HIGHEST PRAISE FOR M. WILLIAM PHELPS
“M. William Phelps dares to tread where few others will: into the mind of a killer.”
—TV Rage
THE KILLING KIND
“In this true crime book, Phelps focuses on unrepentant killer Danny Hembree . . . [who] seizes the chance to take center stage with lurid confessions of a decades-long career of violent robbery, assault, rape, and murder.... Fans of the author’s Discovery TV series, Dark Minds, will be rewarded.”
—Publishers Weekly
OBSESSED
“True-crime junkies will be sated by the latest thriller from Phelps, which focuses on a fatal love triangle that definitely proved to be stranger than fiction. The police work undertaken to solve the case is recounted with the right amount of detail, and readers will be rewarded with shocking television-worthy twists in a story with inherent drama.”
—Publishers Weekly
BAD GIRLS
“Fascinating, gripping ... Phelps’s sharp investigative skills and questioning mind resonate. Whether or not you agree with the author’s suspicions that an innocent is behind bars, you won’t regret going along for the ride with such an accomplished reporter.”
—Sue Russell
NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN
“This riveting book examines one of the most horrific murders in recent American history.”
—New York Post
“Phelps clearly shows how the ugliest crimes can take place in the quietest of suburbs.”
—Library Journal
“Thoroughly reported ... the book is primarily a police procedural, but it is also a tribute to the four murder victims.”
—Kirkus Reviews
TOO YOUNG TO KILL
“Phelps is the Harlan Coben of real-life thrillers.”
—Allison Brennan
LOVE HER TO DEATH
“Reading anything by Phelps is always an eye opening experience. The characters are well researched and well written. We have murder, adultery, obsession, lies and so much more.”
—Suspense Magazine
“You don’t want to miss Love Her To Death by M. William Phelps, a book destined to be one of 2011’s top true crimes!”
—True Crime Book Reviews
“A chilling crime ... award-winning author Phelps goes into lustrous and painstaking detail, bringing all the players vividly to life.”
—Crime Magazine
KILL FOR ME
“Phelps gets into the blood and guts of the story.”
—Gregg Olsen, New York Times best-selling author of Fear Collector
“Phelps infuses his investigative journalism with plenty of energized descriptions.”
—Publishers Weekly
DEATH TRAP
“A chilling tale of a sociopathic wife and mother ... a compelling journey from the inside of this woman’s mind to final justice in a court of law. For three days I did little else but read this book.”
—Harry N. MacLean, New York Times
best-selling author of In Broad Daylight
I’LL BE WATCHING YOU
“Phelps has an unrelenting sense for detail that affirms his place, book by book, as one of our most engaging crime journalists.”
—Katherine Ramsland
IF LOOKS COULD KILL
“M. William Phelps, one of America’s finest true-crime writers, has written a compelling and gripping book about an intriguing murder mystery. Readers of this genre will thoroughly enjoy this book.”
—Vincent Bugliosi
“Starts quickly and doesn’t slow down.... Phelps consistently ratchets up the dramatic tension, hooking readers. His thorough research and interviews give the book complexity, richness of character, and urgency.”
—Stephen Singular
MURDER IN THE HEARTLAND
“Drawing on interviews with law officers and relatives, the author has done significant research. His facile writing pulls the reader along.”
—St. Louis Post-Dispatch
“Phelps expertly reminds us that when the darkest form of evil invades the quiet and safe outposts of rural America, the tragedy is greatly magnified. Get ready for some sleepless nights.”
—Carlton Stowers
“This is the most disturbing and moving look at murder in rural America since Capote’s In Cold Blood.”
—Gregg Olsen
SLEEP IN HEAVENLY PEACE
“An exceptional book by an exceptional true crime writer. Phelps exposes long-hidden secrets and reveals disquieting truths.”
—Kathryn Casey
EVERY MOVE YOU MAKE
“An insightful and fast-paced examination of the inner workings of a good cop and his bad informant, culminating in an unforgettable truth-is-stranger-than-fiction climax.”
—Michael M. Baden, M.D.
“M. William Phelps is the rising star of the nonfiction crime genre, and his true tales of murder are scary-as-hell thrill rides into the dark heart of the inhuman condition.”
—Douglas Clegg
LETHAL GUARDIAN
“An intense roller-coaster of a crime story ... complex, with twists and turns worthy of any great detective mystery ... reads more like a novel than your standard non-fiction crime book.”
