: Frank F. Weber
: Scandal of Vandals
: Moon Finder Press
: 9798894808321
: Scandal of Vandals
: 1
: CHF 10.50
:
: Krimis, Thriller, Spionage
: English
: 304
: kein Kopierschutz
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
A famous Minneapolis attorney is accused of hiring hitman to kill his wife. Based on true crime case once described in the following phrases: 'The day Minnesota lost its innocence,' and 'The crime of the century.'

Frank F. Weber is a forensic psychologist specializing in homicide, sexual assault and domestic abuse cases. He uses his unique understanding of how predators think, knowledge of victim trauma and expert testimony in writing his true crime thrillers. He has profiled cold case homicides and been interviewed on investigative shows such as Snapped and Murdered by Morning. His Award Winning books include Murder Book (2017), The I-94 Murders (2018), Last Call (2019), Lying Close (2020), Burning Bridges (2021), Black and Blue (2022), The Haunted House of Hillman (2023), and Scandal of Vandals (2024).

1

JON FREDERICK


8:45 P.M., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2002 PIERZ

I

t was 46 degrees today, the warmest it would be all month. My cool cheeks felt like a mask on this starless night. I traipsed along the riverbank on our farm, sinking into the snow with each step. I carried my book and one of my dad’s empty beer cans, now filled with gas, to a thicket of trees on a bluff overlooking the river. My Sorel boots were snug due to a recent growth spurt, but they kept my feet warm. I suppose all my winter gear could be replaced, but it served its purpose, and now wasn’t the time. I carefully set the can in the snow and the book on a fallen tree while I gathered dried brush for a fire. Once I had piled the wood in front of a tree stump, I poured the gas on the stack and tossed a match into it, enjoying the ominous“huff” it made when it ignited. As the fire started, I stepped to the side and looked out at the river. The steep banks were covered with snow. The river was never safe to walk on in the winter. While much of it was covered with ice, it never froze over completely. I loved this farm. We were losing it, and I imagined it would be bought up by some corporate farmer who would never walk these banks.

I had to get out of the house tonight. My older sister, Theresa, had apparently been caught in a state of undress with a firefighter in one of the trucks as the local volunteer force rushed into the station for a call, so she was now the talk of the town. Perhaps it’s one of the perils of having the Pierz fire station next to Frosty’s bar. When I left the house, Mom was kneeling in front of the couch, praying for her soul. Dad wasn’t angry like he used to be. He’d given up and was now depressingly quiet. It didn’t help that when confronted, Theresa never minimized her behavior. Instead, she embellished the story further by suggesting, “They had to turn the hose on us to get us to stop.”

My older brother, Victor, struggled with schizophrenia and was convinced aliens were trying to communicate with us in Morse code through the flickering lights on our Christmas tree. Having a brother who tells tales of false inventions and declares people are trying to kill him casts a shadow on our family. I don’t blame Vic. The delusions and paranoia are real and scary for him. Regardless of the stories, I love my family. I respect my parents, laugh with Theresa, and take care of Vic. But I’m alone and not loved in the manner I desire. I’m loved in the sense that I’m provided for. My parents aren’t the ‘Is something bothering you?’ type. They’re the ‘Do you have your chores done?’ parents. Theresa visits home as little as possible, and Vic is detached from the world. I had a good year in football, but not good enough for a scholarship. The same is true for my grades. Most of the kids in my grade ar