Once Trapped

CAUSE TO SAVE (Book #5)

CAUSE TO DREAD (Book #6)

KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES

A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)

A TRACE OF MUDER (Book #2)

A TRACE OF VICE (Book #3)

A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4)

A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5)

PROLOGUE

Morgan Farrell had no idea where she was or where she had just come from. She felt as if she were stepping out of a deep, thick fog. Something or someone was right there in front of her.

She leaned forward, staring, and saw a woman’s face staring back at her. The woman looked just as lost and confused as Morgan felt.

“Who are you?” she asked the woman.

The face mouthed the words in unison with her, and then Morgan realized …

My reflection.

She was looking at her own face in a mirror.

She felt stupid not to have recognized herself right away, but not completely surprised.

My reflection.

She knew she was looking at her own face in a mirror, but it felt like looking at a stranger. This was the face she’d always had, the face that people called elegant and beautiful. Now it looked artificial to her.

The face in the mirror didn’t look quite … alive.

For a few moments, Morgan wondered if she had died. But she could feel her slightly ragged breathing. She felt her heart beating a little fast.

No, she wasn’t dead. But she seemed to be lost.

She tried to pull her thoughts together.

Where am I?

What was I doing before I got here?

Weird as she felt about not knowing, it was a familiar problem. This wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in some part of the huge house without knowing how she’d gotten there. Her sleepwalking spells were caused by the multiple tranquilizers the doctor had prescribed, plus too much scotch.

Morgan only knew one thing—Andrew had better not see her looking like she looked right now. She had no makeup on, and her hair was a mess. She lifted a hand to push a strand of hair off her forehead, then saw …

My hand.

It’s red.

It’s covered with blood.

She watched as the mouth on the reflected face dropped open with shock.

Then she lifted her other hand.

It was also red with blood.

With a shudder of revulsion, she impulsively wiped her hands on the front of her clothing.

Then her horror mounted. She had just smeared blood on her extremely expensive silk nightgown.

Andrew would be furious if he found out.

But how was she going to clean herself up?

She glanced around, then hastily reached for a hand towel hanging next to the mirror. As she tried to clean her hands with it, she saw the monogram …

AF

This was her husband’s towel.

She forced herself to focus on her surroundings … the plush monogrammed towels … the shimmering gold-colored walls.

She was in her husband’s bathroom.

Morgan sighed with despair.

Her nighttime wanderings had taken her into her husband’s bedroom a few times before. If she woke him up, he was always furious at her for violating his privacy.

And now she had wandered all the way through his bedroom into his adjoining bathroom.

She shivered. Her husband’s punishments were always cruel.

What’s he going to do to me this time? she thought.

Morgan shook her head, trying to pull herself out of her mental fog. Her head was splitting and she felt nauseous. Obviously she’d had a lot to drink on top of too many tranquilizers. And now, not only had she gotten blood all over one of Andrew’s precious towels, she saw that she had made prints all over the white bathroom counter. There was even blood on the marble floor.

Where did all this blood come from? she asked herself.

A strange possibility occurred to her …

Did I try to kill myself?