Excerpt Wednesday – Twisted Lives

Lightning streaked through the late afternoon sky, followed by ear splitting cracks of thunder. Rain pelted the lifeless form lying on the sodden ground.

"Trevors, get over here!"

Daniel Trevors moved away from the crowd of curious onlookers that had gathered, at the same time wondering what it was about tragedies that brought people out. He motioned to two officers to relieve him, and then rushed to his partner Ben Wilson's side.

"Look at this." Ben pointed at the corpse lying face down.

Daniel squinted, and then focused to where Ben was pointing. He examined the puncture wounds in the man's jacket. "He must have been stabbed twenty times!" He looked at his partner. "You don't think this is connected with the other three, do you, Ben?"

Wilson shrugged. "What do you think?"

"I think we have a serial killer on our hands."

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Excerpt Wednesday – Maggie Quinn

Maggie studied the well-dressed man. She figured him to be near her age. He was rugged with a sturdy build. He was a handsome man, she had to admit, with dark hair and brown eyes. She straightened her shoulders. "I don't fear you," she said sharply.

"And you are?" he asked with the same friendly smile.

"Margaret Quinn, but I answer to Maggie. This is my brother Patrick," she said, nodding toward Paddy, "and our friend Connor. We've just now arrived from Ireland. If you'll pardon us, we'll be on our way."

"It is an unpleasant journey on the ship. Not enough food or water. No proper rest."

"Aye," Maggie replied. "Now please let us pass."

The man did not attempt to unblock their path. "It seems like only yesterday that I was stepping off the ship. I was tired, hungry, and knew not what America offered me." He swept his hands over his fine clothes. "Now look at me. I never lived such a fine life in Ireland."

Maggie's eyes narrowed. "I'm looking, and I see a braggart."

Patrick tugged her arm. "Maggie, this is not the way to start our new life in America." He looked apologetically at Colin Doyle. "Please forgive my sister."

"Paddy, I have a voice," she replied heatedly as she stared coldly at Doyle. "I am not asking forgiveness for my words."

Colin tipped his hat to her. "Well, then, I apologize if my words offended you, Miss Quinn. I am only trying to show you that America is truly the land where dreams can come true. In my case, they did."

Maggie frowned. "Right now we are weak, tired, and hungry from the journey. Can you direct us to where we might find shelter and food? Tomorrow we will seek work after we are rested."

"I know just the place where you can rest. Maybe I can help you seek employment, too. What work would you hope to find?" he asked.

"Patrick and I are farmers," Connor quickly replied. He looked around himself. "I see no fields, but we have strong backs and will work where we are most useful. Can you tell me where we might find a farmer seeking hands?"

"This is New York City. I fear if you intend to settle here in the city, you will be seeking work of a different nature," he replied to Connor.

"No matter," Patrick cut in. "We are not afraid of any kind of work."

"And I assume you are looking as well?" Colin turned to Maggie with a bright smile. 

"I am," she replied. Her instincts told her not to trust him, but she didn't want to believe that his offer of help wasn't genuine. He was taking his own time to offer help. And they did need help. None of them had a clue of what to do or where to go.

"I can help all of you in your search. It may not be glorious work, but it will be honest and enough to pay your expenses."

Maggie's instincts still wouldn't allow her to fully give her trust to him. "And why do you offer your help to strangers? It seems a bit strange," she said.

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Excerpt Wednesday – Maggie Quinn

Maggie glanced at Paddy. His eyes revealed that he was as frightened as she was at their mother's worsening health. She didn't know how to help her mother and did the only thing she could do, which was to offer up another silent prayer for her healing. But she had to face the truth. The Lord would soon take her beloved mother the same as He'd taken Da and her brothers and sisters. She wanted to scream and pound her fists. What had they done to deserve this? She drew a deep breath. No, her faith was being tested. She had to hold on. She had to accept whatever burdens the Lord had placed on their family. She couldn't forsake everything Ma had taught her.

"Maggie, you remind me so much of your father. You have his love for the land. You have his courage and strength of character."

"And Da's red hair and stubbornness to match," Patrick said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Catherine laughed weakly. "My sweet Paddy. The man of the house. So much laid on your young shoulders. I'm sorry, my son."

"I have strong shoulders, Ma," Patrick replied. "Please take some broth now."

"I'm not hungry. Save it for yourselves." She sank back into the pillows and immediately began coughing again.

"Ma!" Patrick said, alarmed at the strangling sounds coming from her throat. He put his arms around her and raised her to a sitting position. The coughing slowly subsided.

Maggie looked at Patrick. His eyes were filled with sorrow, but became brighter as Maggie began rubbing her mother's back and her breathing became less labored.

"Rest now, Ma. Please?" Patrick pleaded.

"There'll be time for that later." She swallowed.

Maggie noted how difficult swallowing seemed to be. "Have some water, Ma. You're parched. Let me get you a cup."

"No," she said in the same raspy hoarse voice. "Tell me about the crop, Paddy. Is it good? Tell me the truth. I hear you and Maggie whispering. Don't lie to me, Paddy."

Maggie's eyes pleaded with Patrick. She shook her head and Patrick nodded. She knew her mother couldn't take the bad news.

Patrick came around the bed and seated himself in the chair next to the bed. He took his mother's frail hand in his and sighed heavily. "I won't lie to you, Ma." He looked at Maggie and shook his head. "The crop is gone."

Maggie had misinterpreted his nod to mean he wouldn't tell her. If she was going to leave them, let her go with peace. She couldn't bear for whatever time her mother had left to be fraught with worry. Maggie anxiously watched her mother's face. Why had Paddy told her? Why couldn't he let her believe they would be fine? She saw the hopelessness in her mother's eyes. The will to fight to live was gone. Ma had no reason now. She could do nothing to protect her children.

