In the Mind of a Crime Author
The evidence was clear to this crime fiction author, taking a break instead of working to write another amazing piece. I had finally sat at my laptop after a day of constant interruptions and decided, before I finally started in on my piece, that I should check the toothpaste.
What I noticed shook me to my core. The tube was squeezed in the middle and not neatly rolled up from the end. Damn. Who could have done this? I stared at it, searching my memory bank for who could have walked into the bathroom and then–
“Aren’t you supposed to be writing?”
The wife. Dang. Always the wife. Or the dogs barking at the mailman. Or the kids yelling at each other or plumbers working on the neighbors line to the water supply next door or the coyotes howling in the middle of the night.
“What are you doing?” She sauntered in, grabbed the tube and–squeezed from the bottom.
“I see.” She brushed her teeth and left.
So I decided that now was the time to return to the laptop and upload an excerpt from our latest crime thriller novel Tom Stone: Day of the Dead on Amazon. Read below the cover image.
EXCERPT CHAPTER FIVE
Sara brushed a hand through her hair. “It’s getting scary out there. The soccer store. The bowling alley. It’s all over the news. Who’s next?”
The question sent chills through Angel. Where he and Sara lived was no secret. “Maybe you should stay with your uncle Robert and Leonna for a while.”
“And put them in danger? No way. If Amman wanted me dead, I’d be dead already.”
“Quiet down.” Angel carefully glanced from one side to the other, making sure they had at least minimal privacy. “Kiss me, all right? Act like you love me.” He ran a hand along her back.
Sara kissed him on the lips. “It’s not an act. Of course, I love you. You know I got to take word back to Amman, right?”
“You’re a good little messenger, aren’t you?”
“Angel, I’m scared, but I’m just doing what I have to do. Trying to protect you.”
He pulled away from her and strolled toward the doorway.
Sara rolled her eyes. “Damn it, Angel, I don’t want to be caught up in this mess. Stop playing games.”
“You telling me not to play games? They strong-arm me into working with them. Try to rip me apart and ruin my life. What I know is none of Amman’s business or whoever the hell his boss is. Mister Goldchains.”
“Angel, you ripped them off. It’s all on you so just give it back. I’m sick of this. Tell him—
“Who the hell’s side are you on? Why don’t you believe in me?”
“I do believe in you, but just tell them where the coke is,” pleaded Sara. “Then he leaves you alone and we’re free.”
“Free to do what? They won’t give me a cent. And even if I do get out, they’ll never leave me alone. No matter where I go, they’ll hunt me down. It’s me or them.”
“Don’t say that.”
Angel grabbed her hands and looked her in the eye. “I don’t want you talking to Amman.”
“Really? Like I got a choice?”
“I’ll make a deal with him, but only on my terms.”
He motioned for her to be quiet. They stepped inside the commissary, surrounded by bags of snacks and sodas. “You want a root beer or 7-Up?”
“Dr. Pepper. You know that.”
A bag of chips and a packet of muffins rounded out the purchase. He wanted to take her, right there, pulling her into his arms and forgetting about the prison fights and lockdowns. But they could only step outside and find an empty bench to sit on.
“How are your classes going?”
“Good. I’m going to be a LVN real soon, like I told you. And then a RN.”
“That’s good, Sara.” He opened his soda, and Sara opened hers.
“Guess what?” She smiled.
“I was driving up Figueroa Avenue the other day and I just got this urge to turn left. The street went up a hill and there was a little house for sale.”
Angel sipped his soda and looked across the prison yard. “How little?”
“Two bedrooms. One bath. Had cute front and back yards. It got me thinking again, Babe.”
“About kids?” Angel sounded less than enthusiastic.
“And I’m sure the place was a real bargain for just under six-hundred thousand.”
“Just under five-hundred.”
“Only a half-million? In LA? Must have some real problems.” He munched on a snack.
“Come on, Angel. I want to dream with you.”
“Look around you, Babe. I’m living a nightmare and don’t really have time for your kind of dreams right now.”
Sara closed her eyes to block out the frustration. She just wanted him to play along, and maybe things would get better.
“You got to have goals. You’ve told me that so many times. You’re not stuck here forever.”
“Yeah and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“It’s all good. I want a family. I want us to have a baby.”
“But you’ll be too busy working as a nurse,” Angel sneered and opened a bag of potato chips.
“We can make it happen.” Sara refused to give up. She looked around to see if anyone was near, took a sip of her Dr. Pepper, and ate a few chips. “This is about as alone as we’re going to get. Let’s talk.”
“You want me to talk as much as Amman does.”
“Because I want you home.” She snuggled against him, wrapping her arms around his. “Let him have his coke and his money. Let him get caught and go to jail. We can have a better life. I know we can, but first, we have to get out of here.”
Angel was quiet and scanned his surroundings. “Okay, you want me to talk? I’ll talk. But before we get into that, I want to let you know that I do like your dreams of being together, and raising a family.”
“Angel, that really means a lot.”
He pulled her close for a kiss and then looked in her eyes. “Now, listen up.”
See our Crime Books page for all 3 stories.