Door Number Four

By Janna Hill

Donald S. Crowley was a CPA by day; a bean counter; a number cruncher and a certified bore. By night he was as stimulating as the hero in his latest read with all the social skills of a brick and to make matters worse he was in love with a door. Not just any door, number four was special. Her alluring smile had caught Donald's eye when he was just a boy when she called him by name. Despite years of therapy and medications she still called to him. Now he would risk his life to see her again and to finally know what lay behind Door Number IIII.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J Hill Ink
• Release date: Apr 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386985761

Janna Hill

Janna Hill is an international author of fiction, short stories and poetry. She currently resides somewhere between the palm trees and pines and a forest in Texas. Her motto is: Fans are just friends and family I haven’t met… or wrote about yet. She has also been heard to say, home is where the blog is. You can follow her at home@ www.therealjannahill.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

DON CROWLEY CURSED the noisy autumn leaves beneath his feet. No matter how lightly he tread on the foliage it crackled and hissed, mocking his every step, his very existence.

After several hours of hiking, he stopped and leaned his back against an old Elm tree, pulled a dingy bandana from his shirt pocket and dabbed at the hives on his neck.

They are getting worse, he thought as he fumbled for the flask in his hip pocket. Other than the noise made by the brittle twigs and fallen flora the woods lay silent. For a brief moment he was sure he heard a bird in the distance but it was only the wheezing of his own lungs. He took another swig of the homemade concoction, shuddered and drew the last puff of Albuterol from his inhaler. I should have brought an EpiPen.

He wrung the sweat from the paisley blue cloth, ripped the collar from his shirt and plodded onward.

Don was not sure if it was the allergies or the effects of the medicine that blurred his vision, either way it was getting harder to focus on the ground around him. He rubbed his swollen eyes and scanned the area in search of a path. There were fifteen years of rotting debris and not so much as a pig trail through the abandoned jungle.

Donald S. Crowley was a CPA by day, a bean counter, a number cruncher and a certified bore. By night, he was as stimulating as the hero in his latest read—with all the social skills of a brick. He had one friend or better yet one person that knew him well enough to identify his body if the need arose. Don certainly hoped that would not be necessary but his current condition made him consider how Jerrod might handle the situation.

Jerrod Eddy occupied a cubicle next to Don at Weltzer’s and Meltz Accounting Firm. Donald had no idea who the firm employed other than Jerrod because he went straight to his