Free My Soul to Keep by Carolyn McCray

PROLOGUE
    Dean Henderson clipped his identification badge onto his shirt pocket. After working twenty-three years at the plant, you would think the guards could recognize him, but no. Each morning he had to put on a tie and this stupid badge.
    “ Roxy!” he heard his wife, Kerri, call up the stairs to their daughter.
    He could smell bacon and , hopefully, hash browns. Yep, the best days of the week were when Roxy had late morning classes at the community college. You think his wife would make him a full breakfast? No such luck. Dean was lucky to get a cup of coffee and a burnt bagel when Roxy had an early class and caught breakfast at the school.
    Straightening his tie, Dean stepped out of the master bedroom to find his wife now at the base of the stairs, craning her neck to see up to the second floor. “Roxy, honey, breakfast is ready!”
    “ Great,” Dean said as he attempted to kiss his wife on the cheek, but her frown, now ever present, warned him away. “I’ll just go serve myself.”
    “ No,” Kerri said. “We all eat together.”
    Which really meant Roxy got her pick of the crispiest bacon.
    “ Let her sleep in,” Dean suggested. “If she wants to slide into class as it is starting, that’s her call.”
    Kerri glared at him. “Did you even hear what time she came in last night?”
    “ No, but again, she’s over eighteen. We told her if she lived at home we would let her keep her own hours.”
    His wife guffed like an offered lion. “We also discussed having a reasonable bedtime on school nights.”
    He would never win. Not when it came to Kerri and her helicopter-Mom mentality. Maybe he could sneak into the kitchen while she was distracted and snag some bacon. But even that hope was crushed as Kerri mounted the stairs one at a time.
    “Roxy, up and at ‘em!”
    Sighing , Dean followed his wife up the steps. If Roxy was home and hung over, she would need him to run interference. If his daughter had stayed out all night? Well, he would need to get Kerri a Valium or something.
    But e ven he became mildly worried when Roxy didn’t answer the fourth, fifth, or sixth time Kerri shouted out to her. He pulled out his phone. No text from Roxy. Usually, if she was going to stay out late enough to freak out her mom, Roxy would give him a heads up.
    Could something actually be wrong?
    You could hear the concern in Kerri’s voice, as well. Urgency replaced playfulness as she reached a hand out and knocked on the door.
    “ Roxy?”
    When there was still no answer, Kerri cracked the door open. “Baby, are you alright?”
    Dean stood on his tiptoes to peer over his wife. Sure enough , Roxy was in her bed, the covers pulled over her face to block out the morning sun. Had she forgotten what day it was? Did she forget her physics lab?
    Kerri crossed the room and opened the curtains wider, the chipper, cheerleader Mom tone back in her voice. “That’s it, sleepy-head. Time to get up.”
    Dean was ready to head back downstairs when Kerri pulled back the covers and screamed. “She’s dead!”
    The body was ashen, and the clouded eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
    He rushed over and hugged his wife as she screamed an anguished scream only a mother could produce. He, on the other hand, felt more shocked and confused.
    This girl mig ht be dead, but where was Roxy?

CHAPTER 1
    Detective Nicole Usher’s feet pounded against the treadmill as she checked her pulse. A nice steady one hundred fifteen. She made sure to regulate her breathing—nice and slow, to optimize her workout. It turned out crackheads didn’t need the gym. Chemically induced, they ran like the wind.
    Not that she had been chasing any petty thieves or junkies lately. No, the predators she stalked were more about stealth and surprise. More than likely , she didn’t need to keep in shape to chase after a serial killer, but to run the hell away from one.
    Nicole glanced down to her phone , which she had propped up on the treadmill’s computerized