Kelley Armstrong - Guest Blogger - Day 2

In my last post, I said if I was stuck on a desert island, I might finish a post-apocalyptic fantasy novel of mine. Well, if I did, I’d need to change the main character’s name, because I re-used it for the protagonist of this series. What can I say, I like the name

This is an excerpt from Made to be Broken, my second 100% supernatural-free crime thriller. Nadia Stafford, my ex-cop-turned-hitwoman-and-wilderness-lodge-owner protagonist is investigating the death of her teen mom housekeeping assistant. This excerpt is from later in the novel, but stands alone pretty well. If you’d prefer to start at the beginning, the first three chapters are on my site (http://www.kelleyarmstrong.com/) under the Nadia Stafford link.

Again, I’ll draw a name from comments to win a signed book from my backlist. And because it can be hard to comment on an excerpt, you can do that or you can tell me what you think of non-paranormal thrillers in general—prefer them, prefer paranormal, never read them, etc.

Excerpt:

I sat on my bed, hugging my knees, still dressed, watching the hours flip past. I didn’t dare lie down for fear I’d sleep. With sleep would come the nightmares.

I’d woken Jack with them twice last fall and wouldn’t risk it again. I considered sneaking downstairs for a roll of duct tape. I’d done that once, when I’d been desperate, but the off-chance that Jack might catch me made me stop. Sleeping with duct tape over your mouth? Crazy woman behavior.

The nightmares were always the same. I was running though an endless forest, trying in vain to get home, get my dad, save Amy. I hear Drew Aldrich right behind me, getting closer as the forest’s edge stretched ever farther away.

That part never happened—he didn’t chase me; he’d been too busy raping Amy in the cabin. I’d peered around the corner, seen him on her, heard her muffled screams and I’d run. Left her there and run away. Left her to die. Saved myself.
A parade of therapists have tried to tell me otherwise. I’d been going for help, as I’d been taught, and that was the right thing to do. Everyone told me I’d done the smart thing—my father, Amy’s father, even my mother had snapped “Of course, you should have run. Don’t be stupid.”

I’d done what my father and every cop in our family had taught me from the time I was old enough to set foot outside alone. If anything happens, try to get away. Don’t fight unless you absolutely have to. Run for help. Let us look after the rest.

I’d gotten help, but not in time. In the aftermath of Amy’s death, I’d clung to that promise: let us look after the rest. Justice would be done, one way or another. Only it wasn't. Aldrich went free and all those cops who’d made me that promise let him walk away.

And justice for none.

Even as I considered ways to anonymously alert someone to Sammi’s body, I heard the whispers of the past.

Is anyone really surprised?

Oh, I don’t mean Amy brought this on herself, but . . .

Did you see the way she dressed? Only fourteen, flirting with everything in pants. And a cop’s daughter no less. A Stafford. If they couldn’t teach her better, no one could.

Some girls . . .

I’m not saying she brought it on herself . . .

I don’t think Drew ever meant to hurt her. Things just got out of hand.

Now if it had been Nadia . . .

Yes, if it had been Nadia . . . There’s a good girl. So polite. So helpful. A Stafford through and through. But he never touched her. That says something right there, doesn’t it? Amy, with her tight skirts and her makeup . . .

Some girls . . .

Made to be broken.

I could drag Don Riley to Sammi’s grave, show him her body and it wouldn’t change what he—and all of White Rock—thought of her. If there was any investigation, it would be quick, half- hearted at best.

As for Destiny, they’d claim she was somewhere in those woods. No one in White Rock was going to waste investigative efforts finding another Ernst brat. Right now, the only person who cared who killed her was the one who’d discovered her body.

Finding justice for Sammi wouldn’t change what I’d done to Amy. But I could try.