Salted Away

Koniotis Mysteries 2

Cyberworld Publishing

Heat Rating: No rating
Word Count: 80,788
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When the bodies of two brutally knifed foreigners are found in Northern Cyprus, the authorities are concerned. The murder of foreigners on the island is unusual, and two at almost the same time in mysterious circumstances is even more extraordinary.

In the Greek area of Cyprus, resident foreigners are also suddenly dying by the knife. Meanwhile, Caitlyn, an American archeologist, is having flashbacks and visions of death and danger, as she is drawn into the center of this bizarre case. As the police scramble to discover what is going on, and why, an unpopular Canadian program to bring the police forces of the two sides of the divided island together for training in new investigation techniques sees the senior investigators from both the Turkish and Greek sides of the Island suddenly in the same room together, giving opportunity for cooperation now as never before.

With a growing number of foreign residents’ lives ending in bloodshed and murder, will Caitlyn’s insights be conveyed in time to her new husband. And will they help the chief of investigations of foreigner crime in Greek Cyprus, or help his Turkish Cypriot counterpart? Can the murderer be stopped before Caitlyn herself becomes the next victim?

Koniotis Mysteries Series

Each book in this series stands alone, but they are also all connected in various ways and form the different parts of one story.

Book One . . . . Laughter’s Echo Book Two . . . . Salted Away Book Three . . .Mouflon Brigade Book Four . . . .Amathus Armageddon Book Five . . . . Bogus Bills Book Six . . . . . Homewrecker

Salted Away
0 Ratings (0.0)

Salted Away

Koniotis Mysteries 2

Cyberworld Publishing

Heat Rating: No rating
Word Count: 80,788
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by S Bush

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Excerpt

Salted Away Excerpt

The calm demeanor of Caitlyn Koniotis covered a highly distressed woman as she closed the door of the house behind her and slowly descended the marble staircase toward the garage, which was located under the balconied living and dining rooms. She had been deeply disturbed by Eleni Piccard’s murder—not least because she had foreseen it, although she had not attempted to tell Takis about her vision. . . .

Caitlyn reached the garage. Takis must have opened the garage door for her as he left, Caitlyn observed absentmindedly. He let her park in the single-car garage, and he usually parked on the street or in front of the garage.

But something in the back of Caitlyn’s mind was disturbed. She had a sense that she was not alone. She felt a presence, the presence of Eleni. Tears came to Caitlyn’s eyes. Was this what deep mourning or mild shock were like? She took another step toward the garage, but there was the presence of Eleni again. A much stronger presence, and Eleni seemed to be calling to her.

But no, it wasn’t the Eleni she knew, the Eleni of the present. It was Phyllis. Caitlyn felt she was slipping into the daydream of the earth shaking and collapsing pillars again, except this time Phyllis was focused on her, not on Phyllis’s lover. Phyllis seemed to be gesturing for Caitlyn not to enter the room beyond the pillars. Caitlyn sensed that she was stepping back, and as she did so, the earth began to tremble.

“No, not again,” Caitlyn shouted aloud as she shook her head and her body went rigid. “No, I can’t keep drifting into this nightmare. Takis will take care of this. Takis will find Eleni’s killer.”

With determination, Caitlyn entered the garage. She got in the car and was driving it out of the garage when she heard the telephone ringing insistently inside the house. Her first response was to ignore it, just as she had chosen to shake off the return of the vision. Then she thought perhaps Takis was trying to call her. Too many strange things had been happening for her to just ignore the telephone. She got out of the car, leaving it running, and climbed the front stairs, digging in her purse for her door key.

The bomb blast from inside her garage dug up many of the pretty flowers in the Koniotis’s intimate garden. It hurled assorted metal and glass shards from Caitlyn’s car as well as several ancient stone carvings against the front of the house. The four plate glass windows that stretched across the living and dining room walls shattered. In an SUV parked a hundred feet down the street, the Knife smiled, disconnected a cellular telephone, and drove slowly away.

The telephone in the Koniotis residence had stopped ringing. Caitlyn sat, like a pile of used rags, legs askew, against the front door—staring wide-eyed at nothing in particular.

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