Review by Alice D. - Readers Favorite
"Keith Donaldson has written a riveting well-edited beginning to his series featuring aggressive, appealing reporter Laura Wolfe. The formatting is brilliant, making use of short chapters, sometimes only one page in length. More applause is due for the formatting in the use of newspaper print behind each chapter heading.
Characters are delineated nicely and the reader will be totally shocked at who the killer actually is!
Death of an Intern uses great suspense throughout the entire story, and the plot flows nicely to the book's end."
| Description | Where to Buy | Sneak Peek | Reviews |
A riveting, suspenseful introduction to Donaldson's series, Death of an Intern features Laura Wolfe, a tenacious beat reporter for the Washington Daily Star. Laura tracks a DC serial killer who butchers pregnant women and steals their fetuses, dumping the naked bodies with no identification in an obscure part of the city. At the crime scene Laura is shown the head view of victim number two, Laura recognizes her as someone she remembers from a reception for the Vice President of the United States. Through a White House insider friend, Laura gains information about the woman without revealing the ugly truth. The victim is Janet Rausch, and Laura begins digging into her personal background. When the public Janet does not match with the private one, Laura begins to question whether there may have been more to Janet's death than being a serial killing victim. Laura continues investigating and goes from the dirty back streets of DC to the nation's capital, to the Virginia suburbs, and into the polished halls of political Washington, as the public is terrorized by a third murder, showing all the signs of the previous two.
| Riveting... | Engaging... |
"Laura Wolfe is a modern, complex heroine to cheer for"
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Keith M. Donaldson's Death of An Intern
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Page 1
It was a rainy April night in the nation’s capital with wind gusts turning umbrellas inside out, tearing them from frustrated hands. The torrents blurred the nighttime beauty of monumental Washington.Second Street NE was within close proximity to the brightly lighted Capitol Dome, but in this part of Washington, D.C., there were no gleaming lights on buildings—unless there was a police search. Tightly drawn curtains and boarded up windows prevented inside light from getting out, and there were few if any street lamps working. These back streets were dark and invisible in the shadow of the Federal enclave, business, and tourist areas.
It was the perfect place.
In a corner house, a clinic for unwed mothers-to-be quietly attended to its clients’ needs. Like the once lovely house that practically had the Washington Mall for its front yard, 2nd Street had seen better days. This night, a stranger sat parked in a black cargo van a half block from the clinic. The torrential rain obscured any view inside; however,
the hooded person sat passively behind the wheel, attention fixed on the clinic’s front door. The van’s radio went from soft rock to an announcer reading headlines and a weather forecast. The weather would improve; the rain would stop after midnight. Tomorrow would be a clear and sunny day in the low 70s—a beautiful day in a beautiful city.
Except for one person, the driver reflected.
The clinic’s last class should be ending any minute, and the women would flow out. Would one come toward the van? Would she be alone? Last night, the women had dispersed in all directions.
Page 24
We know people in high places,” Frankie Grayson replied with a smile I found to be a little forced. Laughter instantly boiled up around us. “Enjoy yourselves,” Grayson said and abruptly moved away.Ralph filled the void, turning our attention to some young women. “These ladies work for Vice President Grayson. Sarah, I’d like you to meet my attorney Jerry Fields and his wife Laura. He’s a good man to know.”
“Hi,” Sarah said. No handshake.
Ralph pulled in three others. “Meet Janet, Kat, and Lisa.”
We greeted all around. I noticed a pin on Janet. “I love the pin you’re wearing.”
“It was my grandmother’s,” Janet replied.
I heard Jerry whispering to Ralph, “Laura got the word; we’re expecting.”
“A baby!” Ralph blurted out. “Son-of-a-gun, it’s about time.” Others close by overheard this. Some gave their congratulations.
“You just found out?” Janet asked.
Ralph gave Jerry a friendly nudge. “It took you long enough.” I saw a shadow cross Janet’s face as she said, “It’s always people who want it the most who have the trouble.”
“We’ve been trying—it just took awhile,” Jerry said to Ralph.
“I know,” I said. “The worst thing for me is I’ll have to cut back on my work.”
“Oh? Is that for a special reason?” Janet asked.
