First Three Pages of Seismic Crimes
Hey, everyone! I’m going to keep this short since the excerpt is so long. Seismic Crimes is Book Two in the Disaster Crimes Series and my first novel. To celebrate, I thought I’d entice you *wink* with the
first three pages.
Beth didn’t die.
The anxious weatherman forecasting Hurricane Sabrina’s arrival was wrong. She didn’t even die at the big, slightly calloused hands of Donovan Goldwyn, as she had thought she would. Accused of killing his brother, Donovan had shown all the signs of being a murderer, but she later realized he wasn’t a killer despite his suspicious mannerisms. Together, they had taken down one of the police officers responsible for killing Donovan’s brother, but one of the killers got away.
Now they were paddling her canoe through the floodwaters leftover from Hurricane Sabrina. Seeing the devastation all around broke Beth’s heart. A tree had fallen onto a house they passed, severing the house in half. She wished they could stop there to see if anyone needed help, but they had to get to the Orlando Police Department as soon as possible.
With great regret and a silent prayer the owners had evacuated, she looked away to see even more destruction. Some houses appeared untouched by Sabrina’s wrath, but many hadn’t been so lucky. Roofs had been ripped off; lawn decorations and furniture, that hadn’t been moved inside, had been thrown everywhere, as if Sabrina had thrown a tantrum. Even a children’s swing set had been knocked over.
Beth looked away from the heartbreaking scene and forced her gaze to stay glued ahead as she paddled with their only oar. In front of her, Donovan used a shovel. As the canoe cut through the water, time blurred.
Her arms and neck were burning with fatigue by the time they reached the police department. Donovan pulled the canoe up the steps and held out his hand to her. Her knees shook as she stood and stepped onto solid ground. Standing in front of Donovan, her hand in his, she looked up at him. She couldn’t imagine the turmoil he was going through inside, but she could see signs of it. His brows were drawn, his eyes streaked with red lightning bolts. She reached up with her free hand and laid it against his cheek.
He put his hand over hers and then pulled her in for a soft kiss. When he inched back, he whispered in her ear, “This may sound crazy, but I love you.”
Beth gazed into his eyes, saw it was true. Her heart twirled in relief.
“I love you, too.” She glanced at the police department. “Are you ready for this?”
His jaw tensed. “Doesn’t matter if I am or not, this needs to be done.”
Hand in hand, they walked inside. Five officers stood near the entrance, guzzling water from bottles and listening to the reports coming in on their radios. A woman manned the front desk. She answered the phone that never stopped ringing. Beth couldn’t imagine how many calls were coming in on the emergency lines. Hundreds of people were probably calling for help, but the police wouldn’t be able to respond to every call, not in their squad cars with this flood. During past hurricanes, the State Emergency Rescue Team went out in trucks and boats to rescue stranded people and they would have to again.
A few civilians, who had to ride out the storm in the department, milled about anxiously. The mingled scents of stale coffee and sweat teased Beth’s nostrils. Large ovals of perspiration spread beneath the officers’ arms and trickled down their backs. They looked as though they were about to dissolve into puddles. Although the generators were working, the A/C was weak, and the air inside the station was more humid than outside.
The officers’ heads swiveled to Donovan and Beth when they stepped through the doors. Their heat-exhausted faces registered surprise.
“Holy shit,” one of them said. “That’s Donovan Goldwyn!”
In the next instant, the five officers rushed toward him, their guns drawn. Donovan put up his hands. Two officers grabbed his arms, wrenching them behind his back to restrain him. “Donovan Goldwyn, you’re under arrest for the murder of Ryan Goldwyn.”