Spotlight & Giveaway: Final Exit by Raemi A. Ray

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Raemi A. Ray to HJ!

Hi Raemi and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Final Exit!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

Kyra and Tarek assist true crime podcasters investigate a decades’ old cold case, but someone on the island doesn’t want that story revealed.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

“Chase appeared over Kyra’s shoulder, his eyes glittering. ‘I’m the Mulder to her Scully, the Ninety-Nine to her Eight-Six.’”

“Chase rubbed his hands over his face and pushed his hair back. ‘I’m just hungover enough that I’m going to need you to explain this to me slowly and like I’m stupid.’”

What inspired this book?

The true unsolved murder of Clara Smith who was sexually assaulted and beaten to death in her dormitory residence while attending a Martha’s Vineyard theater camp in 1940.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

This is the fourth book and by now I feel like I know these characters better than I know myself. I maintain pretty detailed dossiers on each character and how they’re evolving through the series. I want their development to feel realistic. I may mine information from my psychologist friends and do I lot of research on childhood and generational trauma and how those factors play in personal growth.

For Kyra, the main protagonist, she’s slowly opening up to people, learning how to be vulnerable and to trust.

What was your favorite scene to write?

I can’t say. It’s a major spoiler, but it was the image in my mind from which the whole book was created. It’s pretty bloody and hopefully suspenseful.

What was the most difficult scene to write?

This was probably the easiest book to write, so far. This may be because Book 3 was so difficult, but Final Exit just flowed. I can’t remember any parts that really stumped me.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

I think so. I write traditional whodunnit style mysteries and this is the most straight forward one yet.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

I hope people walk away with a smile because they had a good time, perhaps share it with a friend. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ve inspired someone to visit Martha’s Vineyard, or take the vacation they’ve wanted to take.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

Book 5! It has not been easy. Book 5 is as hard, if not harder than book 3. It, and Book 6 will be coming out in 2026.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of FINAL EXIT + one additional Tule ebook of the winner’s choice

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Excerpt from Final Exit:

Chapter One

Sunday, February 5

Jubilant cries spilled out onto the frigid street when Tarek Collins hauled open the door to the Wraith & Bone. He ushered Kyra inside, his hand light on the small of her back. The pub was busy. Most of the tables were full. Extra televisions had been rigged on free-standing tables. A projector screen was down in front of the fieldstone wall. Apparently, all the islanders came out to support their team on the big day.

Kyra’s gaze swept the crowd, looking for their friends. Chase Hawthorn was easy to spot. Even if he hadn’t stood a head taller than nearly everyone else, one couldn’t help noticing him. He was movie-star-pretty—tousled blonde waves, perpetual golden tan, and eyes the color of Lake Blausee under the sun.

“There,” she said, but Tarek had already seen them.

His long fingers laced through Kyra’s, and he led her through the rabble to their table. She and Tarek were the last to arrive, beaten by their neighbors, Grace and Charlie Chambers, Chase’s it’s-a-thing-but-not-a-thing, Dr. Gerry James, and a man she recognized as Tarek’s former police colleague, Officer Mark Evans.

“Hi,” Kyra said, her voice inaudible over the crowd, and she waved her hand.

“Kay!” Chase beamed and stumbled around the table to wrap her in a bear hug that squeezed the oxygen from her lungs and had her boots leaving the floor. “You made it!” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charlie grin and roll her eyes.

“Wouldn’t have missed it.” Kyra coughed and patted his arm.

He set her down. His lips twitched into a knowing smirk. He knew she didn’t care for American football. Despite their best efforts, Chase and Tarek had failed to convert Kyra. She found the game complex and slow, unlike the Premier League matches she was used to.

Despite no love for the game, she’d told Chase the truth. She wouldn’t have skipped it. When Chase learned tonight’s Super Bowl fell on Tarek’s birthday, he’d organized a watch party at their favorite haunt. If she had to sit through a boring broadcast, it might as well be at Gully Goulds’s bar. She loved the old Edgartown pub. It reminded her of the dark drinkeries she grew up with in London.

“Tar!” a voice bellowed and the giant pub master materialized. He slid his serving tray, laden with beer glasses and pitchers, on the table before pulling Tarek into a hug. Gully pushed him back, his enormous palms encasing Tarek’s shoulders. His smile widened, splitting his bushy beard. “Happy birthday!”

Tarek winced as the rest of the table extended boisterous birthday wishes. He threw Kyra a pained look and his shoulders sagged a fraction. Kyra laughed. He hated being the center of attention.

“Thank you,” he said, and with amused resignation responded to the questions flying at him. “Yes. Today. Thirty-six. Mmmhmm.” He shot Kyra a look. “We are the same age. For now.”

Kyra stuck her tongue out at him. She might have been born nine months earlier, but Tarek was by far the more mature of the two.

