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    Knife Wound: A Collection of Murders
    Knife Wound: A Collection of Murders
    Knife Wound: A Collection of Murders
    Ebook54 pages48 minutes

    Knife Wound: A Collection of Murders

    By Brad Chambers

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    About this ebook

    A collection of violent deaths. None of them from natural causes. Seven short stories chronicling the deaths of seven different people. From the good Samaritan along the highway, to the criminal caught stealing from his boss, none were expected.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBrad Chambers
    Release dateOct 15, 2017
    ISBN9781370481231
    Knife Wound: A Collection of Murders
    Author

    Brad Chambers

    Brad Chambers is a writer of Science Fiction, Mystery, and Romance. He lives in central Illinois with his wife of thirty years and a yellow Lab named Jonah.

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      Book preview

      Knife Wound - Brad Chambers

      Knife Wound

      Written by Brad Chambers

      Copyright © 2017 Brad Chambers

      Cover art in part by Maarten Van Damme

      All characters and events in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons or events are coincidental.

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Night Storm

      Knife Wound

      Summer Night

      A Remembered Face

      The Wrong Part of Town

      Home To Eve

      George

      Night Storm

      The lightning temporary blinded me before I even knew I was awake. The crash of thunder rattled the glass in the windows and rumbled away into the distance. The grain of the wooden planks that covered the ceiling was burned into my retina like a logo on a plasma TV.

      The image slowly faded as I became aware of my surroundings. The sheet sticking to my sweaty skin, the humidity flowing through the open window on preliminary gusts of the approaching storm, the steady breathing of Sarah. The crash of thunder hadn't even registered through her middle of the night sleep.

      The feeling of being watched crept over me, causing my heart rate to increase and my eyes to search the room in the flickering light of distant lightning. Nothing registered as being out of place and I saw no one, but the unnerving awareness of an unknown presence failed to subside.

      Slowly rolling onto my side I slid my right hand from under the sheet and eased it across the bedside table. My fingers felt the familiar roughness of the grips on my Sig and wrapped around them. A shifting of my body put me on my back again and my left hand found the flashlight that rested on the same table.

      Another scan of the room netted the same results so I swung my feet from the bed and tucked them in the slippers that awaited them on the hardwood floor.

      The sticky air that was buffeting the curtains brought the smell of rain and the scent of the grass I had cut in the evening. The frogs along the creek that wandered past the edge of the yard were singing about the coming storm. A glance out side showed the black of approaching clouds devouring the stars at a surprising speed.

      June always brought violent storms to the midwest. Hopefully this one wouldn't bring tornadoes to the area.

      I shifted my focus back to the bedroom and the feeling that hadn't decreased in the slightest. There was someone in the house. I stood up and moved soundlessly around the bed and to the partially closed door, the suppressor that doubled the length of the Sig sliding back and forth in sync with my eyes.

      The hallway was dimly lit by the flickering green lights on the modem that sat on the bookshelf outside the bedroom door. It did nothing but add ghostly shadows to everything I could see, which was only the bookshelf and a small table that held a few family pictures.

      I knew the door to the guest room was directly across the hall but could barely make out the outline of it until there was another flash of nearby lightning. It lit everything in sight for a split second and then the blackness returned. It had been enough for me to see the door was open. It had been closed when we went to bed.

      My heart pounded as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. The open door proved my feeling of a foreign presence wasn't just the remains of some dream I'd been having before the

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