Book 7 "WING-MAN"
*It's Spring Break, Mia Cho and Gordon McKenna almost finished with their flying lessons are ready to solo. However, while teasing each other during a landing their instructor postpones issuing their pilot's license. Disappointed, Gordon is distracted by the long awaited arrival of his cousin Patrick, while Mia hopes no one asks about her flying. Tension develops around town when two men, one shift supervisor at a foreign owned uranium mine and a local park ranger go missing twenty-four hours apart.
With only suspicions and few clues the kids meet to connect some dots for the sheriff. But when one of their own disappears too, the young sleuths do what they do best - form a plan and then go into action with a dangerous strategy that truly tests their teamwork... [eBook copy $1.00]
CHAPTER 1
Gathering
Shadows…
Patrick,
congrats on passing your final exams. Hope you have a smooth flight tomorrow –
can’t wait for you to meet my friends and them to meet you after all this time.
There’s light snow flurries forecast for Calgary and southern Alberta, but not
here – just overcast so far for western Montana. Good night, not sure I’ll be
able to sleep. [America On Line, April 2002]
#######
All that illuminated the lower half of the
three men’s faces was a single flashlight.
Shadows cast in the center of the tight huddle
showed only features from their noses down to their chins. Everything else
merged into the predawn darkened forest around them.
“Say nothing of our discovery beyond the
three of us right here.” The first man’s grey eyes narrowed his voice was just
above a whisper.
“Not even a hint to anyone. Zero!” He stressed again looking at the younger third
man.
“And,
definitely, be careful not to leave notes or papers of any kind at your desks
or anywhere in your offices. As far as everyone else connected to this project knows,
there is only uranium to extract from this mine.”
“What we discovered will make all three of us rich beyond measure. I
waited my entire working life for a chance like this so I’ll do whatever I need
to do to protect this secret. I won’t let anyone interfere. Is that clear? Are both
of you really with me?”
The other two men nodded.
#######
“Gordon’s being such a jerk!” Sonia
leaned across Grandpa Molosky’s workbench at the far end of their garage.
She stood so close to the chair Grandpa
sanded that dust as fine as icing sugar soon covered the right
sleeve of her jacket. Some even drifted to settle on her shoulder and in the
curls of her long, dark blonde hair.
Montana’s late April, Spring Break still
held a chill. Repainting the patio Adirondack chairs would have been uncomfortable
in the old garage if Grandpa hadn’t started the small electric heater right
after breakfast. Despite that, grandfather and granddaughter needed to wear
warm clothing.
He winked at his eldest granddaughter
trying to lighten her mood. “I’ve already sanded those two chairs by the window.
I just need them wiped down with this damp cloth before I can repaint them.”
Grandpa Molosky was devoted to all four
of his grandchildren, but not thrilled Sonia managed to find him so early this Saturday
morning. He preferred to concentrate on his task.
“Make sure the water’s at least still
warm.” Grandpa replaced the pad he had been using with fresh sandpaper then ran
the back of his hand across his brow pushing back his thick graying hair.
He wasn’t really in any mood to listen
to Sonia’s latest lovesick complaint about Gordon McKenna whose affections had clearly
not grown to match hers. But she and her mother couldn’t talk nor could she
share with her three younger siblings, so Grandpa gave in.
“All of you are growing up too fast for
me. But Gordon’s always seemed like a true and loyal friend ever since you
started elementary school.”
When Sonia blinked a single teardrop
rolled down her right cheek. “I thought
so too at one time, but this last year he changed. He changed a lot!”
#######
“Mia, do another touch-and-go then come
in for a final landing.”
Flying instructor Miles Bain sat back in
the seat beside Mia Cho. He pushed up his wire rimmed glasses, relaxed, as the
second of his two teen students pulled back on the stick.
She set the tail rudder and pointed the
nose of the Piper Warrior up slightly. With well practiced ease Mia brought the
plane around in a wide bank, left toward the end of the runway then
straightened out for her approach.
Mia cut back on the engine’s power
swooped down just above the blacktop then increased power with the nose pointed
up again, climbing, but staying beneath low hanging clouds.
