Under A Desert Sky
By DiAnn Mills
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© DiAnn Mills
www.diannmills.com
Under a Desert Sky
DiAnn Mills
Summerside Press
ISBN 978-1-60936-138-9
© 2011 by DIANN MILLS
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Chapter 1 Excerpt
October 1935
Poisonous snakes come in all shapes and sizes. The one towering above me stood over six feet tall and wore a gray, three-piece suit. He straddled the bullet-ridden body of my grandfather and blew out a contemptuous sigh before bending to reach inside the dead man's suit coat for his wallet. The killer's right, black polished shoe touched my knee where I'd dropped to help Grandfather. The shoe was neatly tied, the knot and bow perfect. Blood coated the killer's hand, and he wiped it on the ground as though murder were part of everyday life.
Gasping, I waited. Terror locked my body onto the soft ground but my heart raced. "Why?" I whispered.
"Does it matter?"
"Why did you kill my grandfather, and why am I next? I have a right to know." My voice sounded faint, distant, not at all fearless as Grandfather would have insisted.
He smirked. "It's just a job."
With the killer directly above me and the pistol barrel cold against my scalp, I could only try to control my trembling. I was going to die. I knew it. But the answers to why this was happening meant more than another breath.
The man stepped back and lifted the gun from my head. I sat still, waiting to see if he would explain why he'd chosen to kill. Whatever good his response would do me in the hereafter bewildered my wild thoughts, but I couldn't let the matter go. Grandfather resented my tenacious nature— My thoughts stopped midstream. Grandfather had resented.
"I don't kill women ," the man said. "But others might not feel the same way. Get as far away from here as you can. Don't stop at the house, and stay away from town and the law." His voice rose. "Don't stop for anything. Keep running."
Where should I go? My gaze swept to Grandfather's lifeless face. His clouded gray eyes seemed to stare into my soul as though accusing me of his demise. He'd been a hard man, but I'd never wanted him dead. If now was a time of truth, we'd both disapproved of traits in the other.
"Did you hear me, Eva? Get yourself away from him."
The killer knew my name? Urgency from the man yanked at my senses. Acid rose in my throat, but I forced it back down. Reality was settling in, but I couldn't allow it. Not yet. The man was sparing my life, and I needed to act.
"Bennington's dead, and you're going to be if you don't get out of here."
I focused on the man holding the gun, the man who had shot Grandfather three times in the chest. A high-crowned gray fedora pulled down over his brow hid his eyes and much of his face. I realized I wouldn't be able to give a description of him.
He grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet while my wobbly legs barely held me upright. His grip tightened, and he pulled me so close that I could smell his cigar-laden breath mixed with Old Spice aftershave. What kind of miserable creature took the time to shave before committing murder?
"If they come, I'll have to shoot you. Do you understand?"
I nodded. "Yes." My teeth chattered.
"Get your gumption, girl. Don't go near the house."
He shook me loose, and I took flight like a startled doe. I ran north toward the thick woods, away from the once soothing sounds of nature and the peacefulness of the grasstrodden path that wound from the rippling creek, and away from the summer quarters of Grandfather's stone mansion.
"I can stall them one hour." His words forced blood into my legs. Who were they, and why did they want me and Grandfather dead? I'd heard the rumors about my grandfather being threatened for foreclosing on mortgages. The bullets pumped into his frail body gave credence to the gossip.
He'd said not to go near the house. But Victoria was there. Surely my dear friend had heard the shots. She'd be worried, pacing the floor and talking under her breath.
I raced into the cool dampness of the trees, thrashing about like a half-crazed animal, and grabbed an oak sapling. My breath came in heaves, and my legs threatened to give way.
Thoughts screamed inside my head. Shaking aside the grotesque picture of Grandfather's death mask, I settled my attention on getting away from the man and whoever was with him. That's when I made a decision. Victoria, Mrs. Jessop, and Mr. Stiles could be in danger. I had to warn them despite the killer's demands. Together Victoria and I could figure out what to do…where to go.
I skirted the woods and crept up behind the house to the servant's entrance, shadowed beneath the lilac tree. I raced the several yards toward the door and shoved aside the thought of the killer nearing the house too. With a twist of my wrist, the door opened, startling Mrs. Jessop, who had already started to fill the kitchen with the aroma of fresh rye bread. Normally the smell would have quickened my stomach, but not this morning. Not with the scent of death filling my nostrils. Mr. Stiles sipped a cup of tea.
"You two have to leave the house." I stared into Mrs. Jessop's round face. "Grandfather has been murdered, and the killer might be on his way here."