I’m always on the lookout for a new paranormal mystery.
The cover art for this book grabbed me right away.
Then I read the story takes place in Specter, Georgia and I was sold.
I live in the south and always find it fun to read stories that have a southern location. Sometimes I even recognize the places mentioned in the books and that makes it more real for me.
Come on in and check out American Specter.
I have an awesome trailer for ya and the first chapter too!
American Specter
Rasheedah Prioleau
Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Date of Publication: Feb, 2014
ISBN: 978-0692226582 / ASIN: B00IOWGVZY
Number of pages: 248 / Word Count: 72,000
Cover Artist: Roger Raymond
Book Description:
FBI Agent Audra Wheeler has been haunted for the last thirteen years by a paranormal attack that left her sister, Kendra, in a coma. Mentored by FBI Assistant Director Jonathan Cordero to investigate crimes committed by specters, Audra believes she is on the trail of a ‘serial killer’ specter with a MO very similar to her sister’s attacker.
The investigation takes her to a small town of Specter, Georgia; a haven for ghosts who exist among the living.
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[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6m6vTxw-Yg]
Available at Amazon
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A special Excerpt
AUDRA MEETS ELI
The state prison that housed Eli Shelley was nearly forty-five minutes away from the small town of Specter, Georgia. Eric Neil must have caught the edge of her mood as he refrained from speaking to her for the entire duration of the trip. When she parked in a visitor’s spot and took the key from the ignition, Eric reached over and placed a calming hand over hers.
She looked at him gratefully. He smiled and winked. Without a word, they exited the car. Audra dispensed with any notion of pleasantry as she impatiently flashed her badge at everything that attempted to talk to her until she was placed in a small room with Eric to wait for them to produce Eli Shelley.
When the door opened, Audra was taken aback by what she saw. If the triplets had been hard to tell apart five years ago, there would be no mistaking one for the other now.
Eli had beefed up in prison. He was at least two hundred pounds of steel muscle, and his tall frame made every ounce of him more intimidating than Audra had anticipated. He had the same dark hair and eyes as his brothers, and she could see the resemblance in the shape of his nose and the set of his mouth, but that was where the similarities came to a screeching halt.
His hands and legs were bound with shackles. A guard, no more than half of Eli’s size, escorted him to the table. He helped Eli take a seat, and hooked his shackles to a lock on the floor.
Eli smiled as if the visit were a welcome surprise. Audra slapped her badge on the table, and the smile fell from his face. The guard stood in the corner to the right.
“Leave,” Audra said.
“But, I have to watch,” the guard began.
Eric grabbed the guard by the collar and pushed him out of the room. “We’ll call if we need you.”
“What happened?” Eli asked.
“Gwyneth Miller was murdered,” Audra said flatly.
She watched as the giant of a man shackled in a prison uniform wilted right in front of her.
“How?” his voice was authoritative but still barely above a whisper.
“We can’t explain how, but her windpipe was crushed by an unknown force.”
“What do you mean force?” Eli questioned.
“That is as much as I can tell you,” Audra said and watched him get angry. “I’m here about Abigail Stevens.”
“What about her?” He looked down and swallowed.
“We recently found a letter from you to her that was unopened.”
“So you think I must have killed her,” Eli stated.
“Did you?” Eric asked.
“No.” Eli looked at Audra when he answered. “I loved Abigail. After all we’d been through…” He allowed a smile as charming as his politician brother’s to touch his lips. “She was a spit-fire.”
“What can you tell us about her?” Audra sat back to read his body language as it relaxed while he conjured up memories of Abigail Stevens.
“She was skinny,” he began. “It was the first thing I noticed about that girl when I was in high school. She was so damned skinny. I wondered if she ever ate. She wasn’t nothing but twelve I guess, and a pretty easy target to pick on cause she was one of those poor kids of the Native people, as we called them. I’m sure there is a politically correct way to say it. Anyway, most little girls ignore stuff like that, or run away crying. But not her. I said something about her chicken legs and she came right back with well, you noticed them didn’t you?” Eli laughed.
“Twelve years old and I guess I was sixteen,” he continued. “I saw her off and on in town, then I went off to college and came back to visit. Kenneth was all geeked up about professor Hawthorne at the high school while he was interning. Brendon and I never really cared for that smarty-pants guy. But, anyway, he went to visit him at the school and took me to meet his smarty-pants boyfriend while he was tutoring some students. And there she was. I recognized her face, but she wasn’t so skinny anymore. She caught me looking at her legs and smiled. Still looking aren’t you?” Eli tried to mock Abigail Stevens’ sixteen-year-old voice.
“Bold girl. I liked it. No games, just straightforward. She got pregnant, and we came up with a plan to elope after I graduated. I had just a couple of months left when her mother found out and tried to make her tell who the father was. She said one of the Shelley boys. But, she never named me. I don’t know why that bothered me. It was like she was saying it was one of us, but really didn’t know which one it was.
“I knew there was no chance that she slept with Kenneth, so I asked Brendon if the baby could be his. He just shrugged and said anything was possible. Now that I’m older I know he was bullshitting. He was drunk or high most of the way through college. Abigail was all about being alcohol and drug free. I couldn’t even smoke around her. Anyway, I asked Abigail if it were possible that it was Brendon’s. She swore no way.