—Steve Jackson
PERFECT POISON
“True crime at its best—compelling, gripping, an edge-of-the-seat thriller. Phelps packs wallops of delight with his skillful ability to narrate a suspenseful story.”
—Harvey Rachlin
“A compelling account of terror ... the author dedicates himself to unmasking the psychopath with facts, insight and the other proven methods of journalistic leg work.”
—Lowell Cauffiel
Also By M. William Phelps
Perfect Poison
Lethal Guardian
Every Move You Make
Sleep in Heavenly Peace
Murder in the Heartland
Because You Loved Me
If Looks Could Kill
I’ll Be Watching You
Deadly Secrets
Cruel Death
Death Trap
Kill For Me
Love Her to Death
Too Young to Kill
Never See Them Again
Failures of the Presidents (coauthor)
Nathan Hale: The Life and Death of America’s First Spy
The Devil’s Rooming House: The True Story of
America’s Deadliest Female Serial Killer
The Devil’s Right Hand: The Tragic Story of the
Colt Family Curse
The Dead Soul: A Thriller (available as e-book only)
Murder, New England
Jane Doe No More
Kiss of the She-Devil
Bad Girls
Obsessed
The Killing Kind
She Survived: Melissa (e-book)
She Survived: Jane (e-book)
I’d Kill for You
TO LOVE AND TO KILL
M. WILLIAM PHELPS
PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
HIGHEST PRAISE FOR M. WILLIAM PHELPS
Also By M. William Phelps
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER
13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 81
CHAPTER 82
CHAPTER 83
CHAPTER 84
CHAPTER 85
CHAPTER 86
CHAPTER 87
CHAPTER 88
CHAPTER 89
CHAPTER 90
CHAPTER 91
CHAPTER 92
CHAPTER 93
CHAPTER 94
CHAPTER 95
CHAPTER 96
CHAPTER 97
CHAPTER 98
CHAPTER 99
CHAPTER 100
CHAPTER 101
CHAPTER 102
CHAPTER 103
CHAPTER 104
CHAPTER 105
CHAPTER 106
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ONE BREATH AWAY
Copyright Page
Notes
For Little Mark, Mark Jr. and Brittany Phelps—
Big Mark would be so proud of you.
Death is someone you see very clearly
with eyes in the center of your heart:
eyes that see not by reacting to light,
but by reacting to a kind of a chill from
within the marrow of your own life.
—Thomas Merton,
The Seven Storey Mountain
CHAPTER 1
FOOTSTEPS. THE SOFT, spongy slap of rubber work shoes against the scratched, unwaxed, filthy surface of a tile floor.
One after the other.
Pitter-patter.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Waitresses take perhaps thousands of steps during a shift. Always coming and going, while certain obnoxious patrons bark orders, make crass comments and groundless, tasteless judgments, before getting up and leaving squat for a tip.
The South is full of roadside diners serving up high cholesterol and diabetes—all you have to do is walk in, sit down in a booth sporting ripped, waxy seats and grimy checkered tablecloths, and the journey into the greasy-spoon experience has begun.
Heather Strong had been a waitress at one of these places for nearly ten years, though she mainly worked the register as a cashier these days. She took to the job because it suited her character—outgoing, loud, always on the move—and put food on the table for her children. In February 2009, Heather, a beautiful, blue-eyed, brown-haired, twenty-six-year-old mother and soon-to-be divorcée, was working at the Petro Truck Stop out on Highway 318 in Reddick, Florida. The Iron Skillet restaurant inside the Petro was a busy joint. It was one of those just-off-the-freeway pit stops filled with tired, hungry, dirty, foul-mouthed, penny-pinching, smelly men coming in off the road, filing out of their musty Mack trucks, looking for cheap fast-food meals saturated in grease. Heather drew the eyes of most of these men because she was so stunningly gorgeous in a simple American-girl kind of way. She had the figure of a swimsuit model, sure; but that exterior beauty was juxtaposed against an inner abundance of innocence and purity, a warm heart. Still, for anyone who knew Heather, there was no mistaking the fact that this young woman could take care of herself if necessary.
