Book Excerpt: Murder on the Interstate by Jean Henry Mead

Title: Murder on the Interstate
Author: Jean Henry Mead
Genre: Mystery/Suspense
Paperback: 220 pages
Publisher: Oak Tree Press (April 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-13: 978-1610090148

Two feisty 60-year old women sleuths encounter murder, homegrown terrorism, kidnapping and disasters as they travel Arizona in their motorhome. The third novel in the Logan & Cafferty mystery/suspense series, Murder on the Interstate will leave you breathless.

BOOK EXCERPT:

Lulled by a lack of traffic and the steady beat of rain, Dana was in danger of nodding off when a convertible roared past, followed by a late model pickup. The heavy downpour obscured her view, but they appeared to be coupled like boxcars. Why were they driving that dangerously close, and why so fast in the rain?

An I-40 highway sign signaled an approaching curve so she clicked off the cruise control and slowed to forty-five. Taillights had vanished and she glanced in both side mirrors. The earlier truck traffic had also disappeared and no headlights were visible in either direction. Darkness was closing in on her.

Sarah groaned from the passenger seat, apparently still asleep. Must be the anchovies. Her friend had insisted on stopping for pizza at a Kingman roadside cafe. Dana groped for the Tums. As she rounded the curve, she noticed two sets of brake lights not far ahead. The motorhome swayed as she stepped into her own brakes and skidded on the pavement. Road signs had warned of animal crossings. The convertible might have swerved to avoid hitting a deer and gone off the mountain road. Dana pulled onto the shoulder as the pickup following the convertible screeched back on the pavement. Why hadn’t the driver stopped to help?

Bolting upright in the passenger seat, Sarah said, “What’s happening?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“We’re about to find out.”

Headlights angled upward from somewhere off the road, illuminating a huge digger pine. It had to be the convertible. Dana opened her door and climbed down. The steps were slick with rain and she nearly lost her balance. She heard the passenger door slam as she started down the embankment. Chilled and miserably wet, she slipped and landed in a bed of pine needles. Why hadn’t she grabbed the flashlight? Dana glanced up at her friend, who stood shivering on the shoulder. “Sarah,” she yelled, “Call 911 and hurry.”

The smell of gasoline was strong, despite the heavy rain. The convertible had missed several pine trees but a boulder had stopped its forward motion. Both doors were locked. Peering through the driver’s window, she could see nothing more than shattered glass, a dime-sized hole centering the web design. She then heard several backfires and a ping of metal as though the convertible had been struck by a rock. Realizing it was a gunshot, she dropped to her knees in the mud.

Sarah!

Slipping and clawing her way up the slope, she crawled onto the shoulder. A pickup was parked behind the RV. The driver had a nervous foot. A moment later another set of headlights emerged from the curve down the road. Tires squealed as the pickup roared off. As it passed, the RV’s headlights caught a dark red truck, which appeared to be a newer model. When Dana glanced in the passenger window, Sarah was crouched between the seats, the cell phone clutched in her hand. She took her time unlocking the passenger door.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m not sure.” Sarah patted her chest, breathing heavily.

“What happened?”

“He shot up the motorhome.”

“Did he shoot at you?”

“I don’t think he saw me. He only seemed interested in wounding Matilda.”

Dana hated the name Sarah had christened the RV, but that was the least of her worries. Grabbing a flashlight, she climbed back down the steps. A quick inspection revealed inside tires still inflated but the outer ones in the back were flat. She heard an engine shift down and was caught in the glare of headlights. Signaling with her flashlight, she was relieved when the big truck slowed and pulled in behind the motorhome. The driver seemed to be endlessly checking gauges before descending from the cab. Once on the ground, a warm, plump hand gripped hers in greeting.

“The name’s McCurdy,” the husky voice said. ”Everybody calls me Big Ruby.”

At nearly six feet, she was Dana’s height although nearly twice her girth.

The author’s virtual book tour takes place from May 2-May 27. Three copies of Murder on the Interstate will be given away and one of the winners (from a drawing of blog visitors leaving comments) will be a character in her next book. The tour schedule is posted at:http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/2011/03/25/murder-on-the-interstate-virtual-book-tour-may-2011/