by Aya Walksfar
Meet me at Carkeek Park. You know the place. The same place that you left Rebecca bleeding and dying. Alone. At midnight. I have something that belongs to you. How much do you think the tabloids would pay for the scoop of the year? Mayoral Candidate Murders Ex-Wife.
CR
****
The half moon threw watery, silver light on the black ribbon of the packed dirt path. Head up, shoulders back, Benning entered a tunnel formed by newly leaved trees.
Snap!
His steps dragged to a halt. Head tilted, he listened. A twig. That was just a twig breaking. But... Brows furrowed, he turned in a slow circle.
Big-leaf maples loomed overhead, shaggy with small ferns sprouting like wayward clumps of hair in the bends of moss-covered tree arms. Tall bushes grew profusely along the path. More ferns, some three feet tall, grew in wild profusion among the trees.
Nothing. Probably a dog stepping on a dry twig. Enough dogs and twigs around here!
Pace a little faster, he walked a few feet when he heard it. A rustling. Like someone sneaking through the bushes next to the trail. He stopped, peering from one side to the other along the pathway. “Okay, bitch, come on out. Quit playing your fucking head games.”
The pale green needles of a conifer entwined with the darker green needles of Douglas firs. He stared for a long minute, trying to see through clumps of wiry-limbed bushes heavy with white berries.
Nothing. He gave a half-hearted shrug and then spun with military sharpness, quickly moving out again. A squirrel. It’s only the rustling of a gray squirrel.
“Bitch probably won’t show. Wait until I get a hold of her, she’s going to wish she’d never gotten involved,” he threatened in an undertone.
A breeze soughed through the trees, young leaves whispered to each other. Somewhere a truck roared to life. The rumbling of its engine, muted by the thick vegetation, sounded far away. A shiver ran down his spine.
Alone.
He’d never felt quite so isolated. “Almost there. Just around that curve then I’ll see if she shows. I want this done. Fucking bitch better show.” Unconsciously he hunched his shoulders. Embarrassed by his own weakness, he began to turn to look behind him.
Out of the shroud of night, a solid piece of maple limb slammed into the side of his head.
****
Every Tuesday at six am, personal headlamp firmly strapped in place, Professor Lucy Holliswood jogged through Carkeek Park on one of the lesser-used paths. On this day, her pale cone of light flashed over something...something at the side of the path.
She had jogged this same route every morning for ten years on her way to The Happy Bean, her favorite coffee shop, just up the street from Art’s Supermarket. In all that time she had never seen so much as a discarded paper cup. She slowed to a near stop, peering at the dark object. What the...? A black leather loafer, toe perfectly aligned with the edge of the packed dirt of the path. Although the thickness of the salmonberry and Oso berry bushes obstructed her line of sight, she thought she saw...a pair of light-colored pants?
She crept forward. The second shoe, a long stride behind the first one, looked as if the owner had vanished mid-stride. A half-step farther along on the ground she found a pair of beige slacks neatly laid out. The dirt around them had been carefully brushed free of twigs and leaves. Crease still perfect, but ruined by the dirt on one knee as if the wearer had fallen.
Where in the Sam Hill is the man who owns these clothes? They certainly aren’t what the homeless men wear. And why would anyone lay them out like this, so neatly?
She pushed forward, arm held up to deflect the slapping branches. Her mother’s voice whispered in her mind, "Someday, Lucy, that curiosity of yers is gonna gitcha in trouble."
Above the slacks, a white shirt laid flat, arms crossed neatly over the buttoned up front. An expensive-looking, pale gray tie lay on the ground above the shirt. The tip of the tie, lying an inch above the collar of the shirt, drew her eyes. Her eyes followed the straight line of the stretched out tie.
She barely captured the scream with her knuckles as she scrambled backwards.
Author Bio
Even though I grew up in poverty, our home was never so poor that we could not take in another homeless, and often broken, dog. Those dogs were my friends and my teachers.
When my illiterate grandparents made certain that I learned to read and write by age six--by coaxing a librarian into mentoring me--one of my first stories was about a dog. Then a wonderful teacher in fifth grade made me promise to continue writing stories all summer. By fall, I had spent months writing stories—many of them about dogs--and I was hooked on writing.
Throughout my life, two things have been constant: I have been blessed by the presence of wonderful, awe-inspiring women who took time to encourage me in my pursuit of writing and I have known heroic, loving, and awesome dogs.
I wrote Death by Dog in an attempt to repay the powerful teachings with which those women and those dogs blessed me.
Today I live with my wife Deva on a twelve acre wildlife habitat created from overworked and neglected farmland. Over 68 different species of birds call our land home at some time during the year while an array of other wildlife stop by for a visit or come to live.
I am an avid reader and lover of all things bookish. When I am not writing or reading, I work with our four German Shepherds or our two Papillons and I tend the land. I love visiting family and friends, taking photographs, traveling, and simply enjoying motorcycle adventures with my wife.
Follow my Pinterest boards to see real-life places mentioned in my novels, photos of my dogs, interesting animal photographs curated, uplifting image quotes and character quotes, Biker Granny’s motorcycle philosophy, humor, and more. You won’t want to miss them! Follow me at http://www.pinterest.com/ayawalksfar
Readers are very important to me and I read every review of which I become aware on any site. I love hearing from readers via email, or social media. It may take a few days, but I will always respond! Especially if you have an uplifting story about dogs, or something awesome about women and girls.
You can email me at [email protected]
Follow me on Facebook and discover awesome women and great real-life stories at http://www.facebook.com/ayawalksfar
Like my Facebook fan page and keep up with all the latest about my novels and upcoming releases at http://www.facebook.com/AyaWalksfarAuthor
Read and comment on articles, short stories, image quotes, as well as excerpts from my novels, at http://ayawalksfar.com
I look forward to interacting with you! Have a great day!
Table of Contents
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
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