“How you been, London?” Gully asked.

He wiped his hands on one of his many bar towels. One hung from each of his back pockets, and another was tucked into his belt loop.

“Well. And you?”

“No complaints. Business is good. It’s been better than ever since that docuseries was announced. Thanks again for helping with all that.” The ruddy skin above his shaggy beard flushed.

“Don’t mention it, really. I was happy to do it. The Wraith’s story is fascinating. I’m glad it’s being shared and getting the attention it deserves.”

Gully was a bit of a local maritime history expert. He’d been interviewed for a docuseries about a recently discovered shipwreck, one he’d been obsessed with for years. Kyra had helped him with the legal contracts.

“We should be thanking you.” She waved at the pub, dressed up like a sports bar for the night. “For letting us use your bar for the match.”

“Game!” At least four people corrected, and Charlie added an exaggerated eye roll.

Gully guffawed. His laugh, like everything about him, was unceremonious and over-large. “Don’t be an idiot, London. You’re always welcome, even if you keep questionable company.” He side-eyed Chase. “And since you’re here, I can join you for some of it.”

“You’re a football fan?” Kyra couldn’t picture the surly giant hooting or high-fiving.

Gully blinked, affronted. “What do you mean?” He shook his head either in disbelief or disappointment. He nodded to a chair. “Take a load off. I’ll bring you a drink.”

Kyra shrugged out of her leather moto jacket and hung it on the back of the chair next to Charlie.

“Hey, neighbor!” Charlie crowed and rubbed her hands together like an eager Disney villain. “This is going to be awesome. Arizona’s cornerback is playing with a broken finger, and their tight end has a sinus infection.”

“That’s … great,” Kyra hedged, unsure how to respond. An unhelpful razor commercial played on the giant projector screen. She pointed to Charlie’s over-sized jersey, personalized with CHAMBERS across the shoulders. “Nice strip.”

“Isn’t it fab? I got it just in time.” She held the shirt out by the bottom hem. “I had one made for Grace too, but she hates it.”

“I don’t hate it, Char.” Grace heaved a weary sigh. “I only said it’s a little juvenile.” She turned doleful eyes on Kyra. “Thank ye gods, I talked her out of choosing sexually suggestive numbers.”

“I didn’t think you knew what it meant!” Charlie protested, and Kyra sputtered a laugh.

“I’m not that out of touch, Char.” Grace reached across the table and gave Kyra’s hand a squeeze. “Hi, dear, it’s lovely to see you. When did your detective get in?”

“Not a detective anymore, Grace.” Tarek leaned down to give her a hug. “I got in a few hours ago.”

“Quick trip this time?” Grace didn’t notice the slight dimming of Tarek’s smile.

His most recent assignment with his consultancy firm, Greyscale Security, had been short by investigatory standards. He’d only been in Toronto providing profiling services to the human trafficking division for ten days, but from his terse phone calls and cryptic texts, Kyra knew whatever he’d found there had been harrowing. He compartmentalized, and became distant when his cases were upsetting, but he made a point of checking in, even if only to tell her he’d talk to her later. It was frustrating to be shut out, but the few times she had pried, she’d heard the pain in his voice, as if sharing the details made him relive the horror of what he’d witnessed.

“Tarek, we got you something,” Charlie said and brandished a rumpled envelope. “Happy birthday!”

Tarek’s expression immediately turned wary. He accepted it with a soft thanks.

“Go on, open it,” Grace urged. She turned to Kyra and mumbled, “I hope he likes it. It was Charlie’s idea.”

“And mine,” Chase interjected, his eyes sparkling. “It’s from me, too. And Gully, technically. But it’s more from me. And Charlie.”

Tarek’s eyes widened, alarmed, and Kyra bit back a laugh. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the folded piece of paper. The little W between his eyes eased away as he read, and when he looked up, he was grinning.

“This is great. Thank you.”

Charlie let out a whoop and clapped her hands together.

“What is it?” Kyra asked, and he passed her the page. She read it. She glanced between Charlie and Chase, confused. It was a membership certificate to something called the Cottage City Club. “They’ve gifted you a membership to a private members’ club?” Kyra pushed her hair behind her ear. She pictured the clandestine, soft lit lounges dotted about London.

Charlie roared with glee and pointed. “You should see your face.” She shook her head, her wild curls bouncing with the movement. “Cottage City was the old name for Oak Bluffs. The Cottage City Club is a community organization. They run a rec center with pool tables, a bar, and old televisions. They also support a lot of local charities.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” Kyra schooled her features, but felt her cheeks burn. She handed the certificate back to Tarek. “That’ll be fun for you.”

