Blake Pierce - Kate Wise - 5 - If She Fled
i f s h e f l e d
(a kate wise mystery—book 5)
b l a k e p i e r c e
Blake Pierce
Blake Pierce is author of the bestselling RILEY PAGE mystery series,
which includes fifteen books (and counting). Blake Pierce is also the author
of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising thirteen books (and
counting); of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising six books; of
the KERI LOCKE mystery series, comprising five books; of the MAKING
OF RILEY PAIGE mystery series, comprising four books (and counting); of
the KATE WISE mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the
CHLOE FINE psychological suspense mystery, comprising five books (and
counting); and of the JESSE HUNT psychological suspense thriller series,
comprising five books (and counting).
ONCE GONE (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1), BEFORE HE KILLS (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1), CAUSE TO KILL (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 1), A TRACE OF DEATH (A Keri Locke Mystery—Book 1), and WATCHING (The Making of Riley Paige—Book 1) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake
loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit
www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2019 by Blake Pierce. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright andreiuc88, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE
A JESSIE HUNT PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES
THE PERFECT WIFE (Book #1)
THE PERFECT BLOCK (Book #2)
THE PERFECT HOUSE (Book #3)
THE PERFECT SMILE (Book #4)
THE PERFECT LIE (Book #5)
CHLOE FINE PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES
NEXT DOOR (Book #1)
A NEIGHBOR’S LIE (Book #2)
CUL DE SAC (Book #3)
SILENT NEIGHBOR (Book #4)
HOMECOMING (Book #5)
TINTED WINDOWS (Book #6)
KATE WISE MYSTERY SERIES
IF SHE KNEW (Book #1)
IF SHE SAW (Book #2)
IF SHE RAN (Book #3)
IF SHE HID (Book #4)
IF SHE FLED (Book #5)
IF SHE FEARED (Book #6)
THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE SERIES
WATCHING (Book #1)
WAITING (Book #2)
LURING (Book #3)
TAKING (Book #4)
STALKING (Book #5)
RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY SERIES
ONCE GONE (Book #1)
ONCE TAKEN (Book #2)
ONCE CRAVED (Book #3)
ONCE LURED (Book #4)
ONCE HUNTED (Book #5)
ONCE PINED (Book #6)
ONCE FORSAKEN (Book #7)
ONCE COLD (Book #8)
ONCE STALKED (Book #9)
ONCE LOST (Book #10)
ONCE BURIED (Book #11)
ONCE BOUND (Book #12)
ONCE TRAPPED (Book #13)
ONCE DORMANT (Book #14)
ONCE SHUNNED (Book #15)
ONCE MISSED (Book #16)
MACKENZIE WHITE MYSTERY SERIES
BEFORE HE KILLS (Book #1)
BEFORE HE SEES (Book #2)
BEFORE HE COVETS (Book #3)
BEFORE HE TAKES (Book #4)
BEFORE HE NEEDS (Book #5)
BEFORE HE FEELS (Book #6)
BEFORE HE SINS (Book #7)
BEFORE HE HUNTS (Book #8)
BEFORE HE PREYS (Book #9)
BEFORE HE LONGS (Book #10)
BEFORE HE LAPSES (Book #11)
BEFORE HE ENVIES (Book #12)
BEFORE HE STALKS (Book #13)
AVERY BLACK MYSTERY SERIES
CAUSE TO KILL (Book #1)
CAUSE TO RUN (Book #2)
CAUSE TO HIDE (Book #3)
CAUSE TO FEAR (Book #4)
CAUSE TO SAVE (Book #5)
CAUSE TO DREAD (Book #6)
KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES
A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)
A TRACE OF MUDER (Book #2)
A TRACE OF VICE (Book #3)
A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4)
A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5)
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
PROLOGUE
Most days, Karen Hopkins enjoyed working from home. She stayed busy,
which was good because her little web optimization business was only
supposed to be a side gig but had somehow become a full-time thing—a full-
time thing that was going to help her and Gerald, her husband, retire in two or
three years. But there were some days when the clients were so damned
stupid that she almost yearned for the years when she’d answered to someone
else. The ability to pass troublesome clients off to someone higher up the
chain would have benefited her greatly far too often.
