Leslie Wolfe ~ Missing Girl at Frozen Falls ~ Book Tour / Excerpt / Trailer / Giveaway




Missing Girl At Frozen Falls

Detective Kay Sharp Book 5

by Leslie Wolfe



Genre: Crime Thriller, Mystery






She lay in the frosted grass behind Frozen Falls. Her eyes were wide open, and the wind blew her hair, ash-blond locks reflecting the blue sky. Her face, beautiful even in death, was pale, as if the bitter cold from the mountain had drained the color from her cheeks.

On a crisp autumn day in the small town of Mount Chester, Detective Kay Sharp comes face-to-face with the past she has spent the last decade running from. Her ex-husband, Brian, has been accused of murder.

Seeing Brian brings a flood of painful memories—he betrayed her in the worst possible way. Yet despite her heartbreak, Kay is willing to put her career on the line to prove his innocence.

Brian is accused of killing Kay’s former best friend, Rachel—the woman he cheated on Kay with, getting her pregnant. The blood drains from Kay’s face; she received a voicemail from Rachel two days ago. “I hope you’ll forgive me,” she’d said, her voice fraught with tears. “I know I have no right, but I need you.” Kay’s stomach plummets. By the time she called back, Rachel was already dead. Could Brian really be the murderer?

Kay faces pressure from her crime team, who don’t want her working on an investigation so close to home. But she’s willing to risk everything—she vows to get justice for Rachel.

When Kay visit’s Rachel’s mother, she uncovers a heart-stopping discovery that makes the case even more critical: Rachel’s eight-year-old daughter, Holly, is missing. Could the little girl still be alive?

Up against the most complex—and most personal—case of her career, can she save precious Holly before it’s too late? And will Kay’s determination to find out the truth lead to justice—or be her undoing?

Thrillers don’t get more gripping than this! You’ll speed through this addictive, twist-filled page-turner with a racing heart. Perfect for fans of Robert Dugoni, Karin Slaughter and Rachel Caine.



See what readers are saying about Missing Girl at Frozen Falls:

Totally binge-worthy… Such a fast-paced read and I could not put it down. I was able to read this one in like 8 hours because I refused to do anything else! This book grabbed me on page one and would not let go! I absolutely loved this book!… I am hooked!!!” Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Whew! Now my heart rate can settle back to a normal rhythm! This book was quite a rat race that will leave you breathless and stunned… I raced through this book in one afternoon. When I closed the final page, I sat there with my mouth wide open wondering what just happened!… A must-read for those who like to live on the edge! Get ready for the roller coaster ride of your life!” Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“This is a hard review to do because no matter what I write it won’t do this book justice… Loved this book and highly recommend this whole series!!!!” Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Such a gripping thriller that kept me awake all night, trying to finish the book!… This book was completely mind-blowing and I was literally hooked from the first chapter till the end, wanting to know what is going to happen next! Out of all the Kay Sharp series, I have to say that this book is one of the best books in the series and I couldn’t even put the book down… A fast-paced unputdownable thriller that will keep you awake all night. Worth complete full five stars!” Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Wow! What a read! Such an amazing story! It was impossible to put the book down… Hooked me from the very beginningMy jaw dropped at the end… Absolutely perfect! Full points!… A magnificent read all in all, and I love this book… Fantastic plot, exceptional writing, astonishing flow, and a breathtaking ending!” Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐







