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    The Girl in the Woods: Murder in Savannah, #0.5
    The Girl in the Woods: Murder in Savannah, #0.5
    The Girl in the Woods: Murder in Savannah, #0.5
    Ebook93 pages1 hour

    The Girl in the Woods: Murder in Savannah, #0.5

    By Lindsay Marie Miller

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    About this ebook

    Don't miss this special treat for fans of the Murder in Savannah Series…

    She's the girl of my dreams. And she doesn't even know my name.

    I've been watching her for years, too shy to say anything.

    But tonight my fantasy becomes a reality. 

    Until the star quarterback ruins everything… 

    THE GIRL IN THE WOODS is a prequel novella to the Murder in Savannah series about a pair of star-crossed lovers and the family secrets destined to tear them apart.

    One click today for a swoon-worthy hero with a heart of gold!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLindsay Marie Miller
    Release dateMay 30, 2017
    ISBN9781386132578
    The Girl in the Woods: Murder in Savannah, #0.5

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      Book preview

      The Girl in the Woods - Lindsay Marie Miller

      Chapter 1

      Iremember the first time I saw her.

      It was spring. Warm. Morning. Bright.

      There was a wooden fence surrounding our land, designed to keep intruders out. My grandfather lived like a hermit, though I didn’t see him for what he was at the time. With my parents deceased and no siblings around, Grandpa was the closest thing I had to reality.

      Sneaking out the back door of the mansion, I slipped into the wilderness and ran. My early lessons were starting soon, but I saw no need for such a rigid schedule. After all, I was homeschooled. What was the rush? I didn’t have teachers or a principal.

      I had my grandfather.

      I slowed down enough to catch my breath and looked up at the sky. It was all pastel and blue—the way Grandpa liked to paint. With my hands on my hips, I walked between the trees and looked straight ahead. And that was when I saw her.

      She was small and weary, her eyes racing through the thickets of the forest. I took a step back and hid behind an oak tree so she wouldn’t see me. When it felt safe, I peered around the trunk long enough for the disappointment to set in. She was gone.

      Pursing my lips, I slipped my hands in my pockets as a twig snapped beneath my feet. I kept walking and looked from side to side, scanning the perimeter of the forest. But then I heard noises up above and lifted my head to find her gasping and grunting, struggling her way up a tree.

      My eyes settled on her and stayed there, while she reached for the next branch. She had short blonde hair that fell to her shoulders and a beautiful face. I walked backwards when she sat down on a stout limb way up high. Her short legs swung over the edge, as I read the label on her white sneakers. Once I knew she couldn’t see me, I leaned against a tree and watched her. There was something about this girl that I liked.

      Looking back now, I rarely had any contact with the outside world. But watching her was not out of desperation. It was her. Something uniquely attractive about Addie Smith.

      I was seven years old. And she was my first crush.

      Addie stayed there for a long time that afternoon, just sitting in that tree. And I stood there and watched her like the love sick puppy I would become. I was infatuated with her from the very first time I saw her face. It truly was at first sight—my crush on Addie Smith.

      For the longest time, I wouldn’t even know her name. But that didn’t keep me from hoping and pining and dreaming that one day, she might look long enough to see me.  

      As my lonesome life in the wilderness continued, I looked for her year after year. Sometimes she would be reading a book or watching the sunset. But she was always lounging in a tree. Preferably on the highest branch.

      Deep down, I knew that she must want to escape someone or something. While I had no one or nothing to hide. I wanted to talk to her and figure out what was on her mind. I wanted to know her, understand her, be good enough for her.

      Maybe I was too young to think about picking a wife. But these weren’t romantic ideals or notions racing through my head. All I knew was that I liked her. And I wanted to see her more. I wanted to see her again. Always.

      So I took a picture of her that summer and kept it in my bedroom. And I know how creepy it must all sound—the thought of taking a photograph of a girl I hardly knew. But even when adolescence set in, I wasn’t some Peeping Tom who sat in a tree and watched her undress through the window. I had too much respect and admiration for her to do that.

      Being the quiet, shy, weird homeschooled boy didn’t have the best advantages. If I ever had the nerve to approach her, would she think I was mysterious or a freak? I loved Grandpa and knew that he was only trying to protect me. But what about my future?

      How long could I hide in the woods? How long would that be enough?

      Grandpa had secrets.

      Deep, hidden secrets that posed a threat to my life and his.

      But was the risk worth eternal isolation?

      After eight years of watching the girl in the woods, I mustered up enough courage to approach my grandfather and tell him the truth. I wanted to be like all the other kids and attend regular school. Surely, I was more than smart enough for it with the way he had drilled every curriculum in my head.

      But most importantly, I wanted to meet that girl.

      And I wanted her to know that I exist.

      Is that you, Tom? Grandpa called from the kitchen.

      Yes! I shouted back, shutting the front door with the heel of my boot.

      Even though I was fifteen, he had sent me to fetch the groceries. Sure, I was driving with a learner’s permit and not a license. But no one ever pulled me over, and I saw no chance of that happening before my sixteenth birthday.

      Did they have everything we need? Grandpa asked once I came into the kitchen.

      Yeah. I set the groceries down on the counter as a can of beans toppled over.

      I’ve got it, Tom. Grandpa picked up the can while I emptied the contents from each paper sack. There was tension in the air, because I hadn’t thought of the best way to tell him. To complain that being homeschooled by him just wasn’t enough anymore.

      Grandpa? I took enough steps back so the kitchen counter was between us.

      He set the can of beans down on the counter and then began putting the groceries away. Yes? Opening the fridge, he slid the produce drawer open and deposited a bag of fresh

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