Dead Woman Walking (Detective Amanda Steele #15)

Prologue

Woodbridge, Virginia

There were better ways to spend a Friday night than a late-night showing, but selling the house would make up for any inconvenience.

It was a luxury listing on Charmed Court with a sticker price north of a million.

The sale would earn her the title of top real estate agent of the year with her firm, and the commission would pad her bank account.

She let herself into the house after grabbing the key from the lockbox.

The entry lights were set up with a motion sensor, and a glow welcomed her into the home.

She disarmed the security system but turned around and flipped the dead bolt.

It was an affluent neighborhood, but it was always best to take precautions.

Her phone rang, and her daughter’s name came on the screen. She answered before the second ring. “Hey, sweetie. Everything okay? I thought you would have called hours ago.”

“We’re here, Mom. You worry too much. I’ve been having some fun. You remember what that is?”

Vaguely… “No need to be smart.” But she’d always worry about her daughter. It didn’t matter if Riley was five or nineteen. Let alone driving to a cottage rental that was six hours away with her friends.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve gotta go. We’re gonna go for a dip in the lake.”

Before she could respond, her daughter was gone.

She stuck her phone in her purse and shoved it into the main closet before setting out through the house.

She turned on the lights as she went along.

Every single one. The brighter the space, the more attractive it was for buyers.

Unfortunately, they would miss how sunlight drenched the home with natural light, unless they requested a second showing during the day.

The house was pristine, and everything was gleaming. The hint of vanilla from a candle or cleaning spritz made the house feel warm and homey.

She entered the primary suite and soaked in the tray ceilings and sparkling chandelier that hung over the California king bed.

A sitting area overlooked the backyard with its woods and natural pond, and there was an en suite that rivaled high-end spas with its jet tub and walk-in shower with eight nozzles.

The walk-in closet was the size of her first apartment.

It contained enough jewels, watches, and shoes to value into the high six figures, if not higher.

Her watch told her it was ten o’clock, giving her a half hour to pass before her clients arrived. She’d go downstairs to wait and spend the time visualizing an offer.

Turning to leave the bedroom, she stopped. Frozen.

A person stood in the doorway.

The skin tightened on the back of her neck, and goosebumps rose on her arms. “You need to leave. You’re trespassing.” It was a challenge to find her voice, and she realized how foolish her request sounded. This person had gotten past a locked door. They weren’t here for any noble purpose.

They didn’t move and continued to block her escape. The person’s eyes were menacing and dark, piercing right through her.

“Please, leave.” A sick foreboding tossed her stomach. She went against protocol and didn’t tell anyone she was here tonight.

The person raised their right arm. She had just enough time to register the gun before there was a burst of light.

A loud wet smack ignited a fire in her chest.

She looked down and touched the wound. Her hand came away soaked in blood. Slowly and not comprehending, she faced the shooter. “You—”

Another flash. A second hole in her chest.

The pain was unfathomable. “Why are you—?”

The person pulled the trigger again.

She never felt the last bullet hit.