Welcome to Tuesday Test Day! Each Tuesday, I share a snippet from one of my stories, along with three options. To enter, guess which of the three options the snippet is from.
Post your answer in the comments before Sunday evening at 5 p.m. CT. (You may respond here or on my Facebook page). Each Monday, I will randomly draw a name from all the correct answers and that person will win a $5 Amazon Gift Card. Winners will be announced in the next Tuesday Test Day post.
Last week’s winner is…
Congrats!! Please email me at Alicia@AliciaDean.com and I will send your $5 gift card. Thank you for playing!
(The correct answer was Thicker than Water)
Which of the below stories is this snippet from?
“Mr. Clayton?” Sam called.
No answer. She caught a shadowed figure in her peripheral vision and whirled, her hand flying beneath her jacket to her shoulder holster.
An embarrassed laugh left her throat when she saw what had startled her. It was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Judge Mona Morrison. It stood just inside the door to the left, hidden from her view until she’d stepped inside.
Sam shook her head and glanced around the room. Something still didn’t feel quite right. Clayton was supposed to be here working all evening. Even the guard had thought he was here. He could have gone to the restroom, or maybe a break room for a cup of coffee. But the entire building felt deserted. As if she was the only living human here.
A clattering noise broke the silence, like something shaking around inside a box. It sounded like it was coming from this room, but she couldn’t identify its source.
She pulled her weapon and glanced behind her. Nothing.
“Mr. Clayton?” she called again, moving further into the room.
She made her way cautiously to his desk and when she peered behind it, she saw him. Or, at least, she assumed it was him, even though she’d never met him. He looked to be in his mid- thirties, short, neat brown hair and a goatee. Nice-looking man. Well, he had been a nice-looking man. Now he was a corpse.
He was lying half in, half out of his chair, his eyes wide and staring, his mouth contorted in a death grimace. His flesh was reddish and swollen, one eyelid slightly drooping.
Sam holstered her weapon and grabbed her lapel mic, calling for an ambulance as she knelt to check him. Putting her fingers against his pulse, she confirmed he was beyond help.
Despite the physical characteristics she’d noticed on his face, she didn’t see any visible signs of injury. Did he have a heart attack? He wasn’t old, but even the young were susceptible to heart problems. Sighing, she stood. As she did, she noticed a mark on Clayton’s neck.
Two small holes. Fang marks.
Sam went numb and at that moment, the clattering sound resumed. Only this time, she recognized it. It was a rattle… A snake.
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