Woo Hoo!!!!! First Chapter- The Crying Season by D.K. Hood
Prologue
Last fall
“Run and don’t look back.”
Shots peppered the undergrowth, and splintered trees
showered Paige Allen with bark. She strangled a scream and gaped at the crimson
patch spreading across the front of her fiancé’s shirt. “I’m not leaving you.”
She grabbed Dawson’s arm, willing him to move.
“Go!” Dawson stared at her with unfocused eyes and blood
trickled from the corner of his mouth. “Please…
go.”
Terrified, she willed her feet to move and rolled into the
bushes. She could hear someone crashing through the trees then more shots rang
out. Dawson’s body contorted as bullets pierced his flesh. He took two unsteady
steps forward then fell face down on the trail. His fingers clawed the dirt in
a feeble attempt to survive, then he lay staring at her with unseeing eyes. She
knuckled the sob threatening to escape her mouth. Oh my God, he’s dead.
In the distance, she could hear something big moving toward
her through the undergrowth. In disbelief and unable to move, she glanced down
the track but no one came into sight. What was happening? Terror had her by the
throat and it hurt to drag air into her lungs. She peered through the dense
vegetation, looking for an escape route. I
have to get out of here. Teeth chattering, she scrambled deeper into the
forest, moving far away from the trail. To survive she needed to be silent but
each twig she stepped on cracked like a whip.
The
sight of Dawson’s blood-splattered body and his dead staring eyes flashed
across her mind in horrific reruns, slowing her responses. The wind rustled the
trees, lifting the leaves underfoot and creaking the branches. Each noise
sounded like the footsteps of the killer. She ran in blind panic, weaving
through the trees and tripping over roots.
Her sense of direction descended into chaos but she ran on,
dragging her feet through the thick bushes. As she broke out of the trees, a
sob escaped her throat. “Oh, no.” She had run in an arc and was now back on the
trail twenty or so yards from Dawson’s body.
She turned on her heel and bolted up the path toward the
mountain. Someone had killed Dawson. The man she loved had died like an animal
in hunting season; run to ground and shot. Tears streamed down her cheeks and
the salty flow leaked into her mouth. She had to get away and tell the cops.
Desperate, she scanned the area ahead for a hiding place and found a huge
boulder bathed in shadows off the main trail. If she could make it a few more
yards without the gunman seeing her, she could hide.
The bushes tugged at her hair and tore at her clothes with
each step. Panting, she made the shelter of the rocky outcrop and took a quick
glance behind her. The bushes on one side of the trail quivered and the crunch
of boots on the forest floor sounded like a stampede of buffalo. He’s coming. A figure thundered through
the narrow pathway then stopped and kneeled beside Dawson’s body. Dressed in
army camouflage with matching face paint, he turned to look in her direction
and she held her breath. Her pulse thumped in her ears so loud, she thought he
would hear it. Without one ounce of compassion, the man dragged Dawson into a
sitting position against a tall pine tree then turned slowly in her direction.
Sheer terror gripped her, making it hard to breathe.
She had to get help. With shaking limbs, she pulled out her cellphone and
ducked deeper into the shadows. The light on the screen lit up the dark space like a beacon then slipped from
her trembling fingers and smashed on the rock. She gaped at the scattered remains in disbelief. I’m alone; no one is coming to help me.
The footsteps came closer, slower and more deliberate, stalking her.
She stared at the small opening between the sheer rock face
and the boulder. If she reached the other side of the massive stone, she could
run in the opposite direction. Surely, he was too big to follow her through the
narrow gap. Trembling, she eased around the edge of the boulder.
Too late. One large hand grabbed her by the hair and lifted
her then threw her onto the ground. The man stared down at her and a wide grin
split his face.
“What are you doing on your lonesome out in the forest?” His
voice was strange, distorted.
Paige spat the pine needles from her mouth and staggered to
her feet. Anger and revulsion gave her courage. “Are you crazy? You shot
Dawson.”
“He can’t help you now. Tell me, can you count to ten,
sweetheart?”
Noticing the amusement in his eyes, she took a step backward
and swallowed hard. The man gave a low chuckle then raised his rifle and
pointed it at her. She gaped at him in disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”
“One…”
Paige turned and ran, crashing through the undergrowth. She
found the trail down the mountain and took off at full pelt. No sound of
footsteps came from behind her. She could escape. Heart thundering, she leapt a
fallen log. Mid-flight, pain ripped through her back as if one of her lungs had
burst with the effort. She forced her legs onward but the forest dissolved into
a kaleidoscope of green. As she fell, the ground came up to meet her, pushing
the air painfully from her lungs. Flat on the sandy trail, she blinked as a
wildflower came into perfect focus then faded into black.
Chapter one
Present day
Monday
Deputy David Kane ducked out of the way of a
beer bottle cartwheeling and spewing foam in all directions. The bottle flew
over one shoulder and smashed into the wall, showering his back with glass.
Instinct on full throttle, he spun around in time to grab the swinging fist of
a burly man in his palm and twist his wrist, bringing the arm up behind the
man’s back. He swept his assailant’s feet, sending him down hard on his knees.
