Not Really Dead: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller (Tess Winnett Book 5) by Leslie Wolfe

Author:Leslie Wolfe [Wolfe, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Italics Publishing
Published: 2020-01-09T16:00:00+00:00

8

She expected many things, but not the magnetism of Elias Mosley’s real-life persona. He was charismatic; if the word had a superlative, it would spell out Mosley’s name. She could easily understand how a young woman like Earlene could fall head over heels for him, despite the fact they were worlds apart. He was an actor, while she’d served as one of the youngest female first officers on a Boeing 737 aircraft. She didn’t fly for one of the commercial airlines; for a reason that would probably remain unexplained now that she was gone, instead she chose to pilot for one of the major freight couriers.

Tess waited in a stunning living room in the actor’s Palm Beach residence, feeling a little intimidated, an unfamiliar state of mind for the rather calloused FBI agent. She paced slowly along the walls, taking in the display of personal photographs, framed and hung tastefully in clusters by topic. There was Mosley, accepting his Oscar last year, then radiating at the after-party, Earlene at his side. Then, the two of them on a vacation around the world, photographed against a backdrop of recognizable landmarks, such as the Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the Eiffel Tower, and Mount Olympus.

“She always flew, but I drove,” she heard Mosley’s unmistakable voice behind her. She turned to face him. “Whenever we traveled together,” he clarified, “she’d be the one behind the throttle. I loved to watch her fly.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Mosley,” she said, showing her badge.

He gestured toward a bunch of large, white leather armchairs and she took a seat, sinking comfortably into the soft cushions.

“Tell me, Agent Winnett, what can I do for you?”

To her disbelief, the famous Elias Mosley, who’d been dubbed, “Sexiest Man Alive” only two years ago, was looking her over. His eyes lingered on certain parts of her body, then spent a good deal of time focused on her cleavage. When he finally looked straight at her, his lips were parted in a sexy, inviting smile.

Lust.

She remembered the word written on Earlene’s wall. It was lust. And it was his sin, not hers. Just like greed was Brehm’s sin.

She grinned. “You just answered one big question already, but I have more.”

“Shoot,” he replied, crossing his legs and widening his sexy smile just a little bit, as if he were on a TV show, answering questions from fans.

“How did you two meet?”

“At LAX,” he replied. “The Los Angeles airport, that is. We both flew in at the same time. Me in my measly Phenom 300, and she in her imposing 737, towering over me on the tarmac. I was instantly in awe of her.”

“Aren’t you married, Mr. Mosley?”

“Ah, you’re judging?”

“Not in the least. But someone killed your girlfriend, and it’s not unusual to question the relationships in a victim’s life.”

“She was killed by a serial killer, wasn’t she? My wife is not a serial killer, I promise you that.”

Tess groaned, but couldn’t hide a smile. The man’s charm was infectious. “So, yes, you’re married.

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