The Darkest Frost, Volume 1 of a 2-part serial (EXCERPT)

CHAPTER 1

THE FROST ESTATE

DEARBORNE, MARYLAND

Denieve

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I'd watched Caryn's boss closely. Waited for a chance to breach his inner circle. Though he didn't have a security detail or bodyguards, he'd sealed the outer perimeter of his Georgian-style mansion tighter than Buckingham Palace. Mile-high gates, cameras, and motion-sensors abounded.

Whenever he ventured out, he blended in with the crowd or vanished into traffic as if by magic. Photographing him proved even more challenging. Where's Waldo had nothing on this guy. Every picture I'd taken- - -and I'd shot dozens- - -came out blurry or obscured somehow. Digital. Instant. It didn't matter. The man seemed as elusive as Alice's white rabbit.

But patience was a virtue, and mine eventually paid off. After months of legwork and a gazillion surveillance hours, I'd finally found a way inside Braeden Frost's house- - -me, Denieve Knight, psychic detective. However, for the next month, I'd be working undercover.

My alias: Danielle Reed, housekeeper.

My goal: to determine whether Frost- - -a man the press had named Dr. Death- - -murdered Caryn, my ex-best friend. And I could only do that by getting inside his head.

Some psychics specialized in necromancy, while others relied on dreams and premonitions. But I had a gift for reading the emotional vibes of the living. It was like the difference between criminal defense lawyers and real-estate attorneys. All practice law, but they use a different set of rules, tools, and talents.

Same principle applied to psychics.

So here I sat at eleven o'clock at night, texting my agency colleague, Luke Antonelli, an I'm still breathing message from my bedroom in Frost's mansion, and I was eager to get started. I had yet to meet the mysterious doctor. The man hadn't returned from a trip overseas. I'd never spoken to him. Never even set foot inside this house until today. His personal assistant, Angela Pierce, had planned to introduce us, but since his flight was delayed, I wasn't sure how much longer she'd be here.

I'd left my surveillance equipment in my car this morning. Lugging it in under cover of darkness seemed safer, but now, given the long day I'd had and the lateness of the hour, I figured I'd best wait until tomorrow.

Instead, I swept my room for hidden mikes, planted bugs in the phones, and shot some interior photos. The latter I e-mailed to Luke and his assistant Tommy so they'd have a lay of the land. Sure, the phone stuff was illegal, but since this case was personal, I decided to bend the rules.

Speaking of rule breaking, sometime this week, I'd have to figure out how to get Luke a key impression of the front door. See, I always hoped for the best, but prepared for the worst. If need be, I could call him for help. He'd be familiar with the terrain and he'd have a way to get in here. Better to be safe than...um dead, you know?

When a door closed downstairs, I looked outside my window. Ms. Pierce was leaving and the moment her white BMW disappeared down the hill, this creepy old house became even more foreboding. Every noise put me on edge.

Reassurance didn't come when I glanced at the gun on my nightstand, so I gave in to the fear and did something completely ridiculous.

I blocked the door.