The man howling in pain did not resemble the usual rough type who frequented the
Triple Z Bar. Kane dragged the man to his feet then slammed him against the
wall, taking in his expensive jacket and hiking boots. “You planning on
spending the hunting season in jail?”
“Go to hell.”
Kane pulled the man’s hands behind him, read him his rights
then dragged him outside and secured him to an old hitching post. “I’ll see if
I can arrange that later.” He sidestepped the growing mound of broken glass at
the entrance and headed back inside the bar. One down.
His work as a deputy in Black Rock Falls was very different
from his time as a sniper followed by five years’ service in DC’s Special
Forces Investigation Command. He had had no other choice but to leave DC after
a terrorist planted a bomb under his car, killing his wife and leaving him with
a titanium plate in his head. Off the grid in the not-so-small backwoods town
of Black Rock Falls should have been a walk in the park. However, the dynamics
of his life had changed dramatically on discovering his boss was an
ex-undercover DEA agent. Sheriff Jenna Alton, with a new name and face, was
hiding in plain sight in witness protection, and Black Rock Falls was anything
but the quiet little town he envisaged.
An argument had erupted between his prisoner and two local
men over the carcass of an eight-point buck, then escalated into an all-out
brawl. The red-faced owner stood behind the bar brandishing a shotgun; his
mouth was moving but his words were lost over the noise. Men fought each other
like animals, using chairs, tables, and pool cues as weapons. A woman wearing a
short skirt and high heels jumped onto a man’s back and raked down his face
with polished nails.
A miasma of beer and sweat hung in the smoke-filled room.
Kane sidestepped a punch from a man wearing a red bandana tied around his
balding head. He pivoted on one foot, aiming a kick to the huge belly swinging
over his pants, and his boot sank into Jell-O. When the man buckled, Kane
shoved him into the pool table then ducked and weaved through the fight,
heaving bodies out of his way to help Deputy Rowley.
The young deputy was in a brawl with two men and others had
moved to join in. Rowley was holding his own but an idiot with blood streaming
down his face and holding a chair high in the air was heading his way. Kane
drew his Glock and fired three shots into the roof. The room fell eerily quiet
and the angry crowd turned to look at him. “Get out of here before I haul you
all downtown.”
The mass exodus was swift, and he holstered his weapon then
stepped in front of the two men who had been attacking Rowley. “You do know it’s an offence to hit an
officer of the law, right?”
“He tried to arrest me for stealing the buck.” The man gave
him an indignant look then tried to straighten his torn shirt.
“You can add resisting arrest to the charge.” Sheriff Jenna
Alton’s raven hair glistened under the lights as her annoyed scrutiny moved
around the bar. Unruffled and in complete control of the situation, she moved
to Kane’s side and when she looked at his prisoner her mouth turned down. “Cuff
him and bring him in.” She indicated toward the other man with a nasty cut
under one eye and bleeding like a stuck pig. “Him too.” She read both men their
rights in a clipped monologue.
“Yes, ma’am.” Rowley’s mouth twitched at the corner as he
pulled the zip ties out of his pocket. He turned to Kane. “Did you get the big
one who came at you with the bottle?”
“Oh, yeah.” Kane smiled. “He is cooling his heels at the
hitching post out front.”
“And squealing about his $2,000 Stetson he misplaced in
here.” Jenna gave him her patented “I don’t give a shit” stare and shrugged.
“Says he’ll make a complaint to the sheriff about you through his lawyer.
Apparently, I’ll skin you alive.” She cleared her throat. “More paperwork.”
“Who is gonna pay for this damage?” The barman’s angry stare
rested on Kane’s face and he still held the shotgun.
“Lay down your weapon – now!” Jenna glared at him and the
owner complied sheepishly. “Who started the brawl?”
“I’m not sure but those two and the city dude were throwing
bottles and chairs.”
“Okay.” She turned to the other men. “Do you have jobs,
property, or cash to pay for this damage? You have the opportunity to settle
now before it goes to court.”
“Nope.” Torn Shirt wet his lips. “Only my car and we can’t
walk home; our cabin is in the mountains. The buck is ours legal. We have a
Vehicle-Killed Wildlife Salvage Permit. I’m within my rights.” Kane snorted and
secured Torn Shirt. “Is that your car outside with the buck tied to the hood?”
“Sure is.”
“The buck out there has a bullet wound and some other
damage.” Kane raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”
“He ran out in front of my vehicle. You check for yourself.
Its leg is broken and I have a damaged headlight.” Torn Shirt looked at Jenna
pleadingly.
“I have a Vehicle-Killed Wildlife Salvage Permit too.” The
owner gave Kane an optimistic look. “I’ll take the buck for my own consumption
as restitution for their part of the damage but I want a cash settlement from
the rich dude you arrested outside.”
“That seems fair to me.” Jenna looked at
Kane. “Fix it.”
