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THE PICKUP ARTIST
Bad Carma Mystery Book 1
BY TERRI BENSON

Blurb

Classic car restorer Renni Delacroix has a unique gift, one kept carefully hidden: when she touches a car, she sees its history. Focused on building her business in the small town of Rampart, Colorado, she hides the truth of her psychic ability.

But when a Marmon pickup is delivered, visions of terrified women jolt her clean off the old truck. She has no choice but to come forward, especially since one of the women was her best friend, murdered six months earlier. Renni explains what she saw to Detective Matt Brody. Skeptical, he’s surprised to find evidence the Marmon belonged to a serial killer known as the Rocky Mountain High Killer.

While battling Brody’s suspicions, and her growing attraction to him, Renni uses skills honed hunting down classic parts to unearth the killer. But will she be able to give their identity to Brody before she loses everything-her job, her home…even her life?

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Prologue

His eyes fixed on her the moment she walked in. Beautiful. Blonde. Perfect. He wedged into an unoccupied corner next to the swinging restroom door to consider whether he should take the risk so close to home. Occasionally the door hit him in the shoulder, and some busybody asked if he wanted to shift over. He shook his head and murmured about waiting for someone. The beer in his hand grew warm and flat, but faking a sip now and then, combined with carefully timed interest in an NCAA game on the silent big screen, sent the circulating waitress away.

Years of avoiding the attention of his father, teachers, jealous jocks and, later, girls who wouldn’t take a hint, paid off in the crowded bar, as they always did when he hunted. He was the invisible man in a plain ball cap, tan T-shirt, and baggy jeans. The thick-framed glasses and neatly trimmed beard would be gone tomorrow. No one suspects me. She’s the most perfect one yet. Timing’s right. It’s karma. He let out a soft snort of amusement.

His prey started for the exit just after ten. He slithered through the crowd, careful not to jostle anyone, and slipped out ahead of her. An overgrown juniper gave him a place to loiter, unseen, as he watched and waited. The muscle-bound bouncer helped her with a puffy coat, then leaned over her shoulder and said, “Let me take you away from all this, gorgeous.”

The blonde turned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Maybe later, Deano.”

The bouncer returned inside, and she walked past, head tipped back as she smiled at the yolk-yellow full moon hovering over the western horizon.

She picked her way over the uneven surface, stilettos clicking on loose stones, and headed around the side of the old building. Tennis shoes silent, he padded across the unpaved lot behind her. She made a beeline toward the shadow of an immense leafless cottonwood tree and a glow-in-the-dark chartreuse car that shone in the dappled moonlight beneath. They were at the back of the building, far from the rowdy patrons on the patio and busy parking lot. Excellent.

She stopped next to the car and fumbled in her purse. He palmed a black plastic electronic from his pocket.

“Excuse me,” he said in a soft, unassuming voice. His words came out with puffs of vapor in the frigid air. “I think you dropped this.”

Startled, she looked over her shoulder. He held out his leather-gloved hand, revealing a small portion of the phone-sized item. She patted an outside pocket on her purse.

“It’s not mine, but thanks for checking.”

“Are you sure? I could have sworn it fell as you walked by.” He took a step closer.

Keys in hand, she smiled, shook her head, and turned away.

He glanced around to ensure they were still alone and then touched the stun gun to her neck, pressing the red button as he counted to five. Dispassionately, he observed her body jerk and knees give out. She sprawled at his feet, chest heaving with erratic breaths. Wide gray eyes stared up at him, a frozen grimace on glossy scarlet lips.

Experience allowed him to efficiently zip-tie her wrists and ankles before picking her up, tossing her over his shoulder, and slipping between a pair of foul-smelling dumpsters to where his truck waited. She was tall, taller than the rest. By the time he tucked her onto the passenger-side floorboards, his breath was coming hard and fast. He shut the door against her back before she could fall and then went around to the driver’s side, glancing at his watch.

Plenty of time.

About Author Terri Benson…

A life-long writer, Terri is traditionally and self-published in novel length, with nearly a hundred articles and short stories published – many award winning. She was the Education Chair for Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers for more than seven years, is an irregular blogger (in more ways than one), member of RMFW, Sisters in Crime, and Rocky Mountain Mystery Writers, presents workshops at writer’s conferences, and teaches night classes at CMU Tech (formerly Western Colorado Community College). Terri spends her non-writing time working at a non-profit Community Foundation, and enjoys camping, hiking, and gardening.

Links to Terri’s websites, blogs, books, #ad etc.:

Amazon Kindle: https://amzn.to/3XRLhtT

Amazon Paperback:
https://www.amazon.com/Pickup-Artist-Bad-Carma-Mystery/dp/1956615024

Audible:
https://www.amazon.com/Pickup-Artist-Carma-Mystery-Book/dp/B09XHR6XPJ/ref=tmm_aud_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

Barnes & Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-pickup-artist-terri-benson/1140930664

Website: https://www.terribensonwriter.com/