In honor of not blogging for a while, I'm giving you a tease of my new YA novel, BOOMERANG NIGHTS. Here's an excerpt from the first chapter:
The thumping drone of the Camaro’s new headers oozed ‘68 perfection. Or as sweet as the muscle car should’ve sounded way back in 1968. I downshifted and rolled the car to a full stop at the dark Ocean Street intersection. “Sounds badass, you think?” I grinned at my twin.
Silver cranked up her window and mashed her elbow on the door lock so fast I thought she'd just discovered that sea air killed brain cells. “Someone’s hunched over in the ditch.” She squeezed closer to the center console. “Oh. My. God. There’s a body laying down there, too.” Alarm piggybacked on her shaky voice.
I rammed the gearshift in park and reached to unbuckle my racing harness.
She swung her head in my direction, her hand gripping mine before I unlatched the buckle. “You’re not going out there! Let’s just go.”
The streetlight was toast, making it hard to scope out the situation. “Someone could be hurt.” I pushed her hand away and unhooked the seatbelt.
“Call the sheriff,” she almost wailed, jabbing her new smartphone into my side. “Lucas, don’t go. Something’s not right.”
Her unease assaulted my synapses, twitched along my nerves. My twin’s intuition was usually right on, where I acted without a second thought. I stretched across her lap to peer out the passenger window. The trench caught a scant glimmer from my headlights, enough to make out the shadowy shapes.
Shrouded in dark clothing head to foot, a small man or woman crouched over a prone body in the shallow, weedy ditch. Cat-like eyes gleamed. Not moving. Just staring toward the car. Staring at Silver.
She grabbed my hand, squeezed my fingers into bone dust. I flinched.
“Hey,” I called out. “You need help?”
“Lucas! I'm scared.”
“We can’t leave if someone's hurt.” I flexed my fingers to loosen her vise grip.
The cat eyes in the trench flicked right, then left. A low keening, like a death dirge from some creepy ancient ritual, emerged from the ditch.