There wasn’t an ounce of deference in her daughter’s blue eyes.
Lit up with defiance fueled by the fire that burned vividly inside her heart and gave its color to her long, tousled hair, Holly’s eyes darted from her mother’s face to the kitchen window.
Outside, dusk hues were fading into darkness, inviting heavy shadows to the corners of the yard and seeding worry into Rachel’s heart.
“Ten more minutes, Mommy, please,” she insisted, fidgeting on the chair she’d taken with visible reluctance. “It’s not night yet.” Her fingers found the edge of the place mat and started tugging at a loose thread coming out of the seam. It would soon fall apart, like everything
else that was in her way. “Please?”
Rachel bit her lip to contain a tense smile. “Dinner’s ready, sweetie.” After placing white, square plates on the table with quick, expert gestures, Rachel turned her back for a moment, long enough to retrieve the casserole from the stove and set it on the grate. When she looked up, content to see the roast had made it to the table without any spills or stains, Holly’s chair was empty.
Testing the limits of her patience, her daughter hung by the back door knob. Her hands were squeezing the knob while slowly twisting it, her back almost touching the floor, her auburn curls sweeping the tiles. She stared at her mother with a wide, audacious grin on her freckled
face as if to see if she could get away with turning the knob just one more bit until it gave under pressure, allowing the door to swing open.
Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. That knob was loose, barely holding on even without an eight-year-old dangling from it with a vengeance. In Holly’s mind, that rattling piece of hardware must’ve been the symbol of what held her captive in her mother’s kitchen and deserved to be torn to bits. Even if that meant the little monkey could land hard on the floor while doing it, banging her head against the side of the cabinet. Or, more likely, she was just not thinking about any of that, in typical eight-year-old fashion.
Dropping the oven mitt on the table, she rushed over to the door and scooped Holly in her arms, using the opportunity to hold Holly tight for a brief moment before the child started squirming to get free.
Crouching, Rachel let her land safely on the ground while her eyes darted for a moment to the stove’s clock. It was getting late.
With every passing minute, fear crept inside her like fog rolling in from the sea, swallowing everything in its path. She should’ve never said a word. She should’ve run, pretended like she was never there, and maybe they would’ve been safe. Holly would’ve been safe now.
Reluctantly, she opened her arms, breathing away the threat of tears. Without hesitation, Holly sprinted away from her, circling the table and filling the silence with laughter.
“Wash your hands before you sit down, young lady.” The girl pouted, but Rachel didn’t budge, pointing her finger at the sink. “Now.” Then Rachel took her seat at the table with a long sigh, knife and fork in hand, ready to carve a couple of slices from the mouthwatering roast. The
smell of buttery mashed potatoes and thyme-encrusted veal filled her nostrils, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything since morning.
Keeping her eyes on Holly’s half-hearted effort to wash her hands while she typed a text message on her phone, Rachel almost missed the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Yet the familiar noise sent icicles through her blood. In quick tiptoe, she went to the living room and
looked outside through the sheers without turning on the lights.
“Oh, no,” she whispered to herself. “Oh, please, no.”
Rushing back into the kitchen, she grabbed Holly’s jacket from the coat rack by the door, then stopped by Holly’s side. “Remember what we talked about?” she asked her daughter in a low, intense whisper. She nodded, her eyes wide, her smile gone. “It’s time. Here, put this on and
go outside. Go hide in the toolshed, behind the tractor, like we discussed.”
Holly’s head bobbed again. She stood, hesitant, her earlier eagerness to go outside now vanished.
“Go.” Rachel opened the back door quickly, and Holly slipped through. A gust of wintry wind blew inside with the scent of fallen leaves and the threat of November rain. “Stay there until I come to get you, all right?” Then she put her finger on her lips, pleading with her daughter
to stay silent. “Breathe like I showed you, nice and slow, okay? Don’t be afraid,” she murmured, wiping a tear from her daughter’s eye. “My brave little girl.”
Holly whimpered and took a step back, sending her curls up in whirls as she turned to run barefoot on the frozen ground. Out of time for better options, Rachel took off her shoes and threw them over to Holly, then watched her stop just long enough to pick them up and slip them on before continuing to the shed. The sneakers were too large for her, but she bravely dragged her feet into the shed, pulling the door closed behind her with a rusty creak.
A sob climbed inside Rachel’s chest, but she willed it gone as she closed the door and dealt away with Holly’s plate, silverware, and place mat, shoving them quickly into the dishwasher.
What was she still doing there? It made no sense, but she didn’t know where else to go.
She’d wanted one more dinner for Holly and herself, one more day of normality before her entire life would be upended, maybe for good. But now she regretted it bitterly, only the latest in a slew of bad decisions she’d made.
She’d thought there was still time.
She’d been wrong.
The doorbell rang twice, seeming much louder than usual, sending ripples of fear through her veins. She slammed the dishwasher door shut and shouted, “Just a minute.” Throwing the kitchen one last look, she braced herself and walked over to the front door.
For a moment, she considered not opening the door, blocking it with the back of a chair stuck under the handle as she’d seen in the movies. But she knew that would make no difference.
It was better to try to talk her way out of it. Her only chance.
She opened the door and froze, suddenly at a loss for words, her throat constricted and dry.
The man stared at Rachel before coming in as if to gauge her intentions, as if expecting something more than the awkward smile she’d pasted on her trembling lips. He kept his hands inside the deep pockets of his trench coat, his shoulders broad, his expression stern, determined.
The long flaps of his coat fluttered in the brisk wind like a captive bird trying desperately to flee.
“I—I know why you’re here…” she said weakly. “But there’s no need.” The man continued to stare, his gaze cold, unyielding. “I decided it’s better to let it all go and just disappear. I’ll take Holly, and we’ll just leave.”
