Page 1 of Grave Danger

CHAPTER ONE

Driving home from the Hollow Leg bar on a quiet, still night, Cody Bower ran over the mayor of Parson’s Hollow.

As he drove along Route 118, a winding stretch of two lane blacktop hemmed in on both sides by thick woods, his happy whistling was interrupted by a man lurching out of the trees into the path of his truck. He caught a momentary glimpse of the man’s face and registered a flash of recognition before shouting, “What the fuck?” Jerking the wheel didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. The passenger side of the truck took the impact, and the tires on that side thumped over the man.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

Jamming down the brake pedal, he skidded to a halt, the backend fishtailing along the road. Once the truck had come to a stop, Cody hit the emergency flashers button and stepped out.

The night was clear but dark. The moon had yet to rise, and the town didn’t have funding for streetlights this far out. Only his flashing taillights illuminated the road, pulsing a sinister red glow across the figure lying a dozen feet away. They were pushing deep shadows into the spaces between trees crowded close to the gravel shoulder. He approached a few feet, then stopped. The taillights blinked with a steady red intensity. Cody had trouble breathing, and his body had gone cold as his mind thrummed with shock. What the fuck had he done? It hadn’t been his fault. The guy—it looked like the mayor, but that was fucking impossible—had walked right out in front of him.

Whatever had happened, a rational part of Cody’s brain was certain it couldn’t be the mayor lying in the road. It had to be someone who resembled the mayor. High ranking city official or not, the truth of the matter was Cody had definitely hit him, run over him in fact, and he absolutely felt like he was going to be sick.

A sudden movement from the body made him jump and take a step back.

“The fuck?” Cody whispered.

Another movement, more pronounced than the first as the man pulled an arm in close, dragging it along the road with an eerie scraping sound. It stopped at the side of his chest, and all was silent again. Then Cody watched in horror as the man slowly got to his knees, his movements jerky and awkward, painful to watch. The steady flash of red light showed the damage to the side of his head and face, and he held his left arm at a strange angle. Cody’s stomach twisted into a brutal knot that threatened to expel the burger, fries, and two beers he’d had at the bar with Jugs. He was thankful he’d stopped drinking when he did so he wouldn’t blow past the legal limit when the sheriff’s deputies eventually showed up. Swallowing past the lump of fear in his throat, Cody took a step toward the man.

“Hey, buddy, you okay? I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you. Jesus, you came out of nowhere. Like, literally, nowhere. There’s just woods out here, and I wasn’t expecting someone to come walking out in front of me in the pitch dark.”

The man unsteadily rose to his feet. His dark suit was torn in places and splattered with what Cody hoped was mud. A dirty, frayed tie hung askew from his neck. He stood swaying slightly and staring out into the woods across from him. With a sudden movement that made Cody jump, the man took a shaky step toward the dotted yellow center line. His left arm swung like it might no longer be attached at his shoulder, and Cody feared losing his dinner if he saw that again. Then the man cocked his head, twitched it around on his neck and fixed him with a look. A rattling shudder of recognition and terror ran through Cody.

This was definitely George Clarke, the mayor of Parson’s Hollow. He’d run over the mayor of their town. That in and of itself was a terrible, awful thing. But even more upsetting was the fact that a few days ago, he and Demmy had attended the mayor’s funeral.

Hadn’t they? He recalled having to remember how to tie a fucking tie. And how the skin of his neck had broken out for a couple of days from the rub of the collar. Not to mention how hot Demmy had looked in his own sport coat and tie, no matter that both were years out of style. Yeah, that had really happened and hadn’t been some kind of amazingly detailed fever dream.

“What the fuck?” He rubbed his eyes and squinted, sure there was some kind of mistake.

The man faced him. The taillights pulsed the same moment he took an abrupt and unsteady step toward Cody. There was absolutely no doubt about it. George Clarke stood a dozen feet away only days after Cody had paid his respects at his casket.

“Um, Mr. Mayor?” Cody said. “You don’t look so good.”

Another unsteady, and unnerving, step closer.

“Okay, keep it together, Bower,” Cody muttered as he took a step back. “There’s a logical explanation for this. This isn’t the actual mayor, it’s just someone who looks like him. Everyone has a doppelgänger somewhere in the world.”

Adrenaline flushed any trace of alcohol from his system. It was, unfortunately, a sensation with which he had become very familiar the last few years.

What the fuck was going on here?

“You stay put, buddy. I’ll call for an ambulance.” Cody backed up another couple of steps. “You wait right there, Mr. Mayor, or whoever the fuck you are. Maybe, you know, take a seat on the side of the road or something.”

He trotted back to his truck and sat in the driver’s seat, leaving the door open and one foot on the road. He grabbed his phone from the console and dialed 911.

“Parson’s Hollow Police, what’s your emergency?” The woman’s voice was cool and efficient.

“Yeah, um, I’m out on Route 118 between the Hollow Leg and town, and someone, some guy, walked out of the woods right in front of my truck, and I, um, I couldn’t stop in time and I… well, I hit him.”

“Okay, sir. What’s your name?”

“Cody Bower.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Cody checked his phone to see if he’d lost the connection. Then the woman spoke again, but her tone had a touch of frost different from her previous efficiency, and he wondered if she was someone he’d dated and dropped somewhere along the way. That list was long, he knew, and he always seemed to be paying for his past, even now that he’d figured all that shit out and was happily married.

“All right, Mr. Bower, I’ve dispatched a deputy and an EMT.”

“Okay, thanks.” He heard a far off siren start up. “I can hear them now.”