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Heart of Ice
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Advance Praise for Heart of Ice
“A vicious, cunning lady serial killer and three professional women caught up in her world. Crime novels don’t come any better!”
—Bill O’Reilly, FOX TV and radio anchor
“Book three in the wonderful Triple Threat Club series is a fast-paced thriller full of twists and turns that will keep you guessing until the end. What makes these books stand out for me is my ability to identify so easily with Allison, Nic and Cassidy. I truly care about what happens to each of them, and the challenges they face this time are heart-wrenching and realistic. I highly recommend!”
—Deborah Sinclaire, Editor-in-Chief, Book-of-the-Month Club
and the Stephen King Library
“Beautiful, successful and charismatic on the outside but underneath a twisted killer. She’s brilliant and crazy and comes racing at the reader with knives and a smile. The most chilling villain you’ll meet … because she could live next door to you.”
—Dr. Dale Archer, Clinical Psychiatrist
Acclaim for Hand of Fate
“As a television crime writer and producer, I expect novels to deliver pulsepounding tales with major twists. Hand of Fate delivers big time.”
—Pam Veasey, writer and executive producer of CSI: NY
“With Hand of Fate, author Lis Wiehl has crafted a thriller that is unmistakably authentic and irresistibly compelling—both streetwise and sophisticated, and a flawless reflection of this former prosecutor’s own expertise in law, life, and broadcasting.”
—Earl Merkel, author of Virgins And Martyrs
and Final Epidemic; cohost of talk radio’s Money & More
“A talk show host with a long list of people who want him dead? Has Lis Wiehl been reading my e-mail? Talk radio fans and mystery lovers alike won’t rest easy until they discover who had a hand in the fate of Fate.”
—Alan Colmes, host of The Alan Colmes Show
on radio and FOX News contributor
“From its gripping opening to its shocking conclusion, Hand of Fate keeps readers guessing until the very end. Lis Wiehl does it again!”
—Megyn Kelly, FOX News anchor
“Who killed loudmouth radio guy Jim Fate? The game is afoot! Hand of Fate is a fun thriller, taking you inside the media world and the justice system—scary places to be!”
—Bill O’Reilly, FOX TV and radio anchor
“What a fantastic read! Lis Wiehl’s Hand of Fate is a no-holds-barred, flat out suspense masterpiece!”
—David Latko, host of the talk radio show Money & More
“One word: THRILLER! It was all I could do not to race to the end and read the last pages.”
—Nancy Grace, Headline News anchor, former prosecutor,
New York Times bestselling author of The Eleventh Victim
“A thrill-a-minute mystery from one of my favorite radio/tv personalities.”
—Steve Malzberg, host of The Steve Malzberg Show
on WOR Radio NYC and the WOR Radio Network
“Don’t take this book to bed—you’ll end up turning pages all night and won’t get any sleep. Suspense … character … action … Linda Fairstein had better watch out: there’s a new prosecutor/crime writer stalking the bestseller list!”
—John Gibson, host of The John Gibson Show,
FOX News Radio
Acclaim for Face of Betrayal
“This novel is a blast to read!”
—Bill O’Reilly, FOX TV and radio anchor
“Only a brilliant lawyer, prosecutor, and journalist like Lis Wiehl could put together a mystery this thrilling! The incredible characters and nonstop twists will leave you mesmerized. Open this book and find a comfortable seat because you won’t want to put it down!”
—E. D. Hill, FOX News anchor
“Great characters, compelling storyline … a winning combination.”
—Earl Merkel, cohost of Money & More
“Lis Wiehl’s been there, done that, and reported on it all. A riveting and revealing fast-paced look at our criminal justice system and the press who cover it.”
—Dr. Michael Baden, current chief forensic pathologist
for the New York State Police; former Chief
Medical Examiner, NYC; host, HBO’s Autopsy
“Wiehl exposes the malevolent side of power in this murderous thriller. A harrowing tale ripped from the headlines!”
—Catherine Crier, former judge,
journalist, and bestselling author
“A real thrill ride! Filled with twists and turns you won’t see coming.”
—Rita Crosby, Emmy award-winning
TV personality (formerly with MSNBC)
“An incredible read. The story grips you from the get-go and reveals a stunning look at what happens when crime and the media meet head-on!”
—Nancy Grace, CNN anchor and
former prosecutor
“Feels fresher than today’s headline story. One of the best suspense novels of 2009.”
