Forty-eight hours ago, a serial murder case that spanned nine years ended. Or did it?
Four children intrude upon the scene of the suicide of Henry Slater, claiming he’s their dad. Dr. Frank Khaos and Detective Sam Wright become their temporary guardians. The goal—to find the children’s biological mothers. Or has Henry Slater added them to his dossier of kills? Through the investigation, the NYPD detectives and FBI Special Agent Brett Case uncover a kidnapping ring and do find the mothers, but are they fit—and willing to take their children back? As Sam and Frank fall in love with them over nine weeks, and the reality sets in, Libra, the Scale of Justice kicks their butts. What’s right for the children is against the law.
Another case falls into Agent Case’s lap. A murder spree and drug involvement with Jarrett Miller, Vicki Trenton’s first husband. To make matters worse, Miller has ties to the biological parents of Dr. Khaos whom he has to travel to Florida to confront as a stipulation to the execution of Slater’s will.
How will Frank deal with the two people who’ve been his Achilles’ heel his entire life, and will he and Sam get the family they desire so much?
Excerpt
Detective Lex Withers blew out a breath of relief as he observed crime scene techs still putting down markers throughout the Upper West Side Manhattan apartment—over two hundred markers. Two teams of investigators were there now, all wearing Tyvek protective gear with nothing left up to chance. No telling what that Slater character would do to exterminate all of them. Withers trusted the system. Yeah, he was feeling pretty good now. Feeling good he was a cop.
When his cell rang, he went out into the hall to answer it. Markers lay on the carpet, and a long table holding photography equipment hugged the wall. He nodded, acknowledging what an arduous process this would be as he leaned against the spotless bone and gold wallpaper, talking on his phone.
At the other end of the hall, an elevator door slid open. With his back turned, Withers didn’t notice. The eldest child, Benjamin Slater struggled to push his sister’s stroller over the tracks, and then he started to roll it down the hall as the next oldest, Mel, held the toddler, Henry’s, hand. They didn’t get far.
Squeaky wheels on the stroller caught Withers’s attention, and he turned around. Stopping his conversation mid-word, he disconnected the call without saying “goodbye,” then put up his hand for the children to stop. “Whoa. Hold on.” Smiling, he approached them. “And who might you be?” His gaze scanned the older children before settling on the infant in the stroller.
The children just stared at him, then at the markers, then at the cluttered table but remained silent. Withers gave them their space. He knew damn well who they were. Frank Khaos was spot-on. There were little Henry Slaters out there. Their forensic psychiatrist did indeed have more nieces and nephews. The detective removed his badge from his pocket and showed it to them. “I’m a detective with the New York City Police Department. My name is Lex Withers.”
The older boy’s eyes widened in astonishment. “A real police badge? I never saw one up close.” His gaze darted around the hall. “And why are there cops outside our house?”
Mel trembled. “And where’s our dad?”
“And who is your dad?” Withers asked. The question was merely for confirmation. The older boy was a miniature Henry Slater with hair, and come to think of it, a miniature Frank Khaos, too. Damn!
“Henry Slater,” Mel said.
Withers bit the inside of his cheek to prevent expletives from flowing out of his mouth. Some choice words certainly filled his brain. This wasn’t what he wanted to confront right now, though he already knew it. “All right. Listen to me, okay?” The children nodded. He continued. “We’re going to help you, so there’s no need to be afraid of us, understand?” The children nodded again. Withers smiled. “Good. I need you to help me out, too, and answer my questions, okay? Who else lives here with you?”
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