Edge of Peril (Fog Lake Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  Edge of Peril

  Fog Lake Mysteries

  Christy Barritt

  Copyright © 2018 by Christy Barritt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Complete Book List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Also by Christy Barritt:

  You also might enjoy: Lantern Beach Mysteries

  Squeaky Clean Mysteries

  Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries:

  The Worst Detective Ever:

  About the Author

  Complete Book List

  Squeaky Clean Mysteries:

  #1 Hazardous Duty

  #2 Suspicious Minds

  #2.5 It Came Upon a Midnight Crime (novella)

  #3 Organized Grime

  #4 Dirty Deeds

  #5 The Scum of All Fears

  #6 To Love, Honor and Perish

  #7 Mucky Streak

  #8 Foul Play

  #9 Broom & Gloom

  #10 Dust and Obey

  #11 Thrill Squeaker

  #11.5 Swept Away (novella)

  #12 Cunning Attractions

  #13 Cold Case: Clean Getaway

  #14 Cold Case: Clean Sweep

  While You Were Sweeping, A Riley Thomas Spinoff

  The Sierra Files:

  #1 Pounced

  #2 Hunted

  #3 Pranced

  #4 Rattled

  #5 Caged (coming soon)

  The Gabby St. Claire Diaries (a Tween Mystery series):

  The Curtain Call Caper

  The Disappearing Dog Dilemma

  The Bungled Bike Burglaries

  The Worst Detective Ever

  #1 Ready to Fumble

  #2 Reign of Error

  #3 Safety in Blunders

  #4 Join the Flub

  #5 Blooper Freak

  #6 Flaw Abiding Citizen

  #7 Gaffe Out Loud (coming soon)

  #8 Joke and Dagger (coming soon)

  Raven Remington

  Relentless 1

  Relentless 2 (coming soon)

  Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries:

  #1 Random Acts of Murder

  #2 Random Acts of Deceit

  #2.5 Random Acts of Scrooge

  #3 Random Acts of Malice

  #4 Random Acts of Greed

  #5 Random Acts of Fraud

  #6 Random Acts of Outrage

  #7 Random Acts of Iniquity (coming soon)

  Lantern Beach Mysteries

  #1 Hidden Currents

  #2 Flood Watch

  #3 Storm Surge

  #4 Dangerous Waters

  #5 Perilous Riptide

  #6 Deadly Undertow

  Lantern Beach Romantic Suspense

  Tides of Deception

  Shadow of Intrigue

  Storm of Doubt (coming soon)

  Carolina Moon Series:

  Home Before Dark

  Gone By Dark

  Wait Until Dark

  Light the Dark

  Taken By Dark

  Suburban Sleuth Mysteries:

  Death of the Couch Potato’s Wife

  Cape Thomas Series:

  Dubiosity

  Disillusioned

  Distorted

  Standalone Romantic Mystery:

  The Good Girl

  Suspense:

  Imperfect

  The Wrecking

  Standalone Romantic-Suspense:

  Keeping Guard

  The Last Target

  Race Against Time

  Ricochet

  Key Witness

  Lifeline

  High-Stakes Holiday Reunion

  Desperate Measures

  Hidden Agenda

  Mountain Hideaway

  Dark Harbor

  Shadow of Suspicion

  The Baby Assignment

  Nonfiction:

  Characters in the Kitchen

  Changed: True Stories of Finding God through Christian Music (out of print)

  The Novel in Me: The Beginner’s Guide to Writing and Publishing a Novel (out of print)

  Chapter One

  Thick and pregnant with gray moisture, wisps of air played hide-and-seek with anyone caught in its mist.

  As he stood on the rickety dock on the dark autumn evening, his breath blended with the fog—just as he blended with it—and he marveled at the sight. It was like he was one with the element, like it was part of him, like it bent to his will.

  He breathed in and out. In and out. In and out.

  The action was even, steady, and showed no nerves.

  Probably because he wasn’t nervous.

  His big reveal was coming soon. Act One would begin, and the curtains to a person’s worst nightmare would part, revealing him to his next victim.

  He smiled at the thought of it, feeling like a kid at Christmas who was about to get just what he wanted.

  As if on cue, the fog parted long enough for him to see the lights in the window of the cabin in the distance.

  Long enough for him to spot the woman inside.

  Long enough for him to feel a pang of greedy hunger at what was to come.

  The first time the hunger had staked claim on him, fear had pricked his skin and closed his throat. He had trouble coming to terms with what he had to do.

  But, when he’d finished and seen his work, he’d never felt so . . . fulfilled.

