Storm Island: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery

Book 1: The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series

by Linda Watkins

Genres: Gothic; Mystery; Female Sleuths; Thrillers; Psychological Thrillers; Romantic Suspense; paranormal mystery; psychological thriller; thrillers; gothic mystery; gothic thriller

Synopsis

2019 Silver Medalist in Fiction-Suspense, Readers Favorite International Book Awards!2018 Winner, First Place Award, Chanticleer International Book Awards (PARANORMAL AWARDS)!

 

>>>A Contemporary Gothic Series to Chill Your Bones and Warm Your Heart...

A body found hanging from the ceiling fan in the tower room of the old manor house on Storm Island.

For nineteen years, Kate Pomeroy has suppressed that memory. A second-year-resident in surgery, she thinks she has her life under control. But a curious conversation overheard while taking a catnap launches her on a descent into a world filled with nightmarish visions that cause her to doubt her own sanity.

>>>An Unexpected Romance Battered by Waves of Terror, Old and New

Sent to Storm Island to rest and recuperate from an apparent breakdown, Kate is forced to come to grips with memories of the summer her mother died as well as new terrors that plague her mind. Even the blossoming of an unexpected romance with islander, Jeremy Bradshaw, cannot keep her fears at bay for long.

>>>A Mystery of Her Own Making?

The discovery of a strange little silo, hidden deep in the woods, spurs Kate to action as she tries to unravel its mysteries. But is the silo real or just another illusion created by her tortured mind?

>>>"An engrossing and suspenseful mystery." ~Kirkus Reviews

Storm Island, A Kate Pomeroy Mystery, is the first book in a series of mysteries involving the young doctor. The second book in the series, The Tao of the Viper, A Kate Pomeroy Mystery, will be published in October 2019 and it is anticipated that the third book, Abducted, A Kate Pomeroy Mystery, will be published in early 2020.

 

 

 

Release date: November 26, 2018

Publisher: Argon Press

Print pages: 332

Sample

LATE JULY, 2017

THE FLASHING BLUE light on the top of the police cruiser cast eerie shadows on the stone walls of the old manor house. I watched as they danced about, blending occasionally with the red and white ones from the ambulance. The result was a tableau reminiscent of the fourth of July that had recently come and gone. It was both beautiful and ironic. What happened tonight in that house could by no means ever be described as a “celebration.”


A shiver ran down my spine and I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill. I was standing in the shadows, in a copse of trees, watching. The rain that had started as a drizzle was rapidly becoming a downpour, and I pulled up the hood of my windbreaker as the heavy drops began to mingle with my tears. The old wooden door of Stormview Manor abruptly creaked open and I waited, knowing in my heart who and what would be coming out.


EMTs pushing a gurney swiftly exited the manse, the hoods of their slickers obscuring their faces as they tried to stay dry.


The gurney they propelled wasn’t empty. A long, dark-blue bag made of thick plastic sat on top and I suppressed a scream as I watched it bounce down the steps on its way to the ambulance. The tears that stained my cheeks intensified. I knew who was in that bag and I knew I would never see him again. It broke my heart.


As the first responders loaded the gurney into the rear of the ambulance, my attention was diverted back to the old manor house as two men came through the wooden door and hurried down the steps. One was in uniform and I recognized him. It was Officer Stubble, Storm Island’s resident policeman. The other, wearing a beige overcoat, collar turned up to avoid the chill of the stormy night, was, I believed, a detective … a stranger from the mainland who would be charged with investigating this recent death. 


I watched the policemen as they conferred, and then the door opened again and stepping onto the porch were two other figures whom I knew well … my Aunt Hephzibah and her husband, Raoul. They stood on the top step, under an overhang, seeking shelter from the rain. Raoul had his arm around Hettie, holding her protectively, as she leaned her head into his chest.


The man in the overcoat spoke briefly with them and then another officer in uniform emerged from the manse. He was carrying several plastic containers … bags that I assumed held the murder weapon and other vital evidence.


I knew now that, as much as I wanted to stay, it was time to take my leave. Slowly, being careful not to be noticed, I turned and then walked swiftly down the path that led to the carriage house, the place I had called home that summer. 


Time was now of the essence. They would be coming for me soon. And, when they came, I needed to be ready.