Final Exit

Final Exit

by Laurie Breton

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But when FBI special agent Carolyn Monahan
walks back into the life of homicide lieutenant
Conor Rafferty, the sizzle is undeniable. They are
back together, albeit reluctantly, to find the serial
killer who is terrorizing Boston.

Caro has made a successful career of putting
homicidal maniacs behind bars, and Rafferty is
a good cop who’s been handed the case of a
lifetime. Amid bureaucratic red tape and a
mounting body count, they uncover evidence
that points to a decade-old unsolved homicide.
The tension escalates when the killer develops
a psychotic preoccupation with Caro herself.

As the pressure builds to solve the murders, so
does the attraction between Caro and Rafferty.
But the question remains: Who will get to Caro
first, the killer or the cop?

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781460363256
Publisher: MIRA Books
Publication date: 07/15/2014
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 400
Sales rank: 648,959
File size: 790 KB

Read an Excerpt

Final Exit

By Laurie Breton

Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.

Copyright © 2003 Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
All right reserved.

ISBN: 155166660X

Chapter One

Katie'd come a long way in the ancient Datsun that was being held together with duct tape and prayer. All the way from Finley, North Dakota. This was her first time away from home, and it had been scary, crossing the country by herself. But the freedom was exhilarating. Her mother had cried when she left. So far away, she'd said. So very far away. But distance was what Katie wanted. She wanted to put seventeen hundred miles between herself and her doting, overprotective parents. Wanted to spread her wings and fly, needed to prove to them, and to herself, that she could do it.

Just outside of Providence, her temperature gauge started climbing. Katie glanced at it in dismay, then resolutely hunched over the steering wheel. Just one more hour, she told herself as darkness swallowed the lights of Providence in her rearview mirror. One more hour and she'd be in Boston. There was no sense in checking into a motel for the night when she had a perfectly good dorm room waiting for her just an hour down the road. The old car wouldn't let her down this close to her destination. Not after they'd traveled so far together.

She'd been on the road for three days, but the last fifty miles, dark and spooky and lonely, were the longest of the entire trip. There wasn't much between Providence and Boston except for trees, and her gaze kept darting to the steadily climbing temperature gauge. When she finally saw the city lights glimmering in the distance, Katie let out a sigh of relief. She'd made it. She'd proven her parents wrong. She'd traveled halfway across the country alone, and nothing terrible had happened.

In downtown Boston, she flicked on her directional signal and slowed for the Storrow Drive exit ramp. Halfway down the ramp, her engine stalled, and the idiot lights on her control panel flashed red and amber warnings. Katie rolled the car to a stop and turned the ignition key. Nothing happened. The ignition clicked a couple of times, but the engine didn't even turn over.

Now what?

It was eleven o'clock on a Tuesday night, and she didn't know a soul in Boston. But she was determined to see the glass as half-full instead of half-empty. It could have been worse. She could have broken down somewhere on that desolate stretch of highway between Providence and Boston. At least she'd reached civilization before her car blew its cookies.

Above her head, downtown Boston's towering office buildings glittered like so many shimmering stars, their brilliance luring her like an exotic fairyland. She flicked on her four-way flashers, got out of the car, and popped the hood. At this time of night, even here on the express-way, traffic was sparse. Taking out the flashlight her dad always insisted she carry, Katie played its beam around under the hood, not really sure what she was looking for. She'd never understood anything mechanical. Katie Ann Perry knew light and form and color, the lush green of viridian, the rich bloody crimson of alizarin. She knew how to manipulate them into something that pleased the eye, something unique, something that touched people's emotions. That was what had gotten her into the prestigious Commonwealth Art Academy, not any knowledge of what lay under the hood of her Datsun.

A car pulled up behind her, some kind of dark, late model sedan, and the driver dimmed the lights. Youngish, dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck pullover, he climbed out, his face shadowed as he crossed the pavement to where she stood. "Having car trouble?" he said.

Her dad had always warned her not to talk to strangers, but it was eleven o'clock at night and she was stranded. Besides, he seemed nice enough. "It died on me," she said, "and I can't seem to get it started again."

In the glow of the flashlight beam, he smiled. A friendly, clean-cut, all-American smile. "Let's have a look."

The stranger bent and fiddled with wires, checked the hoses and belts. "Why don't you get in," he suggested, "and we'll try it again?"

Katie scooted in behind the wheel and slid the key back into the ignition. "Okay," he shouted, his voice muffled by the hood. "Give it a shot."

She turned the key, but nothing happened. Not even the hollow clicking she'd heard earlier. "Again," he instructed.

Again, she turned the key. Again, nothing. He came around to her open window, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Doesn't look like it's going anywhere," he said. "Not tonight. Battery's dead."

This was not good news. Even though she'd be living in a dormitory, she needed to be frugal with her money, save it for expenses. He crouched beside the car until they were at eye level. "I can give you a lift if you're not going far."

Again, she remembered her father's warnings. How many times had he told her never to get in a car with a stranger? "I don't know," she said.

