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thanking her for her persistence in finding out who was responsible for her daughter’s death.

Madeline kept it close to her at all times as a constant reminder of what ‘curiosity’ really could do—rather than kill the cat, it could nab the culprit.

She approached the large tree close to where Suzy was found, pulled a bundle of flowers out of her bag, then placed them under the tree.

Glancing around, all she saw were dog walkers, children running around, and people going about their daily business as if the location wasn’t the last place Suzy had been alive before Jonas had preyed upon her.

Swallowing hard, she fought back the tears and heartache. After a bit, she decided to make her way back home to her laptop, so she could carry out some additional research on a case she had discovered in Italy.

All most ten years ago to the date, a woman had gone missing without a trace in Milan. Not a sherd of evidence existed to suggest how or why.

“I’m on the case, and I won’t stop, Suzy,” whispered Madeline.

She would report on the situation uncovered in Italy in next week’s column of De Telegraaf.

I won’t stop because like your mother, her family needs answers, they all do, and I intend to dig them up.

THE END

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing The Red Light Girls. If you have time please do leave a review on Amazon. I appreciate you.

Sneak Peek of ’Til Death Do Us Part

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It's been twenty years. What really happened to Mariya Crosby the day she never made it home from work?

When a convicted murderer confesses to kidnapping a depressed wife, Mariya Crosby, twenty years ago, but be evidence in the present day clears him of the crime, who or what would you believe–the evidence or a convicted murderer on his death bed?

Detective Dominic Ruiz is under pressure to close-in on the truth, and fast. But there’s a problem, Ruiz has one confession, one witness, and one devoted husband with a different version of events in the lead-up to Mariya Crosby’s disappearance twenty years ago in Florida. The more Detective Ruiz follows up with the leads, the more things don’t add up. He has one of the biggest mysteries of his career to solve. The question has remained unanswered for twenty years. What really happened to Mariya Crosby on the day she never made it home from work?

Connect with Kim on Social Media:

Author Website: https://kimknightauthor.com/

Facebook: @kimknightauthoruk

Twitter: @kimknightauthor

She’s also on Bookbub @KimKnight

1

The Confession

Detective Ruiz

Raiford, Florida State Prison

Valentine’s Day, Present Day…

“Detective Ruiz?” A uniformed female guard, holding a ring of keys, glanced his way.

“Yeah.” Dominic Ruiz flashed his ID badge, then tucked it away.

Reaching inside his pocket, he extracted a tissue to wipe his brow. The stuffy, uncomfortable feeling of his sharp suit and tie in the Florida heat, annoyed him.

I hate the ‘official detective’ look, he scoffed.

Most days, he preferred to rock dark denim, Nikes, and a fitted t-shirt to work. But as soon as he rolled out of bed this morning, the universe had other plans for him. A visit to the state’s maximum security prison unit was in order.

“Right this way, Detective.”

Ruiz glanced around the reception area of the prison one last time, then pocked his damp tissue.

“Thanks.” He crossed the threshold and made his way through the heavy steel gate.

“If you’ll follow me.” The guard ascended down the hallway, and he followed.

The sway of her high ponytail brushing against the waistband of her pants, pulled his gaze to her not so hidden arse under her baggy uniform.

Slightly smiling to himself, he held back a chuckle.

“We don’t get many visitors our way.” The guard looked over her shoulder. “Well, not from your office.”

Just in time, he fixed his expression back to a serious gaze. But to his surprise, she winked at him.

A blush moved from his neck up toward his golden, sun-kissed face. Ruiz shifted his gaze from the guard’s and focused on the job ahead.

As they made their way down the corridor, the only audible noise was the click-clack of the guard’s shoes and his against the cold, concrete, floor.

The guard stopped outside a steel door, then turned to Ruiz. “Here you go, Detective.”

Her gaze roamed over Ruiz’s form, taking him in from head to toe, then she leaned in close.

Ruiz ignored the flirtation, and rather than pandering to her, he lowered himself from his six-foot-two height, inspecting the room through the glass window.

He examined every inch of the room, from left to right, taking note of the unbreakable plexiglass that split the room in half.

To the left, on one side of the protective barrier, two guards stood in the corner behind the prisoner, who appeared to be in his sixties.

Ruiz studied the man’s close-cut salt and pepper hair, full beard, and calm demeanour. He sat patiently, his hands locked in a prayer position with his elbows on his knees. Hardened, unreadable eyes sat between well-defined eyebrows and high cheekbones. His pale, almost grey skin, from several weeks in solitary confinement, gave him a waxen appearance. And an unreadable expression sat on his face.

“He’s all ready for ya,” she said.

Glancing around the brightly lit room, his gaze finally came to rest on the man once more.

“Cool, thanks,” Ruiz responded. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Not a problem, Detective.” She placed a hand on the door handle, swung the heavy metal open, then offered him a final smile. “Let me know if ya need somethin’.”

“Will do.” He stepped into the room.

The heavy duty door closed behind him with a thud that echoed around the room.

Ruiz nodded at the guards on the other side of the glass, then focused on the man in front of him, locking eyes with him.

“Mr. Lee, I’m Detective Ruiz,” he announced after a beat.

“Detective, so nice of you to pay me a visit. I’d offer you a handshake, but ya know.” The

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