Rookie police detective Sydney Livingstone didnât know what she was bargaining for when she joined the small department in little Walsh County, Ohio. Fresh off the spotlight of the professional tennis tour, Sydney expected a quiet existence with her fiance, Enzo. But someone calling themselves âThe Enforcerâ had other ideas for both Sydney and the department.
On the dark corners of the internet, a vigilante has emerged who seeks to take justice into their own hands. Sydney is thrown into a chaotic situation where she must fight against an established system to stop a relentless avenger who will go to extreme lengths for what they ostensibly believe is true justice.
While all of this is happening, an experienced officer is being trailed by a bold stalker who shows no fear or respect for the police. Are these events connected to the ongoing vigilante case? Or are they completely unrelated and coincidental? And as evidence is uncovered in relation to the crimes, is it due to diligent police work or is someone on the outside influencing the investigation?
Rookie police detective Sydney Livingstone didnât know what she was bargaining for when she joined the small department in little Walsh County, Ohio. Fresh off the spotlight of the professional tennis tour, Sydney expected a quiet existence with her fiance, Enzo. But someone calling themselves âThe Enforcerâ had other ideas for both Sydney and the department.
On the dark corners of the internet, a vigilante has emerged who seeks to take justice into their own hands. Sydney is thrown into a chaotic situation where she must fight against an established system to stop a relentless avenger who will go to extreme lengths for what they ostensibly believe is true justice.
While all of this is happening, an experienced officer is being trailed by a bold stalker who shows no fear or respect for the police. Are these events connected to the ongoing vigilante case? Or are they completely unrelated and coincidental? And as evidence is uncovered in relation to the crimes, is it due to diligent police work or is someone on the outside influencing the investigation?
He didnât even bother burying his wifeâs body.
Part of it was due to being in a hurry. He had a time window of three hours. But there was another reason, too. She had disrespected him.
First, there was the audacity of asking for a divorce, just before he was scheduled to take his girlfriend on vacation. But that wasnât the worst thing, although Frank McBride wasnât thrilled about the idea. The ultimate act of disrespect? She wanted half of everything, including the thousands Frank had recently inherited from the death of his mother. Dividing the house would be painful, but Frank could accept that. But he couldnât fathom her stealing his inheritance.
Mom would turn over in her grave if Sheila walked away with half of that money. She designated that money for me. And for me only.
Frank had been blindsided by Sheilaâs announcement that she was leaving. He believed they were both content in their suburban lifestyle â the modest home in Green Haven, Ohio; the way he handled his stepdaughter Carmen and their own daughter Ashton; and their open marriage. Yeah, she had been reluctant at first, but eventually she had warmed to it. They had agreed to keep each other appraised of other partners, to keep communication open, and more important, not to let any relationship escalate to the point that it became a threat to the marriage.
But then Andrea came along, and Frank broke his side of the agreement. Frank hadnât planned on falling in love, but sheâd slowly won him over. She was as pretty as Sheila had been before the weight gain and short haircut. And while his wife was boring and practical, Andrea was spontaneous, willing to drop even important things to seek out a good time. They made love in parks, cars, and even behind a stack of boxes in his warehouse at work. She was quick-witted and made him laugh.
He began to spend less time with Sheila and their kids, and more with Andrea and her son. He and Sheila stopped talking about other things, like finances and household decisions. He guessed the final straw had been when he canceled the annual family vacation so he could take his girlfriend and her kid to Six Flags over Georgia.
On a cool, clear Thursday morning in late September, Frank strangled Sheila to death.
Heâd asked Sheila nicely to rescind the request; the money had been slowly growing in value, safe in Frankâs separate bank account. Sheila didnât just say no. She laughed at him. She mocked him with an imitation of his own deep voice: âMy mom wanted me to have that cash! I need that money to take my slutty girlfriend and her autistic son on vacation.â At that moment, she signed her own death warrant, as far as he was concerned.
,
Frank didnât initially respond to Sheilaâs rant. He waited 15 minutes, smiling silently while ignoring his pulsating temples. He wondered if his lack of response surprised her; it certainly wasnât the norm. She knew what her mocking did to him.
