USA Today Bestselling Author
Introducing a new thriller series
that keeps you guessing and on your toes
through every twist and unexpected turn….
The unlikely team of Detective Kate Morgan and Simon St. Laurant, an unwilling psychic, marries all the unpredictable and passionate elements of Mayer’s work that readers have come to love and crave.
Newly promoted detective Kate Morgan stands up for the victims in the world, never backing down or giving up. From a family of victims, Kate will not tolerate those who take advantage of others. The worst ones prey on the hopes of desperate people to line their own pockets.
And when Kate finds a connection between more than a half-dozen cold cases to a recent case–where a child’s life is in jeopardy–she’ll make a deal with the devil himself to protect the child.
Having the gift of Sight, Simon St. Laurant knows that once he uses it, he can never walk away. But when nightmares of his own past are triggered, Simon can’t stand back. Determined to help, Simon vows to save these children–even if it means dealing with the cranky and critical Detective Kate Morgan.
Kate Morgan is not having an easy time in her new position as detective. Her supposed team is still missing the man she replaced who died in the line of duty. While she gets it, it means she also works solo. She’s been working cold cases, reviewing files, looking for similarities any thing that might connect something. She also keeps a copy of her brother Timmy’s file on her desk as a reminder why she’s doing this job. She’s getting some air at a park when on of her team calls they found another, this one a little boy.
Simon St. Laurant wakes from a recurring nightmare, a little boy and man that Simon recognizes the look of a predator in the man. He doesn’t understand why he’s having these nightmares again. He kicks himself out if it only to be thrown back into a different scene, and then another. Most of his dreams are of things past, except lately they seem to be more current and he’s having visions outside of his dreams as well..
In spite of his personal feelings about the police, he knows he has to share what he’s been seeing. He knows he’ll face skepticism and he’s not looking forward to it.
Kate’s the one who’s sent to interview him, and the one dream from the past the child’s name is Timothy. This of course sets Kate off.
This is a favorite scene.
He fisted his hands on the table, leaned forward, and said, “The same little boy being walked down Hastings Street under the shadow of the lights, a little boy not more than five, maybe six, years old, holding the hand of some old guy, who scares the crap out of me.”
“Interesting,” she murmured. She studied him closely for any signs of deception, but nothing was really there, as far as she could tell. He was telling the truth, as he believed it to be, but, so far, he hadn’t said anything definitive yet. “Can you identify the little boy?” “Only that he’s got some lollipop in his free hand, and he’s wearing a little Burberry coat,” he said. “I can’t tell what color it is.”
“Why is that? You said there were lampposts.”
“He is walking under the lampposts, yes, but everything is in shades of grays.”
“Your nightmares are in gray?”
“This one is, yes.”
“So then what happens?” she asked, intrigued in spite of herself. She didn’t know what it had to do with the police, but she could imagine that a dream, nightmare, as he’d said, that would happen over and over again would really piss off a guy like this. That fascinated her as much as anything.
“I just hear this voice that calls out, ‘Timothy.’”
“Timothy?” she said, questioning, her body stiffening at the name.
“Timothy?” she snapped, her feet flat on the floor. “Is this some sick joke?”
He looked at her in surprise. “No,” he said. “What are you talking about?”
She stared at him and then gave a hard headshake. No, he couldn’t know. Besides, her Timmy had gone missing during the day, not the evening, and had happened a long time ago. “Look. I don’t know what your nightmare is all about,” she said, “or why you think you need to tell me about it. I’m a homicide detective, in case you didn’t know.” She stopped, took a deep breath. “But if you don’t have anything else, then this interview is over.”
“This is an interview?” he asked curiously.
“Look, sir,” she snapped. “Do you have anything else you feel like you need to tell me?”
“Yes,” he said, “I just know that— because of the styles of clothing, the shades of gray— this happened a long time ago.”
He stared at her.
Yet he seemed more confused than mad. “And?”
Her fist clenched on her lap, she stared at the half-moons half-moons that her fingernails had embedded into the palm of her hand in order to stop the scream from reaching up her throat. She wanted nothing more than to grab this guy by the throat and to shake the truth from him.
“The trouble is, it goes from that image to another image within a little room,” he said, “with toys and a toddler’s bed, but no child is there, just a blanket. But it’s got some plastic wrapping around it that’s a different color, not so dark. Unfortunately then it goes to an absolutely beautiful little girl in a fancy little bed.” His tone was heavy. “The little girl in the bed is crying her eyes out. She’s in a basement. It looks like a basement or maybe a cellar. I don’t know,” he said. “She’s got just a blanket, and blood’s on the bed. She is crying, as if her heart is breaking.” And then he fell silent.
She sat back and looked at him. “And it’s the same nightmare over and over again?”
“The same one for a week now,” he said bitterly. “Until last night.”
“What about last night?” she asked, but inside she knew. Dear God, inside she knew.
“Last night, another child was added to the sequence,” he said. “A little boy, a little bit older, like six, maybe seven. I don’t know children’s ages. Skinny, curled up in the bed, but he wasn’t even breathing. In the nightmare I zoomed down, and he was just lying there, and I couldn’t see him moving or breathing. There was like a weird outline to him.”
