Turkey and Terror: Book 6 in The Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TURKEY AND TERROR

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER14

  CHAPTER15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  Turkey

  And

  Terror

  Book Six

  in the

  Diner of the Dead Series

  By

  Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Copyright 2016 Summer Prescott Books

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

  Author’s Note: On the next page, you’ll find out how to access all of my books easily, as well as locate books by best-selling author, Summer Prescott. I’d love to hear your thoughts on my books, the storylines, and anything else that you’d like to comment on – reader feedback is very important to me. Please see the following page for my publisher’s contact information. If you’d like to be on her list of “folks to contact” with updates, release and sales notifications, etc…just shoot her an email and let her know. Thanks for reading!

  Also…

  …if you’re looking for more great reads, check out the Summer Prescott Publishing Book Catalog:

  http://summerprescottbooks.com/book-catalog/ for some truly delicious stories.

  Contact Info for Summer Prescott Publishing:

  Twitter: @summerprescott1

  Blog and Book Catalog: http://summerprescottbooks.com

  Email: summer.prescott.cozies@gmail.com

  And…look up The Summer Prescott Fan Page and Summer Prescott Publishing Page on Facebook – let’s be friends!

  PLEASE NOTE: If you receive any email or other correspondence that does not come from the above address, it is in no way affiliated with Summer Prescott Books Publishing, Summer Prescott, or any of the SPBP authors.

  If you’re an author and are interested in publishing with Summer Prescott Books – please send Summer an email and she’ll send you submission guidelines.

  TURKEY AND TERROR

  BOOK SIX IN THE DINER OF THE DEAD SERIES

  PROLOGUE

  * * *

  The first snowfall of the season had just begun, darkening the sky with an ominous overcast of gray clouds. In the middle of rural Wyoming, cloud cover just like this could make it almost pitch black outside without a lantern or flashlight.

  The man walking the grounds of the Thompson Ranch was in just such a situation. Sim Baker, a local police deputy, had no lantern, no flashlight, no torch, and was forced to make his way through the darkness with only his bare sense of direction. Faint outlines of, what appeared to be, trees marked a path for the deputy to follow. The farther the man trekked, the darker it became, leaving any light from the ranch house behind like a single blinking star a million miles away.

  While he knew that using some sort of light might have been in his better interest, his fear of what he might find hidden out among the trees and brush—or worse, what might find him—kept him from taking such measures. Just in case, he kept his mini-mag-light strapped to his belt alongside his pistol.

  Sim hadn’t bothered knocking on the Thompson’s door and letting them know he was on their land, neither did he inform his superior, Sheriff Branson, of his intentions of investigating without a warrant on the land.

  At this point, however, it hardly seemed to matter. In a few minutes, Sim would no longer be on the Thompson Ranch or their land and would instead step out into the empty Wyoming wilderness.

  Even if Baker had made the efforts to inform his boss, it wouldn’t do any good. He had already been instructed multiple times to drop the case and was sure to be temporarily suspended if he was caught pursuing more clues without prior clearance.

  However, he just couldn’t bring himself to let things be. What had been a simple case of a missing cow had turned into something far more sinister—and Baker seemed to be the only person who cared. Sheriff Branson had closed the case, stating that all the evidence indicated that the steer had broken through the fence and wandered off, and it was his believe that the cow had probably gotten lost or had fallen off a cliff.

  Baker’s own personal investigation of the matter, however, pointed to something much more frightening. Prior to attending the police academy to become a deputy, he had received his bachelor in the field of sociology with an emphasis in occult subcultures and religions. His knowledge in this field made him believe that the cow was, in fact, stolen for some unknown occult purpose. Shivering, the deputy couldn’t decide if the chill had come from the cold night air or from the many different dark possibilities that the cow could be used for.

  His eyes finally began to adjust to the darkness and the outlines of the trees became more distinct.

  Now, as he made his way to the edge of the Thompson’s land, he realized he was getting close to the end of his journey. A low glow of orange light flickered on the horizon, snuggled in between the shadows of a grove of trees.

  “That’s it,” he whispered to himself. He had tracked the evidence he had collected on his own to this specific area just outside the Thompson Ranch, which brought him to face the small structure sitting among the trees which he saw now.

  The building’s shoddy craftsmanship was made apparent by the gaps and holes in the walls. Boards were nailed haphazardly here and there, and makeshift shingles appeared as if they might simply slide off at any moment. Orange firelight flickered through all the cracks in the siding, giving it an aura similar to a jack-o-lantern.

  The little hut couldn’t be any larger than a backyard tool shed.

  The snow began to come down more heavily, accompanied by a new gust of wind that cut through Baker’s body. Gritting his teeth against the cold, he drew his pistol and approached the small building.