Charlie turned to Grace. “She thought it was a sex club.” Grace pressed one hand to her heart, and the other covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook with her chuckles. Chase sputtered his beer, hiccupping, and Gerry slapped him on the back.

“I didn’t,” Kyra muttered, a half-hearted protest, but it wasn’t that far off.

When he finally stopped coughing, Chase draped an arm across her shoulders. “What did you do in London?” he teased. She tried to shrug him off, but he only held her tighter. “Charlie and I became members when Tar was out of town. We thought it’d be fun. Gully sponsored us all.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she repeated, apparently unable to come up with anything that sounded more sincere. She tried to swallow back the sting that they didn’t want her at their special club.

“You’re not missing anything, dear. Unless, of course, you like all this.” Grace gestured to the surrounding room, and to the projector screen, where the players were preparing for the coin toss.

“And chili-fries,” Charlie said, her eyes raised to the heavens. “The club serves chili-fries all day, every day. And mozzarella sticks.” She pressed her hands together.

“Chili-fries and mozzo-sticks?” Gully appeared behind her and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Good game day food. I think we can make that happen. Do not tell anyone you’re ordering off the menu.” His lips disappeared under his beard and his brows knit together.

Charlie bopped up and down in her seat and drew an X on her chest. “Cross my heart.”

Chase pulled Kyra closer and ducked his head to whisper in her ear, “Don’t look so pathetic. I got you a membership, too.”

“You did?” she asked, pulling back, half annoyed with herself for her intrusive thoughts and half annoyed that she sounded so hopeful.

“Yes, you jackass.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, embarrassed. She should have known better. Chase had his own family history that made him sensitive to her abandonment issues. He’d never let her feel excluded.

“You’re welcome.” He winked.

The broadcast blared over the speaker system. A man in an obnoxious green and gray plaid suit announced the coin toss. The pub erupted when the Patriots accepted the ball.

Kyra tried paying attention. She couldn’t follow the gameplay and one-by-one Chase, Charlie, and even the ever-patient Gerry, tired of explaining it to her. Eventually, she ended up at the far end of the table, with Grace and Officer Mark Evans.

Mark was peppering Grace with questions about Martha’s Vineyard. He asked her about the different towns, what they were like, how they changed in the summer and off season. Kyra’s curiosity was piqued when he asked about the Martha’s Vineyard Community Council, the island’s quasi-political leadership organization, and its members, where they lived, what they were like, what was it like working with them and the executive director, Ida Ames.

“Mark, are you moving here?” Kyra asked.

“Oh.” He pushed his hair off his forehead. “Collins didn’t tell you?” Kyra shook her head. “I’ve been restationed in Oak Bluffs, supporting the island forces’ community relations. I started a few weeks ago.”

The year before, Officer Evans helped Tarek investigate a series of violent crimes on the island. Kyra remembered how uncomfortable he’d been with the more gruesome aspects of the case. A role as a community liaison would suit the cheerful man who reminded her of an overgrown puppy.

“That’s brilliant, Mark. What a great opportunity. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Evans’s cheeks turned a rosy pink. “I’m excited. And it’ll be nice to spend more time here. You know,” he said, his voice lowering and his tone turning serious. “It was all thanks to Collins and the letter of commendation he wrote. I wouldn’t have been transferred without it.”

Tarek was sitting between Chase and Gully. He caught her eye, and the side of his mouth hitched into a half smile. He turned back to the game. It didn’t surprise her that Tarek helped Evans or that he never mentioned it. He probably never even considered it a kindness.

“So, you’ve moved here, then? Or are you commuting?”

Evans shook his head. “I moved, at least for now.”

“He’s been staying in one of my summer cottages,” Gully said, referring to the modest compound he ran for summer rentals and off-season temporary housing.

“Gully has been a lifesaver. Finding housing on the island, especially to stay through the summer, has been challenging.” Evans pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“It’s one of the council’s biggest priorities,” Grace said with a nod. “This island needs housing accessible to the people who live and work here.”

“It does, but don’t worry, Evans. I’m not going to throw you out. You’d never survive the mean streets of Martha’s Vineyard.” Gully slapped the smaller man on his back, causing him to squeak.

“Of course not.” Grace huffed, not getting Gully’s joke. “The council has been pushing for closer collaboration with the island’s public safety departments for years. The state finally listened. Now that you’re here, we’ll make sure you have a place to live.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Mark said, his voice thick.

“Call me Grace, dear.”

Gully leaned down between Kyra and Mark. “Did you hear what London got Tar for his birthday?”

Evans shook his head and grimaced. “Collins isn’t a big fan of birthdays.” He palmed the back of his neck. “The department got him a cake once. They say he shot it.”

“What?” Kyra laughed, but it fell away when she took in his expression. “Seriously?”

