EPILOGUE
LA ISLA BONITA
The old Mexican man spoke no English, but no words were needed. The silence was what Tommy St. James preferred on the small boat this morning. As they left the shore, she saw Kelly standing near the dock with his blue windbreaker on and his arms folded across his chest.
This was something she needed to do alone. She clutched her mother’s ashes in their gaudy tin. After a few minutes, she turned to the old man.
“Are we close?”
He held his fingers to his lips and then to his ear, gesturing that she should listen. In the distance, she heard a clap of water, as if a giant tail had slapped down nearby.
She unwrapped the ashes and gently poured them over the side of the boat, close enough to the waves that they would not escape into the air.
“Here, mama. Now you can find peace. Nobody can ever hurt you again. The whales will protect your spirit and guide you wherever you need to go.”
She watched the ashes quickly dissolve into the water until they had become a part of the sea. A tear splashed after them. She quickly wiped the others away.
Then suddenly, the old man reached over and gently touched her shoulder until she looked where he gestured. On the other side of the boat, a giant gray whale had surfaced. A giant black eye looked right at Tommy St. James. Her breath caught in her throat. She was afraid to move. She didn’t want to startle the large, gentle creature. As she looked deep into that one eye, she felt as if the whale was trying to communicate with her. She was mesmerized. She had never seen such intelligence in the eye of an animal. It seemed as if the whale were telling her she was not alone. It was telling her it was not Tommy’s fault that her mother died. A sob caught in Tommy’s throat as an image of her mother filled her mind’s eye. Her mother told her it was time for Tommy to forgive herself.
Then, with what she swore was a glimmer of understanding, the whale slowly sank back under the sea and nothing was left but the smooth silky glass surface.
Her heart suddenly filled with love and joy, Tommy St. James turned to the old man and asked him to take her home. She needed to go back to shore and sleep. So she could dream.
Exclusive Excerpt Book Two in the St. James Thrillers
LAST EXIT
By Kristi Belcamino
CHAPTER ONE
JACKIE CHANDLER LIKED having the entire sidewalk to herself today. All the other walkers and runners avoiding the path because of the dark stormy clouds overhead were kind of being wimpy, she thought.
After all, this was Minnesota summer: Hail one minute. Blistering heat the next. Why change plans because of some dark skies? Just as well, now she had the two-mile loop up Sunset Hill and around the cemeteries all to herself, no dodging sweaty joggers.
On a normal weekday during lunch, the two-mile loop, skirting two adjacent cemeteries was teeming with strollers, runners, and fast walkers. But even Jackie’s walking buddy, Sheryl, had begged off today, saying she was going to read her new Stephen King book and eat lunch at her desk.
At the beginning of her walk, as Jackie passed the looming fortress of Honeywell, one lone man had run past her in his jogging shorts. He was now a distant speck at the top of the steep hill. As he passed a large tree, a murder of crows took to the air. Jackie watched them from afar as, instead of settling back down in the branches, they formed a posse weaving in and out of the tree, attacking a hawk that had dared to settle on a bare branch in their tree.
That’s one thing Jackie loved about Northeast Minneapolis. Even though she worked in the city limits, her daily lunchtime walk often included sightings of wildlife. The area was famous for its flocks of wild turkeys. In addition, the neighborhood had albino squirrels, red foxes, hawks, and occasionally you could even spot a Bald Eagle, of all things.
In addition, the grassy plateau at the top of Sunset Hill offered one of the most stunning views of downtown Minneapolis to be found. And anytime there was any sort of meteorological event: shooting stars, eclipses, and full moons, the parking lot at the plateau would be filled with sightseers.
On one side of the plateau, the I35W freeway stretched into downtown Minneapolis. On the other side, sweeping across the rolling hills below, lay Hillside Cemetery, which butted up against Sunset Cemetery.
It wasn’t unusual during Jackie’s walk to come across funeral processions to one or the other. That didn’t bother her, but the gravediggers, did. Once, a shirtless white man in his 30s stopped digging to admire her through the black iron fence as she passed. His tanned arms were covered in tattoos. Although his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, he made his interest apparent, keeping the small shovel resting on his shoulder as he smiled at her. While it was flattering to Jackie, who had just turned 47, it also kind of gave her the creeps to see a hunky young man, chest-deep in an open grave checking her out.
Another time, she was struck by the serendipity of two funeral processions passing one another on opposite sides of the roadway. The first one was headed up by a motorcycle cop, and then followed by a black hearse and a stream of cars. Right where Jackie stood, this first procession met up with the other: a police car leading a white hearse and then a stream of cars. The yin-yangness of the whole thing was a trip, Jackie thought. When she got home from her secretary job that night, she sat down at her old computer and wrote a short story about it.
Today, Jackie had just started the steep walk up to Sunset Hill. She looked up at the threatening sky and shrugged. Temperamental weather. It wasn’t worth changing your plans, that’s for sure: especially when she needed to work off that slice of cheesecake from over the weekend. But Jackie, who took pride not only in her extremely fit body, but also the rest of her looks, also didn’t want to ruin her perfectly blonde coiffed hair, so just in case the skies opened up, she had grabbed a mini umbrella on her way out the door. That and her cell phone.
The gloomy skies had turned the entire area dark like dusk, triggering the orange streetlights. That, and the utter desolation of the path today, prompted Jackie to dial her new husband. Well, he wasn’t exactly new, they had been married for six months, but compared to her old, ex-husband whom she had been with 25 years, this one was new.
“Hi, darling,” Jackie purred into the phone. “How is your day going, Loverboy?”
Her husband, Don, chuckled. “Pretty good after the way you woke me up this morning.”
“Well, there’s more where that comes from.”
