by Mia
Thompson
(Stalking
Sapphire, #3)
Published
by: Diversion Books
Publication
date: October 6th 2016
Genres: New
Adult, Thriller
Synopsis
Sapphire
Dubois is back in the follow-up to the international bestsellers STALKING
SAPPHIRE and SILENCING SAPPHIRE, fighting her most grueling serial killer yet.
A
summer has passed since the catastrophe at the country club. Heiress and
vigilante Sapphire Dubois has escaped to Paris, where she has shed her rich
persona and lives as the infamous Serial Catcher. When the handsome Detective
Aston Ridder tracks her down, Sapphire returns home to find Beverly Hills in
chaos. A new vigilante has taken over Sapphire’s old job, and will stop at
nothing to get her predecessor out of the way.
Meanwhile,
a man with dark intentions and a deceiving smile has nestled his way into the
rich community and is killing off heiresses. It doesn’t take long before
Sapphire finds that this man, the next killer she has to catch, is none other
than her estranged father. Already plagued by sickening memories, Sapphire is
pushed to the limit when her father initiates a deranged game that threatens
both her sanity and the lives of everyone around her.
While
Aston struggles to keep the woman he loves from drowning in her father’s
madness, Sapphire battles to outwit her merciless opponents before time runs
out and more innocent blood is spilled.
Excerpt
“Merde!”
the serial killer yelled in French.
Sapphire
Dubois leered down at the man she’d chased from France to Italy. She’d gotten
lucky; she didn’t even have to dig most of the hole this time. It was a grave
yet to be filled. The ancient cemetery lay in darkness, but the glistening city
below the hill gave her the light she needed.
“Who
are you?” he yelled. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“That’s
funny, Monsieur,” Sapphire said in her best French. “I’d bet my last baguette
that’s exactly what the women asked you right before you killed them.”
He
glared up at her with a look of guilt that lacked regret; the look of a
sociopath. “Are you a cop?”
“Ha!”
Sapphire slapped her knee, then turned serious. “I’m much worse than a cop,
Monsieur.
I’m…
your toaster oven.”
His
head cocked. “Huh?”
Sapphire
scrambled for the French dictionary on her phone. “Ah crap! I totally meant to
say ‘your worst nightmare.’ This app sucks.”
The
man didn’t seem to care about the rating of her app; he was more concerned with
getting out of the deep grave. Self-centered creatures, serial killers.
“Save
your energy, the cops will be here to take you out in a bit. I’m sure even
Interpol is eager to get their hands inside you.”
His
face twisted in revulsion.
“I
mean of you. No, hands on you… damn it. I swear I’m usually good at this
stuff.” Sapphire’s years at Winchester Private Academy had made her semi-fluent
in French. Had she studied text books as much as she’d secretly studied the
psychology of serial killers, she may have been fluent.
Sapphire’s
high heels dug into the dirt as she walked over to the bush and grabbed the
barbed wire and a boom box manufactured in the Jurassic period.
As
the Serial Catcher—the name the American police had given Sapphire—she would
have dropped an anonymous call to give the cops the whereabouts, but she
couldn’t stick to her routine. The cops back home had kept the Serial Catcher
on the DL from the media. She wasn’t sure Interpol would, and she couldn’t have
the news get back to a certain cop in the States. Though she was sure he had no
idea Sapphire Dubois—the heiress he’d slept with—was the vigilante he’d been
searching for, he knew the Serial Catcher’s M.O. better than anyone. Sapphire
had led him to believe she was in Dubai by placing her cell in someone’s
luggage at the airport, and that’s what he needed to keep believing.
“This
look familiar?” She showed the killer the barbed wire then placed it so it’d be
the first thing the cops saw.
“Merde.”
He stared at the bundle. Of course it looked familiar. He’d been using it to
cut women’s heads off all over Europe for the past six months. The British
papers had dubbed him the Barbed-wire Butcher.
“You
like heavy metal, Monsieur? Or are you more of a Kelly Clarkson type of guy?”
Sapphire didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed play and the song Serial Killer
filled the cemetery.
“Fitting,
isn’t it?”
“You’re
crazy!” He shouted in French.
“Said
the serial killer in the hole.”
It’d
be easier to just kill him. Sapphire froze at the thought. She stared at the
killer pacing his pen. It would be easier. Sapphire had trained in Mixed
Martial Arts for years. She could take him out then dig deeper down in the
grave. A casket would be placed on top and nobody would know there was a second
body in there. It would be safer for her; she wouldn’t have to worry about
potential exposure.
Sapphire
shook her head to silence the thought. She turned the volume to max and picked
up her prepaid phone to make an anonymous noise complaint to the police using
her limited Italian. She hung up, then took in the view. The Leaning Tower of
Pisa looked magnificent in the distance and made her smile. The summer had been
amazing. The life of the old Sapphire—the Beverly Hills heiress who secretly
captured serial killers and pined for the cop chasing her—felt like decades
ago. That life had been complicated and full of duties she hated. She’d led a
double life. She’d faked, fibbed, and sipped champagne at the country club by
day, then hunted murderous men by night.
The
new Sapphire didn’t have to lie. She’d chased the Barbed-wire Butcher around
Europe, on and off during the summer, and not a single person had asked where
she’d been or what she’d been doing. She had ultimate freedom, a dream life.
She’d
connected the dots in Spain where she saw that a few of the victims had Liked
and Favorited Moga: mobile yoga for people on the go. Two had mentioned a
certain instructor they had the hots for. It was a classic case of Moga
groupies. Sapphire found the French travelling Moga instructor’s schedule and
raced ahead of him to Pisa. She went to eight of his classes and acted like a
super-groupie, wearing short shorts and sports bras. She’d twirled her hair and
giggled at whatever he said. By the time he’d asked her out on a “date,” she’d
gotten pretty decent at Moga. It was a win-win.
“I’m
afraid I have a train to catch.” Sapphire looked at the time. “But I’m sure
you’ll love prison, plenty of barbed-wire there for you. And, oh…” She put her
palms together and bowed. “Namasté.”
She
jogged through the cemetery as the music and the man’s scream streamed into
one. She’d stared at the leaning tower for too long and now had to haul ass in
high heels and a mini skirt to catch the train back to Paris.
The
dark gravestones panned by in her periphery and she decided to take a shortcut.
An icy claw dragged down her spine and she picked up the pace. She knew it was
just her imagination, but the cemetery was suddenly a menacing reminder of the
ghosts of her past. She raced to the moss-covered wall and scaled it. When her
feet hit the ground and the cemetery was behind her, the creepy chill eased and
the warm July wind wrapped itself around her.
Life
is good, she reminded herself as she headed for the station.
And
as everyone knows, all good things last forever.
Purchase
AUTHOR BIO
Mia
Thompson is a Swedish-born author living in Sacramento, California. Her
international bestsellers, Stalking Sapphire and Silencing Sapphire, were published
in 2013, and followed by the third book in the series, Sentencing
Sapphire.
Author Links
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