Read the First Chapter of The Bones at Point No Point!

I recently shared that, along with posts featuring behind-the-scenes stories, writing advice, and updates, I’ll also occasionally share chapter excerpts from my books. Today, I’m sharing the full first chapter of The Bones at Point No Point for anyone curious about the series and wanting to see if it’s a good fit. Feel free to share this page with friends or family who enjoy crime thrillers and might want to give the series a try.

As the blog grows, I’ll continue adding excerpts from other books as well. Happy reading!

The Bones at Point No Point

D.D. Black

Chapter 1

Norwegian Point Beach, Hansville, WA

Sarah knew she shouldn’t be here. She’d told Benny she couldn’t come, wouldn’t come. But by his third text, she’d agreed. And now he was the one running late.

She’d been sitting on the massive driftwood log for ten minutes, staring out at the Puget Sound, as a light drizzle began. It was the kind of rain she’d grown up with, the sort she could be out in all day long and never get wet through her thin buffalo plaid fleece. She’d broken up with Benny three or four times now and had assured herself—not to mention her parents—that they would not be getting back together. But Benny had the best weed in Kitsap County—his cousin worked at one of the shops—and after the stress of finals and college applications, she needed to laugh and to green out.

Finally. She smiled when she saw him coming down the beach. He wore a black hoodie and blue jeans, and walked with more swagger than he’d earned. They were never getting back together, she assured herself, but she did like his swagger. It was exaggerated, as though he was doing an impression of someone swaggering. Ironic, which somehow made it endearing. Maybe she could take him back, just for the Christmas break, which started in a couple weeks.

He caught her eye and flashed a big smile. She smiled back. 

She ran her hands over her damp jeans and let out a long breath. “Hey,” she said as he plopped down on the log next to her, stretching his long legs. 

“Hey.” His voice was deep and sleepy, like he’d just rolled out of bed, which he probably had. 

What the hell was she doing? She’d told herself there was no way they were getting back together and yet here she was, sitting on the log where they’d first kissed, flashing a newly-tightened-braces smile at him. She should leave. 

Then again, the semester was almost over, and she’d already finished her essays. She deserved a break. Sarah jumped down from the log. “You wanna walk?”

“We can blaze one right here.” He glanced up and down the deserted beach.

Everything was shades of gray: the blue-gray water lapping against green-gray beach stones and brown-gray driftwood. Even the sand looked dull and lifeless under the dark gray sky.

“Who the hell comes to the beach on a rainy day the week after Thanksgiving?” He chuckled. “Besides a former couple who are still madly in love and want to smoke a little.”

Sarah slapped his arm, then looked toward the little café and general store, its entryway decorated with faint blue and white Christmas lights. It was the only business in town besides the post office, and there were two cars in the parking lot, and one was Benny’s. In the other direction, there were the abandoned shacks of Norwegian Point.

December in Hansville was a dreary affair, most of the time.She doubted anyone would show up on the beach, but still. “Let’s go to the bluff,” she insisted. 

Benny shrugged and followed her down from the log.

They took their usual route, following a mile-long stretch of beach that led past a row of waterfront homes and into the Point No Point Park. There were a few cars in the parking lot and a pair of kayakers in wetsuits trudged toward the water. 

In silence they walked just along the water’s edge and rounded the tip of the peninsula past the lighthouse. The water swayed gently in front of them. On a clear day, she would have been able to see Edmonds and Seattle across the water and all the way to Mount Rainier, hundreds of miles to the southeast. 

Sarah nodded toward the trail that led away from the beach, through the marshlands, and up to the bluff. 

Benny followed, hands in his pockets. “You think we’ll stay friends when you go away to college?” 

“Sure we will,” Sarah said, but she didn’t know if it was true. She didn’t even know where she’d go to college, and they both knew Benny wouldn’t be going at all. 

He caught her eye. “You’re humming that song again.” 

“No, I’m not,” she protested. “I’ve literally been listening to it for like two minutes.” Had she been? It popped back into her head. 

Da-da-dee-da-da-deeeeee-da, Da-da-dee-da-da–deeeeee. 

It was an old indie rock song about a girl who was never getting back together with her boyfriend. The first time they’d broken up she’d played it on repeat, and they’d laughed about it when they’d gotten back together a few weeks later. Now that they’d broken up three or four times—she’d lost track—it was more than a running joke. 

Benny dropped to his knees in the sand, holding up a stick as a microphone as he belted the chorus. “The last time I saw your briiiight eyes… The last time we said gooooood bye.” 

He’d been in a mediocre band for a little over a year and had a pretty decent voice for a guy who put in next to no effort.

“Enough,” Sarah said, laughing and pulling him up by his elbow.

They continued up the trail, leaving behind the famous lighthouse and the plaque commemorating the treaty signed by the local tribes and the state government in 1855.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they sat on a bench that offered a narrow view of the beach through a cutout in the blackberry bushes. Benny pulled a joint out of a little glass vial and held it out, lighter poised in the other hand. “Ladies first.”

