In The Eyes (An Elle Keen FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 3)

By Ava Strong

As murders mimicking historical assassinations plague the city, only FBI Agent Elle Keen can decipher the deadly puzzle before history repeats itself once more…

“The plot has many twists and turns, but it is the ending, which I did not see coming at all, that totally defines this book as one of the most riveting that I have read in years.”
—Reader review for Not Like Us
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IN THE EYES is book #3 in a long-anticipated new series by #1 bestseller Ava Strong, whose bestseller NOT LIKE US (a free download) has received over 1,000 five star ratings and reviews. The series begins with IN THE DARK (book #1).

An enthralling crime thriller with a captivating and complex female protagonist, Elle Keen is a riveting mystery series with non-stop action, suspense, and unexpected plot twists that are guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat well into the night. Fans of Robert Dugoni, Karin Slaughter, and Lisa Gardner are sure to fall in love.

Future books in the series are also available.

“This is a chilling, suspenseful page turner that just might leave you scared at night!”
—Reader review for Not Like Us
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Very intriguing, kept me turning page after page… Lots of twists and turns and a very unexpected ending. Cannot wait for the next in this series!”
—Reader review for Not Like Us
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“A roller coaster ride of events… Can’t put down until you finish it!”
—Reader review for Not Like Us
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“Excellent read with very realistic characters that you become emotionally invested in… Couldn't put it down!”
—Reader review for The Death Code
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“An excellent read, lots of twists and turns, with a surprising ending, leaving you wanting to read the next book in the series! Well done!”
—Reader review for The Death Code
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“Well worth the read. Cannot wait to see what happens in the next book!”
—Reader review for The Death Code
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“Quickly became a story I couldn’t put down! I highly recommend this book!”
—Reader review for His Other Wife
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“I really enjoyed the fast-paced action, plot design and characterization... I didn't want to put the book down and the ending was a total surprise.”
—Reader review for His Other Wife
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“The characters are extremely well developed… There are twists and turns in the plot that kept me guessing. An extremely well written story.”
—Reader review for His Other Wife
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“One of the best books I have ever read… The ending was perfect and surprising. Ava Strong is an amazing writer.”
—Reader review for His Other Wife
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“Holy cow, what a rollercoaster… Many times I absolutely KNEW who the killer was—only to be proven wrong each time. I was completely surprised by the ending. I have to say, I am thrilled that this is the first in a series. My only complaint is that the next one isn't out yet. I need it!”
—Reader review for His Other Wife
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“An incredible, intense, spellbinding, enjoyable story. It will keep you captivated until the end.”
—Reader review for His Other Wife
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• Language: English
• Publisher: Ava Strong
• Release date: May 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9781094383965

Book preview

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I N   T H E

E Y E S

(an elle keen suspense thriller —book 3)

a v a   s t r o n g

Ava Strong

Ava Strong is author of the REMI LAURENT mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the ILSE BECK mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the STELLA FALL psychological suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the DAKOTA STEELE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the LILY DAWN suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); the MEGAN YORK FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); the SOFIA BLAKE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); the AMY RUSH FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); the ELLE KEEN FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); and the LEXI COLE suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Ava loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.avastrongauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2024 by Ava Strong. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BOOKS BY AVA STRONG

ELLE KEEN FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IN THE DARK (Book #1)

IN THE WAY (Book #2)

IN THE EYES (Book #3)

IN THE NIGHT (Book #4)

IN THE SILENCE (Book #5)

AMY RUSH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

TWISTED TRUTH (Book #1)

TWISTED GAME (Book #2)

TWISTED SECRET (Book #3)

TWISTED FATE (Book #4)

TWISTED VOW (Book #5)

SOFIA BLAKE FBI SUSPSENSE THRILLER

NO ONE THERE (Book #1)

NO ONE LEFT (Book #2)

NO ONE HOME (Book #3)

NO ONE TO HELP (Book #4)

NO ONE LIKE THIS (Book #5)

MEGAN YORK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

YOU’LL BE SORRY (Book #1)

YOU’LL BE NEXT (Book #2)

YOU’LL BE MINE (Book #3)

YOU’LL BE FIRST (Book #4)

YOU’LL BE GONE (Book #5)

LILY DAWN FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

STILL ALIVE (Book #1)

STILL HOPE (Book #2)

STILL AWAKE (Book #3)

STILL HERE (Book #4)

STILL MAD (Book #5)

REMI LAURENT FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE DEATH CODE (Book #1)

THE MURDER CODE (Book #2)

THE MALICE CODE (Book #3)

THE VENGEANCE CODE (Book #4)

THE DECEPTION CODE (Book #5)

THE SEDUCTION CODE (Book #6)

ILSE BECK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT LIKE US (Book #1)

NOT LIKE HE SEEMED (Book #2)

NOT LIKE YESTERDAY (Book #3)

NOT LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOT LIKE SHE THOUGHT (Book #5)

NOT LIKE BEFORE (Book #6)

NOT LIKE NORMAL (Book #7)

STELLA FALL PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

HIS OTHER WIFE (Book #1)

HIS OTHER LIE (Book #2)

