Brody Trent is like you and me. He lives a simple life, minds his own business, and never looks for trouble. But one day, trouble finds him. He’s arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. Here’s a sneak peek at the first chapter. Available at an introductory reduced price for a limited time. Check it out on Amazon.
Brody Trent’s day started early. The pounding on his door jolted him awake. A commanding voice yelled something, what he didn’t know. He forced his eyes open and glanced at the digital clock. Oh, God. Only five o’clock, and still dark. Half asleep, he stumbled to the door in boxer briefs, not bothering with a shirt. A string of expletives poured from his mouth, a result of stumping his toe on the bike stand.
He peered through the opening of the door and saw a short man with thin graying hair. With his hand, Brody shielded his eyes from the harsh porch light. He stared at what the man held in his hand. An official looking ID. Behind the man stood a taller man, at least six-two. He had a full head of black hair, tight and wiry. His appearance, in a dark business suit, was carried off with more style than the short guy whose suit jacket stretched tight over his wide girth. Their unsmiling faces made Brody think both men frowned on fun.
The short, Caucasian man cleared his throat and said, “I’m Detective Clark and this is Detective Rollins. CMPD. Are you Broderick Benjamin Trent?”
Brody rubbed his eyes, trying to come alive. “Yes, I’m Brody.”
“We need you to come with us.”
Brody stared back, confused. Then, something clicked. “Oh, oh—I get it. The guy you want is two doors down. The one dealing drugs. We kinda look alike, but I’m taller. And he’s got more tats than me—ink on both arms. It’s kinda weird but we drive similar cars. Same make. Same color, but his is a 2013. My Civic is a 2012. Your guy is down that way.” Brody pointed off to his right. Clark gave him a blank stare, prompting Brody to add, “Apartment F. Over there.”
“This isn’t about drugs. We’re here for you.”
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