Original Sins (Mallory Burke Mysteries Book 2)

A Killer Hides in the Shadows of the French Quarter

In the haunting streets of New Orleans, psychologist and police consultant Mallory Burke is racing to uncover a chilling pattern of murders that defy logic. The victims are seemingly unconnected, the methods inconsistent—yet the killer leaves behind the unmistakable signature of calculated chaos. As Mallory is pushed further from the case by her former flame, Detective Rick Landry, and his new consultant, she is pulled deeper into the mystery through a plea for help from a patient at Bellmont Psychiatric Hospital.

Struggling to regain her footing in a city that doubts her, Mallory uncovers disturbing links between the murders and decades-old crimes—connections that lead her back to the walls of Bellmont and a shadowy figure hiding behind a false identity. As the past collides with the present, Mallory must confront old enemies and new threats before another life is lost.

Get the book and uncover the chilling secrets buried deep in New Orleans’ haunted heart.

Excerpt from the book

I am no one, and I am everyone. I walk through a crowd, and no one sees me. I blend in effortlessly. Or I stand out. If I want. But that night, I did both. I noticed him, and he was perfect. I knew he was the one.

My name is Jeremiah. At least for now. It is the name I have chosen because I have had many different names and many different lives. But that night, I was Jeremy. Jeremy the drunk guy. Jeremy the friend. Jeremy the bro. Because no one is afraid of a Jeremy.

I wore a ‘I got Bourbon Faced on Shit Street’ T-shirt and coral shorts adorned with little crawfish. Flip-flops and a baseball cap over my sandy blond hair. I wore sunshades even though it was night. Mardi gras beads and a green ‘Granade’ drink, which I did not touch, completed the look. I have to keep my mind sharp. I cannot risk getting it wrong, as I have planned this for many months, and now-now, is my time to execute. I smile at my pun. Others do not get it.

He noticed me and I noticed him. He was with friends, and therefore, so was I. I stood near a group and ingratiated myself. A high-five. A bump of the knuckles. Such a low-brow display of comradery.

And when he left one place, so did I. Afterwards. Following behind. Stealthily, but casually. I stalked my prey. My heart beat faster and faster as my excitement for the moment grew. I wanted this part to last.

He stumbled and an amber liquid from his cup spilled, and I knew it was almost time. His defenses were down. He would be putty in my hands.

I let him see me once again and I ‘recognized’ him from the place before. “Bro!” I yelled and stumbled over to greet him. I was met with an arm around the shoulder and immediate acceptance. This was easy.

I had known that one prechosen place in which to take my prey was not sufficient for my needs, and so I had staked out many. I had put many long hours into my plan.

We neared one of my places. He and his friends stumbled along, and I ‘looked’ for my friends. They were not there, so I joined with him. His name was Carter. Carter, the name, is of Irish origin, but it would have to do. I wished it had been French. That would have been too perfect.

Closer and closer we drew to the place. The nearest one, and one of my favorites. An alleyway, but a narrow one, and one hidden by a door. But there was a secret. The door was not locked. I had discovered this during my long months of research and tested it again and again, and never was it locked. It was seldom used, and only after the long night did workers use the alley to drag bags of rubbish to a nearby dumpster. So, for now, it was mine.