Truck Black

S. M. Anderson

Description

In the small town of Hebert, Illinois, a body is found behind the truck stop that disappears twenty-four hours later. Then there’s another disappearance, doubling every night. A trucker arrives at the sheriff’s office with a theory that the sheriff finds hard to believe. The trucker’s theory is that his ex-partner is responsible. When the problem in Hebert is in the stages of being resolved, the sheriff and two young volunteers head for Kalamazoo, Michigan, to meet up with the young trucker, his new partner, and a detective. Kalamazoo is experiencing the same problem as Hebert, only on a much larger scale.
Can the mysterious disappearances be stopped? Can the one responsible be found and brought to justice? If these volunteers and the police department fail, what is next?

Sujets

• Science Fiction
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 14 décembre 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781524562830
• Langue: English

Extrait

TRUCK BLACK
The Beginning
 
 
 
 
 
A Novel By
S. M. Anderson
 
Copyright © 2016 by S. M. ANDERSON.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-5245-6284-7

eBook
978-1-5245-6283-0

 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
Rev. date: 08/19/2022
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
753334
Contents
DISCLAIMER
DEDICATION
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
DISCLAIMER
The story takes place in the fictitious town of Hebert, Illinoi, but then moves to Kalamazoo. The streets in Kalamazoo are according to a city map. However, the rest of the residential and commercial areas are fictitious, as are the buildings and streets of Effingham and Hebert.
The characters are also fiction and any names or personal traits are purely coincidental and not accredited to any living person.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to all the truckers who drive the long roads for hours on end for companies, for families and for themselves.
The old-time truckers who, like my dad, still flash their lights to say thank you to another trucker or a courteous four-wheeler.
To the women who drove years back. There were too few of you who put up with a lot of criticism in order to pave the way for every woman trucker on the road today.
And especially to John Anderson, who drove over the road for more than 25 years and was the inspiration for this book with his wealth of information regarding truckers and trucking.
Chapter 1
The Freightliner pulled into the Union 76 Truck Stop in Effingham, Illinois around 3 a.m. You could hear it coast through the lot but could not see it. The trailer and tractor were both pitch black. Even the windows were tinted dark, almost black.
It bypassed the fuel pumps and backed into an empty space in the last row of the lot. This row was usually full of partying truckers. This trucker wasn’t looking for a party.
The truck looked ominous, every inch of it jet black. The D.O.T. numbers were prominent on the driver’s door. But curiously there was no company name, no city or state noted anywhere. There was no front plate on the tractor. Even more curious, no one would recall what state the plates on the trailer were from when the truck would leave.
The rig was backed into a spot between another Freightliner and a Kenworth. It sat idling for only five minutes when the engine suddenly became silent. No one was seen exiting.
In the morning, around 7 a.m., just after the sun rose, a driver’s door opened. Out stepped a tall young man. He was dressed in dark jeans, a black t-shirt and black boots. His brown hair was tussled by the breeze, all except for the braid which extended down his back to his belt line. He walked around the truck, checking tires and lines. He had a ruggedly handsome face, piercing blue eyes and a prominent jaw line comparable to his North American Indian heritage. His skin was golden bronze and flawless.
He was approximately 6 feet 2 inches tall with a very slim waist. His shirt could not hide the rippling muscles of his arms or his powerful chest. He walked with a purpose, a man who knew where he was going and how to get there.
He strode across the lot and entered the restaurant. He looked around and quickly found a booth in the back that was empty, both booths on either side similarly empty.
As soon as he sat down, a waitress appeared at his booth asking for his drink order.
“Coffee, black,” he said in a very deep but clear voce.
“Be right back,” the waitress said as she turned back toward the counter.
Krystal walked in behind the counter to get the coffee cup, which she then filled and placed a spoon inside. She grabbed a glass, filled it half full of ice and then topped it off with water from the Pepsi machine.
She delivered his coffee to the table in record time along with a menu and silverware. Without looking at the menu, he ordered a two egg breakfast. When he finished ordering, he looked up at her and smiled. She smiled in return and went about her job.
In less than ten minutes, she delivered his breakfast and refilled his coffee cup for the third time. He ate his meal with relish and sat savoring another cup of coffee. He lingered in the booth, not aware that the restaurant had pretty much emptied out. There still lingered a tourist couple in a booth near the front and two truckers at the counter. The restaurant had gotten very quiet.
He sat and watched the waitress as she took care of her other customers, delivered their orders and then cleaned up after they left. She had good rapport with the people who came in and he noticed that she had called a couple of the truckers by their first names. She had even asked one of them about his wife and kids. The truckers responded to her in kind, comfortable with her. He noticed that although she was very receptive to the truckers, she wasn’t flirtatious in any way.
She was at least 5 feet 5 inches if not slightly taller. She had long auburn hair and very deep blue eyes. She carried herself with what he would describe as confident power. She never faltered, even if a truck was not being friendly. She had a great disposition and seemed to take things in stride.
When she came back to his booth with the coffee pot and his ticket, he said, “I hope I’m not being too forward, but are you allowed to sit with a customer and have a cup of coffee?:”
She smiled and said, “I’m off in ten minutes and I can join you then. That is if your aren’t in a hurry to leave.”
“I’ve got a lot of time and I’d appreciate the company.”
He continued to watch her as she cleaned off her last table and began her side work. She was full figured but still sexy. She didn’t seem the type of girl he usually met in a truck stop. She was friendly but still kept a businesslike demeanor. She cleared the plates from the tourist booth, finished her side work and clocked out.
She had stolen a few glances at this stranger and was second guessing herself as to why she had said yes to joining him. She didn’t understand what it was about this particular trucker that made her throw caution to the wind.
Chapter 2
Warren was awakened from a sound sleep at 4 a.m. His deputy was on the other end of the line, panicked and incoherent. He was babbling something about a dead woman at the truck stop.
Warren got out of bed, dressed quickly in his uniform, strapped his phone to his belt along with his night stick and pistol. He preferred the Colt but on the job he always wore the 9 mm Glock 17.
When he stepped out on his side porch, the cold air took his breath away. His home was a small two bedroom cabin set back from the county road. It was an old house, handed down to him from his parents. He had always hoped to have a family of his own living here in his home. He always thought that some day he would be building an addition to the home for his first born. He was still single, after all these years.
He had been fortunate to marry his high school sweetheart a year after they graduated. But his good fortune turned to tragedy a short year later when she was run over by a drunk truck driver. Now, many years later, he still held a grudge against what he considered to be rogue truckers.
He had a two car garage which housed his ’55 Chevy Nomad and his Ford pickup. He always parked his police car in front of the garage, right outside his kitchen door. It was readily available in times such as this.
Warren was tall, over 6 feet 3 inches. He was well built, what his mother had always called big boned. He had never been thin, even when he served in the Navy. He considered himself stocky.
His hair was but in a flat top, slightly gray around the temples. He was always clean shaven. Although he had been a cop in Detroit, he still maintained a laid-back country attitude while on or off the job.
He was soft spoken. Even when angered, his voice remained steady. He never raised his voice to make a point. His friends and co-workers knew that when he got very quiet, there was definitely trouble brewing.
He hurried down the two steps to his driveway, waked quickly around the front of his patrol car and got in. the engine started on the first turn of the key. While the engine warmed up, he put on his gloves and adjusted the mirrors. He slowl