Requiem For a Stranger: A Heaven Mystery (Heaven Murder Mysteries Book 28)
About
A horn blared—long, furious—and the world snapped into violent clarity. A truck, massive and skidding, its tires hissing on the slick road as it fishtailed across the center line.
Derek’s hands moved before his mind caught up. He jerked the wheel to the right, tires screaming as they lost traction. The car lurched, spinning, the world outside dissolving into streaks of gray and green.
The music reached a crescendo.
A single, thunderous note—
—and then impact.
Metal screamed. Glass shattered. The force slammed into him from the side, throwing his body against the door as the car careened off the road and into the trees. Everything jolted to a stop with a sickening crunch.
Silence.
For a moment, there was nothing.
No rain. No road. No music.
Just a hollow, ringing emptiness.
Then—
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Derek’s eyes fluttered open.
The world came back in fragments. The spiderweb crack of the windshield. The smell of burned rubber and something metallic. The steady tick of the engine as it cooled.
He inhaled sharply and winced. No pain—just a strange, distant pressure, like his body hadn’t quite decided what it felt yet.
“Hello?” His voice sounded wrong. Too loud in the confined space. Too unfamiliar.
No answer.
He blinked, trying to gather himself, but something was off. Something fundamental. He looked down at his hands, turning them over as if he expected to find something written there.
They were steady. Strong. Unfamiliar.
A flicker of panic sparked in his chest.
He swallowed hard. “Okay… okay…”
Who am I?
The question rose slowly, like something dredged up from deep water. He waited for the answer, for the easy certainty of a name, a life, a reason for being here.
Nothing came.
The panic spread.
He pushed against the door, grunting as it creaked open. Rain spilled in, cold and insistent, soaking his sleeve as he stumbled out onto the muddy shoulder. The world tilted, and he steadied himself against the side of the car, breathing hard.
The road stretched out in both directions—empty.
No truck.
No other vehicles.
Just the rain, falling steadily, as if nothing had happened at all.
He turned slowly, taking in the wreckage of the car, the deep gouges in the earth where it had left the road. His heart pounded, each beat louder than the last.
“I don’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t remember.”
The words felt thin. Useless.
A gust of wind stirred the trees, and with it—
The music returned.