This is a tease for my new novel Twisted

By

Arecee

Chapter one

The forest green Ford Explorer rolled west bound on I-80 and exited at the Truckee off ramp.

“I want to show you something very dear to me.”

“What’s that?” the model asked.

“The place was I spent much of my youth.”

The Explorer crossed over the highway and headed east on the old highway 40 toward the Truckee River. It came to a stop under an interstate bridge and the driver turned off the headlights and motor.

“Let me show you, this is where I fished when I was a child.”

The model exited the car and joined the driver.

“The air smells good,” the model said, as clean air with a touch of pine scent filled her nose. She felt the knife plunge into her shoulder. She screamed a high-pitched wail as the knife entered a second then a third time, a wail of death.

The driver pulled the body into the Explorer and laid it on a plastic sheet in the rear and closed the door.

“Bitch, the fucking bitch, no good whore,” the driver grumbled, as the engine started.

The car made a U turn and headed back to Truckee and the on ramp to I-80 east, toward Reno. The driver held the speedometer at 65. I can’t get stopped, take it easy, don’t do anything stupid.

The CHP cruiser was parked on the side of the highway taking radar readings when the Explorer went by. There were very few cars this time of night, and the ones that did come through were on their way to Reno, their owners wishing for good fortune at the gambling tables waiting to take their money.

“Might as well keep some of it in California,” the officer thought.

Sixty-five, the screen read, a perfect speed. Most cars flew though here at seventy and I won’t even bother them unless they’re going over seventy-five. The only ones this careful are usually drunk and put the car on cruise control. Maybe I’ll follow it for a while, the officer thought

The driver saw the CHP unit taking radar reads and cursed when the car’s lights went on and pulled onto the highway behind the Explorer. Beads of sweat formed on the driver’s forehead. Fuck, fuck, don’t panic, don’t screw up. The cruiser followed the Explorer for three miles and then the blue and red light bar flashed to life. The Explorer slowed and started to ease to the shoulder of the freeway. Much to the surprise of the driver, the Cruiser sped past into the night. The driver stopped the Explorer, shaking uncontrollably. The thoughts were always the same after each murder, “This has to stop, I can’t do this anymore,” but they continued.