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Abby Kane Series Bundle

Abby Kane Series Bundle

USA Today Best Selling Author

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 34,719+ 5-Star Reviews

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Get the entire series in this 16-ebook bundle from USA Today bestselling author Ty Hutchinson. This deal is unbeatable and only available here!

Half a million downloads worldwide and thousands of five-star reviews across all retail stores!

Dive into a pulse-pounding series that has captivated readers. Perfect for fans of Patterson and Baldacci.

“If you enjoy action and a bit of savagery, you will enjoy Abby Kane, the agent in charge.” — Seattle Post-Intelligencer

"I truly enjoy the character of Abby Kane." ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ — Reader Review

Abby Kane is the agent with an impossible directive: solve the FBI’s most baffling cases.

Read An Excerpt - Corktown

Preston Carter observed the couple from his vehicle. Their playful grabbing, the light kissing… She was doing an excellent job with Rick the Prick. Preston couldn’t help but give him a nickname; the man was, after all, groping his wife. 

The two made their way across the parking lot, got inside a black Cadillac Escalade, and drove off. Preston started his engine and followed the SUV. He wasn’t in any hurry and didn’t bother to keep up. He knew exactly where they were heading. By the time he parked outside Rick's home, the two had already exited the Escalade and headed inside.

Preston sat unnoticed in the vehicle parked under a large maple tree, patiently tapping his fingers against the leather steering wheel while he hummed. He kept checking his cell phone like a teenage girl. Close to an hour had passed before his phone finally beeped.

“I’m ready for you,” the text message read.

Preston exited his vehicle and quickly moved across the street. A tingling sensation prickled his skin as he neared the house. Within seconds he stood on the porch. He quietly let himself in, gently closing the door behind him. He could hear moaning—a man’s voice—coming from upstairs. His footsteps were muffled as he made his way up the carpeted stairs. With each step his chest tightened, amplifying the beating of his heart. He loved the lead-up; it was almost as exciting as the act itself.

Down the dark hallway, he moved toward the master bedroom. The door was slightly cracked, and a sliver of light shined out. He pushed the door open; standing near the foot of the bed was his beautiful wife, naked except for her heels and latex gloves. She reached for her dress on the floor.

“Don’t,” Preston said. “Stay the way you are. I love it.”

Katherine returned a devilish smile to her husband while waving her finger at him. Preston kissed his wife while he reached around to her behind, gripped a cheek in each hand, and squeezed. “I want you,” he whispered.

“You can have me when we’re done here,” she answered. 

Preston kissed his wife once more before looking over to the bed, where an unconscious Ricky Pricky lay naked and tied up. “He doesn’t appear to be excited.”

Katherine looked at Rick’s genitals. “Hmm, he showed signs earlier. I guess the scalping turned him off.” She laughed. 

The top of Rick’s head was a bald, bloody mess. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it appeared to be awfully painful. Preston reached inside of his jacket and removed his own set of latex gloves and a fresh scalpel. He snapped them on and removed the safety cap from the tiny but deadly blade.

“Wake up!” Preston called out, slapping the unconscious man in the face.

Rick opened his eyes and repeatedly blinked until he could focus on the man sitting on the edge of mattress. To see another blade set loose the tears, accompanied by muffled moaning. The more he cried, the more he bled. Boohoo. 

Preston scooted toward the foot of the bed. He grabbed hold of Rick’s inner thigh and nicked the femoral artery. The instant eruption of thick red left a spattering of tiny dots on Preston’s face. He continued with the other leg. Rick screamed uncontrollably when he saw the mini geyser of life spurting from both legs.

Preston grabbed Rick by the face, forcing the man to look him straight in the eyes. He leaned in close, his stare never wavering. He brought the scalpel up and held it off to the side. Rick’s eyes darted to the blade, but Preston yanked on his head to get his focus back. He wanted to see the terror in Rick’s eyes when he opened up the prick’s neck.

Read An Excerpt - Suitcase Girl

Medina heard the engines. Two black vans came into view with their headlights off. They came to a stop a few feet away from the forklift, and two individuals exited each one. They always dressed the same when they showed up: black jeans, black hoodies, and Wayfarer sunglasses. 

He didn’t know their names or what they looked like under their disguises, although he did figure out one of them was a girl.

