Author: Jennifer Chase
Publisher: Bookouture
Pages: 384
Genre: Crime Thriller
She hears footsteps approaching, then the clunk of a heavy lock. Her body is numb in the cold but she stands, determined to fight. A blinding light overpowers her, and the world goes black…
When Detective Katie Scott finds a woman dying in the car garage, blood pooling around her, she reaches her just in time to hear her utter the words: find my daughter.
Katie doesn’t waste a second gathering her team and pulling the case file for the missing child, Anna Braxton, a teen with sparkling blue-eyes and an even brighter future. Staring at the blank investigation board, Katie won’t rest until she fulfills Anna’s mother’s dying wish.
Searching the Braxton’s impeccable family home, Katie finds Anna’s journal, filled with teenage secrets. Buried among the pages, she thinks she finds a lead—a strange man reached out to Anna, just days before she went missing…
But the case takes a terrifying turn when Anna’s best friend also vanishes. Hours later, a girl’s body is found in the embers of a house fire, her yellow satin dress devastatingly beautiful amongst the ashes. Is it Anna, her best friend, or another girl?
One thing is certain: a monster has the closeknit community of Pine Valley in a chokehold, and Katie must get one step ahead of the killer before any more precious young lives are taken. But at what cost?
★★★★★ ORDER YOUR COPY ★★★★★
Darkness shrouded the old cellar, causing a continuous chill to trickle down her spine. The dirt floor felt cold against her bare feet and her hands were dry as she rubbed them together. She could smell the musty remnants of what had been stored there in the past and the earthiness of being underground. The four walls seemed to be old stone or brick and they crumbled beneath her fingernails as she tried to claw her way out—but to no avail. Her exhaustion ultimately took over and she sat still, alone with her overwhelming fears. She had been left isolated and abandoned—in the pitch-black.
She hadn’t heard the man in hours, or maybe it was days—she wasn’t sure. In her bones, she knew this time he wasn’t coming back. The plastic-bottled water and peanut butter sandwiches were almost gone; her mouth was constantly dry. Her memory seemed to play tricks on her. How long had it been since she’d gone to the casting call for young aspiring models? She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, not her mom or even her best friend. She’d wanted to wait until she got the job to tell them the great news. It had been exciting; she dreamed of being a model and actress.
Her hands touched the dress she had been given to model—a yellow silk sheath wrap that made her feel beautiful, grown-up, as if she was finally someone who mattered.
She didn’t know how many times she had crawled up the wooden stairs to the small opening into the cellar, checking to see if he had left it open. But it was always the same—bolted shut. She had memorized each stair, which ones were sturdy, which were creaky and unstable. There were nine steps in total.
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember how she got there or what the house looked like. Even if she had a cell phone, she wouldn’t have been able to describe where she was—or even what town she was in. She felt a million miles away from home.
But she wasn’t giving up. Though weakened from lack of proper food, she dropped to her knees once again and crawled slowly toward the stairs. Her knees were bruised and scraped from the dozens of times she had attempted to escape—hoping that each time would be successful and she would be free.
As she paused at the first stair, feeling the familiar outlines in the darkness, she used her hands to steady her ascent; each time a stair ahead. Her knee pressed against the first stair, then the second, and the third. The creaks and groans were a disturbing symphony that reminded her of her situation: she was a prisoner in an empty basement and no one was coming back for her.
She stopped halfway to the top; her breathing quickening; feeling lightheaded. Her stomach grumbled. Her hope dwindled. Each time she’d gathered the strength to go up the stairs, it had turned out to be disheartening. She was never going to be free again. How stupid and selfish she had been, thinking she would become a model. She wondered if any of the other girls ended up like this. Or was she the only one whose fate was sealed?
Looking up toward the opening, she thought she heard footsteps. Yes, she had heard something. They were faint, but steady. He was coming. She froze. Her knees and hands were almost numb—her fingers hurt. Should she go back down or keep going?
What did she have to lose?
The footsteps were getting closer. They sounded like a pair of work boots hitting old hardwood floors. There was a strange echo to the movement, which was now above her. She could hear the creaks of the uneven planks; a mismatched harmony.
The distinct jingle of keys, then the rattle of a heavy lock.
She was going to stand her ground and push past the man to make her escape. It was all she had.
She could barely breathe.
The heavy creak of hinges.
Her body numb. She tried to stand up, ready to fight.
The doorway opened a crack at first, then wider, and finally pushed all the way open.
The blinding light overpowered her. Trying to escape it, she fell backward, flailing her arms in an attempt to catch her balance. She couldn’t focus on anything. She felt every step hit her back and ribs as she tumbled down to the dirt basement. Her head struck the floor. She lost her breath and closed her eyes.
– Excerpted from Find My Daughter by Jennifer Chase, Bookouture, 2025. Reprinted with permission.
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