Excerpt from chapter 1:
She climbed Ada’s wooden front steps and opened the door.
Smoke filled the living room Ada had turned into a fabric shop. Erica waved a hand in front of tearing eyes. Gray vapors, like swirling fog, partially obscured bolts of fabric stacked against the opposite wall.
“Ada! Ada, answer me please.” Dropping the newspaper, Erica rushed toward the stairs, trampling Bess Truman’s image. “Ada can you hear me?”
Coughing, she grabbed on to the cutting table in the middle of the room, steadied herself, and reached for the phone — no dial tone. Perhaps the fire melted the line.
She yanked the collar of her blouse over her nose and mouth against the smoke. The stairs loomed before her, seeming as impossible to scale as Mount Everest. She lunged forward, gripping the baluster, and thrust herself up two steps. Since Ada wasn’t outside, she had to be upstairs.
As Erica climbed, the smoke thickened and swirled around her. It was darker with each step.
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Excerpt from chapter 5:
Katrina wanted to throw Detective Daltry into a snow bank. The nerve of him, barging into their house twice in two days, demanding she bundle the baby up and take him into the cold. How could that man not recall their harrowing, nighttime drive through the storm of the decade? She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, and with great difficulty held her tongue.
Momma apparently had no such reservations. “Detective, what you are doing is very wrong.”
Katrina came up beside her mother, to show a united front. “This is outrageous.” Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. She hated the tone of her voice, but this baby wasn’t a ping-pong ball to be batted back and forth as the detective moved forward with his murder case.
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Excerpt from chapter 3:
The sportscaster slanted his head toward Argus. “I don’t want to discuss this in front of him.”
“I’m not going anywhere unless Miss Devane asks me to leave.”
Kiera pivoted away from them and pulled her car keys out of her purse. “I don’t give a hoot what either of you do. I’m going home.” She slid behind the wheel of the Pontiac, backed out of her spot, and gunned it out of the lot.
Argus watched her signal light flash a right. She made the turn and her taillights disappeared into the twilight. He laughed aloud.
Paul growled. “What’s so funny?”
Argus shook his head and walked to his DeSoto, got in, and put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it on. She’d never be mistaken for a Carmelite nun. Not in a million years. Blunt, not soft and feminine like his Ada had been. And where’d Kiera get that short Betty Boop hair-do? Not his style at all. No Sir
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