Please help me welcome Tamrie Foxtail with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series, How to Trap a Soul...
Growing up I had a friend named Mary. We lived one street apart from the time I was seven.
My Junior year of high school I was walking down the hall when another friend ran up to me and said, “Did you hear about Mary? She was murdered last night!” Kids on their way to school had found her body in a field.
That was the year I began to think about murder. I couldn’t help wondering what went through the mind of both the killer and their victim. I’ve often wondered at what point my friend realized the person she was with intended to strangle her to death. What were her thoughts? Did her life flash before her eyes? Was she filled with thoughts of her family? Her infant daughter? Was there time to regret the things she would never have a chance to do?
What goes through the mind of the killer? Is there a moment when they think “I could stop. I don’t have to do this.”
I married a Federal Police Officer, so talk of murder was common in our house. Even so, all these years later, I’m still haunted by the memory of my childhood friend who had her life and her future stolen from her.
He only kills women who have thirteen letters in their name; so why is he after Melissa Richardson?
After Lissa’s roommate is murdered, she becomes convinced the killer is after her. The police are quick to point out that Lissa doesn’t quite fit the profile of the Number Thirteen Killer’s victims, but she can feel him watching her.
He collects the souls of beautiful young women. He knows something special about Lissa—something that makes her soul more precious than most. All the others have been leading up to her. Her soul will be the jewel of his collection.
Lissa’s right to be frightened. The killer is someone close to her—and he’s moving closer.
“You’re very beautiful,” he said as his hands tightened around her throat.
She clawed at him as he knew she would, but the gloves and flannel protected his skin.
One bright red fingernail popped off.
He kept up the pressure. Her hands fell away. She began sinking to her knees. He followed her down, letting up on the pressure—just a little—enough to allow some small amount of oxygen to reach her brain. He pulled the mirror from his pocket and set it on the ground.
Again, his fingers dug into her neck, cutting off blood flow and oxygen, this time for good.
Her breath ceased; her body slumped.
He let go of her and picked up the compact, turning it this way and that until he caught a thin, smoky wisp darting to one side.
Ah, there it was. Her soul.
About the Author…
Tamrie Foxtail was raised in the sunshine state. She married the best man she ever met, an Okie who brought her to the Sooner State. As soon as she recovered from a rather serious case of culture shock, she fell in love with Oklahoma and its people.
She loves books, carousels, scrapbooking, and coffee. She works with the special education program in her local school district.
Tamrie is published with The Wild Rose Press and is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc. and Central Region Oklahoma Writers.