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Smith's Monthly #15

Page 22

by Smith, Dean Wesley


  “Maybe in hell,” Lott said, laughing.

  “I swear, Detective,” Williams said, “You can really get on a person’s nerves.”

  “I’ve been told that,” Lott said.

  Williams reached for the door handle and pushed the door open.

  Then suddenly Williams’ face went white and he scrambled to do something under the dash.

  “Down everyone!” Lott shouted and dove for the weed-choked ditch.

  And for the second time, an explosion triggered by Williams smashed into Lott’s back.

  A moment later, but what seemed like an eternity, he heard Agent Munn shout to see if everyone was all right.

  Lott could barely hear her, his ears were ringing so loud.

  But all he could do was smile, because burning in the brush against the hillside about ten feet in front of him was what was left of Willis Williams.

  And never had Lott seen such a perfect sight.

  A moment later, an angel appeared over him, looking very, very worried.

  She asked if he was all right. Lott rolled over slowly onto his back in the weeds and he reached up and indicated she should come closer.

  She leaned in, even more worried.

  Then he kissed her.

  He planned on doing that a lot more very shortly.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  May 17, 2015

  9:20 A.M.

  McCall, Idaho

  Julia smiled at the wonderful man asleep in her bed.

  The suite around them was wonderful and Doc said she and Lott could use it as long as they wanted.

  The sun was already up and full and she had ordered them both room service breakfast.

  After the explosion on the hill and the death of Williams, they had spent some time giving statements, then promised more today and for the next week or so.

  They had flown back to McCall, and Doc had suggested they just stay in the Shore Lodge suite for the night, since Lott was again covered in dirt and mud from the ditch.

  They both liked the idea.

  Lott had gone into the shower after they got back to the room to get clean and she had decided they had waited more than long enough. She took off her clothes and joined him, helping him wash his back.

  And then he helped her.

  Then together, they tumbled into the soft featherbed and made love in the most wonderful and slow way.

  After so many years, she couldn’t even believe that was possible for her. But it clearly was.

  Then they had gone out for a late dinner with Doc and Annie and Fleet, then had come back and fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

  It had felt so natural.

  The sun through the drapes woke her and she had gotten up, ordered breakfast, and then gone back to bed.

  Now she lay there staring at Lott. She couldn’t believe it, but she had fallen in love again. She had thought that part of her life was over. But it clearly wasn’t.

  She touched him gently, just wanting to feel his skin. Then she cuddled against him, her body pressed against his.

  Lott smiled and turned slightly so he could look into her eyes. “Even though I hurt in more places than I care to think about, that feels wonderful.”

  She laughed. “We are getting a little old to be blown up twice in one day.”

  “Anyone’s too old for that,” Lott said.

  “Have I ever told you I love you, Detective,” she said, smiling at him.

  “You haven’t,” Lott said, smiling back at her. “And I love you as well, you know that, Detective?”

  “I do,” she said.

  She kissed him.

  He kissed her back.

  And then for the next thirty minutes, until breakfast arrived, they did some pretty amazing things for two retired detectives.

  BEING YOUNG

  A young woman,

  maybe twenty-two,

  bent over

  without a thought

  and without bending her knees,

  to pick up a dropped water bottle.

  An elderly woman,

  slumped over in a wheelchair,

  watched,

  sadness for lost years

  filling her eyes.

  Human aging isn’t measured by years,

  but by lost freedoms

  taken from the human body.

  The old woman

  in the wheelchair understood that.

  The young woman

  was still decades from catching a clue.

  If you enjoyed this volume of Smith’s Monthly, don’t miss the next: Subscribe today!

  Subscriptions are available in electronic or trade paper formats and begin with the very next issue.

  Find out more at www.SmithsMonthly.com

  Missed a volume? No problem. Buy individual volumes anytime at your favorite bookseller.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today bestselling author Dean Wesley Smith published more than a hundred novels in thirty years and hundreds and hundreds of short stories across many genres.

  He wrote a couple dozen Star Trek novels, the only two original Men in Black novels, Spider-Man and X-Men novels, plus novels set in gaming and television worlds. Writing with his wife Kristine Kathryn Rusch under the name Kathryn Wesley, they wrote the novel for the NBC miniseries The Tenth Kingdom and other books for Hallmark Hall of Fame movies.

  He wrote novels under dozens of pen names in the worlds of comic books and movies, including novelizations of a dozen films, from The Final Fantasy to Steel to Rundown.

  He now writes his own original fiction under just the one name, Dean Wesley Smith. In addition to his upcoming novel releases, his monthly magazine called Smith’s Monthly premiered October 1, 2013, filled entirely with his original novels and stories.

  Dean also worked as an editor and publisher, first at Pulphouse Publishing, then for VB Tech Journal, then for Pocket Books. He now plays a role as an executive editor for the original anthology series Fiction River.

  For more information go to www.deanwesleysmith.com, www.smithsmonthly.com or www.fictionriver.com.

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Daddy is an Undertaker

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  Cutting Down Fred

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  They're Back

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  Gus

  Dear Bill,

  Dear Fred,

  Dear Bill,

  Dear Fred,

  Dear Bill,

  Telegram

  Article from the local Monday newspaper.

  Dear Bill,

  Dear Fred,

  Dear Bill,

  Dear Fred,

  Dear Bill,

  Dear Fred,

  Dear Bill,

  The Last Burp of a Very Good Woman

  Poem: Gutter

  Cold Call: A Cold Poker Gang Novel

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Part One

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  Part Two

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Part Three

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Part Four

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHA
PTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Part Five

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Part Six

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Poem: Being Young

  Subscription Information

  About the Author

  Copyright Information

 

 

 


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