The only break in her tranquil life was the death of her boyfriend Patrick Devon, which left her heartbroken and unable to understand Patrick’s sullen, withdrawn brother Lonnie. But when her best friend Reatha Alcoker disappears, her sense of security is shattered. With the help of Reatha’s boyfriend Milo Durham, she launches a search for her friend.
More girls disappear, and bodies begin turning up . . .
When one of the missing girls is found dead in a swamp with a symbol burned into her forehead, Sennie focuses on her growing list of suspects. She can’t count on help from the lazy, lecherous Sheriff Warford Cackley. She also has suspicions the sheriff’s son Rex and his nasty friend Ottis know more than they’re willing to share.
Someone is watching Sennie’s every move . . .
Refusing to believe Reatha is dead, Sennie and Milo continue their frantic search, and Sennie is plagued with threatening messages. When another girl’s body is discovered, she and Milo visit the site and find evidence that Reatha has also been there. Some aerial photographs might hold a vital clue . . . if they can find them in time.
As Sennie unravels a tangled web of secrets, arson, burglary, and murder, could it be that a desire to help Sennie has warped the mind of a murderer?
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Anxiety ran its swift edge through her stomach without warning as she turned to gaze across the lake and into the surrounding dense forest.
Someone is watching me. I wish I could see through the trees. They could be anywhere.
She rubbed her hand down the length of her arm. There was no movement, except for the gentle swaying of the trees as the early dawn breeze rustled their needles and thick, green leaves. She turned forward, but the uneasy feeling didn’t pass. Someone was watching her. The chestnut brown hairs on the back of her neck, just under her long ponytail, prickled.
Evil is on the prowl, waiting for the right moment to pounce on me.
Bringing her knees to her chest, a ripple of fear dotted her spine, making her skin crawl. The first time she had experienced this feeling was in May, the week school had ended for summer break. The rumors about two girls who had gone missing stayed in the back of her mind. It wasn’t unusual for girls to run off from the small town of Mayrose, Arkansas. They would most likely be found in Little Rock, sad and miserable because city life hadn’t turned out the way they had thought it would. But so far, no one had been able to track down the two latest missing girls. That was unusual.
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