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    Dark Shots
    Dark Shots
    Dark Shots
    Ebook84 pages1 hour

    Dark Shots

    By DB Morgan and Tim Myers

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Nine Dark Mystery Short Stories from New York Times Bestselling Author Tim Myers writing as DB Morgan!

    A Badge of Honor and Shame
    Brand New Sheriff Pickens has a bad murder on his hands his first day on the job, and his own father is one of his suspects!

    Be My Valentine
    Suzanne finds a very disturbing valentine on her desk, but that’s just the beginning.

    Mirrored Messages
    When young Wendy Jefferson disappears on the day a private detective’s mother dies, he has no idea that the events are tied together until he begins to get messages from beyond the grave.

    The Bloody Trail
    When a couple go hiking alone on the Appalachian Trail, they find more than they bargained for.

    Stainless Steel Fist
    Is it the man, or the weapon he chooses, that creates evil?

    Deep Six Dreams
    Taking a dive can have more than one meaning.

    Tied Up in Knots
    There’s more than one way to tie.

    A Letter to Tina
    Obsession can take many forms

    Bad Timing
    Watching the clock has never been more important.

     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTim Myers
    Release dateMay 22, 2015
    ISBN9781513012766
    Dark Shots

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      Book preview

      Dark Shots - DB Morgan

      Introduction

      I believe that we all have a dark side, no matter how deeply we’ve tried to bury it.  Writing fiction, in particular, mysteries, allows the dark to come into the light in the strangest ways.  While I’m known mostly for my cozy traditional mysteries, from time to time I find myself writing things with the most sinister overtones.  When these stories have presented themselves, I use the name D.B. Morgan to show that this might not be what you’ve grown to expect from me.  Under the Morgan name, I’ve written, to date, five suspense novels, including Iced, Trapped, Cornered, Caved In, and Hunted. 

      For those of you who like a darker glimpse into the souls of mankind, I present these short stories to you.

      But be warned, if you’re expecting a Tim Myers cozy mystery, it’s time to stop reading now.

      If you do choose to press on, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

      D.B. Morgan, aka Tim Myers

      Table of Contents

      A Badge of Honor and Shame

      Be My Valentine

      Mirrored Messages

      The Bloody Trail

      Stainless Steel Fist

      Deep Six Dreams

      Tied Up in Knots

      A Letter to Tina

      Bad Timing

      A BADGE OF HONOR AND SHAME

      On my first day on the job as sheriff of Calavar County, I looked down at the body of Sara Acres sprawled out on the dry and brittle November grass in the late afternoon sun.  There was a hunting knife jammed to the hilt through her pale yellow blouse, driven down between her champagne-glass breasts.  I had to choke back the greasy fried chicken I’d had for lunch.  It wouldn’t be good for my deputies to see me heaving my guts out in the middle of a crime scene, but for a second there, it could have gone either way before I gagged the sour bile back down.

      The problem was more than my inexperience with dead bodies; this was personal.  Sara and I had gone to high school together.  We’d even dated for a few months during our senior year before she’d moved up to Greg Matthews, the captain of our football team.  If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the way she’d fit so snugly against me as we’d slow-danced at Homecoming, even though it had been five years ago. 

      I’d heard rumors around town that Sara had started dating older men; not interested in looks anymore, but drawn to power instead.  If half of what I heard was true, Sara had been keeping some pretty influential company for a girl her age.

      I had to wonder if that was why she was laying there now, her life drained out of her like spent coffee from an urn. 

      The smell of Jasmine Sin lay heavy in the air.  Sara had never been shy when she applied perfume.  Her long, cornhusk-colored hair spread out around her head in a golden halo. 

      One skewed leg had pulled up her skirt, and her smooth ivory thighs—along with the briefest pair of purple panties I’d ever seen—were exposed to the world. 

      As I knelt down to give her what little dignity in death I could, a strong hand landed heavily on my shoulder.

      You shouldn’t touch anything until the M.E. gets here.  Sir.  The last was obviously added as an afterthought; I could hear it in Marvin Wilkes’ voice.  He’d served under my father before me, and I knew he wasn’t all that happy about me being his new boss.

      Tough.  He was going to have to get used to it.  Wilkes was taller than me by a good six inches, and he had at least fifty pounds on me, most of it rock solid muscle, but I wasn’t going to challenge him to a fight.  I was his boss, and the sooner he accepted that, the better off we’d both be.  Still, he’d been right in his instruction, so I couldn’t reprimand him for setting me straight.

      No, I wouldn’t do that, I said as I eased back up.

      We were standing at the edge of Davis Park in Fiddler’s Grove.  A jogger had spotted the body, a place more suited for family picnics and bonfires than homicide.  From the look of things, we were attracting quite an audience of folks who had come out to enjoy one of our last warm days before winter set in.  A few of them were straining to get a better look, pushing against our hastily erected barriers. 

      You need to keep everybody back, I said.  We’ve got enough on our hands as it is.

      Henson, he shouted to one of my other deputies.  Make sure nobody crosses the barrier.

      I’d expected Wilkes to handle it himself, but it wasn’t worth arguing about.  I’d deal with him later.  Right now, I had more pressing things on my mind.

      I heard a car drive up, spraying gravel as it skidded to a halt twenty feet from us.  Instead of the medical examiner’s van—which I’d been expecting—it was a jet black Ford 150, my dad’s truck.  ‘Rough’em Up’ Robert Pickens had been the sheriff before I took over, and he hadn’t exactly been thrilled about passing the torch on to me.  All in all, he was the last person on earth I wanted to see at this crime scene.

      Like my father before me, I’m the sheriff of Calavar County, a small district in North Carolina that kisses the Tennessee state line.  It was hard enough being Robert Pickens’ son; I could only imagine how difficult it was going to be replacing him as sheriff.  But I was going to do my damnedest.  I had a job to do, and I aimed to do the very best I could.

      I’d been elected legally and above board, no matter what my opponent had claimed.  Was it my fault that the ballots for the election didn’t have room enough for first names, or that I was legally R. Pickens, just the same as my dad?  He’d wanted to run again himself, and after serving six consecutive terms as sheriff, the county wanted that too, but a mild heart attack just before the filing deadline meant he couldn’t do it, and he and his friends downtown pressed me into service.  Before I knew what was happening, my name was on the ballot,

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