LAST SCREAM

1st-Five Chapters

 EACH SCREAM COULD BE YOUR LAST

  He kidnaps them. Punishes them. Sends them to hell.

 Then he displays them so everyone will know they are sinners.

  IF HE FINDS YOU

 Texas Ranger William H. Thomas is called to a small town where the body of a mutilated woman has been found. She's kneeling and trussed to a tree, and her hands are tied together as if in prayer. Something horrific lies in her arms. No sooner does he catch the case, when the FBI swoops in to take it.

 HE WILL NEVER

 Special Agent Savannah St. Germaine, from the Louisiana branch of the FBI, is working a case in which the killer leaves his victims nailed up in crucifixion fashion. A similar MO shows up in Texas. Certain it's the same killer, she heads to Austin to investigate further. Her suspicions are confirmed, but the powers that be aren't willing to hand over the case. If she wants to work it, she'll have to partner up with one of their own.

 LET YOU GO

  Lorelei Hamilton finally gets the nerve to leave her abusive husband. Everything is well thought out. She’ll ditch her car, dump her cell phone, change her name and establish a new identity. But she hadn't planned on being abducted by a psychopath who makes her husband's violent outbursts look like child's play.

 Now Will and Savannah are on the hunt for the most sadistic serial killer the South has ever seen. Can they catch him before he claims another victim?

ONE

 The cool night air blanketed the earth as a sliver of the sun's rays crept above the horizon. Newly retired, Cleatis Johnson parked his truck in the dirt alongside the road next to the empty field. As he opened the door, Duke, his English Setter, bounded over his lap in his enthusiasm to get out.

     "Hey!" Cleatis rubbed his belly where an errant paw had gained purchase. He pulled down the brim on his favorite B & B cap and got out of the vehicle. Duke barked at him to hurry.

     "Jesus, calm down. Would ya?" It was opening day of dove season and the moment the dog saw the shotgun come out, he'd been all but quivering with excitement. Cleatis hoped to bag his limit of birds long before the heat got too fierce and crack open an icy cold beer to celebrate. 

     September in Texas was always warm, but they were having an especially brutal heat wave this week. He opened the back door of the extended cab and grabbed two bottles of water from the cooler, then slipped them in the outer stash pockets of his hunting vest.

     He filled the pullout loop panels with shotgun shells, shoved beef jerky in one pocket and his keys in another before zipping them shut. Then he removed his 20-gauge shotgun from the case. Duke ran around in circles kicking up dust.

     Cleatis chuckled as he squinted toward the rising sun.    "Hold your horses, I'm hurrying."

     He locked the truck, then cracked the gun and loaded it. "Okay, let’s go, boy." Duke ran ahead, ready to flush his first bevy of birds.

     By the time Cleatis had bagged eight birds, he felt as if he'd walked ten miles. At sixty-five, his body tired a lot quicker than it used to. He removed his cap and wiped the sweat from his brow before plopping it back on his head. It was time to get out of this blistering heat and rest his weary bones. He'd gobble some of that tasty beef jerky and maybe pour a little water over his head to cool himself off. He noticed a copse of trees and headed straight for them. He had to traverse down a steep little hill, but he made it without incident.