Dance music began, and Jerry tugged my arm. “You up for a little . . .” and he gave a little twirling gesture with his fingers.
“Only the slow stuff.”
“I’m proud of you,” he kidded. “You’re getting into the spirit very easily.”
“Yeah well, we’ll see when the first hot story comes my way.” I turned to say goodbye to Janet and noticed tears in the young woman’s eyes.
“Everything all right?”
“What? Oh sure. Good luck with your baby.”
Jerry towed me off to the dance floor. As we danced, I saw Janet had rejoined the other two women. They were standing with the Vice President. Jerry twirled me and we were swallowed up by the other dancers. The band played seamlessly as we enjoyed our rare dance. During a pause, we sidled off the dance floor. I nudged him, nodding toward the buffet. “I’m not cooking tonight.”
Page 34
“Don’t know yet. We didn’t know Williams was either, at first.” Lassiter had nailed it. A possible serial killing.A male voice came from where the body lay. “Captain Walsh.” Max turned and signaled at the officer that he was coming. “Your media friends have already had their look, from afar. Stay behind me.” He motioned me to follow him.
“We’re through here, Captain,” the officer said. “All right to move her?”
I stopped alongside Max. The body was in a zip-up bag. All that was exposed was the woman’s face. My gasp got Max’s attention. “My God, Max, I know . . .” my whisper was stifled by a catch in my throat.
The officer was about to zip up. Max stopped him. “Hold up a minute.” He turned to me. “You sure? Take a better look.” Max looked at the other media types who were not paying them attention. “Do it quickly.” He moved to allow me in front of him.
I looked at the pale face. Tears welled up, and I turned away. “I know her. We met her Friday night.”
Max turned back to the officer. “Zip up and take her to the ME.”
I had a tissue out. “Oh, Max, this is terrible.”
He moved me away from my colleagues and everyone else. “You knew her?” He punched a number on his cell phone.
“Met her. She worked for the Vice President. He and about four hundred close friends were celebrating his parent’s fiftieth wedding anniversary. We were introduced to her—”
Max interrupted. “Hold it, Delia. Do you have a name?” he asked me.
“Oh yeah, ah, Janet. No last names were mentioned.”
“Delia, I want you to get me a list of all the Janets who work for the Vice President . . . yes, the Vice President of the United States, and it is for me only, got it?” Another pause. “Right.” He clicked off. “What else?” he asked me.
“Nothing. There were a lot of people. She was one of a group of young women who worked in the Vice President’s office.”
“Anybody you can call?” Max asked.
“Jerry. His former law school roommate, Ralph Morgan, is the VP’s senior attorney. That’s how we got the invite. He introduced us to the Vice President and the girls. I’ll ask Jerry to call him.”
“This has to be kept very quiet. Ask Jer to impress on Mr. Morgan the—”
“Better, I’ll ask him to say he’s calling for me."
Page 42
Marsha would be taking lots of buses from now on. I took a drink and girded myself to drop the bomb, but my cell phone rang.“May I? It may be my other friend.” I answered “Yes?” into the phone. Max Walsh’s voice came on. “We’ve corroborated her identity from her fingerprints. You in your office?”
“No, but I’ll be there shortly.” I tried to make it sound like I was talking to my fictitious friend.
“You back on the boat?” Max asked.
“I’m in Virginia now.”
“What are you up to?”
“I stopped by Janet Rausch’s. I’m with her roommate, Marsha Hines.”
I knew Max would pick up on that and record Marsha’s name. The woman was looking at me questioningly.
“You haven’t told her?” Max asked.
I felt a burst of anxiety. “No.”
“That’s not my jurisdiction. You had better walk softly.”
“Light like a butterfly. I’ll call you when I leave.” I clicked off. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh no, I was just surprised that you mentioned my name.”
I took my press credential from my bag. “I met Janet two nights ago. We talked. I admired her grandmother’s pin.”
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
I showed her my ID. “I work for the Washington Daily Star. I’m a reporter.”
“You interviewing Jan or something?” Her voice was tinted with excitement.
“I wish.” I paused, steadying my nerves. “No. I came to see you.”
“Me? How did you know about me?”