There was never a discussion. The arrangement stood the same as always. Medina would move the shipping container to a set location, send a text, and wait for their arrival.

He watched as one of them dealt with the lockbox on the container before pulling open the double doors. 

Medina never allowed his gaze to linger; he felt it was better to give the impression that he had no interest in what they were removing from the container. Occasionally he took a peek.

He lit a cigarette and ignored the two individuals entering the steel box with flashlights. He could hear them talking, in Chinese—at least that was what it sounded like to him. A little later they would begin unloading their goods from the container. 

The shipment was always the same. 

One by one the girls exited the container, walking hunched over with their arms crossed over their chests. They were clothed and wore shoes. Some shivered, but that was the extent of any dramatics.

Medina never made it a point to count, but it seemed each shipment contained between eight to twelve girls. This was the third he had been involved with. He took a long pull on his cigarette, and the tip flared a bright red.

The girls were directed toward one of the vehicles where two other individuals waited. One, a man, held a clipboard. His female cohort would shine a small penlight into each girl’s face as they looked over paperwork. Satisfied that the girl in front of them matched their list, the female would then help the girl into the rear of the van.

That night the process deviated when the fifth girl approached. After the flashlight check, they had her wait next to them instead of loading her into the van. She, by far, was the smallest of the group. She didn’t shiver or cry or fidget. She just stood motionless with her head down. 

Not much later the men in the container appeared with the last two girls and escorted them to the van, where they were also checked against the list.

The group then had a brief discussion about the girl who’d been pulled aside. Medina detected English, but he was too far away to make sense of their conversation. A few moments later, the last two girls and the one who had been separated were then loaded into the other van. 

One of the men, the tallest, approached Medina and handed him an envelope. Medina always waited until the vehicles drove off before looking inside. The count was never off. Always five thousand dollars in crisp one-hundred notes.

* * *

The two vans drove in tandem across the Bay Bridge toward San Francisco. The city skyline twinkled in the night. When they reached the city, they continued to a neighborhood just north of the Tenderloin. 

The vehicles parked outside a six-story residential building. For four hours they sat in the vans, waiting for pedestrian and vehicle traffic to die down. By one o’clock it had, and the girls were led quickly into the building. 

Two hours later, one of the men exited the building with the girl they had taken extra time with at check-in. They got into the van and drove off. The man made a series of lefts and rights, venturing into the heart of the Tenderloin. 

At that time of the morning, the place was barren. It was late enough that even the residents who made their livings on the streets at night had retired, and those who roamed during the day weren’t up yet. 

The van turned onto a street where a tall building with a concrete plaza in front occupied the entire block. He brought the vehicle to a stop next to the curb and cut the engine. Not a soul, not even a rat marred the silence. 

The side door of the van slid open, and the man exited with a suitcase. He looked left and right continuously as he hurried straight toward the entrance of the building, the wheels of the bag bumping along behind him. 

When he arrived at the front of the building, he looked around briefly before releasing the suitcase handle and walking away. He never once looked back. 

There was nothing special about the suitcase, the dimensions were thirty-one inches by twenty-two by thirteen. Fairly typical. If there were something conspicuous, it would have to be the fact that something inside of the bag shook it.

Read An Excerpt - The Puzzle Maker

“I hate this time of the year. It makes my bones creak,” Detective Munoz said as he exited the passenger side of the Crown Victoria. His partner Detective Berry climbed out of the driver's seat.

The two homicide detectives were with the Yuba City Police Department. It was just after 8:30 in the morning, and the tule fog that had settled across the valley remained thick, keeping visibility to ten feet at best. From October to March, the Sacramento Valley becomes home to some of the densest fog on Earth, keeping most locals indoors and visitors away from the area. Everywhere the detectives looked, they saw gray mist floating past them.

That morning, they’d received a call that a body had been found near the Bobelaine Sanctuary, a family-friendly hiking area along the Feather River. The detectives had parked their vehicle at the end of Laurel Avenue. The sanctuary was a short walk away.

“Is someone supposed to meet us here?” Munoz asked as he looked around. “I don’t hear anybody.” He closed the car door and looked around.

“Dispatch said this was the place. I’ll double check.” Berry leaned back into the vehicle and radioed dispatch for confirmation. The radio crackled in response. “Dispatch said there’s a patrol unit already here. They probably parked in a different spot is all. She’ll let them know we’re here.”