  So fulfilled that he wanted to do it again.

  And so he had.

  He hadn’t been as nervous the second time.

  And his hunger—his need for blood—had only grown stronger, more overwhelming and undeniable. It pressed on him with such potency that he couldn’t ignore it.

  Now he needed more to satisfy him. He was like an alcoholic desperate for another drink to numb his inner demons.

  Or to feed them.

  Except this time, he’d enjoy the process more.

  He gripped the knife, repositioning his hands. The six-inch blade was sufficient. He’d sharpened it before he set out. The sharper, the better. Cleaner. Easier.

  Flexing his fingers, he waited. The timing had to be just right. But all was well as the cool air invigorated his lungs—invigorated him.

  In fact, the fog seemed to be in sync with his spirit. The ebb and flow of the clouds couldn’t have been orchestrated any better if he could control them. Its movement made everything feel shrouded with uncertainty.

  With delight, he pictured how everything would play out. In a m
oment, he would make his presence known. When the woman saw him, her adrenaline would kick into high gear. She’d anticipate his arrival yet try to convince herself that she was safe. That her fear was silly. That she was imagining things. That there was no watcher in the mist, standing like a ghost from the past.

  He smiled again.

  She wasn’t imagining things, though.

  He took a step closer, the wood of the old dock groaning beneath his boots.

  He was worse than a ghost.

  He was real.

  The fog rolled around him again.

  Knife still gripped in his hand, he took another step.

  Then he stood motionless.

  And he stared.

  He saw the woman again. She was sitting on her couch. Reading a book, maybe? She looked so peaceful and beautiful.

  It was almost too bad.

  But someone had to pay.

  And, tonight, she was the chosen one.

  He took out the bamboo cylinder from his pocket, put it to his lips, and blew. The eerie sound of the Native American flute filled the air like a sad melody before death. The tune he played was well-rehearsed, and it was haunting—haunting enough to scare anyone.

  It was his war cry.

  He continued to blow into the pipe. To watch.

  As the fog cleared, the woman looked up, finally hearing his song.

  Her eyes widened.

  Satisfaction pooled inside him.

  She’d spotted him.

  Fear ran through her gaze.

  Now she was on guard.

  Maybe she’d try to call 911.

  Go ahead. It wouldn’t matter.

  As the fog covered him again, he swiftly walked toward the door.

  Now was the time for the real fun to begin.

  Chapter Two

  Sheriff Luke Wilder paused at the door of the small rental cabin.

  James Cruise, his deputy, hurried past him and barely made it outside before he lost his breakfast on the patchy grass by the front porch.

  The poor guy hadn’t signed up for this. When Cruise became a sheriff’s deputy, no doubt he’d expected to handle noise complaints, parking violations, and the occasional drug-related incident. That was usually the extent of the criminal activity around here at Fog Lake, Tennessee.

  But not anymore. Not with three dead bodies in less than five months.

  Luke wasn’t ready to step inside the lakefront log home yet. No, he was still assessing the scene. And there was no hurry.

  Their victim wasn’t going anywhere.

  She lay in the center of the kitchen, blood pooling on the knotty pine around her.

  Luke waited until Cruise finished vomiting. Waited until the deputy straightened, wiped his mouth, and a moment of dignity had returned to his gaze.

  “Tell me what you know,” Luke said, his voice even and calm—a trait that frustrated anyone who’d ever wanted to get a reaction out of him.

  “Yes, sir. Yes, Sheriff.” Cruise wiped his mouth again.

  The kid was only twenty-one, but he seemed younger. Maybe it was because Luke had known him since he was a baby. Maybe it was his shorter build and skinny stature.

  But Luke couldn’t figure out for the life of him why his father, the former sheriff, had hired this boy. Cruise was a good kid, yes. And he was from a good family. But that didn’t mean he was cut out to be a cop.

  “Go on,” Luke said, waiting for Cruise to start. His deputy looked like he was fighting nausea again, like he was willing himself not to puke.

  “I got the call at seven this morning,” Cruise started, wiping his mouth with the edge of his sleeve again. “Larry Wheeler, the maintenance man with Axton Management Company, noticed that the door to this place had been open all morning. He was out here doing landscaping work. As he walked toward the house to check on things, he glanced inside and saw this woman on the floor. When he stepped closer, Larry knew it was too late—that she was dead—and he called the station.”

  “Did Larry come inside and disturb the crime scene?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Where’s Larry now? I’ll need to talk to him.”

  “He’s sitting in his truck. I told him we’d need a statement.”

