Black Creek Burning (The Black Creek Series, Book 1)

 

 

 

 

 

Black Creek Burning

The Black Creek Series

Book One

 

by

 

R.T. Wolfe

 

 

 

 

 

Published by
ePublishing Works!

www.epublishingworks.com

 

ISBN: 978-1-61417-388-5

 

 

 

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Please Note

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely
coincidental.

 

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Copyright © 2012, 2013 by Tanya Renee Wolfe. All rights reserved under International
and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

 

Cover and eBook design by eBook Prep
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Thank You.

 

 

 

 

 

To my sister, Dian...

because you truly are Liz.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

The yellow cab turned onto the short cul-de-sac. Brie leaned back, slightly buzzed,
and thought of how the dark street looked much the same as it did when she was a little
girl.

Deep horseshoe drives, towering trees and well-kept yards framed the pavement. Like
her parents' home, many were classic Victorians with small, square porches setting
between towering white pillars. An occasional Colonial or English Tudor was thrown
in the mix, yet the familiarity of the ancient road gave her a sense of serenity.
She smiled even as the smell of stale cigarettes and dirty carpet mats filled her
nose.

She and Liz had spent the evening at their favorite hole-in-the-wall pub. Her faded
blue jeans and NYU collared shirt fit the nonexistent dress code nicely. Together,
she and her sister celebrated the keynote speaker address Brie had landed for their
district conference.

Stopping at the curb, she noticed her parents' Lincoln Town Car. They weren't due
home until the next day, and she had parked in their spot. She felt a twinge of guilt,
realizing they couldn't fit in their own garage. After paying the driver, she stepped
out into the balmy, upstate New York night.

The house was, indeed, a classic with decorative latticework framing the awning of
the square front porch and windows. It was clear that night, and the air hung stagnant.
Brilliant moonlight shone on the bold color of the low-lying dianthus blooming red
along the walk that led to the square porch. Her mother preferred bushes, mostly dark
green and thick to adorn the length of their home, but always maintained a row of
color.

As she meandered up the path to their house, she felt queasy, like she'd done this
before. Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder through her mass of wavy brown hair
as she kept moving toward the front door. Two people were walking along the street.
She stopped and wondered what reason anyone would have to take a walk at this time
of night in such an early bird neighborhood.

It was then she heard the shrill of the smoke detectors. Chest tightening, she bolted
for the door.

For too long, she fumbled with the keys in one trembling hand before trying the knob
with the other. Damn it, it was already unlocked. "Mom! Dad!" she screamed and tumbled
inside, spotting them almost immediately as they ran down the long upstairs hallway.

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