after them.
“We
will,” chimed the girls.
Mrs.
Mayfield heard the front door shut, followed by the sound of running footsteps.
She
smiled and went back to her chores as the afternoon ticked by.
At 4:45 p.m.
Mrs. Mayfield was waiting impatiently to hear the girls enter the house with a
list of a dozen reasons why they were late—but the front door never opened. An
hour after that, unable to wait any longer, she looked outside, thinking that
the girls might be in the yard.
Debris
from a croquet set littered the lawn; the wooden mallets abandoned and colored
balls scattered as if the girls had been playing only moments ago. The
trampoline in the corner had one of the girls’ bright blue sweatshirts hanging
on the edge. It swayed slightly in the breeze.
There
was no sign of them.
She
ran through the house to the backyard, but it, too, was deserted. No whispers. No
giggles. No shrieks of laughter. The wind was picking up and whistling through
the branches and leaves of the surrounding trees—almost whispering a warning.
Mrs.
Mayfield pulled off her apron and reached for her coat, deciding to walk to the
creek and bring the girls back herself. At this point, she was more angry than
concerned, knowing how they could be forgetful when they were having fun, and
often lost track of time.
But
surely they would be on their way home by now? she thought to herself as
her pace quickened from a fast walk to a jog. Against her better judgment,
and knowing that she couldn’t shelter them forever, she had crumbled and let
them go down to the creek where one of the neighboring boys had constructed a
swing that they loved to play on.
And
now fear ripped through her body. “Tessa!” she yelled. “Megan!” Terrible
scenarios shuffled through her thoughts as she tried desperately to keep her
emotions on an even keel.
“Tessa!
Megan!”
She
yelled their names over and over until her voice went hoarse. Her chest felt
strangely heavy and her vision blurred as she ran, but her strength and
mother’s instinct pushed her forward, down the trail leading to the creek. The
trail was well-worn by local kids looking for adventure and fun. Stumbling as
she ran, she frantically turned left and then right. There wasn’t a soul
around… She was alone. She kept moving.
Looking
up at the tall pine trees, everything spun in a dizzying blur of forest and
darkening sky. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and open again, then stopped
for a moment to listen.
The
swing was only visible at the bottom of the path just above the creek and she
could hear the water rushing below. Peering over the edge, there was no sign of
them—or anyone. She kept turning, expecting to see her girls everywhere she
looked. They weren’t there. All around her were discarded candy wrappers and
remnants of fast food containers. Proof that children played here often.
There
was no sound apart from the whisper of the trees. No children laughing nearby.
“Megan!
Tessa!” she yelled again, but there was only silence. She ran all the way up
the trail to the street, still calling their names in a full-blown panic.
Mrs.
Mayfield turned her attention up the road, her mother’s instinct in high gear.
Something blue lying beneath a bush caught her eye and she ran towards it.
She
leaned down and her hand trembled over the light blue canvas before she forced
herself to grab the abandoned blue sneaker.
“No,”
she said, barely breathing.
Written
on the side tread of the shoe with a thick black pen was one word: Tessa.
About the Author
Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and USA Today BestSelling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor 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. Check out her website.
