Vengeance is Mine – Alex Ander Novelist

In this fast-paced action thriller, an FBI agent is tasked with solving a gruesome murder. But when a second body is discovered in another part of the country, her assignment morphs into a hunt for a man on a killing spree.

A photograph is found with a headless, handless body in a small Pennsylvania town, and the case is turned over to FBI Special Agent Raychel DelaCruz. Recognizing the woman in the photo, the 29-year-old rising star of the agency gets a sinking feeling in her gut. This is no ordinary homicide. No. This one’s personal.

When a second body is uncovered in the same condition as the first, DelaCruz shifts her focus. Serial killer. Her investigation then leads to a suspect’s apartment where she exposes a darker secret, one that makes her blood run cold. She is the motive behind the mad man’s sadistic acts.

Realizing where the psychopath is headed next, with an innocent life hanging in the balance, and the clock ticking, DelaCruz races to save a third victim from a grisly fate. And she knows if she fails, another person will have died for what she did a decade ago. Or rather…didn’t do.

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Excerpt

Special Agent Raychel Elisa DelaCruz opened the trunk of her black Dodge Charger, slipped her arms out of her dark blue blazer and tossed the garment into the compartment. She grabbed a bulletproof vest, the letters FBI emblazoned on the front, and handed it to her partner. She donned a similar vest over her pastel blue blouse, cinched the straps and pulled her ponytail from under the protective apparel. She inserted a communication device into her ear, tapped the earpiece and glanced toward her partner. “Check, check…one—two—three.”

Special Agent Curtis Ashford paused from securing the straps on his vest only long enough to give her the ‘thumbs-up’ sign. “I’m reading you loud and clear, Cruz.”

During her time in the military, her fellow soldiers called her Cruz. They had joked that her full name was too difficult to pronounce. To this day, the nickname had stuck and everyone who knew her used the shortened version of her name.

Ashford double-checked the status of his Glock 22 and shoved it into his hip holster before touching the spare magazines on his left hip. He stared over the trunk lid toward the winding dirt road that led to a small shabby cabin, surrounded by dense woods. “We really should call this in and wait for backup.”

Cruz’s reply was sharp and monotone. “We probably should.” She dropped the magazine from her Glock 23 pistol into her hand. Verifying the magazine’s capacity, she rammed it into the butt of her weapon and pulled back on the weapon’s slide. Seeing a shiny brass case in the chamber, she let go of the slide, holstered the Glock and adjusted the black belt supporting the hardware and her dark blue slacks.

Ashford curled up the right side of his mouth. “Something tells me we’re not going to do that though, are we?” Not getting a reply, he studied the woods on either side of the long driveway. Darkness enveloped the vegetation a few feet inside the tree line. “If anyone slips by us,” he lifted his chin toward the forest, “it’s going to be hard to find them in this.”

Cruz tapped the button on the back of her Surefire flashlight and a brief beam of white light appeared inside the trunk. She closed the lid, stowed the flashlight and observed the surrounding area. “Then, I guess we’ll have to make sure no one slips by us.” Ashford’s tone and body language compelled her to offer assurances. “We’ve done this before, Ash…rolled up on scenes and taken down the bad guys without calling in the cavalry.” She motioned toward the direction of the cabin. “Peterson and Lopez are up there and I’m not going to let them get away again.” She gave him the ‘peace’ sign. “Two times is two times too many. One way or another, this ends…tonight.”