George Washington Township, New Jersey has seen its fair share of crime and tragedy. Most recently, a young boy is missing from his home and the tenacious Detective Claire Goodnite is eager to find him.   But the case is stirring up old memories best left forgotten. When a blast from her own past, FBI Special Agent Wesley O’Connell, turns up, Claire finds it hard to keep old ghosts at rest. And even harder to keep the sexy SAIC out of her case and her bed.   Claire Goodnite is the best damn detective in the state of New Jersey and you better believe she's coming for you.  

 

“Come out of the closet, baby.”

        “No,” I whisper, tears hot on my face and snot stuffing up my nose.

        Liam and Wes were right, I’m just a baby. A big kid wouldn’t be crying in the dark corner of a closet hoping it’ll all go away if you just wish hard enough. I bet Wes never cries. I know Lee doesn’t.

        “Come out now, Claire. Playtime is over.”

        “No,” I cry louder. “Please don’t make me.”

        “Now!” He growls as the closet door rattles. I gasp.

        “Leave me alone!”

        “Get out of the fucking closet, Claire!” He roars.

        “Please no,” I cry harder, my body shaking with each sob.

        “When,” he kicks his hard boots against the closet door and it shudders.

        “Please.”

“Are you,” he kicks it again.

The doors are the kind with the slats that fold sideways. We have them at home and mama says I always pinch my fingers in the accordion. Whatever that is.

“I just wanna go home,” I whisper.

“Gonna,” he kicks again.

“I just want my mommy,” I sob. “Please. I just want my mommy.”

“Fucking,” the boards snaps and I scream.

“I just wanna go home, please,” I beg.

“Learn!” he shouts as he kicks the broken boards out of the way. He leans down and grabs me by my upper arms.

“Please,” I wheeze but my words are cut short when he slaps my face hard. So hard I taste blood in my mouth and it’s so yucky I feel sick. I’m going to throw up from the yucky taste. I try as hard as I can not to. I know that if I do, he’ll punish me again. I don’t want that. Anything but that.

“You are home, baby,” he coos right before he slaps me again. I cry out again, falling to the floor with his last hit. It’s so strong he knocks me down with it. “And I thought I told you to call me daddy,” he says as he lands a hard kick to my back.

“You’re not my daddy, you’ll never be my daddy,” I whisper. “My daddy is a nice man. He would never hurt me. You’ll never be my daddy,” I say again but the bad man can’t hear me, he already walked away. I have nowhere to go, but one thing is for sure, I have to escape.

Jennifer is a thirty something lover of words, all words: the written, the spoken, the sung (even poorly), the sweet, the funny, and even the four letter variety. She is a native of San Diego, California where she grew up reading the Brownings and Rebecca with her mother and Clifford and the Dog who Glowed in the Dark with her dad, much to her mother’s dismay.   Jennifer is a graduate of California State University San Marcos where she studied Criminology and Justice Studies. She is also an Alpha Xi Delta.   10 years ago, she was swept off her feet by her very own sailor. Today, they are happily married and the parents of a 8 year old and 6 year old twins. She can often be found in East Texas on the soccer fields, drawing with her children, or reading. Jennifer is convinced that if she puts her fitbit on one of the dogs, she might finally make her step goals. She loves a great romance, an alpha hero, and lots and lots of laughter.

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