The DEAD series By Cameron Cay Nothing exciting ever happens in Corinth County. Hidden in the deep east Texas piney woods where gossip is king and aspirations are discouraged, the folks are protected by the Corinth County Sheriff's department. Angelina Santos is the department's head dispatcher. Hungry to have a life outside of Corinth but bound by her past, she suffers a love/hate relationship with the dying Texas community. Progress can't be held back forever, though. Especially when it involves murder... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . DEAD SILENT A startling 911 call comes in as Angel is finishing her usual evening shift. Unable to locate the victim, she listens in horror as a murder takes place. Haunted by a familiar yet unidentifiable sound in the background, she struggles to make sense of the crime while also dealing with her rebellious daughter, her befuddled mother and an ex-husband who's serving five to ten in a Huntsville prison. When she finds herself falling for the new doctor in town, she thinks she's found the answer to her problems. She has no idea they're about to get much worse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . DEAD RIGHT Her ex is out of prison and her daughter is headed for college but Angel has more to worry about than these two. A rusted oil barrel has been spotted floating down Lost Woman Creek and when the lid comes off, the dismembered body of Brother Williams's missing wife is found inside, her head tucked neatly beneath her arm. Corinth is shocked and stunned as the Baptist preacher claims innocence. Angel isn't convinced, though. Especially after she learns Thomas Williams has a deep, dark secret. If he reveals it, he might prove his case, but if he stays silent, he could lose his soul. Angel's life hangs on his decision. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . DEAD STOP Christmas in Corinth is cold and bleak but Angel's sister is engaged and her mother has a new friend so love is definitely in the air. Then three of her daughter's friends from school, home on vacation are found dead and the choking game is blamed. The tragedy tears at Corinth's very foundation and every question Angel asks opens the wounds wider. After a state representative decides he should get involved, the tiny community grows even more worried. When the truth is finally revealed, Angel fears it will hardly matter. She'll be dead next and no one will know why. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Want to read more? DEAD SILENT, the first of The Dead Series PROLOGUE Dallas Two years prior Murder was hard work. He already knew that, of course, but it seemed more difficult this time around. She streaked toward the end of the hall and disappeared around the corner, heading for the stairs. Palming the wall to round the bend, he propelled himself forward and pushed for more speed, narrowing the gap between them. He could smell her fear and the scent urged him on. As they reached the bottom, the hem of her skirt brushed his outstretched fingers. He lost the teasing contact as she leapt over the final step, one of her shoes flying off. A second later, she was out the back door and hopping across the wooded yard. She was almost to the fence when she sent a terrified look over her shoulder. That's when she stumbled. He was on top of her before she could catch her breath. Ripping the soaked handkerchief from his pocket, he slapped it over her nose, his face a mask of rage. Just give it up already, he wanted to scream. You've had your fun now it's time to move on. She held out for as long as she could then her chest collapsed and she gulped a deep breath. Coughing and gagging, she beat at him weakly with her fists. He clamped the linen over her nose a little tighter and she finally went limp, her pale blue eyes rolling back in her head. The chase had winded him. He took a moment to recover, his hands on his knees, his panting harsh in the silence of the woods. He hadn't expected her to run, dammit. Then again, her primary goal in life had always been to make him as miserable as possible; why had he thought her final hours would be any different? He rested a few more seconds, then struggled to his feet and picked her up, locking his hands around her chest. Dragging her to the patio, he opened the door with one hand and backed inside. She was heavier than he expected but it didn't take long to pull her up to the bedroom. With a final heave, he got her on the bed, her head lolling to one side, a sweep of blonde hair falling over the pillow. Her eyes twitched as the movement registered somewhere deep inside her brain but she didn't waken. The hypodermic was in his pocket. Taking the protective tip off the needle, he filled the syringe and tapped it without thinking. Removing the white high-heeled sandal she still wore on her right foot, he stabbed the needle between her big toe and the one next to it. Watching the drug draw down slowly, he thought, for some reason, of his father. Well-known in the community and admired by many, he'd predicted his son would never get far if he couldn't learn to manage his impulses. Discipline had been the god his father had worshiped and the whole family had been expected to pray daily at the very same altar. His mother had sent his dad out the door as soon as she'd realized she could. That's when he'd realized his father hadn't known quite as much as he thought he did. When the syringe was empty, he removed the needle then dropped it on the bed next to her hand, placing the depleted vial beside her pillow to stage the scene just as he'd imagined it. People would be stunned by her accidental overdose but depression and drug use were so common in her field. It was a real shame... Folding the blanket at the foot of the mattress, he smoothed it out then plumped the cushion in the chair where he'd sat earlier. When he turned, he caught sight of her foot. A tiny speck of dirt clung to her heel. Grabbing a tissue from the bathroom, he scraped off the bit of red clay and flushed it down the toilet. Downstairs once again, he picked up her left shoe and swept her heel marks out of the carpet. Stashing the broom in the laundry room, he returned to the bedroom and positioned both sandals beside the bed so it would look as if she'd toed them off before laying down. Standing back to survey his work, he was stripping off his gloves when a soft tapping broke the silence. He glanced at his watch then started for the stairs with a smile. Her punctuality pleased him. He opened the door and a rush of night air came in. The woman followed, an anxious expression contorting her usual placid features, her eyes worried. "How'd it go? Are you finished?" He locked the door then turned to her. "It's eleven, isn't it?" he asked calmly. "I said I'd be done at eleven, so I am." "Can I see?" He started to refuse and say they didn't have time. But something about the gleam in her wide brown eyes made him pause. He shrugged. "Sure, why not?" She walked past him, stopping in the middle of the den to point at the ceiling and look at him over her shoulder. He nodded once and she tiptoed toward the staircase, her fingers waving above the banister as she began to take the steps one by one. He stared at her swaying hips and long legs, swallowing hard. She wasn't too bright, but he didn't care. He was surrounded all day long by people who thought they were intellectual giants. At least this one, who was cunning, didn't try to analyze his every move. When things changed—as they always did—and she began to make demands of her own, he'd have to do something but for now, they were good. She froze in the doorway then moved slowly toward the bed. He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "She's really dead?" He chuckled. "Touch her if you don't believe me." She shivered and he felt himself grow hard. Pressing against her, he ran his palms over her buttocks then gripped her breasts. She moaned in response and he drew his hands down her hips to raise her skirt. He hooked a finger inside her panties and the fabric whispered down her legs with a quiet protest. She gasped as he bent her over the mattress. His dead wife stared up at him as he came.