“I was given your name this morning by someone who works for the Vice President.”
“Why? Oh. Something’s wrong isn’t it? Something happened to Jan?” Her voice pitched up.
“Marsha. Janet was killed last night.”
“Oh God, oh no . . . NOOOO!” The young woman wailed, and began to rock back and forth. Her coffee spilled. She flailed her hands as though attempting to rid herself of a pesky bee. This would not be something Marsha could brush away.
“No, no, no,” the stricken woman lowed.
Page 56
“No!” My response was sharp, like Marsha’s had been about Janet not planning an abortion. I took a tissue. I was too tired, too wrung out to be of any help to myself. Maybe Jerry was right. This was a bigger story than what I normally handled. “This is what happens to me when I have to work on Sundays.” My attempt at light humor fell flat. Lassiter returned to behind her desk.I imagined MPD detectives were with Mrs. Rice about now. I sat up and blew my nose. Lassiter sat eyeing me intently.
“Maybe this is a serial killing. I wrote what I know, but I know more than I wrote. I have a lot of uncorroborated stuff in my head. Janet’s roommate knows very little, but still told me a lot, little everyday things. Not evidence, but clues leading to evidence.
“I called Captain Walsh and told him about Tishana Rice, who had made an appointment at an inner city pregnancy clinic for Janet for late yesterday afternoon. She left the clinic alive and was supposedly on her way to see Kat Turner, a young woman who also works for the Vice President. Marsha wasn’t concerned when Janet didn’t come home, because she had stayed over at Kat’s before.”
Lassiter listened, showing no expression.
“This is all stuff which only I know. It’s as if I turned on a hose and can’t turn it off. According to Marsha, Janet had no known boyfriend, yet she became pregnant. Her total social life was wrapped around the people at work. Marsha knew little about Janet’s life there, which seems strange to me. Lots of secrets.”
Lassiter’s stare was boring into me. When she spoke, there was darkness in her tone.
“You talk to no one about this but me. Nothing you do, no information, no matter its significance do you share with anyone here except me,” Lassiter said clear and firm.
Our eyes met, coalesced. There was no mistaking her meaning, “I should hear soon from Captain Walsh about Tishana Rice. If she confirms Marsha’s story to the MPD detectives, I’ll have corroborated stuff no one else has.”
“And you’ll write that,” Lassiter said flatly.
“Along with checking on any possible connections between Thalma Williams and Janet Rausch, just in case.”
Lassiter browsed papers on her desk. “I’ll have Wilder do that, a routine background on Williams and the clinic. You’ll have your hands full. Having a piece of the serial action will keep him from being too bent out of shape over your A-1 story.”
Death of an Intern is the first book in the Laura Wolfe mystery thriller series. Senate Cloakroom Cabal will be released in the Fall of 2012.
SEE REVIEWS on Death of an Intern BELOW
"Cleverly interwoven themes of terror, suspense, covert investigations, manipulation, sexual misconduct, and deceit."
"A MYSTERY READER'S MYSTERY!"
"Death of an Intern is a very solid murder mystery thriller … the writing is compelling, descriptive, and has superb dialog … it kept me thoroughly engaged … Donaldson’s first in a new series starring newspaperwoman Laura Wolfe, may soon rank up there with the best of them."
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I thoroughly enjoyed reading Death of an Intern by Keith M. Donaldson. The flow of the words and story reminded me so much of John Sandford’s writing. I am a big fan of John Sandford…his stories hook you in the first paragraph and the characters are so engaging. Laura Wolfe and her comrades have the same appeal and the intrigue of the story keeps you engrossed to the last page! -Lori Fisher Newspaperwoman Laura Wolfe is a modern, complex heroine to cheer for. Death of an Intern is tension filled, with authentic Washington locations and dialogue to die for” - Dechary, Talk About The Arts, Wash. DC. Laura Wolfe is an interesting protagonist and I liked how she was caught between the many tensions of her life…it was a fun read. - Duffy, G. P. Putnam’s Sons Death of an Intern was hard to put down. I was sad when it ended. It was an exciting adventure. I read a lot and don't come across too many like that. I can't wait for the next one! - Cheryl Woods [Click to read more reviews] |
