AS THE BULLETS DROP

Debra Hunt’s mother warned her about men like her father. And now Debra is meeting her father for the first time at a remote mountainside cabin. Where her cell phone doesn’t work. And a dead body shows up on her father’s doorstep. And it looks an awful lot like her mother’s dead body. A police investigation is soon underway and it seems that everybody’s a suspect.

EXCERPT:

I counted the bullets as they dropped onto the floor and bounced onto the bed: 1-2-3-4-5. Where was the sixth bullet? Had it already been fired or was it still in the gun? Would his bumbling cause him to fire the gun by mistake? If it was a mistake. For in that moment I began to fear that my mother had been right all along–this man was not to be trusted.

This is the story of how I, Debra Hunt, found myself in a remote cabin in the California Sierras without a car and a cell phone that couldn’t get a signal while bullets were falling all around me.

I was meeting my father, Mr. Bill French, for the first time at my ripe old age of thirty. And what my mother had told me about him was enough to scare the crap out of me—especially with bullets falling all around me. I had started to believe his side of the story, but I was second-guessing myself and wondering, for a moment, if my mother was right—I was naïve and too trusting.

Just when I was asking myself, “What the hell do I do now?” his wife, Charlotte, called from the kitchen, “The potion is ready,” or was that, “The pomegranate soup is ready?” Either way, it sounded strange to me, and I had to come up with an escape plan, in case I needed one.

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