Dead Shift by Annie Anderson ~ Excerpt
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About Dead Shift by Annie Anderson
Title: Dead Shift
Author: Annie Anderson
Series: Grave Talker #4
Genre: Annie Anderson
Detective Darby Adler is about to hand in her badge.
After inadvertently taking the mantle of Warden of Knoxville, Darby has painted a huge target on her back. With bridges burned and the ABI on her tail, she’ll have to decide between staying a small-town detective or leaning into her new role.
It’s not only her job on the line—it’s her life.
Who says small towns are boring?
Excerpt from Dead Shift
© 2021
Julia Kent
“You know that’s a trap, right?” Thomas growled, his face condescending, but his mind was a whole other matter. Thomas’ thoughts were on my sister—on protecting her. And what was funny about it all was I doubted she knew.
“No shit.” Sloane sneered. “I hadn’t thought, what, with my brother’s penchant for deadly notes that could ever be a possibility. Whatever will I do without your ancient knowledge, Thomas?”
He raised a perturbed eyebrow, but internally he was trying very hard not to laugh.
“Well, if you wouldn’t go running into the fray at every available opportunity, then I wouldn’t have to say painfully obvious things, now, would I?” he shot back, rolling his eyes like a certified teenager.
I couldn’t help it. I snickered.
Sloane narrowed her eyes at me, her skeleton face gone for the moment. “Like you’ve got room to talk.”
It was true I had zero room to give her shit, but it was still funny. Hence why I stuck my tongue out at her. Her gaze fell back to the ground, the silly cardstock catching her focus. Mine followed, the mirth dying in my chest. I wanted to keep it—mainly to get it off the ground and away from prying eyes—but I wanted to burn it, too.
The rustle of a plastic bag startled me out of my destruction plans. J had somehow gotten from the other side of the group and over to me without me noticing, and in his hands was a pair of blue Nitrile gloves and an evidence bag. I swallowed hard, struggling not to lose it at the sheer awesomeness of my best friend.
“Thank you,” I croaked, taking the gloves and donning them by rote. How many times had J handed me a pair of those damn blue gloves? How many times had he been right here for me when I needed him?
And how many times had he been hurt because of this life—the one I dragged him into? J was human, fragile, and that fact was no more apparent now than it had been two days ago when he’d been standing right next to my father as he died. Losing Dad had been a blow, but so was the knowledge that it just as easily could have been J. It could have been him in the ground, could have been him I was mourning. “No problem, D. You know I’ve always got your back.”
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About Annie Anderson
Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, an old man of a dog, and a young pup that makes life… interesting.
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