Tiny Crosses, the first of the Southern Gothic novels on Radish, begins in the height of a mid-south summer. With the summer bearing down on us, I thought I’d hand you a preview of this one, free on Radish.
Boyd finally tuned in after a moment, “We had someone call the police. They’ll be here any minute.”
“What did they see?”
“Just two mean looking dudes, their words, pulling a chick into a van.” The man handed her a piece of paper with a name and number on it. She looked up at Boyd and swore.
Boyd tore the paper from her hands. It was simply his name and a phone number. “Shit,” he said. “What did the girl look like?”
“Young, dark hair, they said.”
Boyd ran for the parking lot. He knew better than to expect anything to be there, but he had to look. What he found was an empty lot and a small black purse leaning up against the building. He picked it up, already sure of the owner. It had Adra’s scent all over it.
They had Adra.
He walked away from the gathering crowd, and dialed the number.
“Well, hello, Deputy,” Whitaker purred the words into the phone, pleased with himself.
“You even get a mark on her skin, and I will tear you into such small pieces they’ll be finding your body for months.”
“Now, wait a minute, let’s be civilized, Bear. I have something you want. You have something I want. We’re adults. Surely, we can come to some kind of understanding here.”
“I don’t have anything of yours, Whitaker.”
“But, you know who does, don’t you? They got my Gigi, and I want her back. Get her for me, and you’ll get this here pretty little thing back with nary a scratch on her. You have my word.”