Killertrust

Praise for
Killerwatt
,
the first
book in the Rhetta
McCarter series, which was nominated for a 2011 Lovey Award for “Best First
Novel” and an Indie Excellence Award Finalist for 2012.

“
Oh, I love Rhetta McCarter!
She's hilarious, smart, savvy,
tenacious, loving--and just the teensiest bit stubborn. (Good thing, or her
hometown would be in serious trouble.)
Killerwatt
is a high-voltage, high-speed adventure--with humor,
heart, and a frighteningly realistic story!” ~
Hank Phillippi Ryan,
Anthony, Macavity and Agatha-winning author

“
Feisty amateur sleuth Rhetta McCarter
takes us along on a
thrilling ride in her '79 Camaro as she tries to stop a terrorist plot that
could mean lights out for the country...and for Rhetta! An exciting, fast-paced
thriller from a promising debut author. ~
Sharon Potts
,
award-winning author of
In Their Blood
and
Someone's
Watching

“
Killerwatt
is as fun and
fast-paced as
riding around in McCarter's '79 Camaro with the top down. Well-rounded
characters and great writing make the frighteningly real terrorist scenario
come to life.” ~ D. Alan Lewis, author of
The Blood
in Snowflake Garden

From “Top Book Reviewers
”
http://www.topbookreviewers.com

“
Hopkins has written a solid
mystery thriller that will appeal
to a wide audience. Her style takes a fun, light-hearted approach to
a serious subject, which kept me reading it in one go. Even when my
eyes were trying to close, I had to read the next chapter to see what
would happen next to Rhetta. Hopkins has created a likable heroine that
I could see become a series of books quickly.
Killerwatt
is
an entertaining read that shows how vulnerable we are. I hope it never
really happens in my lifetime.”

“
I really enjoyed
Killerwatt
and
being introduced to protagonist
Rhetta McCarter. She’s spunky, smart, determined and opinionated - everything a
reader wants in a leading lady and amateur sleuth. The book is set in Missouri
and painted with such care you'll feel like you're zooming along the back
roads, riding shotgun in Rhetta’s prize Camaro.”

“Sharon Woods Hopkins knocked
this out of the park. She creates a suspenseful tale with well-drawn,
believable characters.”

Praise for
Killerfind
, nominated for
a 2012 Lovey Award for Best Series, and an
Indie Excellence Award Finalist for 2013. Received First Place Winner of the
Missouri Writers’ Guild Show-me Best Book Awards, 2013.

“
Buckle your seat belts and
hang on tight! Rhetta McCarter’s
back behind the wheel—and you’re lucky to be along for the ride!” ~
Joanna Campbell
Slan
,
author of the critically acclaimed
Kiki Lowenstein
Mystery
Series.

“A
uthor Sharon Woods Hopkins revs
up the action in
Killerfind
, the second
book in her Rhetta McCarter series. With a pedal-to-the-metal plot and plenty
of hairpin turns, Hopkins delivers a mystery as muscular as her character's
vintage Camaro. A long-buried body, a surplus of suspects, and a fresh murder
thrown in the mix combust to create a roaring good read.” ~
Deborah Sharp
,
author of
the
Mace
Bauer Mystery Series

“
Killerfind
is every bit as
satisfying as
a summer ride on an open road with the top down. Sharon Woods Hopkins has
created a fun and lively character in Rhetta McCarter, mortgage broker and car
enthusiast turned amateur sleuth, and the supporting characters are just as
well developed. Frankly,
Killerfind
is a killer find of a book!” ~
Sue Ann
Jaffarian,
author of the best-selling
Odelia Grey Mysteries
and
The Ghost of
Granny Apples Mysteries.

Sharon Woods
Hopkins

Deadly Writes Publishing, LLC

Killertrust
by Sharon
Woods Hopkins

Copyright © 2013 by Sharon
Woods Hopkins 

All
rights reserved

No part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or
by any means, including electronic or mechanical. Photocopying, recording, or
otherwise reproducing any portion of this work without the prior written
permission of the author is prohibited except for brief quotations used in a
review.

This
is a work of fiction, and a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity
to actual persons is purely coincidental. Persons, events, and places mentioned
in this novel are used in a fictional manner.

Deadly
Writes and the Deadly Writes image and colophon are trademarks of Deadly Writes
Publishing, LLC.

Edited
by Patricia Smith

Book
cover and interior designed by Ellie Searl, Publishista®

www.publishista.com

Print Book ISBN-10: 0989345610

Print
Book ISBN-13: 978-0-9893456-1-3

Print Book
LCCN:
2013948302

www.sharonwoodshopkins.com

www.deadlywritespublishing.com

[email protected]

Deadly Writes Pulishing, LLC

Marble
Hill, MO

A
huge “Thank You” to
my wonderful readers
who show such love and enthusiasm for Rhetta McCarter.

A great big
thank
you
to my early readers, Lyndie Kempfer and Sondra Gockel. Your
input helped me so much!

Thank you to the real Rushia Coughenour who cheerfully
became a corpse in this story.

Thanks to my friend Charlie Hutchings, Bollinger County
Coroner, who patiently answered all my questions and only raised his eyebrows a
couple of times.

Thanks to my chief mechanic and business partner, my
wonderful son Jeff Snowden who keeps the real Cami tuned and beautiful, and to
my delightful daughter in law, Wendy and my terrific grandson, Dylan. Love you
guys!

To my best
friend, my
kindest and sharpest
critic, to the person I admire the most: my husband, Bill Hopkins. Without you,
there would not have been a
Killertrust
. I love you.

It was exactly
one week
since he’d eliminated the
final one.

  The killer shuffled into
the opulent waiting area staffed by a sole receptionist. The young blonde
seated behind a mahogany desk acknowledged the bent old man with a slight bow
of her head. Her English was nearly flawless. “How may I help you, sir?”

“I’m here about Garibaldi.”

Her small hand lifted the
phone. She punched a single button. “There’s a gentleman about Garibaldi.”
After listening a few seconds, she nodded, then said, “Yes, sir.” Her tiny
voice matched her stature. She returned the phone to its cradle. She glanced
up. Her eyes met the old man’s. “Follow me, please.” She stood.

He followed her across the
thickly carpeted reception area to a small room containing a single wooden
chair and a tea service-sized table. She gestured. He sat. The lock tumblers on
the door fell into place when she left, closing him in, alone.

Clutching a small object in
his right hand, he used his left to roll up his right shirtsleeve to his elbow.
There was barely time to rehearse his speech one more time—the speech he’d
repeated to himself a thousand times on the trip—before the door opened.

A short, dark man wearing
thick round glasses that made his eyes appear overlarge, stepped in and closed
the door. There was scarcely enough space for both men. He stood in front of
the seated man. He cleared his throat and pushed up his glasses. They had
slipped down on a thin sheen of sweat to the end of his angular nose. “Let me
see.”

The old man displayed the
object and his arm.

The dark man scrutinized both
for an agonizingly long minute. He nodded slowly. “Yes, you have the proper
credentials.” His English was also excellent.

The old man exhaled. “Good.”
Dots of sweat popped out on his forehead and above his wispy grey mustache. He
fingered his grey beard.

The short man’s shoulders
rose and dropped. He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes a moment before
replacing the glasses onto their perch. “There is no need to ask you for the
account number. You are too soon. There is still one other.” The dark man
folded his hands across his stomach.

The old man gasped, shaking
his head in protest. “No, you must be wrong. That can’t be. I’m the last. The
others are all dead.”