HIS OTHER SECRET (Book #3)

HIS OTHER MISTRESS (Book #4)

HIS OTHER LIFE (Book #5)

HIS OTHER TRUTH (Book #6)

DAKOTA STEELE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

WITHOUT MERCY (Book #1)

WITHOUT REMORSE (Book #2)

WITHOUT A PAST (Book #3)

WITHOUT PITY (Book #4)

WITHOUT HOPE (Book #5)

LEXI COLE SUSPENSE THRILLER

FEAR THE DARK (Book #1)

FEAR THE SILENCE (Book #2)

FEAR THE COLD (Book #3)

FEAR THE NIGHT (Book #4)

FEAR THE TRUTH (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

PROLOGUE

The diner's bell chimed as yet another wave of evening patrons flooded in, carrying with them the chill of the New York autumn and the ceaseless hum of a city that never slept. Lisa Thompson, her apron stained from hours of non-stop service and her hair pulled back into a practical ponytail, delivered plates of steaming food with mechanical precision.

Order up! she called, sliding the next ticket across the counter and grabbing a tray laden with milkshakes and burgers. She maneuvered through the maze of tables with an agility born of years in the service industry, dodging toddlers on sugar highs and businessmen too engrossed in their phones to notice her approach.

Here you go, folks, Lisa said, distributing the dishes with a practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her shift was nearing its end, and her thoughts drifted to the quiet of her apartment, the leftover stir-fry waiting in her fridge, and the book that lay on her bedside table, its spine creased and worn.

Thanks, hun, a gravelly voice said, drawing her attention to the elderly man who had become a fixture at the corner booth. He tipped his hat, revealing a shock of white hair, and winked. Keep the change.

Thank you, Mr. Jacobs, Lisa replied, collecting the bill from the faux-wood tabletop. Beneath the stack of crumpled ones, something caught her eye—a glint of metal.

Curious, she unfolded the dollar bills to reveal a silver coin encased in paper, the edges frayed with age. It wasn't unusual for customers to leave behind foreign or old coins as tips—some out of genuine kindness, others as a peculiar joke—but this felt different.

Lisa set down the tray and picked up the coin, turning it over in her palm. It was heavier than she expected, cool against her skin. The paper wrapped around it was thin, almost translucent, and scrawled upon it in faded ink was a quote that she couldn't immediately place:

Liberty may be endangered by the abuse of liberty, but also by the abuse of power.

Her brow furrowed as she read the words again, trying to recall a high school history lesson that might shed light on their origin. But exhaustion tugged at the edges of her consciousness, pulling her away from the riddle in her hands.

Hey, Lisa, we could use a refill here when you have a sec! a customer called out, snapping her back to reality.

Coming right up, she answered automatically, slipping the coin into her apron pocket. The mystery of the tip would have to wait; there were tables to clear, customers to serve, and a paycheck to earn—one that wouldn't include cryptic historical quotes.

Shift over, the cool night air brushed against Lisa's cheeks as she stepped out of the harsh neon glow of the diner and into the quieter, shadow-laden streets. She fumbled in her apron pocket, retrieving the heavy silver coin that had earlier interrupted her routine. Under the intermittent light of the street lamps, she examined it closely, tilting it this way and that, letting the dim light catch on its intricate engravings.

Liberty may be endangered by the abuse of liberty, but also by the abuse of power. The words looped around her mind with a haunting rhythm. It was not just the age-worn script that fascinated her; it was the weight of the message itself.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her footfalls a soft patter against the pavement as she ventured deeper into Central Park. Lisa's gaze remained fixed on the coin, her thumb caressing its edges while she mouthed the quote silently, letting each word linger on her lips as if tasting them might unlock their secrets.

The park was a different world at night—a mosaic of shadows and whispers, where the rustling leaves spoke in hushed tones. She walked beneath the canopy of trees, her attention still ensnared by the coin in her hand.

Liberty...abuse of power, she whispered, trying to dissect the meaning hidden within the old phrase. Her fascination with puzzles, an escape from the endless cycle of orders and bills, surged to the forefront, igniting a spark of exhilaration in the quietude of her solitary walk.

Suddenly, the air felt dense around her, laden with an inexplicable charge that prickled the back of her neck. Lisa's footsteps faltered as she passed the looming figure of President Lincoln, his bronze countenance bathed in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp. An eerie stillness enveloped her, the incessant chorus of crickets abruptly falling silent.

Before her mind could process the shift, a vice-like grip clamped down on her shoulder. A gasp caught in her throat, her heart slamming against her ribs in panic. She instinctively twisted, trying to wrench free from the iron hold that encased her.

Let go! Her voice shattered the silence, a desperate plea lost in the void of the park.

The assailant was an immovable force, their breath hot and erratic against her ear. She clawed at the hand that secured her, but it was like grappling with stone. The coin slipped from her grasp as she fought for leverage, for any means of escape.

A sharp sting punctured her neck, a cold invasion spreading swiftly beneath her skin. Lisa's vision swam, the statue of Lincoln blurring into a swirling mass of bronze and darkness. Panic surged through her veins, battling the creeping numbness that threatened to drag her into its depths.

