The Truth Has Teeth: The Brodie Wade Series, #0

By Jerry Hanel

A PARANORMAL THRILLER (Novella)

A collegiate-aged Brodie Wade takes on his first cold case with Phil Dawson, who has finally risen to the rank of Detective. In this case, Brodie encounters a Truth manifestation like he's never seen before–a werewolf. He must decipher the latest riddle before the werewolf hunts him down and tears him apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jerry Hanel
• Release date: Feb 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507053133

Jerry Hanel

Jerry Hanel is the author of such wild lovable characters as Brodie Wade and Harrison Kass. He is a member of Oklahoma Writer's Federation and Crossroads Writer's Group. While he enjoys throwing his poor heroes into chaos, he loves seeing how they can fight back and find redemption and grace. Find out more about Jerry at his website, and sign up for his newsletter for more information, freebies and discounts.

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CHAPTER ONE

BRODIE WADE GRIPPED the steel girder of the bridge, scraping and clawing at the rough, rusted metal. He was strong for the age of twenty-three, but he couldn't hold on forever. His hands slipped with each swing of his legs as he flailed in mid air, trying to find something—anything—to boost him back onto the bridge.

Phil? Phil! Brodie shouted with every ounce of energy he could muster.

Detective Phil Dawson's round face poked through the steel bars above.

Hang on! I gotcha.  Phil disappeared for a moment, then reappeared as he inched out a little more, finally able to squeeze his shoulders through the gap between the beams under him. He reached down, grabbed Brodie's wrists, and held him in a death grip.

Brodie tried not to look down, but instinct overcame his better judgment. The river below had dried up months ago from the recent drought. The brown, rocky riverbed loomed far below.

I can't get you much further, Phil shouted between labored grunts. Can you climb up my arm?

Brodie pulled himself up several inches, swinging his legs forward, reaching for some sort of footing. The toes of his boots caught a bit of the metal girding, and he was able to push himself up another twelve inches or so. Phil readjusted his grip, then used his left hand to reach down and grab Brodie by the belt.

Brodie stretched as far as he could. Grabbing the nap of Phil's shirt, he managed to pull up several more inches until he could grip the metal bars of the handrail.

That's it. You got it, Phil said.

Brodie heaved himself over the handrail and rolled to the pavement. Exhaustion overcame him, and he lay there, limp. The bright morning sun warmed him as he sprawled on the cracked and pitted asphalt. His chest rose and fell as he gasped for air. Phil extricated himself from the bars, then flopped onto the asphalt next to Brodie.

I told you, Phil jeered, the river is no place for swimming this time of year.

Brodie laughed. He didn't let himself laugh much these days. It usually meant he had to let his guard down. Knowing that his life had been only inches from ending just one minute ago, he allowed himself the short reprieve. When he looked to his left, Brodie couldn't help but smile at Phil's appearance. He was average height, with a few wild gray hairs springing every direction from the thinning crown of red hair. He was usually very well dressed. His suit and shirt were always neatly pressed, and his sparse hairs combed just so. But there he sat, every piece of clothing wrinkled, twisted, or askew in some way or other.

Come on. Phil playfully kicked at Brodie’s legs with toe of his wingtip shoes. You can't just lay there in the road. You'll get run over and ruin all my hard work saving your sorry butt.

Well... since you put it that way. Brodie struggled to his feet, his legs still shaking. He dusted his hands against his long black trench coat. His fingers ached and were splotched red from a myriad of scratches and gouges. But he was alive. He'd deal with his hands later.

So, what happened? Phil asked as they ambled back down the old country bridge toward Phil's rusted Chevy. The cool fall breeze swept over them. One second you were running down the bridge shouting about something. The next, I see you jumping off the side.

I didn't jump, Brodie said. He stopped on the passenger side of the car and tugged at the door handle. The fear of being chased by the beast still made his skin tingle. I was thrown off.

Brodie. There was no one but you and me on the bridge, and I saw you jump.

Brodie shook his head. No one else could see The Truth chasing him, threatening his life. And no matter how many times he told Phil about it, he never really believed. No one ever did. And nothing would be different about this time.

The