—Sean Hannity, FOX anchor
“Three smart women crack the big cases! Makes perfect sense to me. This book blew me away!”
— Jeanine Pirro, former DA; hosts The CW’s
daytime court television reality show Judge Jeanine Pirro
“Lis Wiehl has done it again! I’m a big fan of her nonfiction books and now the multitalented Wiehl lets loose with this juicy political mystery! A fine mixture of all this savvy commentator has to offer … including politics, law, friendship, and even motherhood! Lis is a quadruple threat in my book!”
—Hannah Storm, ESPN; former CBS anchor
Other Novels by Lis Wiehl with April Henry
Face of Betrayal
Hand of Fate
HEART OF
ICE
A Triple Threat Novel
LIS WIEHL
with APRIL HENRY
© 2010 by Lis Wiehl and April Henry
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. The events in this novel are inspired by actual events, but all characters are entirely fictional.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wiehl, Lis W.
Heart of ice : a triple threat novel / Lis Wiehl with April Henry.
p. cm. — (Triple threat series ; 3)
ISBN 978-1-59554-707-1 (hard cover)
1.Womenserialmurderers—Fiction.2.Womenjournalists— Fiction.3.Publicprosecutors—
Fiction. 4. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Henry, April. II. Title.
PS3623.I382H43 2011
813’.6—dc22
2010036805
Printed in the United States of America
10 11 12 13 14 15 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1
For the wonderful followers of Allison, Nicole, and Cassidy, especially Miss Margaret Ralston of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, who said the Triple Threat books got her through the “terrible pain” of a broken wrist. And for Dani and Jacob.
“The air around him seemed to buzz, and the eye contact he made with me was so direct and intense that I wondered if I had ever really looked anybody in the eye before.”
—ROBERT HARE
> WITHOUT CONSCIENCE: THE DISTURBING WORLD
OF THE PSYCHOPATHS AMONG US
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
READING GROUP GUIDE
CHAPTER 1
Southwest Portland
The fuel sloshed inside the red metal gas can, splashing in rhythm with Joey Decicco’s steps. As soon as the house at the end of the long driveway came into view, he stopped and took stock. Sprawling. Lots of windows. Two-story. Wooden. On the porch, two Adirondack chairs and a blue bike with training wheels. And no lights on, no car parked in front. Nobody home.
Just like Sissy—or Elizabeth, as she called herself now—had said.
Because Joey didn’t want to kill anyone. He had already caused enough death.
The sun was setting, but the fading light was enough for what he needed to do. Joey walked to one corner, carefully tilted the can, and began to trace a line around the house, drawing an invisible noose. By the time he finished, it was almost fully dark. He trailed the last of the gasoline and diesel mixture back up along the driveway.
Pulling a silver Zippo from his overalls pocket, he flipped open the cover. The thin metallic clank gave him goose bumps, as it had every time since he was eleven.
It was showtime.
Fire made Joey powerful. He could cause ordinary, boring people to wake in fright. He made the alarms sound. Made the fire trucks race down the road, sirens wailing. And right behind them stampeded the television cameras and reporters. All of them eager to look upon his handiwork.
Without fire, Joey was nothing. People made a point of not looking at him. At the patchwork skin on his face and his scarred left hand. But fire drew their eyes like iron filings to a magnet. They couldn’t not look at fire.
He flicked the lighter and then bent down, shielding the quivering blue flame with his free hand. With a whoosh, a line of fire raced away from him, advancing into the dark.
This was Joey’s favorite part. The beginning. He had surprised the night. What was supposed to be dark was suddenly filled with light and heat.
The flames circled the house like a lasso, then began to crawl up the sides. Joey’s hands were clenched, his eyes intent as he followed the spreading fire. But like a kid determined to spot the magician’s sleight of hand, sometimes even Joey was surprised by the fire’s next move. The blaze leapfrogged over the open porch and to the top story. A window shattered. With another whoosh, the curtains caught. For a second, Joey thought he saw a flicker of movement, but he told himself it was a trick of the shifting light. There was no one home. Sissy had promised.
Heat tightened his skin. He stood at the end of the driveway, ready to slip into the woods as soon as he heard the sirens. But with no nearby neighbors, they were slow in coming.