“Did you see anything that can identify these children? Or where they are located?” she asked lightly. But she was gripping the pen in her hand so hard that it was in danger of breaking. “I would have said no,” he said.
“I would have said it could be any child, anywhere in the world. That’s one of the reasons I never came in to the cops before. Although I’ve had these particular nightmares for the last few weeks, I’ve had them off and on in various forms for years. I’ve always just ignored them, but now I can’t ignore them anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“Because this newest little boy has a name on the bed above his head. It read ‘Jason.’ No last name, just the first name.”
“And you can’t give me any physical description of him?”
“Emaciated to the point of being starved,” he said bluntly. His tone still easily portrayed the horror of what he had experienced in his nightmares. “He’s drawn, skinny, like you could see inside him. His skin was almost translucent.”
“And, if the child were dead, how long has he been dead?”
He shook his head. “I got the impression it was recent. But I don’t think he was—” And then he stopped, shook his head, and looked away. “I don’t put any credence into this,” he said. “So you probably shouldn’t either.”
“Well, I don’t have anything to put credence into yet,” she said drily. “So why don’t we just go down this mythical pathway and see if anything is there?”
“Have you had anything to do with psychics before?”
“Hell no,” she said forcibly. “I only believe in what I can see and hear and feel.”
He stared at her. “Of course I would be talking to you.”
“Do you consider yourself a psychic?”
“Hell no,” he said. “But I can’t help but wonder if these nightmares don’t have some kind of fact-based realism.”
“Fact-based realism?” She had never heard that phrase before. “If you had given me anything to identify any of these children with,” she said, “I could look them up in the files.”
“It’s the first time I saw a name on the bed,” he said, “but I definitely got the impression the child had been there for a while.”
“Starved to death?”
“I’m afraid that was probably the least of his problems,” he said softly.
She studied his face, seeing the pain, the tired lines in the corner of his eyes, the faint anger masked around his lips, as he clenched them tight. “It makes you angry, doesn’t it?”
He glared at her, not liking the sound of that. “I didn’t do anything to these children,” he said, “but whoever did hasn’t stopped.”
She sat back. “Why do you say that?”
“I think, when I saw the first nightmare,” he said, “since it seemed to have been such a long time ago, I ignored it. But then I had another one and then another, and each time they came back around, another child had been in the group.”
“If that’s true,” she said, “then whoever this person is has taken four.”
Then he shook his head. “No,” he said, “because it’s quite possible he’s taken a lot more, and I just haven’t connected.”
“Connected?” she pounced. “So you are thinking along psychic terms?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not thinking on any terms. I just know these damn nightmares won’t leave me alone, and last night I saw the name Jason. And the child maybe was six, and I can’t give you any more than that.”
“Well, it’s not much,” she said, “but I’ll need your contact details.”
He just stared at her.
“If it does turn out to be something, I obviously have to contact you again,” she said. “Not to mention the fact that every visit here is recorded.”
He swore softly.
“Is that a problem?” she asked. And again she studied him intently. Everybody gave away so much in their body language that they weren’t aware of. But, in his case, no, he kept his cool, even as the small tic in the corner of his jaw pulsed away. She watched it, fascinated, because she never understood if it was a muscular thing or a nervous sign. But, in his case, it was neither.
He was thinking hard. He turned to look at her, nodded, and said, “My name is Simon St. Laurant,” and he went on to add his phone number and address.
“That’s a pretty high-end area for you to live,” she said, staring at the False Creek North address she’d written down.
“For me to live?”
“For anybody,” she said smoothly. “In other words, it takes money to live there.”
“If you say so,” he said curiously. “Money comes. Money goes,” he added. “I try not to worry about it too much.”
Her pen stopped in the act of writing down his address. “Isn’t it nice that you can say that,” she said. “Most of the world can’t.”
“I’m not most of the world,” he said, once again settling back into that arrogance she’d seen in him when he’d first arrived.
She nodded, stood, and said, “I’ll see you out.”
“Will you check?” he asked abruptly, as they reached the entrance door, where he would walk back out onto the street.
She nodded. “I’ll check.”
He flashed her a brilliant smile that had her stopping still in amazement. “That’s all I can ask,” he said, and he turned and walked out.
Dale Mayer. Simon Says… Hide (Kindle Locations 231-308). Valley Publishing.
Of course his nightmares and visions relate to her current case, something she didn’t expect.
Now to determine if this Simon person is involved or really just some sort of psychic.
Several interesting things happen as this book continues, another body for one, and then Simon seems to come up with some very accurate stuff when she needs it most.
Edge of your seat suspense, laughter, tears, intrigue and a touch of heat in this excellent beginning to a new series.
5 Contented Purrs for Dale!
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Dale Mayer is a USA Today bestselling author best known for her Psychic Visions and Family Blood Ties series. Her contemporary romances are raw and full of passion and emotion (Second Chances, SKIN), her thrillers will keep you guessing (By Death series), and her romantic comedies will keep you giggling (It’s a Dog’s Life and Charmin Marvin Romantic Comedy series).
She honors the stories that come to her – and some of them are crazy and break all the rules and cross multiple genres!
To go with her fiction, she also writes nonfiction in many different fields with books available on resume writing, companion gardening and the US mortgage system. She has recently published her Career Essentials Series. All her books are available in print and ebook format.