The Axe
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Linda Griffin
Linda Griffin retired as Fiction Librarian for the San Diego Public Library to spend more time on her writing, and her work has been published in numerous journals. In addition to the three R’s—reading ,writing, and research—she enjoys Scrabble, movies, and travel.
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The Rebound Effect Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSeventeen Days Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsGuilty Knowledge Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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The Axe - Linda Griffin
Don’t you want to know if I killed them?
she asked.
He hadn’t expected that. I want to know whatever you want to tell me.
She made real eye contact for the first time. Coward. You were afraid to ask.
I thought I knew the answer. Did you?
He tried to say it lightly.
Yes,
she said in an odd, dreamy tone. I remember…the axe… It was very sharp. It went in so easily…like slicing butter.
Desi! God!
He leaned over, hands flat on the table, shaken to the core.
See, you didn’t know me after all.
Did you tell the police this?
He dropped into the chair across from her.
I don’t remember.
He raised his eyebrows. You don’t remember if you told the police you killed two people?
Oh, they already knew. I don’t remember if I told them about the axe. I think I just remembered it now. I thought there would be more blood. Their brains were oozing out. The axe was very heavy.
He had thought his life had been blown apart before—now the pieces were too small to gather up. He would have to call the lawyer and ask if they should plead guilty to manslaughter. No, manslaughter meant you didn’t mean to kill them. Can you sink an axe into the back of a man’s head, hard enough to make brain tissue ooze out, and not mean to kill him? What other course did they have? Self-defense? Justifiable homicide? Diminished capacity?
Praise for Linda Griffin and…
The Rebound Effect:
I’m pretty sure this is the shortest review that I’ve ever written but I’m limited to what I can say because I don’t want to spoil anything. Just go pick up a copy and find out for yourself why this book is one of a kind.
~ Long and Short Reviews
Guilty Knowledge:
Griffin has a gift for romantic suspense…An involving mystery elevated by vivid characterizations.
~ Kirkus Reviews
The story was gripping and a brilliant mystery.
~ N.N. Light’s Book Heaven
"Guilty Knowledge is an intriguing story…a compelling tale of murder, secrets, and love." ~ InD’Tale Magazine
Reluctant Hearts:
Griffin’s comfortable at moments of high drama and at the mundanities of life.
~ BookLife
The Axe
by
Linda Griffin
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Axe
COPYRIGHT © 2023 by Linda Griffin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Jennifer Greeff
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Edition, 2023
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-5198-8
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To editor Morena Stamm for taking a chance on a challenging project
Author’s Note: Although the violence doesn’t take place on the page, the victim's description of events and other characters’ well-meaning statements to her may be triggering to some.
Chapter One
Lunchtime?
Desi asked. They were coming up the hill toward the cabin after a leisurely hike to the spring-swollen river, comfortably hand in hand. It was a beautiful blue-sky day, promising a whole weekend of Southern California sunshine.
Definitely,
Eric said, smiling at her. He smiled a lot these days. She was not the sort of girl he had always thought he would marry—she was simply the girl he was going to marry. She was only twenty-three and appeared younger, maybe because of the way she wore her long dark hair in a single braid. She wore stone-washed jeans, a red sleeveless blouse, and scuffed red sneakers, and her lightly tanned skin was like honey.
Ahead of them rose a murmur of voices and the familiar thunk of an axe. It sounds like it’s on the property,
he said, frowning. Plenty of fallen branches lay around his uncle’s cabin, and nobody would object to other area residents cutting them up for firewood, but none of the locals would do so without first asking permission.
There’s a truck up there,
Desi said, pointing. The pickup was barely visible through the trees.
Go on up to the cabin,
he said. I’m going to tell them to ask next time.
She didn’t let go of his hand. Don’t start a fight,
she said.
I never start fights,
he said. I’ll be polite.
She stayed close as they climbed toward the truck. Desi never followed instructions unless she wanted to. She just ignored them.
The pickup was a very old, battered Dodge with California plates. Beyond it were two bearded men in plaid flannel shirts. The