Murder on Your Trail

By Drew A. Hill

In the small town of Ardenton, Iowa, one would not expect much action. Then a car blows up outside of town. An escaped convict shows up...and is killed on arrival. Another car is stolen from a wealthy retired businessman. And that businessman hires John Smith to protect him.

John Smith, a former police detective, has moved to

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew A. Hill Books
• Release date: May 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798330205424

Book preview

Surprise Visitor

I ran up the stairs to my apartment. I was a little preoccupied, but I suddenly grew alert when I reached my apartment. My door was unlocked. Now, I may have left my door unlocked the last time I was here, but the scratches on the lock led me to assume someone had picked it open.

I took a deep breath, then opened my door and stepped in quickly. I got against a wall just inside and flipped on the light. Then I closed the door. My eyes scanned the room. It wasn’t a complete mess, but several things were out of place. Considering the lights were off when I came in, it was fair to assume the burglar was gone, but I couldn’t be sure. Slowly sliding down the wall, I listened for any sounds.

I almost reached the hallway when the light suddenly switched off again. Blinking my eyes to try to adjust, I was shoved to the ground. I attempted to stand, but was kicked in the side. Rolling away from my assailant, I positioned myself for a leap and dove where I thought my attacker’s legs would be…

Murder on Your Trail

By Drew Hill

Book 1 in the John Smith Series

© 2021

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 979-8-3302-0542-4

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

All Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgements

I especially want to thank my aunt, Debra R. Stacey, for her help through the editing process. I also want to thank my mom, Natale, for also helping me edit. They have helped me so much.

The One I want to thank the most is the Lord. Without His help, I couldn’t have finished this book.

Chapter 1

I looked out my rearview mirror. That gray car had been behind me for a while now. I almost decided to turn to see if the car was really tailing me when they turned off the road first. I took a deep breath. I was too suspicious. It came from a life of dealing with crime.

I was once a police detective, but lost my position over a case I’d rather not talk about right now. Since then, I had filled my time with short stints at different jobs. I wrote two novels, but they did not sell well.

I moved to the small town of Ardenton, Iowa, for three reasons. Well, four, really. First, I just needed a change of pace. I needed to slow down, and a town with less than seven thousand people in it could do that for you. Second, I heard good things about a church in the town. I am a Christian, you see, and finding a good church near where I live is very important to me.

Third, I wanted an out of the way place to open my new business. I was planning to run a bodyguard and private detective service. A bigger city would afford a bigger market, but I was by myself for now and couldn’t handle a lot of business. Also, I wanted to be selective about my jobs, and once people knew about my services, I was sure serious customers would seek me out.

The fourth reason had to do with an old friend named Marty Jaquez who moved to Ardenton before me. He was a fellow police detective from my days on the Omaha force. While I had been trying to find a new career after getting fired, he stuck with his career path, and had accepted the position of chief of police in Ardenton fairly recently. I had only seen him twice since the incident in Omaha, and I wanted to get to know him again.

One thing I hadn’t lost from my police days was suspicion of everyone and everything. That, coupled with all of the novels I’d read and wrote, made me try to find the hidden crime in everyday happenings. Even if it was simply a car on the same road as me for too long.

Even more humorous was the fact that my name was John Smith. Many of the other officers doubted me when I told them. They thought it was a joke. Besides being such a common name, it was one of the most popular aliases for criminals everywhere and had been for a long time.

Suddenly my police scanner went off. I ignored the introduction and turned it up when it got to the main details. Apparently there had been an automobile accident outside of town. A driver lost control and ran off the road into a tree. The car exploded shortly after crashing. One witness called the station, but by the time we got there, the car was engulfed in flames. There appears to be no survivors. The witness took a video of the car before it exploded. Copy.

I kept the radio on as I turned the car around and drove back out to the scene of the crash. I wanted to see this accident for myself. By the time I got there, police had blocked off one lane of traffic. I pulled over onto the shoulder before I got to the yellow tape.

I began walking down the highway to get a better view. Two cops blocked my way. I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to stand back. Just go on around the blockade and continue on your way.

My name’s John Smith.

How nice. Now, please, go back to your car.

I know chief of police Marty Jaquez. Talk to him. He’ll let me through.

The two officers glared at me, but I stood my ground. One of the officers radioed in, then stopped and asked, What was your name again?

John Smith, I answered.

He mouthed the words, Yeah, right, before telling whoever it was he was talking to that my name was John Smith. It took a while, but Marty backed me up, so the officer switched off his radio. Alright, you’re cleared to proceed. Remember, this could be a crime scene, so don’t touch anything. You’ve got ten minutes.

I thanked them and ducked under the police tape. As I got closer to the actual crash site, I looked for the car. I found it, alright—at least what was left of it. Anything that could burn was completely burned to the ground. The metal was in a crumpled heap, and pieces of the car were everywhere. The area around was scorched as well. It seemed to be an awful lot of devastation for a simple car crash.

Two officers were arguing about twenty feet away from the car. One was obviously more experienced, which he emphasized to the other, who was a police detective.

The experienced one said, Look, rookie, you’ve read too many books. You’re looking for a crime behind every door. This is an open and shut case. The driver was texting, or was drowsy, or drunk. He lost control, and the car crashed into a tree. The gas tank leaked, and the car exploded. How hard is that to understand?

The young detective was obviously new, but he stuck with his theory. The tree flew backward about ten feet from the explosion, ripping right off of its trunk. There is almost nothing left of the car. Ten feet of grass in every direction was burnt to a crisp. This was not a simple gas tank explosion. There is something more here than meets the eye.

The experienced one was about to