There was also a hidden vulnerability there within Heather’s forced smile: You could tell she had struggled in life somewhat. But with the right man by her side (whom she had found just the previous year, but had let go of after getting back with her husband), Heather could find that picket-fence happiness all young women in her shoes longed for.
“What’s a hot little thang like you doing in a place like this?” was a common remark Heather endured more times than she could count. She hated it every time. Paid no mind to men who spoke to her disrespectfully like that. She had a job to do. Kids to feed. She was making ends meet. It didn’t mean she had to take insults and sexually aggressive comments.
“Give me your check and let’s get y’all cashed out?” Heather would snap back. “I ain’t got all day.”
Heather seemed tired on this day. She’d been having a rough go of things lately, to say the least. Most of those problems stemmed from the relationship with her children’s father, her husband, twenty-seven-year-old Joshua “Josh” Fulgham, a rather complicated and volatile man with a past she had recently separated from. Since the breakup, Heather had been living with another man, more out of convenience than love. But that leash Josh had around his wife had not been severed completely. Josh wanted his kids and was afraid Heather would one day take off with them; he promised a nasty custody battle coming down the road. He was also enraged at the fact that Heather was living with a man Josh saw as a danger to his children.
“You seen Heather around?” Heather’s boss asked a coworker a day after Valentine’s Day, February 15, 2009. It had been a normal day at the Petro: regulars, new customers, broken coffee machine, same dirty dishes coming from the kitchen, stains on the silverware. ’Bout the only thing different was that Heather had not come to work. It was so unlike her not to show up. If there was one thing about Heather Strong, work was first and foremost. She needed the money to support her kids—and that darn husband of hers, he rarely gave her anything to help out, yet always seemed to have the cash to buy “party goods” or go out and have a good time.
“She always called,” Heather’s boss later explained.
“I haven’t seen her,” Heather’s coworker said.
“Huh,” Heather’s boss responded. “If you do, tell her to call me.”
Heather generally worked the morning shift, although she did sometimes take on a double. On most days, she’d come in and set up the salad bar and then go about her ordinary duties.
She should have been in by now, thought Heather’s boss, looking at the clock in her small office, trying to shake a bad feeling that something was terribly wrong.
CHAPTER 2
HEATHER’S FIRST COUSIN, Misty Strong, was at home in Columbus, Mississippi, where Heather grew up and had lived most of her life. Misty, equally as beautiful as Heather, could pass for Heather’s identical twin—the two girls looked so much alike.
“Heather was like a sister to me,” Misty later said.
A few weeks had gone by and Misty had not heard from her cousin. This was odd. Heather and Misty kept in touch. However streetwise Heather had become over the years, especially while livi
ng in Florida, she was green in many ways of the world, Misty knew. It seemed that Heather had only one man most of her life and he had taken her to Florida: Joshua Fulgham. Josh and Heather met in Starkville, Mississippi. Heather was sixteen, waitressing after school at a local restaurant; Joshua, one year older, was a customer. Josh was that tough, rugged, overprotective and overly jealous type. He was well known in the Mississippi town where he grew up as a bruiser and tough, troubled kid. Josh was five feet eight inches tall and weighed about 175 pounds—one of those physiques people might say he was born with, a guy who could eat anything and never gain an ounce. Josh generally wore his hair shortly cropped, but had turned to an entirely shaved head later in life. For Heather, Josh fit the image of a badass she liked so much. Heather felt comfortable around Josh. She felt protected. The two of them hit it off right away on that day inside the restaurant.
From the start, Misty Strong later observed, Josh and Heather had issues. He was rough with her. He liked to manhandle Heather a lot when he wanted his way. The cops were often involved. After meeting, dating and then living together as teens, Heather having a child, with another on the way, Mississippi didn’t seem to entice them as it once had. So Josh and Heather made the decision to move to Florida. It was 2004. Josh had potential job prospects in Florida—or so he said. He had family down there. The move felt like a step up. Heather wasn’t thrilled at going, moving away from her family in Mississippi, but she thought what the hell, why not give it a try. They could always move back if things didn’t work out.
Misty knew with Heather moving away, there was little she could do. Once Heather was gone, in fact, Misty had lost touch with her for a time, and Misty believed it was Josh holding her down, keeping Heather from contacting her family. One more way for Josh to govern over Heather and keep her tied down.
“He was just too controlling,” Misty explained. “He didn’t want her around any family or anybody that cared about her.”