Weeds in the Garden
by
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“Wake up!” Emily shouted at the man on the floor, then stopped when she saw his face...and the blood. Lost in the clutches of a nightmare, she fought to clear away a dense curtain of mist. Reaching out, she shook his shoulder. Pain sliced down her side but alarm drilled in her brain. Wake him before he disappears in the fog. Invisible tentacles encircled her neck, constricting and irremovable. Tears blurred her sight. The air reeked of burning rubber and gasoline. She needed to warn him...
Emily Ryan flinched in her sleep, shivering in the huddle of thin cotton blanket. Her eyes snapped open to a pitch-dark room. A scream escaped her lips, “Wake up! The room’s on fire. It’s not fog, it’s smoke...move!”
Two young girls abruptly awoke at Emily’s cries. The older, Kelly, her blond hair twisted in a braid, regarded the woman under heavy lids. “What is it?” She looked around the square room, for a moment confused at the strange surroundings. Then, she remembered and the corners of her mouth turned down. Kelly sniffed at Emily’s warning of smoke, but the lingering aroma of McDonald’s fries still hung heavy in the air. The younger sister, a petite miniature of her older sibling, stretched both arms out wide, plunging a narrow fisted hand into Kelly’s stomach. “Ouch! Alex, watch it!”
“Alex-andra,” the youngster corrected in a long yawn. “I’m not a boy.” Alexandra blinked her eyes, a mass of amber curls framing her face. “What’s wrong?”
Emily turned at the sound of their voice, seeing only obscure shadows. Her fingers fumbled over a night stand for a lamp switch. She knocked over the TV remote and an empty soda cup. “Come on, Allie, Kel, hurry. The room...” she started to say, pressing the button at the bed’s headboard. Yellowish light illuminated the hotel room’s double beds. Lace trimmed pink socks, shiny black shoes and six Barbie dolls covered the burgundy carpet. Emily glanced at a TV on a small stand and a desk in the corner. A pair of young bewildered faces fixed on hers. “No fire?” Spotting no flames, she patted her chest in relief. “Thank God.” Observing the alarmed expressions of the two girls, Emily slid from under her covers and approached the other bed with a reassuring smile. “Sorry ladies. Only a dream. Go back to sleep.” She tucked them in, smoothing her hand over their cheeks and planting a solitary kiss on each forehead as she sat on the edge of the bed. Alex curled into her, small arms hugging her waist. Kelly gazed at Emily in disgruntlement.
“You promised not to let me fall asleep,” Kelly said with a pout. “Not tonight.”
“Honey, it’s okay,” Emily replied, attempting to sound positive. “Put your head down.”
Kelly shook her braids. “I’m not sleepy.”
Emily smiled at the familiar tactic. “Then close your eyes and rest. Sweet dreams, baby.”
“Hmm. ‘Night,” Kelly mumbled between thick lips. Shortly after, delicate snores followed.
Careful not to wake Alexandra, Emily shifted under the rose-patterned bedspread and covered her icy toes. Goose bumps and sweat still coated Emily’s body, a lingering reminder of her recent nightmare. But she pushed away any interest in remembering it, even the vaguely familiar man in the smoke, whose face sparked her memory. Tonight, other things occupied her mind. Emily gazed upon the two pale faces she grew to love so much over the years and wondered if, after tomorrow, she would ever see them again.
***
A high-pitched giggle, unnatural and malicious, pierced through the stillness. The man lying supine on a thinly carpeted floor, stirred, awoken from a dreamless sleep. That voice held no sanity, no warmth, the man thought, as the nightmarish laughter faded. Matar Antonio Avalov opened his eyes to a veil of fog. At first, he blinked, seeing only a
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About the Book
Emily Ryan sought to nurse her broken heart by assisting her cousin, a private investigator temporarily confined to a wheelchair. Volunteering to accept a missing person’s case, she found herself falling for an enigmatic fugitive, also a face from her past. The case revealed an unresolved, vicious murder, over fifteen-years-old, that grew back like an ugly weed. After five suspicious deaths and equally lethal fires, Emily quickly learned the tools of her cousin’s trade to evade the clutches of a cunning killer. When her family is targeted as the next victims and her love kidnaped, Emily stops running and becomes the hunter. Armed with little more than guts, intuition and a few interesting gadgets, she braves a violent tempest and walks into the depths of hell.
About the Author
Brandy Carter lives in the Eastern End of Long Island, New York. Formerly an executive in the retail world, she prefers the peaceful life near the ocean beaches. She is the youngest of six and enjoys tales with humor, sarcasm and just enough suspense to curdle the blood! Brandy cherishes her life with Frank, her fiancé, and the caring support of her family and friends.