The Cypress Trap: A Suspense Thriller (19 page)
Read The Cypress Trap: A Suspense Thriller Online
Authors: JC Gatlin
It
was Luger. He’d come after her. She gripped the rolls of skin around his neck
as he turned in the water, paddling toward shore and taking her with him. His
legs kicked, splashing, thrusting them forward. Rayanne held on with all her
strength.
When
they reached shallow water, she let go of the dog and stumbled ashore. Rayanne
fell into the wet sand and inhaled. She sucked in air, dirt, and gritty
particles of weeds that brought a violent cough up from deep within her throat,
and she expelled more water. Her lungs burned. Her temples pounded. Her eyes
stung. She didn’t care, though. She turned onto her back, lay on the bank, and
breathed.
She
was vaguely aware of Luger standing over her. He shook his body, showering her
with lake water. The droplets hit her body with a tingling sensation that shot
up her spine and revived her. She wanted to sit up. Pet him. Hug him. She
didn’t have the strength.
So
she lay there and breathed, her chest rising and falling as her beating heart
gradually calmed and the aches and pains subsided. She looked at the lake and
thought of Owen.
“You
ruined the ending,” she said under her breath.
After
several minutes she shivered, rolled over to her right side, and curled up in
the fetal position.
She
wept.
And
Luger never left her side.
28
The
following winter, Rayanne sat in the backseat of a black stretch limousine.
Luger lay beside her, his front paws dropping over the edge of the seat. She
stroked his head between his ears as the limo pulled into the gates of a lonely
cemetery. Rayanne asked the driver to wait as she stepped out.
Luger,
his black coat shiny and healthy over a stout, muscled torso, lumbered out of the
limo behind her. He walked beside her as Rayanne stepped off the gravel pathway
onto a manicured lawn. Sparse yellow grass filled the spaces between rows of
headstones and the wind picked up, forcing her to walk faster. It took several
minutes before she came to Connor’s grave.
Owen
had been laid to rest beside their son.
She
stood over the cold dirt, then knelt next to his headstone. Beside her, Luger
stood staring at the gray monument, almost as if he were reading the engraving:
“It’s not the length of life, but the depth of life. Owen Meeks jumped into
life and never touched bottom.”
The dog let out a long whimper. Rayanne
placed a hand on his back, just below his shoulder blades. It quieted him.
Closing
her eyes, she whispered a prayer for both Connor’s and Owen’s souls. She hoped
they were together, and she thanked him for the life insurance policy. One hand
gripped the edges of her coat, bringing them together to keep her warm. She
shivered, and slipped her right hand into a pocket.
She
pulled out the rabbit’s foot. The Arabian Cape hare.
Clenching
it in her palm, she felt its soft fur and the hard bone beneath the skin. It
was such a simple, inconspicuous little thing. If she didn’t know better, she
would’ve made it into a keychain. And she still might, she thought. She never
believed in the shaman’s curse, anyway.
She
placed the furry foot on Owen’s headstone. It balanced there, on the curved top
edge. Rayanne stared at it, lost in memories as she twirled the wedding ring on
her left hand. She slipped it from her finger, considered setting it next to
the rabbit’s foot on the monument’s edge, then just as quickly slipped it back
on. She laughed at herself, as Luger let out another impatient whine. She
looked over at him.
“Come
on, boy.” Rising, she turned from the grave. She took a couple of steps,
hesitated, and observed the green grounds. Luger remained at the grave,
watching her. His brown eyes widened. Rayanne cocked her head.
She
returned to Owen’s grave and stood beside her dog. After several seconds of
indecision, she grabbed the rabbit’s foot from the headstone and put it into
her coat pocket. It snuggled tightly next to the one-way plane ticket to
Sydney, Australia.
Taking
a step back, she looked down on her husband’s grave and smiled. The lines in
her face deepened, making her appear not older but wiser.
Like
any grieving widow, she whispered goodbye. Then she turned and called for
Luger.
Quietly,
they left the cemetery together. The limo was waiting.
Also by JC Gatlin
CLICK
HERE FOR YOUR FREE COPY OF
THE
DESIGNATED SURVIVOR
CLICK
HERE FOR YOUR FREE COPY OF
THE
DESIGNATED SURVIVOR
An
Unreasonable Hitchhiker.
An Unstable Widower.
An Unpredictable Journey.
Having just escaped from inmate work detail,
Tess is on the run and has one goal: get her daughter back. So, hitching a ride
to Sarasota, where her daughter is staying, seemed like a good idea at first.
That is until she realized her Good Samaritan is clearly suffering from the
recent loss of his wife.
As the miles go by and they get closer to
Sarasota, she comes to suspect that this crazy widower may in fact be a
murderer and they're transporting a body in the trunk of his car. With the
police hot on their trail, Tess isn't about to let a little murder stand
between her and her daughter -- no matter how many bodies start piling up.
First off, be under no
illusions: this is an edge-of-your-seat women’s adventure, not a cozy mystery
or detective story. It’s about a college student who receives odd poems and
notes from a stalker who she at first assumes are from her missing ex-fiancée.
There is peril, violence, psychotic blind dates and a self-absorbed best friend
you’ll love to hate. However, it’s never so over the top that readers with a
squeamish stomach should be turned away, but it doesn't let you forget the fact
that this is a thriller for a single minute.
Ultimately, readers who enjoy
a page-turner with a mystery that twists and turns all the way to the end will
enjoy Prey of Desire.
And
visit
Coming from a large family with five brothers, JC Gatlin
grew up in Grapevine, Texas, a small town outside of Dallas. In 1999 he moved
to Tampa, Florida, where he now resides. JC’s fishing trips help him breathe
authenticity into his stories, which feature the rich landscapes of Texas and
Florida as backdrops.
He has written a monthly column in
New Tampa Style
magazine and penned several mystery-suspense stories. His first,
The
Designated Survivor
, was published in 2013. JC invites you to visit his
mystery writing blog at
jcgatlin.com
.
