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    The Drive-By Wife: A Dark Tale of Blackmail and Romantic Obsession - Book 1
    The Drive-By Wife: A Dark Tale of Blackmail and Romantic Obsession - Book 1
    The Drive-By Wife: A Dark Tale of Blackmail and Romantic Obsession - Book 1
    Ebook138 pages1 hour

    The Drive-By Wife: A Dark Tale of Blackmail and Romantic Obsession - Book 1

    By Mike Wells

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    Readers of Sidney Sheldon, Danielle Steel, James Patterson and Nora Roberts will enjoy this explosive psychological thriller. Allen and Cynthia Hunt are an upper middle-class San Francisco couple who find themselves on a deserted hiking trail at the wrong time. A momentary lapse in judgement plunges them both into an endless nightmare that threatens to destroy not only their marriage, but their very lives.

    From Rabid Readers Reviews:
    The Drive-By Wife is a wonderful psychological thriller in the vein of "Cape Fear" and "Misery." If you like Stephen King, Dennis Lehane and Gillian Flynn, you will like Mike Wells.

    "This book is a gripping, absorbing and disturbing portrayal of domestic strife leading to a violent nightmare." - Emma Hunneyball, Book Reviewers (UK)

    "Excellent character development, plot line is through-the-roof original, and the whole premise is marvelously bizarre and intimidating." - The Word Verve, Alpharetta, GA (USA)

    "If you are into psychological crime thrillers grab this book." - Reviewer CristiAk, Juneau, Alaska

    "I have read most of the great thrillers and this is right at the top with them. Wells does not disappoint." Sheena Jennings, Butte, Montana (USA)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMike Wells
    Release dateJan 26, 2014
    ISBN9781311565624
    The Drive-By Wife: A Dark Tale of Blackmail and Romantic Obsession - Book 1
    Author

    Mike Wells

    Mike Wells is an author of both walking and cycling guides. He has been walking long-distance footpaths for 25 years, after a holiday in New Zealand gave him the long-distance walking bug. Within a few years, he had walked the major British trails, enjoying their range of terrain from straightforward downland tracks through to upland paths and challenging mountain routes. He then ventured into France, walking sections of the Grande Randonnee network (including the GR5 through the Alps from Lake Geneva to the Mediterranean), and Italy to explore the Dolomites Alta Via routes. Further afield, he has walked in Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Norway and Patagonia. Mike has also been a keen cyclist for over 20 years. After completing various UK Sustrans routes, such as Lon Las Cymru in Wales and the C2C route across northern England, he then moved on to cycling long-distance routes in continental Europe and beyond. These include cycling both the Camino and Ruta de la Plata to Santiago de la Compostela, a traverse of Cuba from end to end, a circumnavigation of Iceland and a trip across Lapland to the North Cape. He has written a series of cycling guides for Cicerone following the great rivers of Europe.

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      Book preview

      The Drive-By Wife - Mike Wells

      The Drive-By Wife

      A Dark Tale of Blackmail and Romantic Obsession

      Book 1

      by

      Mike Wells

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2013 Mike Wells

      http://www.mikewellsbooks.com/

      This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

      NOVELS BY MIKE WELLS

      Baby Talk

      The Drive-By Wife

      Lust, Money & Murder (series)

      The Mysterious Disappearance of Kurt Kramer

      Passion, Power & Sin (series)

      Secrets of the Elusive Lover

      The Wrong Side of the Tracks

      Wild Child (series)

      Prologue

      Somewhere in the Midwestern United States, a lone tractor-trailer truck roared through the night, its twin chrome exhausts spewing diesel smoke.

      The driver sported a snakeskin cowboy hat and matching snakeskin boots, and was clad head to toe in faded denim. As his weathered hand clutched the gearshift knob, four small faded tattoos were visible across the knuckles:

      D-E-A-D.

      A forlorn-sounding Grateful Dead tune emanated from the truck’s interior speakers. The driver sang along with it, his lips moving behind his beard. The lyrics held special meaning for him.

      He could see her now, clear as the lines on the road ahead of him. Her ethereal, feminine form hovered above the pavement. She was wearing a knee-length satin dress, black pumps, and silk gloves that came almost up to her elbows. She was beckoning to him, smiling, drawing him towards her.

      Mesmerized by the vision, he drove onward, the massive tractor-trailer rig roaring into the night.

      Book 1

      Chapter 1.1

      San Francisco, California

      Two weeks later and a thousand miles away, another man sat behind the wheel of a high end BMW, gazing out the windshield.

      He was wearing a tailored Brooks Brothers suit, a Valentino tie, and a pair of Allen Edmonds wing tips.

      Allen Hunt was a 32 year old C.P.A. He was parked a few doors down from his own home, a majestic Victorian residence in Pacific Heights. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of the master bedroom windows.

      Every now and then he glimpsed his wife’s shadow as it passed back and forth across the curtains. She was preparing to go out. In his mind, Allen carefully scripted what he was about to say to her, then picked up his phone and called his home number.

      He saw his wife’s shadow sweep across the curtains one more time as she went to pick up the handset on the nightstand.

      Hello? she said.

