They say The Depot is haunted. But in all the years homicide detective Mark
Waters has visited the old train station turned restaurant, he’s never seen proof.
Until now.
As he investigates a suicide
by train, he learns secrets of a murder that took place eighty years ago may directly affect his case.
The Depot
(When Life and Death Cross Tracks)
A Mini-Mystery with a Paranormal Edge
After your preview, be sure to download the first in the series, FREE!
Prologue
Edda should have known he’d deny her. Deny
seeing her, deny being with her. Her friend had warned her, but she’d thought
he was her chance to escape the life she’d been living. A chance to be someone.
A chance at love.
Ever since she’d moved out of her momma’s
home, life had been difficult. She could barely even pay her way at the boarding
house where she stayed. At nineteen, the only thing she had going for her was
her looks and body, even though it’d been a challenge getting her size back
down to fit the few clothes she owned.
Wesley had assured her that he’d take care
of her. But seeing his face tonight, she knew it had all been lies. He screamed
that everything was her fault and that he couldn’t be bothered with someone of
her social status. He’d continued to shout while she shielded her ears,
attempting to drown out his obscenities and threats of what he planned to do to
her.
She opened the door of the bar, hoping her
best friend was still working and could give her a ride home. As soon as she
stepped on the polished wood floors, she noticed the mess she was making. Black
mud covered her new patent leather shoes. Then she saw her new dress she’d
ordered from the Sears and Roebuck Catalog. It’d taken months to save that
money, and she’d spent it all on one dress. But she had wanted to look nice
when Wesley took her to meet his parents. Now the dress was in shreds.
How
had it happened?
Her eyes darted around the bar, trying to
remember how she’d gotten back here after her fight with Wesley.
“Becky,” she called to her friend,
relieved that she was still working. “Throw me a towel, will ya? I got mud all
over the new floors.”
Her friend ignored her, as did everyone
else crowded around the bar. The mostly-male patrons laughed and sung along
with the piano man in the corner, but no one turned to look at her, even when
the bells over the door had announced her arrival.
“Becky,” she said louder, but no one
acknowledged her.
Instead, bodies of people rushed around
her, their faces contorting and blurring as though she were in a dream or
whooshing by them in an automobile. Men with mustaches and beards reshaped to
smooth-skinned faces belonging to women, and then back to men again. Pale-white
faces turned dark, then back to white, and then every shade in between. The
clothes they wore changed colors, fabrics, even styles. Dresses went from short
to longer lengths and then to short again. Business suits and ties changed to
dungarees and undershirts. The room lightened and darkened, over and over, as
though the sun were circling the tavern within seconds. The thick-waxed floor
below her dulled and then disappeared, and within seconds, a new floor had
taken its place. Tables spun before her, along with the chairs, as if some
invisible entity were installing them and removing them repeatedly, as though
they couldn’t make up their mind what style of furniture they wanted.
Her gaze dropped to her hands, noticing
thick black blood dripped from her fingertips. The droplets fell, but never
landed.
She searched the room, hoping someone
would help her, but then the entire room flashed in front of her, similar to
when Becky and she’d gone to the matinee a few months ago and seen The Thin Man. When the movie was over,
they’d sat and watched as the projector rewound, reversing the entire movie ten
times faster than they’d watched it. Only, the scene in the bar seemed to be
moving forward, as if the room had sped up.
When the world stopped spinning and
twining, Edda raked her eyes across the room, but nothing was the same.
The bar had transformed.
It was the same, but different. A light
from the corner of the room drew her attention. It resembled the screen at the
show, but smaller. Colorful, bright images of moving pictures flashed on the
tiny screen.
Her gaze fell on the two remaining people
behind the bar.
Watching them, a fiery hatred singed her
insides, causing a flaring passion to radiate through her soul as she realized
what had happened to her.
Rather, what
he had done to her.
The Depot will
be out this week, but if you missed the first short story in the series, The Pit Stop, you can download the
one-hour read here FREE!
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links below.
Depot Image by Doug Hagadorn Photography
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