Mount Hood Murder [EBOOK]

<h3>Prologue</h3>
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A fat drop of wet and sticky sweat ran from the man’s brow, stinging his eyes. The discomfort caused him to blink rapidly, rubbing his eye with shaking fingers. His other hand gripped at the steering wheel, attempting to keep the car straight on a dark, narrow road. He hated country lanes. It was much easier to drive, when under the influence of alcohol, in the bright city streets; one could see clearer.
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Now and then, his vision blurred. He screwed his eyes up to better focus on the dark road he was driving along. Of course, he shouldn’t be driving in his condition but he had no choice; they might be following him!
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He kept glancing in his rear-view mirror to check there was no one behind him. If they caught him, he was a dead man! These people had no scruples about using violence. The image of a burly guy hammering on his door demanding money was burned into his mind. After this had happened at his home in the morning, it caused him to be nervous.
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Suddenly, the car bounced, spinning out of control. The vehicle veered off towards a tall hedgerow. Tires screeched, and the smell of burning rubber assailed his nostrils as he hit the brakes, attempting to stop the moving ton of metal. In what seemed like forever, but was only a matter of seconds, the car finally came to a sudden stop. It jolted his body hard against the seatbelt that tightened around his chest.
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Sitting stock still, the man stared ahead with a blank expression. He tried to get his mind to focus on what had happened. As his brain leaked the information the reality hit him and he felt sick. Did he hit something? He couldn't see anything staggering around. It must have an animal or, God forbid, a person!
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Undoing his seatbelt at speed, he clambered out of the car. The chill of the night air hit him, cold and clammy with a layer of mist swirling around him. He looked in the direction that he’d come from, again making sure he was still alone.
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Swivelling back around to look to the front, he spotted a dark crumpled shape in the middle of the road. His stomach lurched with the acidity of bile. What little food was in there soon projected out of his mouth, splashing onto the ground. With a stinging throat, he coughed, wiping the back of his hand over his lips.
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Staggering towards the shape in the road, his balance was off and he was unable to walk in a straight line. His dizziness must be from the crash, and not from the vast amount of alcohol he’d put in his bloodstream earlier that evening. The closer he got to the shape, the heavier the rock felt in the pit of his stomach. Each movement felt like a step closer to his impending doom.
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Why was there no movement? Shouldn't there be some sign of life by now? His anxiety increased; there was nothing. The huddled shape lay there - motionless.
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Arriving at the alien lump, he looked down at it. A cold, clammy sweat tingled at the back of his neck. His heartbeat thumped so hard in his chest, that he wondered if he might have a heart attack. Now, he knew what he had hit. His worst fears were confirmed. It wasn’t an animal - it was a man; he’d run someone over with his car!
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His first reaction was to scream out in disbelief. “What! How! This can’t be happening!”
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Soon, he found himself kneeling on the ground, a pool of blood spreading out from the man’s head. Quick! He had to act or the man might die.
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“It’s okay, I’m… I’m going to go get help, but…”
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But he knew he was lying. He had no intention of getting help. No way did he want anyone to know what he’d done.
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What had he done anyway? What was going on? He felt so confused! Should he drive off before the man came around? Surely, in this darkness, the guy could never recognise his car.
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Leaning closer towards the prone body, he checked for a breath, but there was nothing. Oh, jeez… the guy's dead!
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As his brain dealt with the situation, he could see that the guy must have been a jogger by his attire. Why would anyone be out jogging on a dark, country lane in the fog? Serves him right! It was his own fault. He'd made himself a target for some innocent car driver. No one could blame me for running the idiot down, could they?
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Once again, the man panicked and looked at the road behind him… making sure they hadn’t caught up with him yet. That’s when an idea formed inside his drunken head. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
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Using all his strength, which wasn’t very much given his intoxicated state, he dragged the body to his car. A trail of blood was left behind in his wake. Dropping the dead weight onto the ground again, he opened the boot of his car. Once again, he struggled to pick up the body and allowed it to slump into the depth of the car boot.
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Slamming the boot door shut, he heaved a great sigh of relief. Now for the next part of his plan. It might have been unfortunate for the dead guy, but it would work out perfectly for him. A sinister solution to all his problems.