After launching our crime thriller novel Book 3 Tom Stone Day of the Dead this month, we’re penning a short story that peeks into the dangers lurking in the foothill canyons near Los Angeles. An excerpt is below. Any guesses where this pic was taken? Hint: Don snapped it near his home, and it’s a favorite spot of his for hiking.
Jake takes his son Darrell to get outside so the father and son duo walk toward a waterfall (another hint about where the picture was taken, for those of you familiar with the foothills around LA). Tom Stone and Andrew are along for the … fun?
Hmm … It was a fun story to write with the family clash and the surprise in the canyon. It also brings up one of the tougher social topics facing cities like Pasadena (another hint about the picture) and others in So Cal.
It’ll be out soon–of course, we’ll let you know.
Enjoy this brief excerpt. For our novels, visit our Crime Ficion Books page.
A hike with just Darrell seemed the perfect thing to do early on a weekday morning in the summer. The trails were empty and this particular canyon had its own natural seclusion. Jake had scheduled time off so he could spend the time with his son and Stone had decided to join along with Andy. The canyon with its fortress-like walls and waterfall spilling into wading pools was a place for adventure. But Darrell was miserable and not even trying to cover over the fact.
Andrew was zigzagging, pulling on tiny tree branches and snapping them, whistling past Darrell’s face.
Darrell waved his hands. “Come on, man.”
“Andy,” Stone beckoned to the boy about fifty more yards up the trail. “Climb the rock with me.” A boulder had a crevice running through it.
“Oh, wow.” Andy shouted and scrambled up the opening.
Darrell stopped and took a breath.
Jake was annoyed. “You tired again?”
“No, I’m not tired again.”
The canyon walls narrowed and they faced a line of boulders that created a blockade on the right. The trail zigzagged left, leading through the stream.
Darrell studied his options. “I don’t want to get my shoes wet.”
Jake looked at his son’s feet. Unbelievable. He was wearing Air Nike’s that were less than two weeks old. Jake and Tasha had agreed to pay half and Darrell, complaining, washed friends and families’ cars to earn the other half.
“I don’t want to wear old shoes.”
Jake wanted to just—but he didn’t. He clenched his jaw. What was it with kids? Or his own kid? “There are times you just got to wear old shoes.”
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