Title: Sharp AbsenceSeries: Sharp Investigations #1
Published by: BooBerry Books
Release Date: February 24, 2022
Contributors: Kate Anders
Genre: Mystery, Romantic Suspense
Pages: 300
ISBN13: 979-8-9855717-0-7
ASIN: B09Q1GNKQF
Add on GoodreadsWhen her final year of college turns into a disaster, Kenzie Sharp can’t wait for it to be over. Thankfully, her best friend is by her side, especially when dealing with the cheating ex-fiance and his new girlfriend. With graduation around the corner, the best friends are making plans for a fresh start in a new apartment.
So when Kenzie arrives home to their apartment only to find her best friend not just gone, but completely moved out, she knows something is wrong. The university says she withdrew. Their friends haven’t seen her. And the police don’t think she’s missing.
Everyone knows when someone goes missing you’re up against a clock. With her back against the wall, Kenzie puts all her money on the line and hires a private investigator. Will Anderson is the definition of an unfriendly ex-cop, but together the two form an unlikely partnership to find her friend.
As the investigation heats up and more women turn up missing, Kenzie must put her life on the line to get the answers she seeks.
Also in this series:
My body comes to consciousness abruptly at the crack of thunder. It takes a few moments for me to open my eyes because everything just feels wrong. Confusion floods my thoughts and an unexplainable feeling of panic. But the real motivator to get moving and open my eyes is the fear that is pumping through my blood. In fact, in this moment, fear is the only thing I’m a hundred-percent sure of.
My eyes take longer than they should to open. It feels like when you sleep way too long and they are caked closed. Only the sensation is different, almost sticky.
Even in the dark, I can tell my vision is blurry. A flash of light illuminates the area in front of me but it takes a while for me to realize it is lightning, gone as quick as it comes, leaving behind only the confirmation that my vision is a hot mess.
Before I even feel the pain, I feel pressure. My head feels like it’s heavy, but oddly, it’s mostly a full sensation at the top of my head with a fullness that makes me think my face might be swollen. But the strangest pressure is coming from my chest. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest, but oddly, there isn’t any pain or discomfort from the pressure on my back.
Bringing my hands up to my face to see if it is in fact swollen allows my body weight to shift, bringing a sharp jerk of whatever is across my chest, startling me.
“What the hell?” I murmur to myself while bringing my hands down to my chest and find a strap across my chest holding me in place.
I’m upside down. How the fuck am I upside down? Well, that explains all the pressure I’m feeling, my face probably looks like a tomato with all the blood rushing to my head. With that figured out, I go back to trying to figure out what’s wrong with my eyes, and sticky is exactly the right word. My face is wet, all over wet. But not all of it feels like water, no, some of it feels thick and sticky.
My pinkie finger brushes up against something embedded in my face, and the pain is startling. It kind of feels like when you step on a pebble and it gets stuck on the bottom of your foot, except different, sharp. It takes a few seconds to get a purchase on whatever it is and pull it out of my face, which only unleashes more sticky liquid down, or rather up, my face. Blood. It’s blood.
Another flash of lightning lets me see my rosary pooled at what is apparently the roof of my car, to be exact. I’m upside down in my car.
How the fuck did this happen?
There’s a hole where the memory should be. The only things left behind are panic and fear. Trying to rationalize that it makes sense I would be afraid if I was about to be in a car accident doesn’t really work. Something tells me it’s more than that. The more I think about it, the more I think I shouldn’t be in this car.
My vision is finally starting to clear up or maybe my eyes are just getting the opportunity to adjust to the pitch black, so I decide it’s time to go.
Fumbling around trying to find the release to the seat belt takes more time than I would expect, I guess being upside down really messes with the way your brain perceives your physical location. As soon as I hit the release, though, nothing happens. The mechanism doesn’t pop out and my weight is still resting on the seat belt, keeping me attached to the seat.
“Think, think,” I whisper.
The door. I should try the door next. As soon as my arm starts to cross over my body, I feel this sharp and sudden overwhelming pain. It feels like someone is wrenching my arm out of the socket. The pain is so intense and sudden that I start to get dizzy and feel like I’m going to pass out. Clutching my arm against my chest, I try to hold on to consciousness while realizing how much trouble I’m really in.
A few seconds pass before I realize I have a knife in my glove box that I could use to get out of the seat belt.
