122 Rules

by Deek Rhew

  * * *

  The next day, the storm still raged. They spent most of the morning lying in their makeshift bed, drinking cold instant coffee, and talking. Had the power not been out, they might have watched TV, but that, along with the stereo, had been smashed.

  Angel paused in looking through a pile of newspapers and said, “I just wish we’d been able to find Peter. I still think he told those thugs where you…”

  “Where I what? Ang?” Monica looked up.

  Her friend held a copy of the most recent news rag, incredulousness spread across her face.

  “What? What is it?” What else could possibly be wrong?

  “Dead.”

  “Huh? Who? Who’s dead?”

  “You are.” She held up the paper. Monica’s breath caught in her throat as she saw her own face peering back at her under the glaring headline:

  MURDER IN THE COVE.

  They sat down together on the floor and read the article.

  “Geezus.” Angel lay back, her arm over her forehead.

  Monica flopped beside her. “Holy shit. This article says they identified ‘me’ by a piece of jewelry ‘I’ was wearing. What are they talking about? How would this dead girl get some of my stuff?”

  Angel shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Gawd, the police and FBI are so egotistical. Even when they get shit wrong, like, oh yeah, I’m not dead. They don’t confirm their facts or bother to call, just keep chugging right along. Posting my picture in the paper and telling the world I’ve taken the big snooze.”

  “Actually, they said you took the big swim. In the ocean to be exact.”

  Monica rolled onto her side and poked Angel in the chest with her finger. “You join these goons and you sure as hell better be right before sayin’ someone’s dead. If you don’t, I’ll track you down and kick your ass so hard your grandchildren walk funny.”

  “Okay, okay.” Angel held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll straighten out the lot when I get some power.”

  “So after he got done here, he left and went and took his anger out on someone else?”

  “That or the other way around. He might have killed the wrong person, gotten so pissed he came back here and threw the grand mal of temper tantrums. It’s either Peter or that freak that worked for the mob. Ebenezer or whatever.”

  “Erebus,” Monica corrected.

  “It doesn’t really matter.” Angel thumped the paper. “This information had to come from the police, so obviously it’s either a complete lie or unreliable due to extreme incompetence.”

  Monica sighed. “I thought we were done with all of this.”

  “Well, apparently not. But we can’t just sit around waiting for the bastard to find us. We need a plan.”

  “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “First, we tell the cops that it isn’t you.” Angel held up the newspaper.

  “No.” Monica crossed her arms and huffed. “That’s not happening. I’m done with the cops and the FBI.”

  “Unless you have a better idea? Look, they think it’s you. The sooner you tell them you’re not dead and they start figuring out who it really is, the better.”

  “Fine.” Monica flopped back on the blankets. “Then what?”

  “Then we beat feet. Let’s just get on with gettin’ on.”

  “Now that’s a plan I can get behind.” Monica looked out the window as the storm railed and flailed. “As soon as the storm is over, we make way for greener pastures.”

  Angel nodded. “Deal.”

  * * *

  The next morning, the sun shone as if it didn’t have a care in the world. The women stuffed what remained of Angel’s belongings into the car and headed toward town.

  They talked quietly as they navigated the city streets, then Angel said, “I have a headache. We haven’t eaten yet. Let’s grab something on the way.”

  “Really? You’re hungry? Now?”

  “Yes, now. Look, there isn’t anything outside of the city for miles and miles, and once we pop into the sheriff’s office and say howdy do, we are headed straight out.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  Angel changed course to the 50s style diner in the middle of town. As they got out of the car, Angel kept glancing around like at any second hell would descend upon them.

  “Change your mind?” Monica asked, smiling at her friend’s disconcertion.

  Angel didn’t reply. Her gaze remained fixed on something across the street.

  Monica followed her gaze. Separated from the usual flow of city dwellers and beach bums, a man stood looking into a store window. Something about him struck her as familiar—his stance, the set of his shoulders, his build. Something.

  “Mon, get back in the car.” Angel whispered.

  “What? Why?”

  “Now!”

  Monica did as she had been instructed. After they closed the doors, she asked, “What is it? You look as white as a ghost.”

  “That man. Does he look familiar?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know why.”