  “Did you call the management agency yet to find out who was staying here?”

  “No, sir. I just called you.”

  “Good job, Cruise. Why don’t you go to your car, get yourself together, and make that call for me? I’ll check things out here.” Luke would also need to call in the TBI—Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. He hated to do it. He preferred to do things his own way.

  But right now, these crimes were bigger than the three people in his small sheriff’s department could handle. To not call would be irresponsible.

  Luke glanced around the outside perimeter and didn’t see anyone else near the cabin gawking or speculating about the presence of two sheriff’s vehicles. That was good. Because the town’s gossip chain would start soon enough. The more work Luke could do before he started fielding questions, the better.

  As Luke slipped paper booties over his shoes, he stared through the doorway. He already had a good idea of what to expect when he stepped inside. But he needed to rid himself of any bias. Every scene required an open mind. Every scene deserved an open mind.

  But, as Luke moved into the crime scene, the stench inside swept him back in time.

  Blood. The metallic, rotting odor transported him back to his days as a detective in Atlanta. Took him back to the Rocky Ridge murders. The string of deaths had nearly been his undoing.

  Luke glanced down at the woman on the floor.

  Just as he suspected, she was a brunette. Slender. In her twenties. Pretty. Just like the last two victims.

  He would guess she was staying here alone.

  Luke would also guess that she’d been killed by a single cut across her neck.

  There would be no sign of sexual assault or even a struggle. No, it was like a ghost had stepped inside the house, sliced her throat, and disappeared.

  Of course, Luke would only think those things if he began making assumptions again.

  Which he wouldn’t do.

  As he peered at her face, he sucked in a quick breath.

  Just as he suspected—the victim’s blood had been smeared in small circles across her cheeks, almost making her look like a doll.

  It was the killer’s calling card, so to speak.

  This town needed a lot of prayers right now. Once word of this leaked out, the tourists would be running far away from here.

  And the town’s livelihood would die.

  Again.

  Harper Jennings parked her ten-year-old sedan on the street and climbed out. As she slammed her door, her rearview mirror fell to the dashboard, and she sighed.

  She’d tried to have it fixed three times now, and nothing seemed to work. Couldn’t she ever catch a break?

  She’d deal with that later.

  Right now, she paused.

  A cool fall breeze enveloped her, and she drew in a deep breath of fresh mountain air. This couldn’t be the right place. Fog Lake looked like a forgotten Mayberry, not like the setting of a real-life slasher movie.

  In its heyday, this town had probably been extraordinary. It had all the right bones in place.

  Main Street, where she stood, had plenty of frontage, and rustic signs boasted of businesses new and old. A movie theater advertised one film with one showing per day. The standard hardware store, diner, restaurant, gift shop, and art gallery all stood within sight.

  In the spirit of October, pumpkins and haybales had been placed on corners. A banner across the street proclaimed an invite to the upcoming Fog and Hog Festival. Fog and Hog? It sounded interesting.

  All around the town, the Smoky Mountains rose up like a mighty fortress. Clouds rimmed the tops of the autumn-drenched peaks. And, somewhere in the distance, the lake stretched out like a body about to be put to rest.

  The beautiful lake that wa
s always draped with fog. With mystery. Romance. Intrigue. Online articles called it “atmospheric.”

  It was almost perfect here.

  As the thought rolled through her mind, Harper sucked in a long breath.

  Except it wasn’t.

  She knew every place had its secrets. But this town seemed to be brimming with them. The constant fog surrounding the place almost seemed like an overflow of sin from the town’s underbelly.

  A shiver raked down her spine at the mental image.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have come here. Harper still had nightmares about the events that began eight years ago. Even on a good night, she could hardly sleep. Every creak awakened her. Her dreams were tormented, like an unseen force drove them into a valley of madness, and she was unable to steer them back into peaceful territory.

  Every. Single. Night.

  Yet Harper had no choice but to come to Fog Lake.

  As a crowd passed on the sidewalk, most wearing jeans, flannel shirts, and boots, Harper glanced down. She probably should have changed before she came here. She was definitely overdressed for the outdoorsy community in her black pencil skirt, heels, and button-up blouse.

  But Harper hadn’t had time to change. When she’d heard about the newest murder victim, she’d told her boss she had to take some vacation time, and she’d left right then. She hadn’t even been sure her old clunker of a car would make the nine-hour trip from DC. It didn’t matter. She was determined to get here, even if she had to walk.

  What she didn’t know was how her presence here would be received. How people would react to her story. If she was wise to walk into a killer’s den like this.