There’s no way I can reach the glove compartment with my left hand, so with the only option being my injured right arm, I take a deep breath and push through the pain. Tears start welling up in my eyes and a cold sweat breaks out along my skin as I finally feel my fingers wrap around the cold steel of the knife.
I take another deep breath, knowing what comes next is bound to hurt just as much.
It’s not like the movies where I could just swipe through the seat belt and suddenly be free. No, it’s a lot harder than that. I’ve been hanging upside down for who knows how long, I’m clearly injured, and my body is quickly getting weaker and weaker the longer I’m in this cold and wet car. What must have been minutes pass by as I struggle to saw my knife through the tightly woven fabric of my seat belt.
The last swipe of the knife has me propelling down to the roof of my car with no way to catch myself. The shock of hitting the roof echoes through my body and leaves a wake of pain in its path.
I should be feeling better about this. I’m making progress. But honestly, I only feel worse.
My body hurts worse than when I woke up and I feel way more panicked now that I am free than I did when I was pinned down. It doesn’t seem logical.
I let myself just lie on the roof for a few minutes before I realize that my body is starting to shake and my teeth are starting to chatter against each other. The urge to take a nap is starting to take hold and the fear I had been battling up until this point starts to take a back seat.
Get up. You have to get up. I lift my head up to look around. I know I just heard a voice, but I can’t see anything. And the only thing I can hear right now is music coming out of my radio. I think I imagined it. Either way, it feels like good advice.
Rolling over takes time, as I try to protect all the areas of my body that are aching. The palms of my hands keep landing on top of little pieces of glass I assume are from the windshield, I think a few have actually embedded themselves into the skin. When my hand finally hits the cold wet grass, it’s startling.
I no longer want to sleep and the fear is starting to take hold again. I’m still on my hands and knees as I make it out of the car and look around.
Now that I’m out, I can tell I obviously crashed, and the lighting is better so I can get a better idea of what’s going on and where I am. Even with more light, I’m struggling to figure out which direction to go, I see headlights coming toward me and that’s when everything in my body shifts.
A cold sweat breaks out against my skin and my heart starts pumping harder and I can feel my pulse in my ears. I probably have a head injury and my body is definitely battered and bruised, but I know I can’t head toward the road and those lights.
There is no doubt in my mind, not even a little, that I need to move in the opposite direction.
I start dragging my body toward the tree line, at first feeling the wetness of the grass saturate through my jeans even more before I’m able to get into an upright position. I give thanks that I didn’t wear flimsy shoes, my leather boots did a good job protecting my feet in the crash, and I get the feeling I’m going to need that protection as I start hobbling into the trees.
I risk a quick look back when I see the lights stop moving next to my upside-down car.
The only thing I know for sure is that whoever this person is, they are in a car similar to mine and that in no way should I call out to them for help.
I start moving faster into the woods, trying to be as quiet as I can, hoping beyond all hope that whoever was in that car didn’t see me limping into the woods.
But I don’t have that kind of luck. I hear the door slam shut, bringing about a second wind I didn’t know I had in me.
The woods are densely packed, which I’m grateful for because I’m having trouble keeping myself both upright and moving forward. I keep tripping over roots or things on the ground, mostly because my legs feel like they are made of cement and it’s hard to lift them high enough to get clearance. I keep my left arm as outstretched as possible to keep finding trees to hold me upright while I keep my right arm tucked into my side, trying to protect the shoulder from being jostled any more than it has to be.
I quickly pause to catch my breath, letting me hear someone starting to enter the woods behind me.
Fight, flight, or freeze. I’ve heard about it a million times. My body wants to freeze, to simply stay still to avoid the pain. My brain, though, is screaming, RUN.
Knowing there is no fight in me, I start moving forward as quickly as I can. Even knowing I am being chased, I can’t help but to chance a look back. I can’t even tell where the tree line begins, let alone make out the shape of a body.
I finally start building up a hobbling rhythm as I stumble through the woods. I know I’m making too much noise. I know I am probably the easiest person in the world to track right now. The grunts alone are leaving a sound trail to follow as I stumble around.
Fuck, I don’t even know which direction I should be running, just that I should be running.
And that’s when I hear it. A voice. It’s close to me and moving closer.
I wasn’t fast enough.
I wonder how many before me weren’t fast enough.