He gave her that smile again, reassuring her that he understood her reluctance. "My folks always warned me about strangers, too. And they were right. It's not safe out there on the streets for a young girl like you." He paused suggestively, and in spite of her bravado, she shuddered at the picture his words painted in her mind. "I can't just go away and leave you here. If anything happened to you, I'd feel responsible."

Katie hesitated a moment longer, looked around at the deserted street, and gave in. "All right," she said, grabbing her purse and locking the Datsun carefully. Everything she owned was in it. Her clothes, her art supplies, all her Madonna and Jewel and Shania Twain CDs.

"We'll call a tow truck," he said as she settled into plush navy upholstery. "If we leave it here, the cops will tow it, and it'll cost you a fortune to get it back."

The intimacy of being alone in the car with him made her uncomfortable. Katie cleared her throat. Running a hand along the rich leather of the dash, she said, "You have a nice car."

"Thanks. I'm a clean freak. Wash and wax it twice a week, vacuum it every Saturday."

She smiled politely and looked out the window, away from him. "So," he said heartily, "where are you headed?"

"Commonwealth Art Academy." Gnawing on her lower lip, Katie turned to look at him, but in the darkness, his profile was shadowy and indistinct. "Do you know where it is?"

He glanced in his rearview mirror and signaled for a turn. "Sure," he said. "I've been by there a few times. So, you're an art student?"

It made her feel so adult, hearing herself described that way. "I will be, as soon as classes start up in September."

"I saw your North Dakota plates. Ever been to Boston before?"

"No," she said, a little embarrassed at having to admit to him just how much of a hick she was. "I've never been out of North Dakota before."

"I bet your folks are proud of you. Going to college, and everything."

"They didn't want me going so far from home," she confided. "Especially since I don't know anybody here. But I think it's great. I'm old enough to be on my own."

"I should think so. You must be ... what? In your mid-twenties?" Her mouth fell open. "Do I really look that old?"

"Sure. You've got a real sophisticated air about you. If anybody asked, I'd peg you for twenty-five, twenty-six."

"I'm eighteen," she said.

His eyes widened. "No way."

She giggled. "Yes. Really."


Excerpted from Final Exit by Laurie Breton Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Final Exit 4.8 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 5 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Excellent suspense and plot development. The relationship between Caro and Conor was heartbreaking at times and heart pumping at others. This is a wonderful first book and I will definitely be looking for more from this writer.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This is the first book I have read in a long time that I wasn't sure who the Killer was ( and I read a lot). The story read very well and you could really connect with the characters. I will read all her books.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Guilty that she lived when her sister was murdered, Carolyn Monahan turned her back on the man she loved and dedicated her life to the law, becoming an FBI agent. Ten years later, that man is back in her life, working at her side on a serial killer case that is tied to the death that drove them apart. Conor Rafferty and Carolyn discover that the spark between them never died when they are united on this case, but life has gotten complicated in the intervening years. Conor is involved with another woman, and Carolyn has been burned by love. ............. Aside from personal complications, it becomes clear all too soon that the killer is someone very close to both of them. In the past, he has been targeting ladies of the night, but it seems that his focus is shifting, placing Carolyn in the crosshairs. Untangling the growing nightmare will be a deadly challenge. ............... ***** The emotional level is equal in complexity to the mind boggling case. Ms. Breton keeps readers on the edge of their seats trying to out guess this modern day Jack the Ripper. Past and present weave together to form a tightly connected murder mystery and a passionate love story. *****
Guest More than 1 year ago
For a first time writing, I say this author has struck it right on! I love this type of story. It makes a person stay up as long as it takes to read it. Please say she is on another book soon. Please keep them coming.
harstan More than 1 year ago
The fourth victim is an eighteen-year-old North Dakota resident who has come to Boston to attend school. Her murder leads to the Boston police to set up a task force headed by Lieutenant Conor Rafferty to stop the serial killer rapist before someone else dies. The FBI sends profiler Dr. Carolyn Monahan to help solve the case. Ten years ago, Conor and Caro were engaged until someone murdered her sister while she lingered in bed with her beloved instead of picking up her sibling as previously arranged. Unable to face the guilt, Caro left town and joined the Feds. Though he hates having the FBI involved and more so Caro, Conor realizes her profiling skill helps especially as a tool to eliminate those most likely not to be the killer. As their attraction rekindles, Caro becomes the focus of a clever murderer whose apparent current terror is not his first as he sends unique photos of her sister¿s murder to prove otherwise. Though the culprit when revealed by Laurie Breton seems strange, readers will find fascinating this strong serial killer romance that intelligently weaves elements from both genres into a taut thriller. The story line is loaded with action focused on a triangle between Conor and Caro in love and the killer playing cat and mouse with both of them, but mostly Caro. The insight into profiling is superb taking much of the mysticism out of it yet brilliantly used to further the plot. Police procedural and romantic suspense fans will want to read Laurie Breton¿s enjoyable tale. Harriet Klausner