      Hi, sweetie, Allen said, still watching the windows. I’m afraid I have to work late again tonight.

      I have my French class. Remember?

      Oh, I forgot. Your French class. Allen tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but he couldn’t help it.

      She didn’t seem to notice. I left you a tuna salad in the fridge.

      I’ll probably just grab a burger on the way home.

      Suit yourself. Don’t wait up—some of us will probably go out for drinks afterwards.

      Have a good time.

      Cynthia hung up, and Allen scowled as he watched her shadow pass back across the curtains.

      French class, my ass, he muttered.

      * * *

      Moments later, Allen was following Cynthia as she headed down Fillmore Street in her Toyota.

      When she failed to turn right, in the direction of the Fort Mason Center, where her adult education class supposedly met, Allen knew that his hunch had been right.

      He followed her west through the Marina District. They were soon crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. The fog had started pouring in, a sliding river of gray that engulfed all but the structure’s illuminated rust-red towers. For a moment Allen panicked, thinking he might lose her in the heavy rush hour traffic. But when he reached the other side of the bridge and began to climb the hill, he emerged from the mist. He caught sight of the Toyota’s taillights again, just before she entered the tunnel into Marin County.

      That figures, Allen thought. Marin County was one of the most expensive parts of the entire United States. Pacific Heights, where Allen and Cynthia lived, was hardly a slum, but Marin paled it by comparison. The guy she was banging was probably rich and a little artsy, Allen mused angrily, the type with family money who didn’t have to work at all.

      Cynthia pulled off at the Mill Valley exit and drove towards the center of the quaint little town. She took a sharp left and began to head up Mount Tamalpais. Allen knew the road well. It snaked its way over the mountain and led to Stinson Beach, which—ironically—was where he and Cynthia had spent their honeymoon together, ten years ago.

      About halfway up the mountain, Cynthia suddenly pulled over to the right side of the road. As he drove past her Toyota, he saw that she had parked it at the head of a hiking trail.

      Allen waited until he rounded the next curve, then quickly pulled into a driveway and turned around. When he passed the hiking path again, he glimpsed his wife just as she was getting out of her car and stepping towards the trailhead.

      Now he was confused. Where the hell was she going at this time of night on a hiking trail? While it was true that she enjoyed hiking, and sometimes she went for a long trek alone, she never hiked at night. Plus, she was dressed to the nines, in a leather jacket, short skirt, and high heels. Hardly the kind of outfit one wore hiking.

      Allen quickly turned his car around again, parked at the trailhead, and got out. The trail ran behind a row of expensive contemporary homes.

      He quickly walked over to the trailhead, glancing around in the darkness, trying to catch sight of his wife. Wisps of fog clung among the tops of the eucalyptus trees lining the path, gray patches illuminated by the lights of the houses on the right-hand side. Mansions was a better word. Sleek, wood and glass California contemporaries, all perched on the mountainside and affording prime views of the North Bay. Five million apiece, Allen guessed.

      It finally occurred to him that his wife must have been meeting him there, whoever he was. That was the only explanation.

      The fog was so thick that Allen couldn’t see much ahead. His wing tips slipped on the bed of pine needles that covered the path. He was already out of breath. He’d started his own accounting firm two years ago, since that time all he did was work, and he’d let himself get badly out of shape.

      After Allen had trudged about one hundred yards, he thought he could see Cynthia. Yes. He could just make out her silhouette in the faint light from the back side of the houses.

      At that instant, another figure emerged onto the path, from the right-hand side.

      Enter the Lover, Allen thought.

      He slowed a bit, puzzled. This was a strange way for two people to meet, out here in the dark on a hiking trail.

      Then Allen noticed that there was something about the gait of the shadowy figure that he didn’t like…

      It was a man, Allen could tell that much, and whoever it was moved stealthily…

      The figure seemed to be sneaking up behind Cynthia.

      Allen had the distinct feeling the man intended to do his wife harm.

      Cynthia, he shouted, all thoughts of keeping himself hidden tossed aside.

      He broke into a run and dashed up the path.

      The man broke into a run, too.

      Cynthia, watch out!

      She was too far away to hear.

      At that instant, Allen saw the figure rush up behind his wife and shove her to the ground.

      Hey, Allen screamed, now flying up the trail, adrenaline flooding his veins.

      Cynthia let out a small yelp as the attacker threw himself on top of her. All Allen could see in the semi-dark was a flash of faded denim.

      Allen dove headlong into the big man, knocking him on his side. He landed in the pine needles at the man’s feet.

      As Allen scrambled to get up, a foot slammed into the middle of his chest. He found himself on the ground again, this time partially in the woods, gasping for breath.

      Cynthia screamed again. Allen…Allen!

      He watched in horror as the big man rolled on top of her, this time trying to pry her legs apart with his knees. Cynthia was scratching and clawing at him—he was muttering something unintelligible. The man, whoever he was, seemed out of his mind.

      Allen pushed himself to his feet. As he did so, his fingers brushed against a rock. A big rock. It was partially buried in the undergrowth. He quickly pried it free of the dirt.

      He came at the attacker from behind.

      The man seemed oblivious to Allen’s approach, grunting and pawing at

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