“No way! I found it legal. It don’t belong to anyone. I
don’t know why that crazy man started a fight.” Torn Shirt smirked at Kane over
one shoulder. “Ain’t no law about picking up roadkill. My permit is up to date
and paid for.”
Kane turned to the proprietor. “Take the buck. As he said,
‘It don’t belong to anyone.’”
“Sure, it’s better than nothin’.” The bar
owner headed out the door.
“That ain’t fair.” Torn Shirt gave Jenna a puppy-dog stare.
“Sheriff, you tell that son of a bitch he can’t do that, it ain’t fair.”
Oh, this is going to
be fun. Kane bit back a grin and raised one eyebrow at Jenna.
“Okay, but it won’t be good eating after you leave it out in
the sun for weeks.” Jenna gave Torn Shirt a tight smile. “You could remain in
jail until your court case.”
“Oh, man.” Torn Shirt bit his bottom lip as
if considering.
“Well, what’s it to be?” Jenna’s eyes flashed as she glared
at Torn Shirt.
“I ain’t got much choice, have I?”
“You had the choice not to fight in the first place. I’m
going easy on you.” She turned to Kane. “Get them into the back of my vehicle.
I’ll drive your rig back to the office.” She held out her keys.
“Yes, ma’am.” Kane swapped car keys with a smile. Jenna
called his black SUV “the beast” after the upgrades. It was fast, very fast.With
the three men secured in Jenna’s vehicle, Kane watched her drive away then went
back inside to examine Rowley. He would have a shiner but looked okay. “Get
some ice for that eye before we leave and ask the barman to look out for a
Stetson, and to call if he finds it.”
“Yes, sir.”
With Rowley holding a bag of ice to his eye, they hurried
back to Jenna’s rig. The men secured behind the bulletproof glass argued the
entire trip back to the sheriff’s office. Torn Shirt and the man with the cut
under one eye gave Kane their information without a problem before he handed
them over to Deputy Cole Webber who took them to separate interview rooms, but
the man who had attacked Kane glared at him, eyes blazing.
Kane pushed him down into the seat in his cubicle. “Name?”
“Ethan Woods. Those men took off with an eight-point buck
I’d bagged.”
Kane sighed. “Did you tag your kill or report them as
poachers to an FWP officer at the check station?”
“No.” Woods shot him an angry glance.
“The question on my lips for an experienced and I hope
licensed hunter would be, ‘Why?’”
Woods’ face reddened and he gave Kane a look cold enough to
freeze Black Rock Falls. “I want you to call my lawyer.”
“Sure.” After entering the name in the arrest report, Kane
looked him over. “Are you injured?”
Woods gave him a stony stare. Oh boy, he was complying with
his right to remain silent. Kane shrugged. “Duty of care, sir. We have the
paramedics coming in anyway. If you need them to look at you, let me know.” He
leaned back in his chair. “Lawyer’s name?”
“James Stone.”
Kane’s day was deteriorating by the second. He groaned
inwardly. The Black Rock Falls lawyer had been a pain in the ass. Apparently,
before his arrival, he and Jenna had dated a couple of times and it didn’t work
out, but Stone wouldn’t take no for an answer. Kane had spoken to Stone and
implied he was involved with Jenna to convince the man to back off. Since then
the cooperation between the sheriff’s department and Stone had ended. Sucking
in a deep breath, he made the call, and from the way Stone went into action the
moment Kane mentioned the prisoner’s name, he figured Woods must be some
big-shot client of his. He could almost picture Stone dashing to his car to get
to the sheriff’s office before he disconnected. Smothering a grin of
satisfaction, Kane moved his attention back to Woods. “I’ll take you to an
interview room to wait for your lawyer.”
“Did you find my Stetson?”
Kane had dealt with people many a time who believed law
enforcement were the scum of the earth and their money could buy them out of
any situation. The attitude Woods was giving him came from years of privilege
and getting his own way, likely old money. He shrugged. “I’ve asked the barman
at the Triple Z Bar to look out for it.”
“That’s not good enough.” Spittle flew from Woods’ mouth.
“Get back down there and find it.”
“No can do. I make a point of staying out of places like the
Triple Z Bar unless there’s a ruckus. If somebody hands it in, we’ll let you
know.”
Woods’ face turned a peculiar shade of purple. “Those
lowlifes will steal it and you know it. I paid them good money to track for me
and they deserted me out in the forest, said they’d hunt down the buck I
clipped.”
“You should have hired professional trackers.” Kane looked
down at the man’s enraged face and smiled. “Don’t you know if you lie down with
dogs, you’re gonna get fleas?” He gave him a light push toward the interview
room. “This way.”
“I demand you go to the Triple Z and find my hat.” Woods
threw him an indignant stare over one shoulder.
As Kane ushered Woods past Deputy Rowley, he grinned. “Seems
like Mr. Woods has given up his right to remain silent and refused medical
assistance. Inform the sheriff, will you, please?”
“Yes, sir.”
Bookouture
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:https://www.amazon.com/Crying-Season-crime-thriller-Detectives-ebook/dp/B07FQGK99N
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