  “Take a good look.” Angel pointed to the sidewalk on the far side of the road.

  They both craned their necks to gaze out the back window. The man turned, and Monica gasped. “Oh shit! We need to get to the police and get out. Now.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right.” Angel said. She started the car, dropped it into gear, and tore out of the slant parking space. Pedestrians dove out of the way as she floored the gas.

  * * *

  The man on the sidewalk adjusted his ball cap as he watched the car accelerate down the narrow road. He thought he had seen someone familiar staring at him through the glass. The glare of the sun, however, prevented him from getting a clear view of the vehicle’s occupants. But still, he wondered…could it really be?

  The car sailed down the street, taking the corner so fast it almost ran up onto the curb, and disappeared out of sight. He stood for several minutes, long after the revving engine and squealing tires faded and traffic had returned to its regular cadence.

  Finally he turned and walked away. His plans had just changed.

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, I’d like to say thank you to my readers. It means the world to me that you’ve spent some of your valuable time in my crazy little world.

  To all my friends and family: This book has been many, many years in the making, and I’d be nowhere without your love and support.

  To Pandamoon and my Panda family: You guys rock. Thank you so much for seeing the potential in me and my story and for giving me this chance. Together we can change the world, one book at a time.

  To my Ninja Girl, Erin: we had some of our first conversations in the margins of this book way, way back. Even if I don’t sell a single copy, I’ll always be a smashing success because this novel led me to you and our life together. My heart and my life will forever be rich because you have touched it with your gentle soul.

  You are my Ideal Reader; when I write, I hear your laughter, see your smile, and feel your emotions. This pushes me to be more than my potential.

  Erin, you are my best friend, my lover, and, even better, you are my beautiful bride. You make my cloudy days sunny, and the unbearable bearable. You have taught my soul to dance. I love you more than words could ever express. #Always

  Lastly, I wish to thank the citizens of Alabaster Cove. Thank you for letting me base my books on your beautiful town. I’ll try my best to honor it and give it the credit you all so rightfully deserve.

  Readers, if want to learn more about Alabaster Cove, I highly recommend visiting www.AlabasterCove.net for information on their city and on vacation opportunities.

  About the Author

  Deek did not set out to be a writer. Originally, he wanted to follow his father’s path as a career military man and fly for the Air Force. So, Deek spent two years in high school preparing f
or the ROTC. During a routine check-in, his recruiter asked about any handicaps, to which Deek jokingly replied he was colorblind. The recruiter got a funny look on his face and informed Deek that the closest he’d ever get to the pilot’s seat was from the scheduling office. Ummm…no.

  After that, Deek focused on his love for music—touring with a local rock band and majoring in art in college. Unfortunately, he didn’t enjoy the life of a pauper, so he started secondary school over. Ten years later, he walked across the stage with a computer science degree. He now slings web code for a major electronics company in his hometown.

  Though he loves his job and the people he works with, Deek has been enthralled by the written word and storytelling since he picked up his first Stephen King novel, It. On his way to work one day, a scene so vivid flashed through his mind that he felt compelled to pull over and put it to paper. Having neither quill nor parchment in which to document the image, he laboriously pecked out the first chapter of 122 Rules on his phone.

  Deek lives in a rainy pocket in the Pacific Northwest with his stunning author bride, Erin Rhew, and their writing assistant, a fat tabby named Trinity. They enjoy lingering in the mornings, and often late into the night, caught up in Erin’s fantastic fantasy worlds of noble princes and knights and entwined in Deek’s dark underworld of the FBI and drug lords.

  He and Erin love to share books by reading aloud to one another. In addition, they enjoy spending time with friends, running, boxing, lifting weights, and exploring the little town—with antique shops and bakeries—they call home.

  Thank you for purchasing this copy of 122 RULES, Book One in The 122 Rules Series by Deek Rhew. If you enjoyed this book by Deek, please let him know by posting a review. If you purchased this book through Amazon, it is eligible for a free Kindle Match.

  Read More Books by Pandamoon Publishing!

  Visit www.pandamoonpublishing.com to learn more about our other works by our talented authors and use the author links to their Amazon sales page.

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