Page 2 of D for Dead

Gingerly she rolled over and started to crawl out of the bushes, knowing she had to get out of there before he came back. Climbing to her feet, she put pressure on her ankle, knowing before the blast of shooting pain she had sprained it or worse. Grimacing, she felt her way through the branches trying to find a path.

Behind her came a crunch.

Him!

Choking down on a sob, she thrashed her way madly through the trees, ignoring the white-hot pain each time her busted ankle hit the ground. In the distance she heard the low roar of an engine. A car? Was she near a road? Forcing herself forward, she could make out the low beam of headlights ahead. Behind her, rough hands grabbed at her wrist, yanking her back. She yelped, kicking out and managing to wrench herself free. Dragging her bad ankle behind her she stumbled forward through the trees to the road she could now see ahead. Missing her footing on the embankment, she tripped again, this time falling into the road and straight into the path of the oncoming car. The last thing she was aware of was the thud as her body hit the front grille.

* * *

From the darkness of the trees the man watched as the car skidded to a halt in front of the limp body lying in the road.

The problem had taken care of itself.

A grim smile playing on his lips he turned and started to make his way back through the trees.

He needed to get back to the house, back to his work, and he didn’t want to keep his other guest waiting.

1

Tired from her bar shift, Amy Gallaty cursed herself for the hundredth time for agreeing to babysit her friend’s dog. She could hear Huckleberry’s pitiful whining the second the elevator opened on her floor and was almost sent flying as she opened her apartment door.

It was gone two, her shift had been long, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. She doubted Huckleberry would make it through till morning without needing to empty his bladder though and so reluctantly she fetched the leash. Ten minutes round the block and she’d be done.

Spotting the leash, Huckleberry let out a joyful bark.

‘Hush!’

The disobedient collie gave her a lopsided grin and started panting with excitement as she hooked it on to his collar. Amy made a mental note to have words with Ryan about taking his pooch on a training course when he returned from Europe.

Although the night was warm, she was dismayed to feel a few spits of rain as they exited the apartment building.

Typical.

Huckleberry’s ten-minute walk around the block was about to get cut to a quick stroll to the end of the street. Willing him to hurry up and pee, Amy hurried along behind him, oblivious to the pair of eyes watching her from the car parked across from her apartment.

* * *

Victor Boaz finished his shift at eleven and instead of sensibly heading straight home to bed, he had been persuaded by a couple of the other officers to join them for a beer.

It was a foolish move. Pastor Ralph had finally agreed to let him help set up before Sunday service and he was supposed to be at the church early the next morning.

He had been trying to get in on this gig for ages and didn’t want to screw it up. This was his big chance to impress Brooke Michaels. So far she had been friendly but had kept her distance. When she saw how seriously he was taking this church stuff and helping her dad, maybe she would finally agree to go out with him. As for Pastor Ralph, Vic was sure he would approve of him dating his daughter. Vic was a police officer who had embraced his religious side. What was there not to like?

It was almost two when he finally left the bar. Although he had only had one beer, he’d got caught up shooting the breeze, flirting with the new barmaid and playing pool with the guys. He gave a couple of them a lift home and was swinging his car around for the journey back to his townhouse, groaning at the time and knowing he was never going to be able to drag himself out of bed in three hours, when he had an idea.

Pastor Ralph had given him the keys to the church. What difference would it make if he set up tonight instead of in the morning? He could head on over, get everything ready and probably be home in under an hour. Then tomorrow he would get extra time in bed.

Telling himself he was a genius; Vic flipped on the turn signal and took the left-hand fork away from the city.

The New Hope Baptist Church was a ten-minute ride out towards the coast. It was a little out of Vic’s neighbourhood, but was the place he had found solitude in his hour of need. The pastor had welcomed him with open arms, been a friendly ear to all his troubles, and offered many words of advice. It also helped that Mrs Michaels was a great cook and always laid out a mouth-watering selection of baked goods for the congregation.

His belly rumbling at the thought of her home-made apple pie and banana bread, he veered into the narrow lane leading to the church. Pulling up outside, he reached into the glovebox for his flashlight, cursing the church for not having any street lighting, and also himself for forgetting to put new batteries in the flashlight. The beam was faint and kept flickering but would hopefully be enough to light his way.

He glanced at the illuminated digital clock on the dashboard before killing the engine and exiting the car.

Fifteen minutes in and out, Vic, buddy. Let’s make this quick.

Knowing his bed was waiting, he locked the car door and made his way over to the church gate.