She was about to take it when she saw a figure down on the beach, walking close to the water. “Hold on.” She pointed.

“Dude, she can’t see us from there. Not to mention, weed is legal now.”

“Not for seventeen-year-olds. And if I can see her, then she can see us. And don’t call me dude. I mean, why do boys your age call everyone dude?”

Benny smirked. “Fine, bro.”

Sarah squinted. The woman was slight, with sandy brown hair and a quick, purposeful walk, but she couldn’t make out much about her face. “You recognize her?”

Benny put the joint and lighter on his lap and held his hands in front of his eyes like they were binoculars. “Nope.” He went to light the joint and Sarah swatted his hands down.

“No. She’ll smell it. Just wait ’til she goes by.”

They watched in silence as the woman walked along the beach, jutting up from the Sound toward a patch of driftwood thirty feet from the waterline. “What’s she carrying?” Sarah asked.

“Picnic lunch?”

Benny laughed, but Sarah ignored him. He was always making jokes. Or trying to.

Moving with purpose, the woman stopped about halfway between the lighthouse and the bottom of the trail that led up the bluff. After a quick glance around, she set something on a log. From the bluff, it looked like a green bag.

Next, the woman pulled out her phone and appeared to take a few pictures of the bag. Then she turned around and hurried back to the parking lot near the lighthouse, leaving the bag behind.

“What the hell?” Sarah asked.

Benny seemed unconcerned. “Maybe she’s doin’ one of those online treasure hunts or somethin’? Seen ‘em on Insta.”

Sarah looked at him skeptically. “In Hansville, population, like, two thousand? In December?” 

Benny lit the joint and took a long drag, the sweet smell of high-end marijuana mingling with the moist, salty air. Sarah pulled up the collar on her jacket. Benny offered her the joint and, when she declined, he took another puff and put it out on the bench, then stowed it back in the vial.

“Only one thing to do.” He leapt up and bolted down the stairs toward the beach, flapping his arms like the wings of a bird in flight and belting the breakup song.

“The last time I saw your briiiight eyes. The last time we said gooooood bye.”

Sarah followed, smiling in spite of herself. He was funny when he was high. She was definitely not getting back together with him, but maybe they could have a little Christmas Break fling. 

Benny skidded to a stop in the sand. Dropping to his knees in front of the bag, he leaned back, wiggling his fingers in a trance-like, prayerful gesture, an impression of the famous Jimi Hendrix moment when he’d lit his guitar on fire and implored the flames to rise. Benny knew this one always got a laugh out of Sarah.

The sack was roughly the size of a plastic grocery bag but made of green felt in the style of a holiday gift bag. It was decorated with cheesy cutouts of Thanksgiving turkeys and cranberries.

Benny reached for it.

“Don’t touch it!”

He offered a dumb smile. “She clearly meant for us to have whatever is in here.”

Sarah crouched next to him. “What if it’s a bomb or something?”

“Ahh yes, because terrorists always want to blow up logs on empty beaches on mostly empty peninsulas at the edge of the known world.” He reached for it again. “How could we not look inside?”

She glanced up and down the beach. Not a person in sight. “Why would she just leave it here?”

“The world is a strange place, Sarah.” He looked up at the sky. “Why does anyone do anything?”

“You’re sooooooo high.”

Benny laughed and rolled into a patch of sand, spreading his arms and legs wide and flailing like he was trying to make a snow angel. 

Sarah took one more look around her, then reached for the bag.

Bang!

A thunderous pop cut the silence.

Sarah’s shoulders tightened.

Benny sat up, looking in the direction of the parking lot.

“Was that a gunshot?” Sarah asked.

Benny laughed. “Pro’lly a car backfiring.”

She heard the quiet whooshing of a car passing on the road behind them. 

“You were so freaked out.” Benny spoke in a high-pitched mimic. “Was that a gunshot?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

He continued rolling in the sand, laughing. “This is some good shit.”

Gently, Sarah inched the red drawstring between her fingers. The contents of the bag rattled softly as she tugged it open. At first, she saw only shadow. Then, angling her body so

the light filtering through the cloud cover seeped into the bag, she gasped.

“What?” Benny was looking over her shoulder now. “Is it a prize? Christmas come early? Cash? Oh, please tell me it’s cash.”

He whipped out his phone. “Smile.” Before she could object, before she could turn, he snapped a picture.

“You’re a jerk, Benny.” Sarah looked down, shaking the bag slightly. Maybe she hadn’t seen what she thought she’d seen. Maybe they were plastic or something. Maybe they were… She peered inside, opening the bag a little wider.

Bones. A hundred, maybe two hundred. Scattered at random as though fighting for space in the bag.

Tiny. Bones.

She rolled down the edges of the cloth, letting more light into the bag, and then she saw it. 

A human skull, the tiniest she’d ever seen.

Jumping back, Sarah dropped the bag and screamed, causing the birds to rise from the marshland and take flight for safer ground.

If you enjoyed this excerpt and want to keep reading, you can find The Bones at Point No Point on Amazon in paperback, ebook, or audiobook. I also offer signed copies on my website here.