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Can someone please critique my novel "The Gift"
This is my first shot at a mystery novel. Here is the Prolouge. Let me know what you think. Thanks.
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PROLOGUE
Ville Platte, Louisiana
Outside he could hear the loud howl of violent wind and the fierce roar of the thunder. The night sky was brought to light by extreme bursts of bloodcurdling lightning bolts. Brandon Conner stood gravely in front of the mirror as he passed his hands through his thick locks of brunette hair. He could feel the crimson painful scratches from across his chest. His brown eyes were slightly blood shot filled with fear and resentment as he thought about the job at hand.
“Mother, I have to go. I will be back as soon as I can” He shouted as he swallowed his panic and moved towards the living room.
Peggy Conner was just finishing up with her last customer in the shop attached to the house. The smell of stifling fresh perm filled the air.
“Where are you off to Brandon?” “Mom, I told you I had to finish some school work at the library in Opelousas. It’s for my World History class. It’s due in three weeks.” “Can’t you wait until later? At least until this storm passes?” “No, I have to go. I’ll be alright.”
He planted a kiss on his mother’s cheek. She could almost feel the anxious shake that rattled at the core of his body. She wasn’t sure what caused him so much apprehension, but she had to let him go. After all he was twenty years old.
He climbed into his green Isuzu and took off. Thick layers of rain continued to hammer across his wind shield making it hard for him to see. He tuned into the local radio station to take his mind off the pain. As he drove, images of his current girlfriend and someday fiancé danced in front of his eyes. He stared down at the brown envelope that sat next to him on the passenger side. The only writing on it said “Please deliver to 112 South Union Street, Opelousas, Louisiana” in messy cursive handwriting.
As he turned on highway 167 South to Opelousas, he noticed how desolate the highway seemed. The town had emptied out as soon as the local weather man announced impending severe thunderstorms with possible flash flooding. The radio interrupted his thoughts with a loud emergency broadcast signal followed by the words of Don Goldman, the local TV 10 weather man. He warned every one of the tornados that touched down in several areas North of Ville Platte, Tornado Alley, as everyone called it.
A slow steady beam of headlights filled the view of his rear view mirror. The beam approached his truck slowly moving closer by the second. At first he couldn’t tell what type of vehicle followed behind him. As it slowly approached he was able to make out the emblem on the front of the car. It was a champagne colored Honda Accord. He remembered what the mirror said as he took a deep breath “objects in mirror are closer than they appear.”
Suddenly he felt the vehicle that lingered behind move closer and signaled to pass him up. He couldn’t see very well and could not make out what type of vehicle was following him. As the vehicle passed him it slowed and blew the horn. Brandon’s eyes were filled with terror. The sight of the passenger now parallel with him brought chills up and back down his spine. The passenger waved just before he side swiped Brandon’s truck. Brandon knew he was going to loose a fight that he no longer had the strength to struggle for anymore. He slowly caught his breath and picked up his cell phone. The signal faded in and out as it always did that in this area. He managed to place one call. He dialed Eric Doucet’s cell phone and before the first ring the face of the phone flashed a message that read “signal faded”. When he looked up, the driver next to him side swiped him again. Brandon felt his hand let go of the wheel as his head spun out of control. The loud screech of the tires from below slowly began to stop as he flew off the road. His airbag deployed and his sight went black. Was it over? Had he died? He could still smell the stench of burned rubber and smoke. He could hear the rain and the cry of his sister, fiancé, and mother. Warm drops of liquid filled his mouth as the dark red blood fell from the top of his head.
His door swung open. Rain began pouring in washing off some of the blood that clouded his view. The sinister voice of the familiar face brought his check near Brandon’s. “I’m doing this to protect you and others. Sorry!”
The tire wrench smashed into his head, and before he could move it was over. The loud sound of the tire wrench flew across the street and formed sparks as it made its way to a halt in the ditch across the street. He pulled out a Camel and lit it. As he took a long drag he made his way through the rain back into his vehicle.
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