The Beginning (Whispering Pines Book 1)

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  Blake Squires was busy going over his business ledger at the sawmill office when he realized it was getting late. He hadn’t been able to get any real work done lately. Still he couldn't concentrate on the books before him. There were too many questions with not enough answers racing through his brain including the main one. Who killed Matt and why?

  With a final shrug and a deep yawn, he stood up from the desk, walked to the door and cut off the overhead lights. Stepping out into the sticky night air, he looked around. Things seemed quiet. He locked the office door behind him and walked to the old truck he had borrowed from Fennel earlier.

  He climbed inside and turned the ignition key. The starter groaned and whirred but the engine wouldn’t catch. He patted the accelerator twice and flipped the switch again. The engine sputtered, wheezed once on the verge of death, and then came to life belching a cloud of blue smoke out the exhaust pipe. “I got to get my truck back from Catfish,” he mumbled.

  Two bright headlight beams suddenly burst in his face and blinded him. Another set from behind exploded in the rear view mirror and a third set came alive from near the yard gate. They had him cornered.

  He judged his chances of escape but well knew that Fennel’s old truck wouldn’t get him far or fast. He’d never get away. A bright beam from a flashlight caught his eyes. Through the glare, he could see the outline of a roof-mounted set of blue police lights on one of the vehicles pulling into the yard. A deputy, with gun drawn, appeared on the right side of the truck and pointed his weapon through the open passenger’s side window. Sheriff Walt Brooks stepped out of the bright lights in front of the truck.

  Blake felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. “My goose is now cooked.” He mumbled.

  The deputy beside the truck snapped, “Get out and keep your hands up where I can see them.”

  He cut the engine and climbed out of the truck. Two more officers appeared. One held up a pair of silver handcuffs and ordered, “Turn around and put your hands behind you.”

  Squires hesitated and snarled, “You want to tell me what this is all about first?”

  A third man appeared and swung his gun into Blake’s face. The dark hole at the end of the barrel looked bottomless. “This is what it’s all about, Squires. Now turn around or I’ll blow your black head off.”

  Blake turned slowly and moved his hands behind him and they locked them together in handcuffs. The deputy tested the locks and then said, “Okay, you can turn back around.”

  Sheriff Brooks stepped closer and into the brighter light. He smiled.

  “All right, Brooks. What’s going on?”

  Walt sneered, “You’re under arrest, Squires, for the murder of Matt Veal.”

  “You’re crazy, Brooks. Do you think I’d murder my best friend and partner?”

  “Do I think it? I know it.”

  He motioned to the deputies and snapped, “Get him in the car and let’s go. Don’t bother reading him his rights. I’m sure he knows them by heart.”