"All of it? There's nothing left?"

Paddy blinked and bit his bottom lip. "Yes, Ma. We have nothing left," he replied quietly. "The fields are in ruins. As they were the year before. Now worse."

"All hope's not lost, Ma," Maggie quickly said. "The next crop will be good. We still have five potatoes I put away." She looked confidently at her brother. "We'll survive, Paddy. We need to hang on until next year."

Patrick's forehead furrowed. "No, Maggie. Even if we could find enough food to see us through, there will be no crop next year or the year after that. Don't you see?"

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Excerpt Wednesday – Maggie Quinn

Patrick Quinn, a thin, handsome, dark haired boy of fourteen, squared his shoulders as he looked over the soggy field. He was dressed in a tattered shirt and soiled trousers; his well-worn shoes wouldn't last much longer, but he didn't worry about himself. His family depended on him. His nostrils, filled with the nauseating stench of rotting potatoes, made his stomach lurch. This year he'd hoped for a crop. Anything to sustain them. Now it was gone. He felt the weight of the world come crashing down on him.

He stooped down, surveying the field, and then picked up a rotted potato. He studied it carefully for a few seconds, and then stood and holding it tightly in his hand, thrust his arm toward the sky.

"Why!" he cried as he dropped to his knees in the putrid field. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
                                                      ****
A cottage with a thatched roof and walls made of stones sat almost obscured by the brown countryside, seeming to blend into the landscape. Once it had been a beautiful cottage with lush green grass surrounding it, but now it had fallen into disarray. Still, it was home to the proud Quinn family.

Catherine Quinn, the matriarch of the family, lay in her bed, gravely ill. She was a frail woman in her late forties, who looked much older. She'd been a beauty in her day, but now her once dark silky hair had turned gray. The past few years had taken a heavy toll on her, and now she was succumbing to the fever that had claimed so many of her loved ones. Her feeble hands clutched at her threadbare nightdress. She struggled to speak. Her once bright eyes were now dull and almost lifeless as she tried to focus.

The inside of the cottage was sparsely furnished, with many of its possessions sold long ago. The main room contained Catherine's large bed, which had been brought out of the room she'd once shared with her husband and placed in the main room to provide more warmth for her. The other two rooms belonged to her children. Next to the bed where Catherine laid, the family Bible and a bowl of water sat on a little table. The opposite end of the room contained a small wooden table with four chairs. On one wall was a long shelf where food and dishes were stored. All of the furniture was crudely made. A large window stood at the front of the room, and a smaller one at the opposite end. The walls
were bare except for some religious pictures. The floor had no covering, and many of the boards were rotting. A large fireplace took up almost one entire side of the room, and was used for cooking as well as heat. The home used to be filled with fine furniture and two couches and comfortable chairs. They were gone now, having been sold to purchase food for the family and pay the ever increasing taxes. But it was never enough, and money was as scarce as food.

Catherine shifted in the bed. She opened her mouth and again struggled to speak. Her words were faint and garbled.

Maggie Quinn, a beauty at the age of twenty-two with flowing dark auburn hair, looked up from where she sat at the table quietly mending her brother Patrick's shirt. Around the village, Maggie Quinn was known for her determination and strong willed feisty character. It took a lot to break her spirit. Not even this desolation could break her pride in her beloved Ireland. The land would come back, she was sure of it, and voiced it to whoever would listen. Soon the fields would be prosperous, and there would be enough money to purchase proper food and clothing once again, she would say. But friends were long gone, and the family rarely had a visitor…not even Maggie's fiancé Ian O'Malley. But she knew that he had his own family and crops to deal with. His family hadn't fared any better than hers. The lazy days of strolling through the meadows were gone, but she prayed every day that they would soon return. When they did, though, she knew nothing would be the same. Those taken due to the fever would never return. A pang pierced her heart.

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Excerpt Wednesday – Murder In The Pinelands

Evan swallowed hard. "By the condition of his body." He blinked back tears. "It was almost unrecognizable."

"Did you call anyone else?"

"No. Only the police. I couldn't get cell phone service in the woods."

"What did you do after you discovered the body?"

"I drove home so I could contact the police."

 Detective Edwards frowned as he studied Evan for a few seconds. "Let's go back to last night. What happened after the three of you returned to the car?"

Evan cleared his throat. "I pulled onto the road and only drove a short distance, when something all of a sudden appeared in the middle of the road, blocking us. My hands began to shake and I froze."

"What do you mean by something appeared in the road? Was it an animal?"

Evan bit his bottom lip and visibly shuddered. "No. It wasn't human either."

"What did you see, Evan?" Detective Edwards asked with a touch of impatience in his voice.

Evan scrunched up his face. "I don't exactly know how to describe it. It was tall, taller than any human being. It stood like a human but it was horrible looking, and had bright red eyes. It began making a loud, screeching, piercing sound, and I covered my ears."

"So, you are telling us that you saw a monster?" Edwards asked through slanted eyes. "Had you ever seen anything like it before?"

"No, but what I saw wasn't human," Evan said evenly.

Detective Jones exchanged a look with his partner, and then took over the questioning. "Do you think it was the Jersey Devil?"

Evan shrugged his thin shoulders. "I don't know what it was, and that is the truth," he insisted. "But from what I've read, it sounds like it."

"Let me get this straight," Detective Jones continued. "Your friend is in the woods all alone, and something inhuman is blocking the road."

Evan nodded. "Yes."

"Then how did you get past it?"

He paused for a few seconds. "It started coming closer and I thought we were in for it, but then it stopped for about a minute and turned its head, and looked toward the woods on the other side of the road—where Aaron was. Then it just ran into the woods."

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