She was staring at an email, wondering how she could respond to her
client’s asinine question with a response that would not make her sound rude.
She had one of her classical playlists currently playing on Spotify—but not
the kind with multiple strings that drowned out the piano. No, she preferred
just the piano. Currently, she was trying to enjoy Erik Satie’s Gymnopedie
No. 1.
The key word was trying. She was distracted by the email and the
occasional question from the man in the den. The den was separated from her
office by a single wall, meaning that whenever the man had a question, he
basically had to scream it at her. He was friendly enough but good grief, she
was starting to wish she had never called him.
“This is a gorgeous rug you have in here,” he said, his voice bellowing
through the wall, through Erik Satie, and
through her collected thoughts
concerning this damned email. “Is it Oriental?”
“I believe so,” Karen said, calling over her shoulder. Her back faced the
entryway to the hallway and the den beyond, forcing her to have to speak
rather loudly.
She tried to keep her voice polite…chipper, even. But it was hard. She was
too distracted. This email was an important one. It was a repeat client that
looked to be bringing in even more work several months from now, but the
people running his business were apparently idiots.
She started typing her response, choosing each word carefully. It was hard
to sound professional and reasonable when you were angry and questioning
the intelligence of the person you were writing to. She knew this very well, as
she felt like she had to endure it several times a month.
She made it four seconds in before the man in the parlor called out again.
Karen cringed, wishing she had never called him. The timing was all bad.
What the hell had she been thinking? This whole thing could have waited
until the weekend, really.
“I see the pictures of your kids on the mantel. How many are there?
Three?”
“Yes.”
“How old are they now?”
She had to bite her lip to not curse at the man. It was important to keep up
appearances, though. Besides, she never knew when she might have to call on
him again.
“Oh, they’re all grown now—twenty, twenty-three, and twenty-seven.”
“A beautiful bunch of kids for sure,” he replied. He then went quiet. She
heard him moving around in the den, including the occasional bit of low-
drone humming. It took Karen a moment to realize that he was humming
along to the music from her office, which had transitioned into another piece
by Satie. She rolled her eyes, really wishing he would stay quiet. Sure, she
had called him over to perform a service but he was already irritating her.
Didn’t most workmen just come over, work in silence, and then leave happily
paid? What was this guy’s problem?
“Thank you,” she managed to say, really not liking the idea of him looking
at pictures of her kids.
She lowered her head and got back to the email. Of course, it was no use.
Apparently, her visitor was bent on having a conversation through the wall.
“They live around here?” he asked.
“No,” she said. She was rather short and blunt this time, going so far as to
turn her head all the way to the right so he could perhaps hear the irritation in
her voice. She did not intend to give him the locations of each of her children.
God only knew what kind of questions he could make out of that.
“I see,” he said.
If she had not been so preoccupied with the email in front of her, she
might have recognized an eerie chill in the silence that followed this question.
It was a pregnant silence, the type that promises something else to follow.
“You expecting any other visitors today?”
She wasn’t sure why, but something about this question sparked fear in
her. It was an odd question for a stranger to ask, particularly one she had hired for a service. And had she heard something different in his tone with
that question?
Concerned now, she turned away from her laptop. There seemed to be
something going on with him. And now she was no longer just irritated by his
questions, she was growing scared as well.
“I have a few friends coming over for coffee later,” she lied. “Not sure
when, though. Most of the time, they usually just swing by whenever they
feel like it.”
To this, she got no response and that was scarier than anything else.
Slowly, Karen rolled her chair back and stood up. She walked to the doorway
that connected her office to the den. She peeked inside to see what he was
doing.
He was not there. The tools of his trade were still there, but he was
nowhere to be seen.
Call the police…
The thought raced through her mind and she knew it was good advice. But
she also knew she was prone to overexaggerating. Maybe he had gone back
out to his truck or something.
No way, she thought. Did you hear the door open and close? Besides, he’s been chatty from the get-go. He would have told you he was heading back
outside…
She froze, a few steps into the den. “Hey,” she said, her voice wavering a
bit. “Where’d you go?”
