In a taut, haunting follow-up to No Lie Lasts Forever, reporter Flynn Martin gets ensnared in a copycat killer’s game where winning means solving a crime—and losing could cost her everything.

Lambasted for a tragedy caught live on camera, then lauded for her help capturing the elusive PDQ, a serial killer, Flynn Martin’s career has reached new heights. But now, the TV journalist and mother has much further to fall. And someone wants to push her over the edge.

PDQ is behind bars, for life and then some, but someone on the outside has picked up the killer’s mantle. Flynn is neck-deep in an investigation when the copycat emerges, targeting her sources and delivering cryptic messages. It’s clear that Flynn’s stories are getting deadlier. This one proves no exception.

A family of four has gone missing, leaving behind ties to New Hope Church more tangled than they appear. The dangerous web rivals the threat in Flynn’s personal life. And it’s up to her to unravel each knot.

Scandal. Conspiracy. Murder. Flynn hardly knows where to begin—and if her stalker has their way, she might not live to see the end.

“The pattern is no pattern for the ruthless acolyte of the PDQ killer and seemingly random people are dying around Denver. In this worthy sequel to No Lie Lasts Forever, Stevens fans are guaranteed another propulsive, page-turning psychological thriller that will make their hearts pound just as hard as the first time.”  — Linda Keir, author of I Did Not Kill My Husband

“Very entertaining and a perfect book for a read at the beach or pool, or during a long airplane adventure.” — Lou Jacobs, Deadly Pleasures Mystery Magazine

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE
A Flynn Martin Thriller Book 2
BY MARK STEVENS

Excerpt

FROM CHAPTER 12

“So much yet to learn about what happened in this sad story developing  today in Arapahoe County.” Longtime anchor Sara Cornette in her IFB.

“Did the sheriff say when he would release more details?”

“No,” says Flynn. Neutral face. Unexcitable face. Dead eyes. “But we will of course keep everyone up to date as information becomes available.”

“Thank you, Flynn Martin—live at the scene today. On Wall Street at this hour, analysts are watching the Federal Reserve—”

“Clear,” says Tamica. “Have you done this before?”

“Once or twice.”

“Well, it shows. Now what?”

“You need lunch?”

“All I need is a bottle of water so cold it’s a minute away from freezing through. Are we going to hang around here?”

Twenty years ago, Flynn might have headed back to the newsroom  to make calls. Twenty years ago, it was twenty minutes to anywhere in Denver. Now, with traffic jams worthy of any big city, the round trip will eat ninety unproductive minutes at a minimum, and she needs to be back for another live shot for the four o’clock show. She could make calls from the front seat of the station’s SUV that Tamica drove out or from her own car, but it’s too hot. And uncomfortable.

She can follow the other stations and make the rounds to the Klines’ school and church, but those comments fall into a category Flynn calls “fluffy yakkers.” People who are willing to talk but who say nothing of substance. The odds of coming away with anything meaty, and that will move the story forward, are low.

Options? Knock on a house and ask if they’re willing to take in an overheated news crew? Head to a local library and hope that one of the air-conditioned conference rooms is open? Coffee shops work if they aren’t overrun. Maybe.

Flynn has this nagging hunch that the Franktown double murder and this one in Centennial are connected. Flynn isn’t opposed to listening to her gut, even if there were bodies in the Franktown case and, so far, none in the Kline case. Her father will call if he finds a nugget, but she should be poking around too.

Occasionally she has called her ex, Max, to see if the cop scuttlebutt grapevine has settled on a motive. She wouldn’t use it, necessarily, but it could give her an angle to pursue.