Mark shrugged. “I think he started the rumor so folks would be too scared to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, but they stopped getting him cake after that, too.” His gaze shifted to Tarek before zipping back to Kyra. “It was a real shame. The department always got really good birthday cake, the kind with both chocolate and vanilla frosting.”

Gully snickered. “That sounds like him. I doubt he’ll be shooting anything this time. Tar’s going to meet Murder & MayFemme. He and London are going to shadow them on one of their investigations.” His fingers twitched in air quotes.

Tarek loved true-crime podcasts. He devoured them and his favorite, Murder & MayFemme, hosted by a female duo, happened to be doing a special investigation into a decades old Martha’s Vineyard cold case. Kyra had made some calls and arranged to interview the hosts. She’d been excited to tell Tarek about it, but she took in Mark’s dismayed expression and worried she may have mis-stepped.

“What is it? Do you think he won’t like it?”

Gully let out a big belly laugh.

“On, no. I’m sorry.” Mark ducked his chin, breaking eye contact. “I’m sure Collins will love it.”

Kyra studied the young man. He was staring into his beer glass, his shoulders slumped, defeat in his brown eyes.

She reared back in her seat. “My god, how many times did he make you listen to them?”

“Many, many times. Over and over.”

Gully’s laugh deepened. His shoulders shook, and he wiped at the tears collecting in the corner of his eyes with one of his bar towels. “He’s obsessed. Has been since we were kids. It started with reruns of ‘Unsolved Mysteries.’” He turned to Kyra. “Have you told him yet?”

She shook her head and took a long sip of wine. Now, she was debating whether she even should.

“Don’t let the kid get in your head. Tar will love it.” Gully dropped a paw on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He released her after a second and excused himself to attend to other patrons.

“How are you enjoying writing the column for The Island Times?” Grace asked Kyra.

“It’s been going well, so far,” she said, grateful for the subject change.

After the discovery of the shipwreck, Kyra had written a mildly successful article about the Keres and its pirate captain. Since then, she’d submitted a few articles to the local paper, mostly as a lark, but Han Park, the paper’s editor-in-chief, had accepted and printed all of them. She reckoned Han’s interest in her was predominantly because of her last name and local address, but when she’d quit her law firm job last December, Han had offered her a weekly guest columnist spot. The pay was abysmal. The research was tedious, and networking with the locals for fresh stories each week was time consuming and often fruitless, but writing wasn’t unfulfilling.

Han had given her near free rein to write whatever she wanted, but his hints were far from subtle. He wanted her to follow in her late father’s footsteps, write gritty stories exposing the dirty truths hidden under the island’s glossy veneer of class and privilege, but Kyra wasn’t sure it was the right path for her.

“I’m working on a story about the high school’s freshman hockey teams. Their funding was cut, making it difficult for them to travel off island for games.”

“No!” Grace replied, her eyes widening in horror. “That’s unacceptable.” She reached for her purse. She pulled out her phone and jabbed out a message with her pointer finger. “I’ll let Ida know. She won’t stand for that.” Kyra sighed. Bringing the kids’ funding woes to one of the managing community council members’ attention might have just fixed their problem and killed her story.

“Yes!” Charlie screamed and jumped to her feet.

Her chair flew back. Kyra flinched. Suddenly, everyone was standing, screaming, hollering. The celebratory clamor drowned out the racket of chairs skidding across the floor and toppling over. Charlie yanked Gerry into a one-armed hug, jumping up and down, hanging on him. Grace set her phone down and clapped her hands.

“What’s happened?” Kyra asked, her head swiveling around, taking in the bedlam.

“They just won.” Grace leaned closer and let loose a resigned breath. “And now there’ll be the after party.”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Careful what you wish for…

Winter has settled over the island of Martha’s Vineyard, and newspaper columnist Kyra Gibson is relieved when her partner, forensic profiler Tarek Collins, returns home. As a birthday surprise, she arranges a meet and greet with the hosts of his favorite true-crime podcast while they’re on island to investigate a notorious cold case.

Forty years ago, a beautiful young actress was brutally murdered and her enigmatic bunkmate disappeared from the prestigious Oak Bluffs summer theater camp. Nothing about the podcasters’ attitude, their lack of preparation, or disdain for the island makes sense. When they disappear, leaving behind a bloody mess, Kyra and Tarek are ensnared in a decades-long web of intrigue. To find the podcasters, they must untangle the historic crime, but someone wants to keep the case cold. Someone willing to kill.

Every islander holds tight to their secrets, and each question leads down a dark and twisted path. When a lead draws Tarek off the island, Kyra embarks on a perilous rescue before the final curtain claims them both.

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Meet the Author:

Raemi A. Ray is the author of the Martha’s Vineyard Murders series. Her travels to the island and around the world inspire her stories. She lives with her family in Boston.
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