  Peering through a hole in the slats, he could just make out someone, all bundled up in a coat and a hat, leaning over a fire. The iron-laden smell of freshly slaughtered beef wafted from inside and Baker instantly knew he had found his cow thief. The person appeared to have some sort of instrument or tool in hand, and the scrape of stone against metal indicated that the person was sharpening a blade. A book lay open in front of the fire.

  Prepared to break in and make the arrest, a strange sound stopped him cold. It was like the sizzle of meat on a fire, but far deeper and more guttural. Leaning in close, he tried to get a better look at what was happening.

  The hunched figure placed two bloody steer horns into the flames and a hushed chanting came from the thief’s mouth. The fire began to raise as if stoked with kerosene, and the entire shed began to shake, almost as if some sort of large animal was inside trying to break free.

  Stumbling backward, the deputy fell on the hard ground just as the shack seemed to be blown apart by some unknown force—revealing a fiery, demonic steed within. The horse wa
s made up completely of flame, breaking the autumn darkness with its burning presence.

  “What is it?” Sim cried.

  The flames died out as quickly as they had erupted, revealing a charred and blackened horse beneath. The fire pit itself had also gone out, leaving an ashy and blackened pile of coals in its midst.

  Baker’s instinct was to get to his feet and run, but what happened next stopped him—froze him in fear to the spot on the ground. A smoking, black gloved hand rose from the ashes, almost like someone rising from their grave.

  The hand was followed by an arm, then a head. An otherworldly figure soon emerged in full, a towering man in a flowing trench coat and a cowboy hat.

  The crouched figure remained nearby, kneeling beside the fire. Turning to face the deputy, the thief finally revealed their face. “Kill him.”

  Glancing back up at the towering cowboy, Baker watched as the demon raised a six-shooter in one hand and fired.

  CHAPTER 1

  * * *

  “I just don’t see why they can’t come and have Thanksgiving here.” Placing her hands on her hips, Diane pouted and looked down at her daughter.

  Kneeling on the floor, Sonja was attempting to pack an old fold-out suitcase with clothing she would need for her trip. Picking up a cute plaid sweater, she gently folded it and placed it on top of the pile of clothes. “We’ve already had this discussion, Mom. I agreed to spend Thanksgiving at Frank’s family ranch and then spend Christmas here in Haunted Falls with you.”

  “Did anyone consider that maybe I’d want to meet his family?” Spinning on her heel, Diane plopped down onto the end of Sonja’s bed.

  When Sonja first moved into her mother’s guest house, she knew that her privacy would be limited. However, she hadn’t expected her mother to come knocking on her door every morning—and worse, just barging through it when it was left unlocked.

  The approaching holiday season made Diane feel lonely, and Sonja knew it.

  “Mom, there isn’t any point in dragging Frank’s whole entire family away from their home during the holiday. They have a big ranch that needs to be tended to.”

  “Then hire some ranch hands,” the older woman snapped.

  Sonja refrained from rolling her eyes. Despite the dramatics, Sonja tried not to judge her mother too harshly. It was obvious Diane was missing her husband, Sonja’s father, who had up and left them almost five years earlier without a word of explanation.

  Only recently, after relocating to Haunted Falls from New York City did Sonja see her father again. He had made a habit of popping up randomly under strange or mysterious circumstances, but with the holiday season on the horizon, her father was the last thing Sonja wanted to be thinking about.

  “Mom,” Sonja spoke firmly, “this is important to Frank. Thanksgiving is a big deal in his family.”

  “A whole week, though?” Her mother grumbled quietly.

  “This will be the first time in over five years Frank has taken a real vacation. Goodness knows he needs it after this year.” Thinking back to the slew of strange crimes that had seemed to infect the town, Sonja couldn’t help but feel grateful that her Sheriff boyfriend had finally decided to take a break.

  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t taken the time to see his parents in Larabee, Wyoming, but his trips usually lasted a single night or at most a few days. He had mentioned not remembering the last time he had taken an entire week or more off to get out of the small town.

  “So, I’m just going to be here all alone on Thanksgiving, kicking around the house with nothing to do?”

  “You know that isn’t true. You’re spending Thanksgiving Day with Alison, Alex, and their family.” Alison was Sonja’s best friend and business partner. The two owned and managed The Waffle Diner and Eatery together. Luckily, Ally and her husband, Alex, had strong family roots in Haunted Falls, and Sonja had arranged for her mother to spend the holiday with them.

  Alex’s father, Vic, was the best grill cook at the diner and could smoke a turkey like no one’s business. The whole clan was getting together on Thanksgiving Day to have a huge dinner and to play board games—a family tradition.

  Usually, Sonja would be joining as well (she particularly enjoyed playing trivia games head-to-head against her best friend) but this year was different. This year she had a new boyfriend and had to spend the holidays evenly between two families.

