Chapter One
he hair on the back of Detective Sean Gaudette’s neck stood
on end. Ken Westin, his former partner, had summoned him here and now the man wasn’t answering his door bell. “Ken, cut
the theatrics.” An eerie silence answered back. Icy hands gripped his spine and his pulse quickened. He was late, but Ken
wouldn’t have left for the bar without him. At least the old Ken wouldn’t have. Sean didn’t think so. Of course,
he hadn’t seen his old friend in several months. Sean’s cop instincts told him all was not well in the state of Denmark.
Looking around, no neighbors walked dogs. No one was about that Sean could ask about Ken. He half expected a tumbleweed to roll down
the street. He tried the solid metal door. With a creak it swung open an inch. Not good. Ken never unlocked his front door except to
let in someone. The low hum of adrenaline began in Sean’s blood. Looking in the window, he saw only darkness, no movement.
Night had fallen a little early with the threat of thunderstorms. Cicadas yelled as if they needed to announce just how hot it was.
Sweat trickled down Sean’s back and he wished for a beer to drink and shorts to wear. “Damn.” He contemplated
calling for backup, but unless he could get a local cop, anyone from his office was at least fifteen minutes away. What had happened
in there? Flipping open his cell phone, he dialed the Jenkins Crossing police. When he hung up a patrol car was on the way. The siren
screamed to him in the distance. Squaring his shoulders, he leaned back and kicked open the door. With gun drawn, he entered the house.
Movement in the kitchen caught his eye. “Freeze, police!”
An excerpt from The Drinking Game by Chris Redding. Buy it at Wings ePress or from Amazon.com.