Then came a moment when Joey knew the fire would win. The sound had shifted, like an engine shifting to a higher gear. The flames must have found a new, more concentrated source of fuel. Cans of paint in the basement, a natural gas line—something. He sniffed but couldn’t smell anything except the sweet smell of burning wood. But still, the crackle and hiss became a roar, building and echoing until it was a wall of noise.
Finally he heard sirens in the distance. He moved farther back into the trees. As soon as he saw the first fire truck, he would slip away and make his way back to his El Camino. Like a man leaving his lover before a long journey, Joey feasted his eyes on the fire’s beauty—the undulating colors, the flickering flames licking the sky, and the great pillar of smoke visible only because it blocked out the evening’s first stars.
Tomorrow morning the house would be nothing but charred timbers and puddles, gray ash still drifting through the air. And the fire would be dead.
But for now, it was alive. And so was Joey.
“Believe me, she deserves it,” Elizabeth had told him through gritted teeth as she gave him a hand-drawn map and five hundred bucks. Joey had been desperate for cash. It wasn’t easy to get a job when you looked like he did. Not when a background check—even something as simple as typing his name into Google—turned up the truth of who he was. What he had done. So he needed the money.
But the thing was, Joey thought, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he watched the hungry flames, he would have done this for free.
CHAPTER 2
New Seasons Market
Elizabeth was pushing her cart down the aisles of New Seasons when she saw it. A beautiful royal-blue silk scarf tucked into the corner of another cart. The color, she thought, would complement her auburn hair and blue eyes. The cart also held a block of cheddar cheese, a half dozen cans, several boxes of pasta, and a gallon of milk. Not that much different from the contents of Elizabeth’s own cart.
She looked around. An observer might have thought she was scanning the shelves for the next item on her list. But Elizabeth never shopped with a list. And what she was looking for was the cart’s owner.
But she was all alone in aisle seven.
Without a second’s hesitation, Elizabeth walked away from her cart. She didn’t even think of it as her cart anymore. It was the cart. Or a cart. In a few more steps, in the time it took for her to begin pushing the second cart, to put her big black purse on top of the blue scarf, Elizabeth had completely forgotten the first cart. She could have just taken the scarf, but the idea of eating the other woman’s food made her feel powerful.
Having Joey burn down Sara’s house had awakened something in Elizabeth. Something strong. Something hungry. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had built up a perfect life for herself, and she wasn’t going to let anyone spoil it. Sara had needed to be punished.
Feeling bubbly, almost buoyant, Elizabeth pushed her new cart toward the front of the store. The skin between her shoulder blades tingled as she imagined a woman, much like herself, looking in bewilderment for her cart. Her cart with the beautiful blue scarf.
As she pushed the cart toward the line of registers, Elizabeth added a half dozen more items, like a dog marking its territory. A golden-yellow beeswax candle, a clear plastic box of sixteen perfectly iced cookies, a log of goat cheese rolled in silver-gray ash. New Seasons had a reputation for carrying the best organically grown produce, the finest cuts of pasture-raised meat, and cheeses and pastas imported from all over the world.
It also wasn’t cheap.
But Elizabeth did not believe in treating herself cheaply.
At the register, she transferred her groceries to the black rubber conveyor belt wi
th one hand. With the other, she bunched up the scarf and in one quick motion tucked it into her purse. When she lifted her head, she caught the clerk staring at her. His name tag said Clark S. His brows drew together as he saw her hand emerge from her purse.
Elizabeth realized he thought she was shoplifting.
He wasn’t her type—a grocery checker would never be her type— but Elizabeth gave him her very best smile, and his face smoothed out. Well, smoothed out as much as it could. Clark S. was about twenty, with horrible acne, red pustules alternating with old cratered scars. His eyes were striking—large, a deep greenish-blue—but who would ever look past those scars to see them? Or to see how he flinched every time someone looked directly at him?
Elizabeth bet she was the first woman who had smiled at Clark in a long time. She felt him falling into her smile. His shoulders straightened, his hands moving mechanically as he slid each item past the scanner. He only had eyes for her.
She signed the check with a flourish and handed it over. Technically, it belonged to her old roommate, but Elizabeth had taken a book of checks from the bottom of the box before Korena moved out. With any luck it would be weeks before she noticed. And New Seasons prided itself on its friendly neighborhood atmosphere. An atmosphere that included accepting customers’ checks and not asking to see any ID.