“You familiar with this area?” Munoz asked.

“I’ve been here a few times with the family, but that was years ago when the kids were younger,” Berry said. “Up ahead is a trail that leads down to the river.”

The two detectives started walking, their footsteps crunching on the gravel road.

“I can’t see crap. I hope you know where you’re going,” Munoz said.

Trees appeared a few feet away. “There’s the start of the trail.”

“Should we wait?” Munoz asked as he adjusted his sport coat.

“Body’s in there. So I’m guessing that’s where the patrol officers are.”

Berry led the way along the dirt path. “Watch your step; tree roots are sticking up everywhere.”

About seventy-five yards down the trail, they met up with a patrol officer. “Detectives, sorry to keep you waiting. The fog is super thick today. It had me turned around for a bit.”

“Is it just you?” Berry asked.

“Yeah, my shift was ending when the call came in. I wasn’t far, so I took it.”

“What are we looking at here?” Munoz asked.

“Uh, I’m not sure how to explain it. I haven’t been on the force very long; this is actually my first homicide.”

“Who found the body?”

“A fisherman. Crazy, huh? Coming out here in this weather… He swears the trout are biting. I’m not much of a fisherman, so I’ll take his word for it.”

“It’s just the one guy fishing?”


Berry gave Munoz a look.

Munoz nodded; the fisherman might be their first suspect.

The three men exited the wooded area onto the bank of the river. Munoz jumped back when the fisherman popped out of the fog.

“Sorry, Officer,” the man said. He wore a gray insulated vest with a long-sleeve shirt underneath. He also had on waterproof bib overalls and boots that came up to his knees.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m Detective Munoz, and this is Detective Berry. Seems like an odd time to fish—the fog and all.”

“I like it. It’s quiet. No one else to contend with. Trout don’t care if the fog is out.”

“How deep is the river?”

“In this part, it can be anywhere from half a foot to three feet. Depends. Head farther down, and you won’t be able to cross. Too deep, and the current is stronger.”

Munoz nodded. “Wait right here. We’ll be back to talk to you later.”

The fisherman nodded and sat down on a fallen tree trunk.

“It’s up here,” the officer pointed. “Got caught up in the trees along the bank. I’m not sure if the body was dumped upstream and got snagged here or if it was unloaded here.”

That particular area of the river narrowed to just over thirty feet. The lazy water flowed past them quietly. The officer slowed down and carefully picked his steps as he walked on the soft soil near the water’s edge. One of Munoz’s shoes sunk into the mud.

“You should have worn boots,” the officer said, as he watched Munoz try to shake the mud off.

Just a few yards farther downstream the officer paused. “There you go,” he said as he stepped out of the way.

Munoz took a few steps forward and then stopped.

“What?” Berry asked as he came up beside him.

Both detectives stared at the body. The victim was face down. His legs were in the water and his torso on the bank, tangled in tree roots. The victim’s shirt was missing. Even with the fog, the detectives knew what they were looking at. They’d seen a body like this before—five of them, actually, last year, during the foggy season. All of the victims had the skin removed from their backs.

Munoz shook his head slowly. “It’s starting again.”

What's Included

Corktown #1: A locked up serial killer is believed to still be killing.

Tenderloin #2: Abby faces off against a killer known as El Monstruo.

Russian Hill #3: San Francisco faces a murderous married duo.

Lumpini Park #4: Abby investigates a game that serial killers worldwide are playing.

Coit Tower #5: Abby becomes the grand prize in an online killing game.

Kowloon Bay #6: Abby's deceased husband is accused of being a murderer.

Suitcase Girl #7: Abby discovers a little girl who looks exactly like her.

The Curator #8: Abby is tasked with cracking the mystery behind Suitcase Girl.

The Hatchery #9: Assassins in search of Suitcase Girl attack FBI heaquarters.

Find Yuri #10: Abby tackles a series of perplexing murders.

Crooked City #11: An explosion of crime forces Abby to team up with unlikely allies.

Good Bad Psycho #12: A monster from Abby's past seeks revenge.

The Puzzle Maker #13: A blind serial killer terrorizes Yuba City.

The Muzzle Job #14: Abby's mother is kidnapped.

Fire Catcher #15: A man nicknamed the Fire Catcher is blowing up commuter ferries.

Not A Safe Place #16: Abby's partner and best friend is shot.

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