The Guest House Hauntings Boxset by Hazel Holmes (novel books to read txt) 📕

bent, and one wheel was completely missing altogether. Oil leaked down the driver side door, the black goo blending nicely with the dark paint job.

With the vehicle upside down, Brent had to get on his hands and knees to crawl inside through the window. He would have just opened the door, but the wreck had sealed the doors shut. Glass shards scraped against his jacket and jeans, and blood rushed to his head as he ducked his head into the cab.

He reached across the seat. The ceiling, now beneath his knees, buckled from his weight and he outstretched his arm, his fingertips grazing the handle of the glovebox. “Come on, you fucker.” He inched forward again, only a single boot sticking out of the cab, when he noticed flashing red and blue lights back on the road. “Shit.”

The sound of cars zoomed past, and Brent finally managed to open the glovebox, sending its contents spilling onto the ground, the extra case of ammunition among the droppings. He pushed aside the papers and opened the box just as he heard one of the cars slow down and stop near the wreck.

Quickly, Brent loaded the weapon, shutting the revolver’s barrel and pocketing the weapon just as the trooper stepped out of his vehicle.

“Sir, I need you to exit the vehicle slowly and place your hands on top of your head, now!” The trooper had the high ground, service pistol already drawn and aimed at Brent’s head by the time he turned around.

“I’m a cop! This is my car!” The last thing he wanted was to take a bullet to the head, so he placed his hands on his head as he turned around, but he didn’t stop talking. “This is my car—”

“Get down on your knees!”

“I’m a detective with New York’s—”

“I said get down on your knees!”

“Hey!” Brent briefly raised his hands off his head, which allowed his jacket to open and expose his badge. “Would you just look? See? My badge, on my right hip.”

The trooper kept his eyes locked with Brent’s, but then finally lowered his eyes toward the badge. After another moment, the trooper lowered his weapon. “You mind telling me what the hell you’re doing in that car, Detective?”

Brent removed his hands from his head. “I told you it’s mine. I was working a murder case that brought me north. An officer with the Redford department flagged a suspect I’ve been trying to hunt down.” He stepped up the embankment, and the trooper extended a hand to help him up.

The trooper grabbed hold of Brent’s arm and then heaved him up the last few steps, planting him close to his side.

“Thanks,” Brent said, dusting off his jeans.

“You all right?” the trooper asked, giving Brent the once over before looking down at the wreck. “Looks like you went through quite the number.”

“Brother, you have no idea.” Brent laughed, and then slicked back his hair with his hands. “Listen, you think you could give me a ride back to Redford?” He gestured down to his shoes. “These boots ain’t exactly made for walkin’.”

“No can do,” The trooper said. “We’ve got a report of two suspects we’re looking for heading south. You can tag along and I can drop you off after if you want. Or you’re welcome to wait it out here.”

“I’ve had enough of the outdoors for one day,” Brent answered. “I’ll just tag along with you if that’s all right.”

“Hop in.”

Brent slid his left hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around the revolver’s pistol in the same motion as his right hand reached for the passenger side door. And when the trooper turned his back to Brent, he removed the pistol, aimed for the back of the trooper’s skull, and then pulled the trigger.

The pop and the harsh snap of the trooper’s head forward were simultaneous as his fall to the ground.

With the barrel still smoking, Brent lowered the weapon and quickly patted down the cop, taking his service pistol and extra ammunition. He pocketed both, and then dragged the trooper’s body to the edge of the ditch and kicked him over, the trooper’s arms and legs flailing wildly as he rolled down the hill and crashed into the car, landing face up.

The bullet went straight through, leaving a large hole in the middle of the trooper’s forehead. His eyes had gone cross, but they were still open, and his mouth hung open with his jaw slack and mouth askew. His arms were tangled over his body, and the tendons in his knee had snapped from the fall, leaving it bent at a harsh ninety degrees. He looked like a rag doll that some kid had tossed in his room.

The radio chatter pulled Brent’s attention from the trooper and back to the car. He checked down both lanes of the highway, finding it clear. There wasn’t anyone in the area that would have heard that shot, and even if they did, Brent would be long gone by the time they came around.

Brent climbed behind the wheel, the cruiser still running, and he turned up the volume on the radio. If they had spotted Sarah and that dipshit cop heading south, then he needed to know.

“Dispatch, this is unit fifty-nine, we’re about a mile north of Millington, and we haven’t seen anybody on the road. Suspects might be using the woods as cover. We’ll head a little farther, but we might need air support to assist.”

“Copy that, fifty-nine, we’ll get on air to—”

Brent turned it down and tapped his finger on the steering wheel. “Where would you go, Sarah?” He chewed the inside of his cheek. She already had several chances to leave, but she’d chosen to stick around. Which meant that there was something here that she wanted, or needed.

Brent’s thoughts turned to the house. She had lived there during her stint in this godforsaken portion of the world.

Brent shifted into drive and turned north, heading back to Bell Mansion.

86

Despite Iris’s attempts, she couldn’t get