fuonlyknew

Jimmie Putnam is an ordinary man by any measure. By day, he works as a law
clerk. At night, when he can’t fight the cravings, he becomes a
collector. He takes great care of his human Things; buying them
cherry lipstick and reading to them from his journal. When they’ve
been on their best behavior, he even takes them out of his freezers…

Sometimes, the need is just too deep.

Florel Ross has been mostly invisible since the death of her twin, who died
twenty years ago at the hands of a serial killer. Obsessed with
justice, Florel is willing to risk anything for the answers she
craves: What goes on in the mind of a serial killer?

When the two yearnings collide, will it be justice or just Things?

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Have you ever just been in the mood for ice cream?

You can’t really say why that craving comes on.

But you can’t sleep, even at 2 a.m. until you get it.

So you put your sneakers on . . .

Killing’s like that, for me.

Today, I’m in the mood for black raspberry.

Come, take a tour, of Jimmie’s Ice Cream shop…

Twenty years is a long time to wait for justice. And when you’re so close
that you can taste it, you want to serve yourself. Special Agent
Florel Ross has made a vow. She has one year, or until Jimmie Putnam
is about to kill again before she will confront him—or report
him—herself. Now, with his own ice cream shop, watching him will be
easier than ever before. With nothing to lose and obsession steering
her, Florel is fearless. She takes the sort of risks her twin sister
would be proud of. And the danger is only getting worse.

Have you ever been in the mood for revenge?

You can’t really say why that hunger comes on.

But you can’t sleep, even at 2 a.m. until you get it.

So you put your holster on . . .

Come, take a tour, of Jimmie’s Ice Cream Shop:

It’s due for inspection…

Every town has its legends. I would know, I am one of them. I am the girl
they tell campfire stories about. The “well-liked librarian” who
was going places until she was kidnapped and eaten by the Ice Cream
Man. I am the warning parents tell their children about, the woman
whose remains were never found…

There’s so much more to my story than how I died.

My name is Beverly Watkins. I was twenty-seven years old the day I
perished at the hands of a serial killer. For more than a year,
Master Jimmie kept me in his favorite freezer and took me out for
weekly playdates. I was the cherry on top of his twisted ice cream
sundae; the Thing he called Fifteen.

It’s only the beginning to my story. You see, justice is haunting. And
tonight, I’m in the mood for it. I’m here to set the record
straight, to make sure all the facts are tied up in perfect yellow
bows like the ones they tied around trees for me. I won’t rest
until I’ve told my own story, my way. Which reminds me: I have a
visit to make.

Care to join me?

Lee holds a master’s degree in psychology and works with at-risk
families and as a court appointed special advocate. When she isn’t
busy dissecting the human experience, she enjoys escaping from
reality through reading and spending time with her muses and canine
companions and therapy dogs—Thomas the Terrier and Milo Muse. To
her, laughter is the best medicine of all.