Spotlight: Serves You Right by Orion Gregory
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Danger doesn’t always come from the shadows—it can be hiding in plain sight. In Serves You Right by Orion Gregory, one rookie detective discovers that survival may depend on questioning everything, even the people closest to her.
Sydney Livingstone believed becoming a police officer in Walsh County would give her a calm, steady life after years in professional tennis. Instead, she finds herself pulled into a chilling crusade by a vigilante called The Enforcer. Each manifesto he posts online is followed by another brutal execution, and the killings are spreading. Sydney soon realizes she is not just on the case—she’s in the crosshairs.
Inside her department, fear begins to fracture trust. A stalker hunts a veteran officer, suspicions build among colleagues, and new evidence points alarmingly close to home. As the body count grows and national media swarms her town, Sydney must sift through betrayal and buried secrets while staying one step ahead of a predator who always seems to know her next move. Gregory’s thriller is a heart-stopping exploration of loyalty, fear, and survival in a world where justice itself has turned against you.
Excerpt
He looked over at Andrea, who was happily finishing a chili dog next to a side of circular, mangled fries. She was saying something about changing the drapes in the front window of her house, but Frank wasn’t listening.
His hamburger looked nauseating. Even the idea of taking a sip of beer made him want to vomit. The smell was now all-encompassing.
A pair of young boys chased each other, darting between tables. One bumped their table, causing some of Frank’s beer to spill.
“Undisciplined brats,” he muttered. “Can you imagine what kind of adults they’re going to be?”
Murderers? Spouse killers?
There goes Sheila again, funneling bullshit into my mind.
“We were all there once,” said Andrea. “Just ignore them.”
Frank smiled, wondering how Andrea wasn’t overcome by the disgusting smell. “You know what, I’m not really hungry,” he said. “I’m going to throw this stuff out.” Distracted by the unpleasant odor, Frank forgot about the possibility he was being followed. He fell into line behind two teenagers who were attempting to shove their trash inside an overflowing receptacle. The park seemed to be growing more crowded by the minute.
The park noises consumed Frank's thoughts. Ice cream machines revved crazily in a high pitch, barbeque grills hissed louder than usual, and soda machines buzzed. Kids squealed at their parents while nearby game operators hollered at customers to step forward and win prizes.
He glanced upward, noticing hot-air balloons in the distance, moving toward the theme park. They were decorated with bold, contrasting colors. The late afternoon sun cast its light onto them, creating a living rainbow of color in the open air.
Frank's eyes honed on one particular balloon, a white teardrop with silver accents and a printed logo. Four passengers waved cheerfully at everyone below. He struggled to read all the letters, but his mind was quick to fill in the gaps.
Murderer.
Frank was now trapped by the growing crowd. They jostled him, making it impossible to breathe properly. If he had the military sword that he found in Afghanistan, he could clear a five-foot radius around himself with a 360-degree swing. And what was that stinging sensation near his spine? Had a bee or wasp stung him? Or did someone accidentally jab him with a plastic fork?
But the stinging sensation was less noticeable than the certainty that he was being taunted from the heavens by some bastard who had rented a hot-air balloon. How was that possible? Who would’ve even known he would be at this theme park at this exact time?
Frank saw Andrea walking toward him, carrying a hot-fudge sundae. “Surprise!” she said. “I bought you a little treat. I figured maybe some ice cream would stimulate your appetite.”
Andrea, he thought? Of course. She was the only person who knew they were coming here today. But she would never betray him, would she? Andrea had stood steadfast by his side for two years. Had someone gotten to her? Was she gaslighting him so she could end up with everything? No, that couldn’t be right.
Andrea handed the ice cream to Frank. “Have some,” she said. “It might make you feel better.”
Why wasn’t she looking skyward? Playing coy? Perhaps. But then again, maybe someone else was behind all of this.
Frank let the sundae fall out of his hands. It struck the ground, cracking its plastic container and oozing white and brown onto the concrete.
