Happy Earth Day, everyone! I hope you're all doing OK during this difficult time. May we all stay healthy, and may this pandemic pass into history one of these days.
Here's your second sneak peek at the new novel, Webs in the Mist. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Twisty
He sat on his bunk, slouched over his letters. Each envelope was stamped “Return to Sender” in crimson ink. Shit! They were meant for Jess. Twisty got up and paced around the cell, crushing the envelopes in his hand. Why hadn’t she written? Where the fuck was she?
“Huh?” Jimmy, his cellmate, stirred in his bunk.
“Nothing, go back to sleep.”
“’K.” Jimmy went back to his nap.
Twisty hadn’t seen Jess since the wreck. She’d looked dazed, sitting on the grass with a cop and staring at his Cadillac, which had been perched precariously in the barrow pit and about to roll. From the back of the cop car, Twisty had watched the ambulance pull up. An ambulance. For Jess.
She’d never come to see him. He didn’t even know if she was OK. Jess had hit her head pretty hard. She’d sent one note, but hadn’t said much. It would take time for her to get over the crap that had happened, but Twisty knew he’d get her back. He had to. Jess was his woman. No way would he let her go.
What the hell could he do about it from this shithole?
First, he could get his poop in a group. He was working on it. Hell, he’d been clean for two months. At first it had been a bitch on wheels. The doctor was still talking about sending him to treatment.
He recalled how Jess had looked when they met in Kentucky a little over a year ago. Tall and lean, she was a natural beauty who didn’t need makeup. Her raven-black hair and cat eyes had made him think she was Native American. No, she’d told him, she was dark Irish. His own coloring came from his Cherokee blood. Both tall and dark, they made a great-looking couple, Twisty thought. He’d never forget the first time Jess wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He’d felt like a real man.
Twisty caught his angular image in the funky cell mirror. Man, he’d lost weight. He’d always been sharp-featured, but now he was gaunt. The food here was gross. But it was time to force himself to eat more, and start working out. That way he’d look good for Jess.
Twisty leaned against the bars, the cold metal soothing his feverishly hot face. Maybe he could pay someone to track her down. There was money in his Asheville bank account. Ma was coming to visit in a few days. They could talk about hiring someone.
The buzzer echoed off the naked concrete walls. Rec time. Good. Some air, and walking the yard track with Carl. That crazy redheaded fucker was full of good bullshit.
Maybe Carl could help get his mind off this crap.
Here's your second sneak peek at the new novel, Webs in the Mist. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Twisty
He sat on his bunk, slouched over his letters. Each envelope was stamped “Return to Sender” in crimson ink. Shit! They were meant for Jess. Twisty got up and paced around the cell, crushing the envelopes in his hand. Why hadn’t she written? Where the fuck was she?
“Huh?” Jimmy, his cellmate, stirred in his bunk.
“Nothing, go back to sleep.”
“’K.” Jimmy went back to his nap.
Twisty hadn’t seen Jess since the wreck. She’d looked dazed, sitting on the grass with a cop and staring at his Cadillac, which had been perched precariously in the barrow pit and about to roll. From the back of the cop car, Twisty had watched the ambulance pull up. An ambulance. For Jess.
She’d never come to see him. He didn’t even know if she was OK. Jess had hit her head pretty hard. She’d sent one note, but hadn’t said much. It would take time for her to get over the crap that had happened, but Twisty knew he’d get her back. He had to. Jess was his woman. No way would he let her go.
What the hell could he do about it from this shithole?
First, he could get his poop in a group. He was working on it. Hell, he’d been clean for two months. At first it had been a bitch on wheels. The doctor was still talking about sending him to treatment.
He recalled how Jess had looked when they met in Kentucky a little over a year ago. Tall and lean, she was a natural beauty who didn’t need makeup. Her raven-black hair and cat eyes had made him think she was Native American. No, she’d told him, she was dark Irish. His own coloring came from his Cherokee blood. Both tall and dark, they made a great-looking couple, Twisty thought. He’d never forget the first time Jess wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He’d felt like a real man.
Twisty caught his angular image in the funky cell mirror. Man, he’d lost weight. He’d always been sharp-featured, but now he was gaunt. The food here was gross. But it was time to force himself to eat more, and start working out. That way he’d look good for Jess.
Twisty leaned against the bars, the cold metal soothing his feverishly hot face. Maybe he could pay someone to track her down. There was money in his Asheville bank account. Ma was coming to visit in a few days. They could talk about hiring someone.
The buzzer echoed off the naked concrete walls. Rec time. Good. Some air, and walking the yard track with Carl. That crazy redheaded fucker was full of good bullshit.
Maybe Carl could help get his mind off this crap.