  With as much stress as it caused to divvy up her time, she was grateful for a chance to escape from Haunted Falls, even if it meant “meeting the parents.”

  Putting in one more pair of wool socks, Frank had mentioned the ranch house didn’t have central heating, Sonja shut the suitcase and lifted it onto the bed next to her mother.

  “It just won’t be the same without you around.” Glancing down at her hands folded in her lap, Sonja’s mother began to get a noteworthy mist in her eyes.

  Sitting down on the bed, Sonja clasped her mother’s hand. “I know Mom, but I’ll be back in a week,” she comforted.

  The older woman, looking somewhat distinguished as a tear trickled from her eye and down her cheek, nodded in agreement. It was almost like watching a scene from a classic 1940s drama.

  “We both need to learn to let go a little more each year. We shouldn’t let Dad’s poor choices rule our lives.”

  Diane swallowed with a little difficulty. “I suppose you’re right.” Looking up at her daughter, she forced a smile. “I was never good at saying goodbye . . . even for vacations.”

  Sonja knew there was far more to it than that, but for the sake of her mother she left it alone. “I promise, if you want to, we can have our own Thanksgiving feast when I get back.”

  Diane nodded. “Sounds lovely.”

  “And we can invite anyone we want.”

  “Even Frank?”

  “Even Frank, Mom.”

  The mother smiled to one side, a sly twinkle in her eye. “Maybe he’ll be a part of the family sooner than you know.”

  This time, Sonja didn’t hesitate to roll her eyes. “Don’t push it, Mom.”

  “Don’t act like it’s a death sentence, dear,” she retorted, her strong mothering voice returning.

  “And meeting his family doesn’t mean we’re engaged,” Sonja shot back.

  A heavy knock, one only a Sheriff could deliver, echoed from the front door of the small guest house.

  “Well.” Sonja picked up the suitcase from the bed. “Looks like it’s time for me to go.” Walking across the room, she opened the door to find her boyfriend, dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a tight black t-shirt standing in the doorway. His blonde hair had grown out a little since the colder months had begun and it hung gently to one side over his forehead.

  “Hiya, Sonj’.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Ready to go?”

  “Yep,” the travel ready girlfriend affirmed, patting her suitcase.

  Spotting his girlfriend’s mother, Frank called out, “Hi, Diane.”

  “Hi, Frank. I hope you two have a wonderful time.”

  “Thanksgiving is always a blast at my parent’s,” Frank replied with no lack of sincerity. “Is this everything?” He motioned to the suitcase almost as if he was sure there would be more.

  “Yep, all ready to go,” Sonja beamed.

  Taking the luggage from her hand, he turned and carried it out to the car. Sonja walked back to her mother and gave her a good long hug. “I love you,” she whispered. “Don’t spend the entire time in front of the TV or with your nose buried in a book,” she instructed. “Get out and see your friends, go see a movie.”

  The mother hesitated through a fresh wave of tears. “I’ll try, dear.”

  “Good.”

  “Looks like we’re all ready to go,” Frank announced, having returned to the doorway. “Shall we?”

  Nodding, Sonja followed him outside.

  CHAPTER 2

  * * *

  The drive to Larabee would be about seven hours, and Sonja and Frank had gotten an early sta
rt by leaving at eight in the morning. It was a little odd not riding in the usual police cruiser Sonja had so frequently associated with her boyfriend.

  The cruiser was the car Sonja associated most with Frank—probably because it was the car he drove the most. Frank was on duty more often than not and was frequently seen around town driving the state-issued vehicle.

  Frank’s own car, the one he drove during off hours, seemed like quite the indulgence, especially for a country boy. The sleek, black, American car was incredibly comfortable and luxurious to ride in, but Sonja could hardly see how a sports car could be sensible in a small mountain town—especially during the winter months. A car like that one was more for show than anything else, and Sonja had to admit that Frank looked quite handsome driving it.

  It wasn’t the most popular or most recent of the line of sports cars, but it was something Frank had saved up for since he was a young child.

  “You comfortable?” he asked, breaking the silence from when they had first climbed into the car.

  The young woman’s eyes were glued on the passing landscape of pine trees, rocks, cliffs, and rivers. “Yep,” she replied quietly.

  “What are you thinking?” he pressed, attempting to create some conversation.

  Sonja shrugged. “Nothing much,” she lied. She had been thinking of her mother but didn’t want to upset Frank or make him feel guilty for leaving Haunted Falls.

  “Come on.” Leaning over, he nudged her and smiled. “It’s a long drive. It’ll be pretty boring if we just sit here in silence the whole time.”

  Turning in her seat, she looked her boyfriend in the eye. He just gave his knowing smile; a warm gesture Sonja had become familiar over the past few months. Sheriff Thompson was such a serious and hardworking man it was sometimes hard to believe that the gentle and playful Frank she knew and loved was hiding behind it all.