No response.
Something is wrong, that voice in her head screamed. Call the police now!
With terror blooming in her gut, Karen slowly backed out of the den. She
started to turn back toward her office, where her cell phone sat on her desk.
As she turned, she collided with something hard. She could smell sweat
for just a moment but barely had time to register it.
That’s when something went around her neck, pulling tight.
Karen Hopkins struggled, fighting against whatever was around her neck.
But the harder she fought, the tighter the thing on her neck became. It was
rough, cutting and digging in deeper as she struggled. She felt a thin stream
of blood trailing down over her chest at the same time she realized she found
it difficult to breathe.
She fought regardless, doing what she could to pull the attacker into the office so she could grab her cell phone. She felt more blood running down
her neck, nothing major, still just a trickle. The thing around her neck grew
even tighter. She slowly sagged as she came within several feet of her desk.
As she did, all her eyes could see was the laptop screen in front of her. That
white screen, with an incomplete email that she would never send.
She watched the cursor blinking insistently, waiting for her next word.
But it would never come.
CHAPTER ONE
One of the many things that surprised Kate Wise in this, her fifty-fifth year
of life (with the fifty-sixth just a few weeks away), was how getting ready for
a date never failed to make her feel like an insecure teenager again. Was her
makeup right? Was it too much? Should she start coloring her hair darker to
combat the grays that seemed to be slowly winning the battle for her hair?
Should she wear a sensible bra that was all about comfort or one that would
be easy for Alan to remove when the date came to its end?
It was a nice sort of anxiousness, one that reminded her she had been
through this before. When she had been married, she’d felt the same way in
getting ready for a date all the way up through the first year. But now with
Alan, the first man she had dated since Michael died, she had been forced to
learn how to date all over again.
It was getting easier quite fast with Alan. They were both in their mid-
fifties, so there was a sense of urgency to each date—an unspoken knowledge
that if this relationship was going to come to something other than dating,
they needed to fully invest in it. So far, through a few obstacles here and
there, they had done exactly that. And to this point, it had been pretty
incredible.
Tonight’s date was to be dinner, a movie, and then back to her place,
where they’d spend the night together. That
was another thing their age
allowed them to do in dating: to skip the will-we-won’t-we when it came to
the bedroom. The answer for the last few months had been an unequivocal
yes—a yes that carried over after nearly every date (something else that
surprised Kate about dating at the age of fifty-five).
As she applied her lipstick—just a bit, like she knew Alan liked—a knock
at her front door startled her. She checked her watch and saw that it was only
6:35, a full twenty-five minutes earlier than she had been expecting Alan.
She smiled, assuming he had come by early. Maybe he wanted to swap the
order of the date and go ahead and do the bedroom part first. It would be a
pain to get undressed moments after she’d gotten dressed, but it would be
worth it. With a smile on her face, she left her bedroom, walked through the
house, and answered the door.
When she saw that it was Melissa on the other side, she went through several emotions quite quickly: surprise, disappointment, and then worry.
Melissa was carrying the car seat in her right hand as little Michelle stared
out. When Michelle’s eyes found her grandmother, she beamed and started
reaching out, making clutching motions with her little hands.
“Melissa, hi,” Kate said. “Come in, come in.”
Melissa did as asked, frowning as she looked her mother over. “Crap. Are
you going out? A date with Alan?”
“Yeah. He’s coming over in about twenty minutes. Why? What’s up?”
It was then, as they settled down on the couch, that Kate noticed
something seemed to be troubling Melissa. “I was hoping you could watch
Michelle tonight.”
“Melissa…I’d love to any other time. You know that. But as you can see, I
already have plans. Is…is everything okay?”
Melissa shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know. Terry has been weird lately.
Honestly, he’s been weird ever since Michelle’s health scare. He’s just not
there sometimes, you know? It’s been worse the last few days, and I don’t
quite know why.”
“So you two need some time together? A date of your own?”
Melissa shook her head, frowning. “No. We just need to have a talk. A