Excerpt from Book One:
MURDER in the MANGROVES
​
Text copyright (c) 2020 L. Anderson and L. Linley
​
​
​
Luna reached the spot where Libby had fallen and yelped. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding! Are you hurt?”
Libby felt dizzy and her ears began to buzz. “I don’t think I’m hurt. I just tripped.”
Luna reached down to help Libby to her feet. “Hold on to me. Let me see your hand.”
Libby swayed against her friend and caught her breath, looking down at herself. Blood smeared her yellow t-shirt and stained her denim shorts. Both hands were covered in it, but she couldn’t feel any cuts or abrasions on her palms. Her knees hurt slightly, but they weren’t skinned. Where was all this blood coming from?
Bewildered, she glanced at Luna and saw that her friend was frozen, her mouth open in terror, staring at something near Libby’s feet.
“What?”
Libby’s skin prickled all over and her veins went ice cold, despite the warmth of the day and the oppressive humidity. There, laying in a muddy knot of mangrove roots, stretched the severed leg of what could only be a full-grown man.
Her mind reeling, her chest heaving, she stumbled off the path and threw up.
Behind her, a few steps away, Luna was no longer frozen, and moved through the grove, thrashing at the bushes.
Suddenly, she called out, her voice shrill. “Crap-on-a-cracker, he's dead! The rest of him is over here, Libby... And this guy is deader than dead.”
​
​
​
​
​
​