“Don’t I know it.”
As she talked, out of the corner of her eye, Jackie thought she saw a silhouette duck into the thick brush that formed a wall to the right of the sidewalk on the hill above her. The brush area lasted about three blocks and was a dense overgrowth area that reached up twenty feet, shading that area of the path and blocking out the sun, when there was some. Today was so dark she couldn’t trust what she saw.
Brushing it off as her overactive imagination, Jackie returned her attention to Don. They talked about their plans for the weekend: a visit to the Guthrie Theater and maybe a stop at the Farmer’s Market.
“So honeylumps, any idea what we should fix for dinner?” Don asked.
But instead of his wife’s sweet voice, Don heard a thud and then a scream that sounded as if it came from far away. Then, Don heard the distinct sound of heavy breathing before the line went dead.
Download Last Exit to read the next book in the St. James Thriller series.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
GETTING TO KNOW MY readers and building strong relationships with them is one of the best parts of being a writer. I’d love to know more about you and more about what you thought about this book. What did you like about it? Who was your favorite character? What do you want to see, or think will happen next?
Please reach out to me and let me know. I want to hear from you. Because while I’m a writer, I’m always a reader first. I know that when it comes to the books I read, I love connecting with the author. Often, when I interact with authors I love I get downright
giddy!
Ask my family how I act each and every time S.E. Hinton responds to my tweets. (HINT: I am a ridiculously starstruck fangirl! Every. Single. Time.)
Or what about the time I got to interview Jackie Collins on Huffington Post’s live video. (Still one of the greatest moments of my writer life!) (Only thing that tops that is when I opened up an email from Lisa Unger telling me that she read and liked my book and would be happy to support it with a quote we could use on the book cover! A dream come true right then and there!
Or years and years ago when I was a new, sleep-deprived mother who looked forward to my monthly book club for every second of the days leading up to it and having the New York Times bestselling author Adriana Trigiani call into our bookclub. (I had her on speakerphone and when I said hello, she said, “Hey, baby, how’s it going?” and proceeded to chat with us and talk to us about what we thought would happen in her next book.
I told myself right then and there that if I were ever a published author I would interact with readers the say she did. And sometimes dreams come true! I’m a published writer who has readers who enjoy my books. Even writing that still seems surreal.
So, all of this leads me to tell you about my two favorite ways to interact with my readers:
My newsletter. My private Facebook group. Hopefully you will consider joining both.
I send out a newsletter with details of new releases, special offers, giveaways and other bits of news about my books.
When you sign up for my no-spam mailing list, I’ll send you all of this free stuff:
So, all of this leads me to tell you about my two favorite ways to interact with my readers:
My newsletter. My private Facebook group. Hopefully you will consider joining both.
I send out a newsletter with details of new releases, special offers, giveaways and other bits of news about my books.
When you sign up for my no-spam mailing list, I’ll send you all of this free stuff:
A copy of GIA, the introductory novella for my Gia Santella Crime Thriller series.
A copy of THE SAINT, the introductory novella for my Gabriella Giovanni series.
A copy of EVA, the introductory novella for the Queen of Spades series.
You can get the three novellas by signing up at https://www.subscribepage.com/KristiBelcamino
You can join my private Facebook group, Crime, Coffee & Cannoli here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/CrimeCoffeeCannoli/
Kristi Belcamino Bookshelf
#
Gia Santella Crime Thriller Series
Gia
City of the Dead
Forgotten Island
Dark Night of the Soul
Lone Raven
Black Widow
Taste of Vengeance
Day of the Dead
Gabriella Giovanni Mystery Series
The Saint
Blessed are the Dead
Blessed are the Meek
Blessed are Those Who Weep
Blessed are Those Who Mourn
Blessed are the Peacemakers
Blessed are the Merciful
The St. James Mystery Series
End Game
Last Exit
No Way Out
Queen of Spades Thrillers
Eva
Queen of Spades (Coming in 2019)
DID YOU LIKE THIS BOOK?
REVIEWS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD of this author business. Reviews, honest reviews, mean the world to me. They don’t have to be fancy, either. Nobody is critiquing you on your review. And they don’t always have to be five-star, either. What matters is that people are reading and have opinions on my books. I am a fairly new writer and don’t have the marketing push that many other writers do that gets their books out in front of other readers.
What I do have is you.
I am unbelievably lucky to have very passionate and loyal readers who take the time to let me know what they think of my books (and sometimes even where they think I could improve).
If you liked this book, I would be extremely grateful if you could take a few minutes out of your day to leave a review. As I said, it doesn’t need to be long or involved, anything will help. Thank you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KRISTI BELCAMINO IS a Macavity, Barry, and Anthony Award-nominated author, a newspaper cops reporter, and an Italian mama who makes a tasty biscotti. As an award-winning crime reporter at newspapers in California, she flew over Big Sur in an FA-18 jet with the Blue Angels, raced a Dodge Viper at Laguna Seca and watched autopsies.
Her books feature strong, kickass, independent women facing unspeakable evil in order to seek justice for those unable to do so themselves.
Belcamino has written and reported about many high-profile cases including the Laci Peterson murder and Chandra Levy’s disappearance. She has appeared on Inside Edition and her work has appeared in the New York Times, Writer’s Digest, Miami Herald, San Jose Mercury News, and Chicago Tribune. Kristi now works part-time as a police reporter at the St. Paul Pioneer Press. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband and her two fierce daughters.
Find out more at http://www.kristibelcamino.com. Find her on YouTube here (https://www.youtube.com/kristibelcamino), Instagram here (https://www.instagram.com/kristi_belcamino/), Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/kristibelcaminowriter/ or on Twitter @KristiBelcamino.
End Game Page 10