Stop, she slurred, her words dissolving into the night as her strength waned. Her limbs grew heavy, unresponsive, as if they were succumbing to a deep and unwelcome sleep. Helplessness washed over her, a tide that pulled her under with relentless certainty.

The world tilted, and the last flickers of light danced cruelly just out of reach, mocking her with their steady pulse as darkness crept into the edges of her sight. And then, all was quiet, except for the whisper of leaves and the distant echo of a solitary heart beating rapidly in the night.

But while she couldn't move... she could still see... could feel.

Horror well within her. She was paralyzed but conscious. Someone had injected her... drugged her.

The silver dollar tumbled from Lisa's weakening grip, clinking against the asphalt with a finality that seemed to echo through her fading consciousness. Her assailant's grip loosened, allowing her a momentary glimpse of freedom before her legs buckled beneath her.

Her cheek met the cold pavement, and she felt the harsh chill seep into her skin. The world spun uncontrollably, a carousel ride with no end. The streetlamp overhead threw its orange glow onto the coin, casting elongated shadows that danced over the embossed surface, the cryptic quote now just a series of meaningless curves and lines in her blurred vision.

Time trickled down to a sluggish pace, and Lisa's pulse hammered in her ears, a drumbeat surrendering to an inevitable silence. She tried to reach out, to call for help, but her voice was nothing more than a breathless whisper twirling away into the void.

The dark silhouette above her discarded something small and shiny into the bushes—a syringe, its purpose fulfilled. He bent down, lifted her, and placed her on the park bench under the statue.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t resist. Cool air brushed against Lisa's face as the predator slipped away, merging seamlessly with the shadows that shrouded Central Park.

She lay there, abandoned and vulnerable, the statue of Lincoln standing sentinel over her prone figure. Her eyelids fluttered, struggling against the weight of unconsciousness that pressed upon her. But it was no use; the darkness claimed her, pulling her down into its soundless depths, leaving behind only the echo of her own heartbeat and the faint luminescence of the streetlamp reflected on a dropped silver dollar.

Amid the park's hushed symphony of rustling leaves and distant city murmurs, a stray cat, its coat a patchwork of shadow and moonlight, crept closer to Lisa's motionless form. Its yellow eyes, narrowed into slits, scanned her with feline curiosity that bordered on concern. A tentative paw reached out, poking at the inert bundle of human vulnerability.

With an air of regal solemnity, it circled her once, twice, whiskers twitching as it deciphered the scents clinging to her—fear, confusion, and the sharp chemical tang that had spelled her undoing. The cat's ears twitched, angling towards the soundless call of nocturnal creatures, before it settled its gaze on Lisa once more.

A shiver ran through the animal, a primal recognition of something amiss. It reared back on its haunches, fur bristling like spines along its arched back. In the silence that stretched between the rustling leaves and Lisa's shallow breaths, the cat let loose a howl—a sound mournful and unsettling—that rose above the park's whispered secrets, slicing through the tranquility.

The cry echoed off the statues and benches, reverberating against the trees. Then, as quickly as it had come, the eerie serenade dissipated into the vast tapestry of New York's never-ending night.

CHAPTER ONE

Elle Keen's sneakers pounded the pavement in sync with the quickening pulse of the city as dawn cast a soft golden hue over Washington DC. With each stride, her walnut hair, marked by a rogue streak of white at the bangs, bobbed rhythmically—a metronome to her thoughts. She passed the Lincoln Memorial, barely acknowledging the stoic figure of Abe watching over Reflecting Pool's still waters.

Her eyes, however, weren't fixed on the monuments that tourists flocked to see; instead, they darted across the vibrant graffiti that stained the city walls—these were her landmarks. To the untrained eye, they were just splashes of paint, but to Elle, each tag was a riddle whispered in color and chaos.

She slowed her pace as she approached an underpass, her gaze locking onto a new addition to the urban canvas—a sequence of symbols and letters scrawled messily between layers of old posters and peeling stickers. Elle's breath steadied, her mind already racing to decode the message veiled within.

Numbers masquerading as letters, she muttered under her breath, a smirk playing on her lips. Amateurs.

The graffiti's seemingly random assortment of characters yielded to her scrutiny, the code unfurling like a red carpet in her mind. A Fibonacci sequence here, a simple Caesar cipher there—child's play for someone who cut their teeth on far more cryptic material. The numbers corresponded to letters, revealing a phrase from a world that spoke more honestly to Elle than any human conversation could.

Truth in entropy, she deciphered aloud, a spark of triumph igniting in her chest. Her parents had instilled in her a love for puzzles, nurturing the seed of curiosity into a towering tree of intellect. Yet, they were gone, and these walls, these codes—they kept her connected to the past she couldn't relinquish, to the order amidst chaos that sustained her.

A jogger brushed past, snapping Elle back to reality. She picked up the pace, her run once again a fluid motion forward. She wasn't just running through the city; she was engaging with it, her morning ritual doubling as a cerebral sparring session. Each tag tickled her brain, providing the mental agility needed for the day ahead—a day that would inevitably plunge her into