“Shit, Frank. I just paid seven bucks for that. What the hell are you doing?” “Look up,” said Frank. “That white-and-silver balloon to the west. Tell me what you see.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s nice,” she shrugged. “They all are. Why are you acting so strange?” “Read the message on the balloon,” said Frank. “Tell me what it says.” Andrea squinted, looking upward.
“I don’t understand why it matters, but I’ll give it a go. Um - it appears to be a moving and storage company, I think. Yes, ‘Furderer Moving and Storage.’ Now, why was that important enough to drop your ice cream?”
Furderer. Not Murderer?
Shit. In all the hullabaloo of the last several years, Frank had neglected to update his contact lens prescription.
“Andrea, I am so sorry,” he said. “For some reason, I’m not feeling well.” Perhaps it was the combined smells of the food court, or maybe it was something else. The stinging sensation on his back was now more painful.
“I think I need to find a place to sit.”
Andrea placed her hand on his shoulder and attempted to help him navigate through the tight crowd. In the distance, Frank could see a few vacant seats located around a water fountain. It looked inviting - water spraying upward in a fanning arc, sparkling in the sun’s reflection.
He’d cool off near the fountain. Once he gathered his thoughts, they could leave and resume their romantic getaway. He grabbed Andrea by her outstretched arm and pulled her toward the fountain. When he was only steps away, Frank collided with a distracted man - holding four large translucent cups of beer - coming from the opposite direction. The impact caused the man to lose his balance, sending the cups tumbling out of his hand and onto the ground.
The man turned to Frank, his face red with anger. “Watch where you’re going, asshole!” he shouted. “That’s $36 of beer you spilled. You’re either gonna pay me back or I’m going to kick your ass and take the money out of your wallet myself.” The stinging sensation seemed to be increasing by the second. He tried to focus on the man, but his vision blurred.
The man leaned in, transferring saliva into Frank’s face as he continued his verbal barrage.
Frank understood the most logical solution would be to remain calm and pay the man for the spilled beer, especially after the last two tumultuous years. But between the insult and challenge to his manhood, Frank certainly wasn’t going to back down now.
Frank’s tormentor was about 6’ 2” and would be fortunate to reach 160 pounds. He looked like someone who had experienced a few too many go-rounds with methamphetamines. With Frank’s superior size and strength to go along with his hand-to-hand combat techniques, he knew he’d have this guy on the ground in a matter of seconds, begging for his life.
The man grinned, displaying two missing front teeth. His crooked nose had obviously been broken before. He sported a stained blue ball cap, a heavy-metal T-shirt, and his blue jeans displayed holes in the knees.
Andrea tugged at Frank’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s just go.”
Frank moved closer. “I give you one free shot,” he growled. “From that point on, I’m only defending myself.”
Frank held his hands low. Even a direct shot didn’t really concern him. He’d taken huge punches from some of the top instructors in the area during his martial arts classes. Surely, this guy wouldn’t even come close to matching them.
Frank suddenly was seeing two images of the man in front of him. And then three. The world was rotating around him like a turbo-charged merry-go-round. He no longer was thinking about moving his head at the sight of an incoming fist. He couldn’t focus his vision on any one thing. He could hear Andrea begging him to stop among the chats of a bunch of high school kids who were encouraging the other man to throw a punch. And the stinging pain in his back had become even more intense. He lost all feeling in his legs.
At the same time, the man barreled his head into Frank’s face. He heard laughing from above him. Everything was a blur. And still, there was that stinging sensation in his lower back. He heard Andrea scream. And then, Frank lost consciousness.
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About the Author
Orion Gregory has been chasing down mysteries since boyhood, when an Agatha Christie novel first sparked his love of crime fiction. After earning a degree in Communications from Wright State University, he became an award-winning journalist and advertising writer, later contributing to a national sports magazine. For more than two decades, he worked in sales while raising a family with his wife, Fran, and coaching tennis—a sport that sharpened his eye for discipline and strategy. Now based in Southwest Ohio, Gregory devotes himself to writing crime thrillers that mix fast-paced action with deep psychological tension. Visit his website to learn more.
