“Detective Madison Knight…a seriously tough cookie but rightfully so. Madison had been through a lot in her life…”
–Nanette’s Book Whore-ish Obsessions
Our experiences shape who are and also have the ability to haunt us. For Detective Madison Knight, she faced a lot on the job most people would never want to see, let alone handle.
Her adult life has been devoted to finding justice for murder victims at the cost of all else. She’s visited countless crime scenes, sacrificing a social life to doggedly pursue killers. She’s stood up to her superiors at the risk of losing her job to ensure that the right man was placed behind bars. But her stubborn nature isn’t without its downside.
She couldn’t let go of that one cold case that haunted her. It taunted her to find closure, but that reward came at the highest price. At least, it almost did.
Captured by the Russian mafia, she was saying her final good-byes in her mind, thinking about her loved ones, but also making promises to herself if she got out alive. Thankfully, she was freed from the chains, but she now suffers an emotional bondage.
Debilitating flashbacks continue to haunt her on an almost daily basis, but she still has a job to do—and promises to keep to herself. Will she put able to push through and find focus so she that can find justice for the victims? You can find out from reading Deadly Impulse.
Enjoy this excerpt taken from Chapter 7 of Deadly Impulse:
“The last time you were here we talked about these events you continue to experience,” Dr. Connor said.
Dr. Connor called flashbacks and nightmares events as opposed to episodes because she found the terminology friendlier.
“Have you experienced any more since your last visit?” Dr. Connor’s pen was poised over her notepad.
Madison’s natural inclination was to refuse acknowledging what had happened earlier in the day, how the brief recollection had hit her out of nowhere, how it had affected her viscerally. Maybe it was brought on by the fact that she was coming here this afternoon. She remained hesitant about speaking her feelings out loud, even to Dr. Connor. She might not be a stranger anymore, but she was another individual. And verbalizing emotions made them real. They were easier to ignore when they remained unsaid.
“I sense that you did have an event.”
“I did,” Madison said.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I have a choice?” She attempted to smile but wasn’t sure it showed.
“You always have a choice, Madison. But I assume you continue coming here for a reason.”
And they both were aware of what that reason was: being held hostage by members of the Russian Mafia, having a revolver pressed to her temple, and almost being raped three months ago. The whole thing had changed her perceptions of life, of herself, and of her limitations. And it brought up a lot of unresolved anger.
Before all this, she had been strong-willed, determined, and unstoppable. Now, she was at the mercy of flashbacks that would catapult her back in time at any given moment. And they were so clear they encompassed all five senses. She heard the Russians’ voices. She felt the pressure of the gun’s barrel against her head. She smelled and tasted her own blood.
She slowly lifted her eyes to meet the doctor’s. “I had a brief event this afternoon.” She paused to build her strength. “It went back to when Anatolli had the revolver to my head.”
“Ah, yes, Russian roulette?” she confirmed.
“Yes, without the Russian part.” Her saliva thickened to paste.
“We simply call it roulette when we play. The Russian part would be redundant.” Sergey paces the room. She catches the flicker in his eyes. “Anatolli’s going to pull the trigger. If you live, we will take our time with you. If you die…” He shrugs. “Well, I suppose, game over.”
Both men laugh.
The chills came over her in a flash. She rubbed her arms, the hairs standing on end.
Dr. Connor scribbled something in her notebook. “And how did this make you feel?”
“Did you just have another event?”
Madison shook her head.
Dr. Connor angled her head to the left. “This only works if you’re honest with me.”
The doctor held the eye contact. Madison looked away first.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Share with me.”
Madison slid her hands up and down her arms vigorously as she explained. The movement sounded like two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together. “This afternoon, it was, ‘On the count of three, pull the trigger.’” Her heart palpitated.
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