She sat with her back to Frank, working on an email. Pounding the keyboard harder than usual. She was a few minutes from leaving for work. Was she trying to elicit a response from him? He did nothing yet.
But Sheila had to know this would end badly for her. Didnât she? She was not only disrespecting him. She was disrespecting the final wishes of his late mother, the only woman Frank had truly admired in his life. Yet, Sheila plodded away at the keyboard, her back turned to him. Did she think heâd never have the guts to take her out?
Iâll show this bitch.
Sheilaâs typing was interrupted by Frankâs right forearm enveloping her neck. Frank had refined his behind-the-back chokehold during hand-to-hand combat sessions during his two-year stint in the Marines. Then heâd been dishonorably discharged for assaulting a fellow soldier. Heâd been baited. Railroaded. Thrown out of a military career for an act beyond his control. And now he was being railroaded againâŚby someone who had promised to honor, love, and cherish him, until death.
As he tightened his grip, Frankâs thoughts turned to Andrea. She had predicted that Sheila would one day make this very demand for half of what he owned. She even jested about killing Sheila. Frank had gone along with Andreaâs gag. Where would he place her body? Where would they ditch her car? How could they make it appear the killer originated from one of her trysts from their open marriage? But it would never happen. Harmless banter, really. Well, at least as far as Andrea was concerned.
Still, Frank felt he had more than gotten the message across. And he knew once the news of Sheilaâs disappearance hit the streets, Andrea would be smart enough to figure it out. And she would be 100 percent behind him.
As Frankâs grip twisted to the right and tightened around Sheilaâs neck, her reaction surprised him. There was no screaming, gasping, flailing, or even pleading. Instead, she went into battle mode. She grabbed his arms with both hands and attempted to dig her nails in.
He released his grip on her throat before her nails could penetrate, and grabbed her below the armpits. Frank shoved her against the living room wall. Her head hit with a thud, shaking every vertical structure. Two family pictures crashed down, glass cracking in the frames but not shattering. Dazed, she jumped to her feet and attempted to lift her right knee into Frankâs groin. His left thigh absorbed most of the shock although he felt some residual pain in the targeted area.
In full military-training mode, Frank shoved her back into the wall with his left hand and struck her squarely in the throat with his cupped right hand. The fleshy area between his thumb and forefinger thrusted into her larynx. She looked into Frankâs eyes, gasped, and crumbled to the floor.
Frank straddled his unconscious wife, placing both hands around her neck. He strangled her for a full two minutes. After detecting what might have been an exhalation, he continued the assault for another minute.
Until she was 100 percent, unequivocally dead.
On the side of his right arm, near his triceps, Frank felt a burning sensation and noticed a dime-sized portion of skin missing, possibly a rug burn from the struggle.
Not a good injury, but one that could be easily explained. He worked the majority of his time in the warehouse of the superstore. So many things can happen in that setting.
He inspected his forearm for scratch marks. The area was a little red, but none of his skin was broken. Thank goodness he had released that first chokehold.
He glanced at Sheila again, blue-faced, dress torn, lying on the floor with her hands outstretched. Sheâd never spend one dime of his motherâs inheritance.
Thankfully, no blood was spilled. Not a drop. Cleanup would be a lot easier now. He was aware of what police investigators could do with Luminol, a substance that lights up blood spills like the Vegas strip.
Heâd simply need to remove Sheilaâs body and ditch the picture frames. Like heâd described to Andrea, Sheilaâs car would âarriveâ in a tattoo shop's parking lot to make it appear that one of her trysts had turned deadly.
Frank left Sheila on the living room floor as he backed his car into the garage. He placed the body - wrapped in an old gray sheet he found in the attic - in the back seat.
He planned to drive to a remote area near the city of Youngstown. Frank nearly forgot to leave his cell phone at home for the journey. Iâm a dolt. I should roll up my sleeve for the injection now.
When Frank reached his destination, he felt like someone was following him. Logically, this didnât make sense, but he couldnât shake the feeling. He pulled onto a semi-hidden dirt road that led to a decrepit white farmhouse. Perhaps Old McDonald died and the place wasnât up for sale yet.
