Start reading Detective Charlotte Pierce’s First Book now!

I want to give you a sneak peak into my upcoming release, What She Did. It's about a woman who finds ex-husband and his new wife murdered in their bed with no memory of how she got there or what had happened. I hope you enjoy it!

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Something bad is about to happen. Goose bumps run down my spine. I step on the accelerator to get there faster.

I don’t know where I’m going. Rain is falling sideways in sheets.

A sappy love song program, easy listening for the over thirties, comes to a close. It must be after midnight.

How does that saying go again? Nothing good happens this late at night.

I pull onto a familiar looking street.

I don’t think I’ve ever been here before, but it’s familiar in that way that all planned communities are.

Perfectly spaced trees. Immaculate lawns. Pristine roofs. Houses painted the same three colors.

I turn right onto a cul-de-sac.

Wait a second, I think I’ve been here before.

Three black mailboxes in a row.

The BMW SUV parked at the house next door.

The rose bushes right under the white shutters.

This house is different. It’s a little unlike all the others.

Parking in the front, I get out of the car.

The rain that has sent my windshield wipers into overdrive, somehow catches me by surprise. The droplets hit me like little pins.

I should feel cold, but I don’t feel anything.

My gaze follows the water down to the ground.

Crouching down, I knock off a few raindrops from a blade of grass. It vibrates like a violin string.

Getting up, I head up the steps. I run my finger over the glass window and peek inside.

You know it’s a safe neighborhood where nothing ever happens when there’s glass surrounding the front door for anyone to peek through.

My index finger meanders over to the button.

Soft and rounded, it invites me to press it. But it would be rude to use the doorbell in the middle of the night.

My other hand presses down on the door handle.

Much to my surprise, the door opens.

I take a deep breath and step inside.

I walk through an unfamiliar living room. The hardwood floor creaks underneath my footsteps.

It’s dark, but the room is illuminated by the city lights streaming in through the cathedral windows.

I look around.

It’s a modern, relatively newly constructed home, much like my own.

But the ceilings are much higher, well over twelve feet.

To my left is an elegant formal dining room, which is probably only used on holidays and other special occasions.

The open floorplan winds around, leading me to the kitchen with stainless steel appliances and crown molding to complete the look.

The cabinets are light and the waterfall countertop island is huge with seating for at least five.

“Where am I?” I whisper to myself.

As I make my way down the hallway, I suddenly stop dead in my tracks.

No.

It can’t be.

I pick up one of the framed pictures from the side table and look at their smiling faces.

There’s Susannah with her long, elegant legs. Derek is kneeling down next to her with his arms around her stomach.

I can almost smell the grass and the sunflowers behind them. This is their pregnancy photo shoot.

I put down this photo and pick up another.

It’s Derek and Susannah lying on a beach.

I read the word Jamaica on the frame and double over to catch myself from throwing up.

The room fades to black. When my vision comes back, it’s blurry and full of spots.

Rising to my feet, my head starts to throb. The ache pounds so hard that all I hear is the sound of blood rushing in between my ears.

Somewhere in the distance, something catches my eye.

I squint, trying to focus.

The French doors at the end of the hallway are wide open.

Walking over, I trip over my own feet and grab onto the wall to keep myself upright.

There, in the distance, against the wall, in the king-sized bed, I see them.

My stomach ties up in a knot. A familiar queasy feeling rises up my body to the back of my throat.

They’re just asleep, I say to myself. They’re just asleep.

Blood runs cold through my veins.

My heart jumps into my chest.

I take a few steps back, slipping on the puddle of something viscous.

When I lift up my foot, I see the dark liquid all over the bottom of my slip-on shoes.

Blood.

Oh my God.

I stepped in the blood.

I look at the couple lying in the bed. Neither of them makes a sound.

Please get up and kick me out of your house, I plead silently.

Neither of them moves a muscle.

I take a deep breath.

I can’t just walk out.

This is Derek’s house and that’s Derek and Susannah in bed.

And if they aren’t asleep…I let my thoughts trail off, unable to follow through with the rest of the sentence.

There’s only one thing to do.

I take another deep breath and walk through the doors into the master bedroom on my tiptoes, holding my breath.

“Wake up,” I say. “Please wake up."

I should yell at the top of my lungs, but I’m terrified.

I can barely make my voice go louder than a whisper.

They are just sleeping, I say to myself.

When I reach the end of the sprawling bed, I see Susannah’s long hair spread out on the pillow. Her face is facing away from me.

I watch her body and wait for her chest to move up and down with her breath. But nothing happens. The sheet wrapped around her body is drenched in blood.

Derek faces away from me. He’s motionless.

“Susannah,” I whisper. “Don’t be dead.”

You can’t be dead, I say to myself over and over.

Carefully, I place my hand on her shoulder. Her arm falls off his side. The weight of it pulls her body from the bed and onto the floor.

Something within me shifts.

“Susannah! Susannah!” I yell, kneeling down and grabbing her by the shoulders.

I shake her as hard as I can. But her head just bops from side to side as if independent from the rest of her.

Her body is limp, missing all signs of life. My hand lands in some gooey substance that’s covering her lower half. Black and viscous, it doesn’t seem like blood at all.

Repulsed, I’m also mesmerized, unable to stop staring at my open-faced palm.

A moment later, when I finally come to my senses, I walk around the bed to Derek’s side.

He always had to have the left-hand side of the bed. No matter whether we were in our own house or a hotel room.

And here he is, lying on the left-hand side of Susannah, shot in the head.

Looking at little dark particles splattered all over his white puffy pillow, this place feels like a scene in a play.

Or maybe it’s just a dream…

Wasn’t this something I had secretly wished for over this past year?

Taking a step backward, my foot starts to slide.

Before I know what’s really happening, my legs fly in the air and the rest of me hurls toward the floor.

I land flat on my back.

My chest seizes up and I can’t take in a breath.

A few moments pass as I struggle to inhale and finally manage to get some air.

Turning to one side, I prop myself up on my elbow to get up.

Then I slip again.

I can feel the cold, wet blood sticking to my back and the side of my body. I am covered in their death.

Before I can scramble up to my feet, I feel sick to my stomach. A big lump makes its way up my body and I throw up all over the floor.

👉Pre-order now (coming March 1, 2022):

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Don't want to wait until March 1?

Paperback and hardcover versions are available now!

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