Here’s an excerpt from a murder mystery by Cindy Davis, Voice from the Ashes.
The story takes place near Mount St. Helens and begins six months
before the eruption of the volcano. Ian Merryweather is appointed
police chief upon the brutal murder of his best friend, Chief Clement
Boudreau. He’s hot on the trail of the murderer when the eruption
occurs.
Excerpt from Voice from the Ashes
by Cindy Davis
9:40 a.m.
The diner’s proximity to the Toutle River made it a target for the rushing onslaught of debris, downed trees and literally boiling water. The whole right-hand side of thebuilding had been crushed. There couldn’t possibly be any survivors. Ian groped for the door, but found just a gaping hole. He stepped inside, already feeling the
exhaustion that occurs when the first rush of adrenaline subsides. Ian’s legs felt like mush, and so did his brain. He heaved a monumental sigh and aimed the flashlight into the blackness of the room, its powerful beam doing little to permeate the thick air.
There was a darker blackness near the middle of the room and he shone the light in that direction. He crept over fallen timbers and furniture, expecting to find a heap of corpses–crushed friends– pushed against the wall of counter by the turbulent river water.
Someone had shoved the tables together to form a barricade against the tidal wave of scalding mud. Ian grabbed hold of a table edge,took a breath and aimed the beam underneath. His breath caught in his throat, even more so than twenty minutes ago when he’d discovered the body of Nick Kellogg in front of the barber shop, pinned to the sidewalk by a triangular bullet of plate glass.
Ian knelt on the floor ignoring the fragments of dishware that stabbed his knees. He fumbled for a wrist, feeling hopefully for a pulse. His fingers came away sticky and warm and he knew without looking that the gooey-ness was blood. As if on its own, the light moved up, following the dark trail, to the neck, the chin and the
finely chiseled facial features of his friend. He cried out when the beam came to rest on the wood handle of the boning knife protruding from Emma Armstrong’s left ear.
Ian unclipped his walkie-talkie from his belt and fumbled for the button. “National Guard, this is Chief Merryweather. Over!” He put the radio against his ear trying to understand the crackled response. He hollered again. “I have victims–er, murder–oh hell, just get someone here. Location, Cassell Springs Diner, Route 504. Out.”
Cindy
~CindyDavis~
http://www.cdavisnh.com
Available now, Voice from the Ashes
by Hilliard & Harris publishers
http://www.hilliardandharris.com
“The pen is the tongue of the mind.”
Cervantes
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