“I asked her why she didn’t name me. She asked me why I didn’t name myself. I know it was a cruel thing to do, but I said I wasn’t sure if I should. The look that girl gave me could freeze water. Next thing I know my parents and her mother made a deal; she’d give up the baby in exchange for money…
CHAPTER ONE
It was half past noon on Monday when Special Agent Audra Wheeler of the FBI stepped into the apartment of Gwyneth Miller. She’d been in Savannah the prior week but, as a native New Yorker, she was sure that she would never get used to the stifling Georgia heat. She noted that the air conditioner was not on as she walked across the living room, listening to the muffled sounds of country cops inevitably messing up Gwyneth’s room that was now an official FBI crime scene.
Gwyneth Miller was the fifth victim of a suspected serial killer of the specter variety, who had a thing for dark haired, dark eyed women sleeping alone. As she stepped into the crime scene, Audra activated the specter shield she wore around her left wrist to block any specters from getting within five feet of her.
She’d spent nearly four years on special assignments with the FBI investigating specter crimes and bringing them to justice. The biggest problem with catching a criminal specter was that they never left any physical evidence, no DNA, no fingerprints, no calling card, no expository note, and no obvious motive.
In this particular case, all of the hunches that Audra had to go off of were of a personal nature that she was still not entirely comfortable sharing. To her knowledge, this would be the first and only specter that had crossed the line into murder and then into serial killing. This particular specter had taken her from Boston to New Jersey, then Charlotte, Savannah, and finally the small town of Specter, Georgia.
She walked into Gwyneth Miller’s bedroom and immediately noted the scent of candles and perfume. Audra suspected that maybe this woman had, in fact, had a visitor the night before and, perhaps, this would not fit the profile of her four previous cases.
She quickly scanned the room and made note of the cheap, feminine décor. Audra cringed, turning her attention to the body of the victim. Gwyneth was lying in bed, on her side with her hands near her throat, which was singed with strange burn marks. Her fingernails had scratched at her throat as well, peeling away some of the skin. These were the telltale signs of the specter that she was following but, most disturbingly, this victim, like all the others, looked a lot like her sister.
“Shit,” Audra said. She looked over at the side table and took in a large purple candle. “What is this?” She leaned in close.
“A candle from the Daylight Candle Shop.”
Hearing his voice, Audra took a shallow breath before quickly letting it out. She turned as he strolled through Gwyneth Miller’s bedroom door and walked towards her. He wore laid back local Southern clothes; faded jeans with a slightly tattered t-shirt and baseball cap, but there was no mistaking the city attitude in his walk.
When Audra had received the initial fax of a possible fifth victim, she’d read Ethan Cole’s name on top of the report file with disbelief. Now, in front of her, she was wary. His New York City swagger was enough to make a nun forget her vows just long enough to break them four or five times. Audra quickly contemplated the precious few times she’d crossed the line with her ex-partner before he’d been transferred to the American South.
He was six-foot two and maybe two hundred pounds of muscle. Audra remembered the feel of his baby-smooth chocolate skin and the taste of his beautifully full lips. He was six years older than her twenty-seven, but it looked good on him.
She turned her attention away from his large hazel eyes back to the candle and examined the tiny instruction card next to it.
“May love’s embrace meet me at dawn’s face.” She snorted as she became painfully aware of how close Ethan was standing next to her. She had to mentally and physically resist the draw of his cologne as it invited her to lean into him. “The Daylight Candle Shop,” she confirmed.
She had already known there would be no evidence of the killer at the scene, but she’d asked for nothing to be touched, not even the body, before she arrived and took a look around. Audra listened to the coroner’s report; the victim had died of asphyxiation from a suspected crushed esophagus, somewhere near dawn of the previous day, Sunday. She said a prayer for Gwyneth and then left without another word to anyone.
Ethan followed her out of the apartment building.
“Hey, Audra. Wait up.”
She turned as she stepped outside, and he closed the space between them. She ignored the oppressive heat for a moment to address him.
“I’m going to go over to the library and question the people she worked with.”
“I already did that,” he said.
“Well, I’m going to do it as well,” she said, making it clear that the investigation was now hers to control.
“Okay, but listen. This town is full of – ”
“Specters? Yeah, I know.” Audra rolled her eyes at the thought of an entire town, in southern America of all places, which was home to people who had passed away. Ethan placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to walk to her car, pulling away from his touch in the process, shutting out the wave of feelings that screamed for her attention.
“Don’t worry, I won’t go around zapping your ghostly citizens.” Her specter zapper was safely tucked away in her gun belt, just to the rear of her handgun. “But, you might want to warn the Daylight Candle Shop that they’re next on my list.”
About the Author:
Rasheedah Prioleau is a southern African American writer with an eclectic range of writing and ghostwriting credits. After a few years in the corporate world she started over from the bottom as an unpaid intern for a literary manager and never looked back.
“I love to write because there are no limits. All it takes is a finite space of time and I can create a story from infinite possibilities.”
Writers who have influenced her include: Judy Bloom, Jude Deveraux, V.C. Andrews, Octavia Butler, Stephanie Meyer, Charlaine Harris, Joss Whedon, William Nicholson, Shonda Rhimes, Quentin Tarantino, Tyler Perry, Mike Kelley, and J.J. Abrams… just to name a few.
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