Title: Doppelgänger (Harbour Bay Series, #4) by Camille Taylor
Published by: Limitless Publishing
Publication date: June 21st 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
A new killer has descended on Harbour Bay, and he’s already killed five women…
Bestselling author Megan Bailey is devastated when her young cousin Stacey goes missing. She’s been watching the news and knows what this might mean. Stacey could be the newest victim of Harbour Bay’s newest serial killer. Megan is determined to do something, and enlists the help of her friend, the superintendent of police, Amelia Donovan.
Amelia has her best detective on the case…Dean Matthews.
Dean doesn’t believe in love. It makes men weak and vulnerable, and as a retired soldier, he’s experienced enough heartache to last several lifetimes. He also has difficulty dealing with emotional women. So when he shows up to interview Megan at the request of his boss, he isn’t exactly looking forward to it. Except Megan isn’t what he expected.
Megan is intelligent, witty, and not to mention, beautiful. Dean tries to maintain a professional distance, but with a killer on the loose, he breaks all his rules and gets involved. He offers Megan comfort and promises he might not be able to keep.
The body count continues to rise and Dean’s leads are empty as ever…
When Megan disappears too, Dean knows his time to solve this case is up. He must unravel the twisted web of clues the killer has left behind or risk the one woman who might finally teach him to love again.
About the Author
Camille Taylor is an Australian author who resides in the Nation’s Capital with her small dog. She was the typical 90’s kid and was raised on Goosebumps, Roald Dahl and Paul Jennings. In her teens she began reading the Queen of Crime, Agatha Christie and in later years found Christine Feehan, Janet Evanovich and Julie Garwood.
She started writing at sixteen and enjoys spending time with her family, doting on her nieces and nephews, writing the many stories floating about her head and working on her genealogy where she can trace her heritage to England, Scotland, Ireland and Russia.
Her other interests include, anything creative – such as scrapbooking and drawing and has travelled across Western Europe, New Zealand and the UAE, after spending a year living in London. She’s also dabbled in tae kwon do.
Her body shook with the effort it took to take her time, her brain crying out for her to make a run for it, and she would as soon as she could open this door. She pulled the door ajar. In an instant, a shrill alarm sounded, and the panel beside her lit up like a Christmas tree. Her bladder gave out, dampening her jeans. For a frozen second, she stood there, scared into motionlessness at the repercussions of the sound, and then all of a sudden her brain began to function again. Her feet moved, picking up speed as she ran through the doorway, down a pebbled path and slate driveway. She didn’t bother looking back, didn’t dare to check whether she was being followed. She desperately sought out a neighbour or a dwelling in which she could seek refuge.
The ground beneath her sneakered feet crunched, her lungs burned, and she was sweating profusely as she ran. Her heart raced as she moved away from the road, not wanting to be seen. She’d read somewhere that roads and rivers were the easiest way to track a person, the human body sticking to what it thought it could depend upon. Rivers and roads usually led to help. The night air was warm, the breeze cool on her hot body as she began to slow down, wanting to give up the fight.
Stacey powered on, her gaze vigilant as she started to make out the trees and bushes surrounding her. Her foot caught on a root and she stumbled, her body crashing into the hard ground, knocking the wind out of her, bruising her already injured body more. Stacey laid in the dirt, stunned, her body aching, the sounds of night animals surrounding her. She couldn’t move, not even when she tried. Her fingers curled into the fallen leaves and other growth beneath her.
Her heart stopped when she heard the sound of footsteps and she bit her bottom lip to keep from whimpering. She hoped she couldn’t be seen; she wasn’t exactly hiding, but surely he wouldn’t be looking at the ground for her. She wished she had the strength to pick up a stone and throw it far away from her, hoping to lead him away. The dog barked into the night, followed by a growl, obviously sensing her danger and wanting to do something about it. A moment later, a man scolded the dog, telling him to get back inside and leave the possums or foxes or whatever the hell he was barking at alone. She couldn’t even risk calling out to him. Despair curled its ugly fingers around her and held on tight.
No, please, Stacey cried silently. Don’t leave me. Please let the dog out of the yard, let him come find me. Help me.
A sob welled up and she almost choked on it. She closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself. Go to your happy place, Stacey, she told herself. The sun, the sand, the beautiful blue ocean. Can’t you feel the humid breeze and smell the salty surf?
When her body relaxed, she reopened her eyes and stared up at a dark gaze burning in the centre of a silhouette, and she knew she was beaten.