Once Frank was certain no one was around, he lifted Sheilaâs body out of the car and walked several hundred feet to a densely wooded area. He wasnât sure if he was still on Old McDonaldâs property.
The entire experience was becoming too surreal in his mind. He carried the body of a woman heâd been married to for 14 years through a now misting rain towards an embankment. Frankâs heart raced and he found it difficult to breathe. He needed to focus his mind on something that would keep him sane. He had to block everything out of his mind except one thought.
Andrea.
If he got away with this, he and Andrea would keep everything â the house, all the money in the bank account, Frankâs inheritance, and 100 percent of his retirement. Even Sheilaâs car would be returned to him, and he was pretty sure there was a life insurance policy of at least $50,000. He looked to the future because thinking about the present was unfathomable.
He heard his feet angle down the embankment. Was he far enough in the woods where no one would notice him? Yes, he was sure of that. He made one final check by swiveling his head in all directions. Once satisfied that he was in the clear, Frank rolled Sheila's body towards the bottom of the hill.
Midway, her body became stuck. Perhaps there was a rock underneath her. He couldnât be sure.
He picked his way down the slope and - using the strength of his sizable arms and chest - sent her rolling. During her bumpy descent, the sheet came away from her face. Frank could see Sheilaâs formerly closed eyes had opened. Was his mind playing tricks or was she smirking, albeit subtly? Was she mocking him from the bottom of the hill?
He needed Andrea here with him. Right now. She would tell him everything would be okay. Sheâd remind him about their future life together. And she would tell him - in no uncertain terms - that Sheilaâs eyes staring at him from the bottom of the ravine was simply a coincidence. Pure happenstance.
God, he needed Andrea so much.
Frank wished he had time to at least cover Sheilaâs smug face, to let her know that he finally had the last word. Eventually, the ravages of time would take care of Sheila. No one would discover her out here for a long time - if ever. The maggots and other creatures of decay would wipe the grin off her face soon enough.
Frank climbed back up the hill, made the five-minute walk back to his car, relieved that nobody had pulled into the driveway behind him. As far as he could tell, no one in the world knew he was there. Everything had gone according to plan.
ARC Review
Dexter meets Criminal Minds in this thrilling mystery novel, Serves You Right by Orion Gregory. Sydney Livingstone, ex-tennis pro who set her sights on law enforcement after being stalked during the biggest tournament of her career, is already on thin ice at work when the biggest case of her life lands on her desk during a temporary suspension.
Sydâs character is one that many readers can find themselves relating to, whether it be her backstory of turning one of the scariest situations into professional aspirations, the way she methodically thinks things through and works through clues throughout her inner monologue, or her arch through the story that leads her to eventually speaking out on things that she finds suspicious, whether it will make others uncomfortable or not. Syd takes on the attitude of âIf I get fired, life will go on for me, but right now others are losing theirsâ in such a slow building and subtle way, it was an absolute treat reading along to this woman fighting for justice against a vigilante who seems to be getting closer and closer to home. She carefully considers those around her, and we get to join in on considering the guilt or innocence of each of her colleagues.
Orion Gregory does a beautiful job of drip-feeding us details about the personal lives of each police officer that revolves in Sydâs world. Her partner Montenegro, with a beautiful wife at home, is a pillar of trust for Syd, and is reliably level-headed when faced with the possibility of his friends and co-workers being out for blood. Wilma Griffith, who brings the Bad Bitch Energy with her undercover experience, and then the feminine friendship once she starts working more closely with Syd. Mitsoff, who was written as the resident jerk of the precinct, makes you want to dislike him while also leaving the reader suspicious of being given a character to despise so early on.
The overall pacing of the book is well done, with no particular chapters feeling like theyâre lagging. The climax came just as one would anticipate, and the way Orion Gregory sets up the lead-in to the reveal left me with a series of emotions. First, I had my suspicions about who the vigilante was. But having Commissioner Lasek start looking into that same character immediately threw me off, because surely the police arenât on the same trail as I! The final reveal felt satisfying, while still leaving some lasting questions for the reader to continue thinking about well after theyâve closed the cover on Livingstone and her murder mystery.
Sincerely,
Jess
Badly Annotated Readers Society