She looked at him briefly, then away. Her head hung low, her eyes shielded by wavy strands of silky red hair. His face seemed carved in stone, immobile, indifferent. It was the indifference that scared her the most.
“Is that so?” he asked. His voice resounded strangely in the quiet room. “You just decided to drop everything and run away? And I’m supposed to believe that?” His laughter reverberated in the deathly silence like shards of glass.
She nodded frantically, feeling her heart thumping hastily in her chest. “I don’t remember much anyway. I—I was wrong. I thought I’d remember, but…” Tears welled in her eyes. He reached out and touched her face. Jolting under his touch, she willed herself still. “I promise you I won’t say a word.”
A crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Cross your heart and hope to die?” he asked, crushing a tear under his thumb.
His question brought vivid images to her mind. A black SUV driving by on the street where she was parked. That vehicle slowing as it almost reached the corner. The window moving down in the light rain. A flicker of light and the sound of a gun going off. Twice. The hand that
held the gun and the way it jolted upward from the recoil. The thump of a body falling onto the rain-soaked sidewalk, a young man, maybe twenty years old, perhaps younger. Blood mixing with rain and slowly flowing to the gutter. The black SUV accelerating, turning the corner,
disappearing. Her breath, caught in her chest, searing and agonizing.
She shook her head. “Not a word, I swear. I’m just shook up, that’s all.” She pulled away slowly, knowing she was lying so badly her eight-year-old would’ve done a much better job.
“I’ve embarrassed myself with those people… in the heat of the moment, I guess. I’ve never witnessed a murder before.” She choked on the word, and her voice broke. “I thought I could remember the tag, but all I can remember was a black car. Or maybe blue. There are millions of
them out there. I didn’t see anything, really. I swear I didn’t. Please, let me go.”
“I’m not buying it.” His voice was level, matter-of-fact.
She shrugged and shook her head again, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I already called them; I told them I can’t remember anything.” Lifting her eyes and meeting his for a brief moment, she added in a low, strangled whisper, “But they might think differently. I—we—are in danger if they think I’ve seen something. You know, the, um, killer. I wish I could tell them I didn’t see anything. I’m no danger to anyone.” Wringing her hands together, she took another small step backward. “I was too far. It was dark, raining. How could I have seen anything, right?” She tried to fake a chuckle, but it came out guttural, choked, grotesque.
A stifled sob escaped her lips. Her knees were feeling weak and shaky, and she let herself slide into a chair near the door, then buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed, fear and desperation spreading throughout her body relentlessly.
He drew closer and touched Rachel’s shoulder in a gesture that made her jump out of her skin. Gasping, she looked at him through a blur of tears. When their eyes met, she shuddered.
His decision was made, and nothing she could say or do could change what was about to happen.
Still, she bolted from her chair and fled into the kitchen, flailing desperately, feeling the table surface for the long carving knife she remembered she’d set out earlier.
The man walked toward the kitchen table slowly, unfazed, determined. “Where’s the kid?”
“She’s not here,” she stuttered. “I left her with my mom.”
“Uh-huh,” he replied coldly, taking out a gun fitted with a small silencer and aiming it at her chest.
Grabbing the knife with trembling fingers, she pounced, raising her hand in the air and leaping across the floor to reach him.
The gun went off twice, in rapid, silenced sequence, ripping through her flesh and setting off flashes of lightning inside her brain. Her body fell to the ground as the world around her turned dark. The knife clattered against the tiles and slid under the stove.
The man stared at her body for a few moments, then circled around the table and fired another shot into Rachel’s head. The shock jarred her upper body for a split second, then nothing.
Just silence.
The man slid the gun inside his pocket and grabbed a dishcloth from the oven door handle. Whistling a familiar tune, he wiped any surface he might’ve touched since his arrival.
The back of the kitchen chair across from where the woman had fallen. The front door handles.
The kitchen doorframe. And, just for good measure, sections of the counter and the table.
Before leaving, he stared at the woman’s beautiful face, serene in death, at peace. “What a waste,” he muttered. He turned toward the table and peeled off a bit of roast crust, then ate it hungrily, licking his fingers. “And she could cook too.”
He was almost at the door when he heard some noises outside, in the backyard. A crack, a thump, a stifled whimper.
“Damn it to bloody hell,” he muttered and stormed through the back door, not bothering to care about the fingerprints he left on the rattling knob.
There would be time to clean those off later.





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Leslie Wolfe is a bestselling author whose novels break the mold of traditional thrillers. She creates unforgettable, brilliant, strong women heroes who deliver fast-paced, satisfying suspense, backed up by extensive background research in technology and psychology.

Leslie released the first novel, Executive, in October 2011. Since then, she has written many more, continuing to break down barriers of traditional thrillers. Her style of fast-paced suspense, backed up by extensive background research in technology and psychology, has made Leslie one of the most read authors in the genre.

Reminiscent of the television drama Criminal Minds, her series of books featuring the fierce and relentless FBI Agent Tess Winnett would be of great interest to readers of James Patterson, Melinda Leigh, and David Baldacci crime thrillers. Fans of Kendra Elliot and Robert Dugoni suspenseful mysteries would love the Las Vegas Crime series, featuring the tension-filled relationship between Baxter and Holt. Finally, her Alex Hoffmann series of political and espionage action adventure will enthrall readers of Tom Clancy, Brad Thor, and Lee Child.


Leslie enjoys engaging with readers every day and would love to hear from you. Become an insider: gain early access to previews of Leslie’s new novels.


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