Excerpts from Death by the River
Crickets chirped and mist curled around him as Beau eased out of the crack in the wall to the cells. The chill in the air teased his sweaty skin, but the surge of power pounding through his blood was like liquid fire.
The rush consumed him. He knew in that instant he would find another victim, but his rational mind begged him to be careful.
Don’t get caught.
He chuckled. Besides the money, his father still had hefty political clout in Baton Rouge, thanks to his notorious grandfather and years of murky business dealings. The family name had spared him in the past from legal proceedings and institutions. It would again.
Heading toward the fountain across the grassy field, Beau considered his next night of fun. Before he reached the forgotten angel, a flash in the corner of his eye made him turn.
Amid the trees, crowding the edge of the property, something darted in and out. He could just make out a long, white hooded cloak, fluttering and billowing at the edge of the woods. Then it disappeared.
His heart rocketed to his throat. It can’t be!
All the stories he’d heard of the lady in white of The Abbey came rushing back at once, intensifying his panic.
Then he calmed. Someone had to be messing with him. It wasn’t the girl. Kelly had taken off, a bawling mess, across the field several minutes before and he’d heard the slam of the iron gate. He was alone. Unless … the guys had pulled a fast one on him.
But the guys don’t know about your room in the cells.
Beau cut across the grass, anxious to get to the iron gate and back to the party. Almost to the path, he glanced back over his shoulder to the patch of trees where he had seen the ghostly presence. Nothing was there.
It was just your imagination. Or was it?
He made it to the party at the beach, relieved to be back among people, but the incident with the ghost had eradicated his high.
He hungered for it to return but would have to wait.