Mark Beckner's fourth book in a line of thrilling murder mysteries is now available. Unveil the chilling secrets that lie along the banks of the swirling waters of Boulder Creek in this riveting murder mystery. Follow Boulder Detectives Caroline Shaw and Tom Nichols as they race against time to unravel a web of mystery, deception, deceit, and danger that grips a small, idyllic town. As the body count rises, fear grips the community. What dark secrets will the detectives uncover? Will Shaw and Nichols unearth the truth before the creek washes away the blood of another victim? Dive into the heart-pounding twists and turns of Boulder Creek's Silent Waters and discover the truth that will leave you breathless.
First Page Look:
"Why are you doing this to me?" screamed Della. "I'm freezing and hungry!"
"I want to know how much you can take," replied the man wearing a white hood while looking through the metal grate above.
"I hate you! Get me out of here!" Della shouted as she looked up through the black metal grate that imprisoned her in the eight-by-10-foot wood-lined walled enclosure. She estimated the walls to be about eight feet tall. They were made of thick wooden timbers designed to prevent escape and limit her screams from being heard outside the chamber. Her only sight from the chamber was through the two-by-three-foot opening at the top, covered by the black grate. In her estimate, the bars on the grate were approximately three inches apart. Della could not tell which way was north, south, east, or west. One sixty-watt light bulb hung through the grate, providing her with light whenever her captor turned it on. In the middle of the concrete floor was a five-inch round drain.
The only furniture provided was a small metal cot with a thin mattress along one wall and a thick wooden chair sitting in a corner. The chair had wide wooden arms on each side with buckled leather straps attached, often used to buckle her to the chair for what he called "experiments." Similar ankle straps were attached to the front legs of the chair. In the middle of the opposite wall, across from the bed, was a two-foot-wide solid metal door. In one upper corner was a small camera pointing into the room toward the chair. A metal bucket sat in the opposite corner and served as Della's toilet. While toilet paper was provided, there was nothing with which to wash her hands. The bucket was only emptied every four to five days. The smell reminded Della of the old wooden outhouses used in state parks when camping with her parents as a little girl.
