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James' life was falling apart. How did he allow a sixteen-year-old girl to infiltrate his world? She wanted commitment. It wasn't going to happen. It was Sunday night. He got home in time to grab a beer before the eleven o'clock news. A young girl, yet to be identified, was found lying face down by the edge of the Scenic Highway ... a presumed hit-and-run. He didn't need a name. He'd left no clues that would lead back to him. It was quick and clean ... the way he'd planned it. The name-plate on her desk read, Casey Quinby. She was the head investigative reporter for the Cape Cod Tribune. She...

The body of a young girl found tucked away beside a bed in a closed-for-the-season ocean-front cottage... a boyfriend without an alibi... a rich and conniving widow... strangers and lovers caught in the triangle of an unknown identity. And then came Casey Quinby, considered the 'Kelly Girl' investigator for several Cape Cod Police Departments, and her side-kicks, Annie, right-hand to the District Attorney, and Marnie, a recent law school graduate. After a near-death experience only four months before, Casey promised her boyfriend, Sam, the lead detective in the Bourne PD, that she'd stay...

Casey Quinby, head investigative reporter for the Cape Cod Tribune had worked with the Barnstable Police Department on their cold case backlog in the past, generating a high success rate in uncovering new details allowing the PD to reopen several cases. When she expressed an interest in working on another cold case, the Chief jumped at the chance for her to examine the Mary Kaye Griffin murder file. Chief Lowe was a personal friend of Mary Kaye's and was haunted by the lack of evidence gathered to solve her murder. Against his approval, but because of department policy, it had been classified...

Her name was Jeni Johnson, but only he knew that. He had plans for her-just like he'd had plans for the other three. They'd each enjoyed their last night in their quest to move to the top of the social ladder. He gave them a taste, but that was all. They had to die. And there would be more. He was on a mission. His plan was flawless. He'd designed and thought out every detail, down to the black rose-the living symbol of death in a relationship. This time of the year, Revere Beach Boulevard was quiet. The beach crowd who would bake in the sand by day and party by night were still a couple...