“Come on, Mom!” I shouted. “Run!”
“Hand in hand, we skirted the fallen man and darted out the back door. Rain and wind struck us like a wall. Mom slipped and fell.
“I lost my house shoe,” she wailed as I pulled her out of a puddle.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the killer struggling to regain his feet. My heart in my mouth, I splashed through the rain, pulling my mother along. Jerking open the doors of my SUV, we scrambled inside.
“Faster, Darcy, faster!” Mom yelled as I rammed the car into reverse, backed out of the driveway and, tires spinning on the wet gravel, aimed for the bridge.
Water surged over the bridge. I could only guess where the boards ended and the creek began. The heavy current caught us like a giant hand, pushing us sideways toward the swollen stream.
(This is an excerpt from Grave Heritage, the fourth Darcy and Flora cozy mystery.)
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