The Beast of the Angeles
The Angeles Crest Murders
by
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He sat up and looked around. He expected to see C.T. standing there, laughing as usual, but C.T. was not where he should have been. He turned around and saw that the Jimmy was gone. He wasn’t sure for how long he had blacked out as he tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind.
“What the hell were you thinkin’, C.T.?” he shouted through clenched teeth. “If this is some kinda joke, it’s not funny!”
He got up and brushed the snow off of his pants and jacket. He looked to the ground and saw the tracks of the Jimmy heading towards and over the berm.
“Oh shit!” he said as he hobbled up to the edge. He stood at the top of the berm again and looked down. C.T. was lying on a small rock outcropping, about an hundred and fifty feet down the slope. He was groaning and clutching his left arm as he lay on the ledge. Kent could see by his writhing motion that he was in a lot of pain.
Immediately to the left of and farther down the slope of where C.T. was lying, Kent saw the rear end of the Jimmy. It had apparently rolled down on all four wheels, missed hitting C.T. narrowly, and had been stopped by the stolen Volkswagen. Kent could only think of the cars parked on steep hills in San Francisco, only this was a much steeper hill.
He cupped his hands to his mouth to shout at C.T. but the action of raising his arms made his chest ache so badly that he had to drop them again. He called to C.T. but the combination of his pain and the vastness of the snow had made his voice sound muffled and very small. He could tell that C.T. was not reacting to his call.
He tried to clear his brain and think of how he would let himself down to his partner without getting them both stuck on the ledge.
He heard a muffled crunch in the snow behind him. He wheeled around and less than two feet away stood the biggest man that he had ever seen.
Kent reached across his gun belt for his baton to get some room between him and the giant, black-bearded man. In an instant, he realized that this man had to be the murderer from Mill Creek Summit but also, in the same instant, the giant man shoved him with both fists in Kent’s chest, sending him backwards over the edge.
The instant flash of pain made him black out again as he fell noiselessly into the void.He sat up and looked around. He expected to see C.T. standing there, laughing as usual, but C.T. was not where he should have been. He turned around and saw that the Jimmy was gone. He wasn’t sure for how long he had blacked out as he tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind.
“What the hell were you thinkin’, C.T.?” he shouted through clenched teeth. “If this is some kinda joke, it’s not funny!”
He got up and brushed the snow off of his pants and jacket. He looked to the ground and saw the tracks of the Jimmy heading towards and over the berm.
“Oh shit!” he said as he hobbled up to the edge. He stood at the top of the berm again and looked down. C.T. was lying on a small rock outcropping, about an hundred and fifty feet down the slope. He was groaning and clutching his left arm as he lay on the ledge. Kent could see by his writhing motion that he was in a lot of pain.
Immediately to the left of and farther down the slope of where C.T. was lying, Kent saw the rear end of the Jimmy. It had apparently rolled down on all four wheels, missed hitting C.T. narrowly, and had been stopped by the stolen Volkswagen. Kent could only think of the cars parked on steep hills in San Francisco, only this was a much steeper hill.
He cupped his hands to his mouth to shout at C.T. but the action of raising his arms made his chest ache so badly that he had to drop them again. He called to C.T. but the combination of his pain and the vastness of the snow had made his voice sound muffled and very small. He could tell that C.T. was not reacting to his call.
He tried to clear his brain and think of how he would let himself down to his partner without getting them both stuck on the ledge.
He heard a muffled crunch in the snow behind him. He wheeled around and less than two feet away stood the biggest man that he had ever seen.
Kent reached across his gun belt for his baton to get some room between him and the giant, black-bearded man. In an instant, he realized that this man had to be the murderer from Mill Creek Summit but also, in the same instant, the giant man shoved him with both fists in Kent’s chest, sending him backwards over the edge.
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About the Book
A serial killer is loose in the Angeles National Forest. He is savage, ruthless and unstoppable. No camper, skier or hiker is safe.
Los Angeles County Deputy Sheriff Kent Wickham, who patrols the forest, is responsible for finding and stopping this vicious killer. He not only must battle a murderer, but also must fight elements within his own department to restore order to the most magnificent place in Los Angeles County.
Kevin Wright Carney takes you inside a Los Angeles Sheriff's Department radio car and inside the life of a Deputy Sheriff. You will understand police work in a way that you never have before. You will be with the Sheriff's Department and join their quest to stop a human beast, The Beast of the Angeles.
About the Author
Kevin Wright Carney is also the author of A Cold Night in the Atlantic. He is a retired sergeant with the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department.
He has a Bachelor’s Degree in Political Science with an area of specialization in Foreign Government from
He is a certified SCUBA diver and restores antique license plates in his spare time. He also collects and studies water turtles.
He has three grown children and two grandchildren. He lives alone in