From his seat behind Mia, Gordon McKenna
watched Mia bring the plane in for a landing. The ground rose up to meet the two
middle wheels then the front tire gently tipped down on the runway. “Nice Mia,”
he grinned.
Then teasing with a glint in his dark
hazel brown eyes, “Not as nice as my landing, but it was still nice you didn’t
kill us.”
Mia reacted immediately to the handsome
boy who was like a brother. She stomped on the ground brake. Gordon lurched
forward and the plane swayed.
“Lucky for you, Gordon McKenna I don’t
want kill Mr. Bain.”
The engine quit.
The propeller stopped spinning.
Miles Bain recovered from the abrupt halt.
“Yeah? But you don’t want the pancakes Mr. Bain ate this morning at the
Tumbleweed Café back in your lap either!”
“Sorry sir.” Mia’s long black hair hid
most of her face as she hung her head. Then she took a deep breath and restarted
the plane’s engine. She taxied to the front of the new hangar built to store
the flying school’s four seat plane.
With the engine off Mr. Bain turned to
face his youngest students. “You’re both ready to solo.”
Mia and Gordon looked at each other excited
and surprised.
“Over the past seven months since last
October you’ve done extremely well. I haven’t instructed such naturally
talented pilots for at least three years.”
“However - safety is always a pilot’s
first responsibility, even on the ground. Until your plane is brought to a
complete stop well off the runway, do not ever distract a pilot.” He looked at
Gordon.
“Nor should a pilot be distracted,” he looked at Mia. “I thought I taught the two of you
better than that in our ground-school classes.”
Mia nodded feeling more ashamed. She
knew better.
“Sorry Mr. Bain, of course.” Gordon was embarrassed
too.
#######
Philip Peters slumped, over one corner
of Park Sullivan’s desk. “The pictures I took of that Butte professor and the
Dutch guy aren’t turning out. When’s Gordon getting back?”
The newspaper editor looked up from the email
he was writing. “Really? When I looked
at your negatives they seemed fine. The contrast looked good.”
Gordon’s grandfather checked the wall
clock beside his office door. “He should be here any minute, he thought he’d be
finished his flying lesson around ten. He still hasn’t finished writing the
article about that new uranium mine. It’s got to go on this Friday’s front page
with your photos.”
Philip raised up then from Grandfather
Sullivan’s office he headed out into the main newsroom shaking his brown curly
head. “Maybe I’m having a Down syndrome moment. I think I need a chocolate chip
cookie…” Philip’s voice faded.
“None of that Mister.” He called after
Philip. “You’re dad said you weren’t to use your condition as an excuse for
anything.”
Shaking his head, the editor returned to
finish writing his email, smiling. “I’ll have a cookie too Philip.” He called
out again.
#######
Sheriff Howard handed a file of permits
back to Paul McKenna. “I don’t know why our state’s Department of Natural
Resources sent copies of those to my office. You’d think they’d have your
address, at least on a sticky-note somewhere.”
He chuckled, rubbing his new mustache that
caught tiny bits of icing from his morning doughnut. “Your name with my office
address, hmm, should I make you a deputy?”
Gordon’s father was Chief Park Ranger supervising
staff monitoring state and National Parks in Montana’s Powel County. “Oh, you’d
think so.” He accepted the folder with one hand, rubbing the back of his neck
with the other.
He shook a head of dark auburn hair, so
like his son’s but Mr. McKenna’s was slightly gray at the temples. “There’s
been a wave of retirements in many departments that required more hiring. And, it seems where there’s new staff, they seem to get lost just finding their own desk.” He
opened the file.
“Well what I know of mining, or rocks or
geology at all I could write on the palm of one hand.” The sheriff walked from
behind his desk to add more coffee to his mug.
Paul McKenna looked up from the open
file. “You may know more than you think. Speaking of new staff, this guy,” he
waved a memo in the air. “Martin Axel, will be at the Hinterland mine Monday
for an inspection. He’s requested that I meet him there.”
Sheriff Howard leaned against the table
where a stack of wanted posters and outstanding speeding tickets shared space
with his very old, very stained glass coffee pot. “You’re getting company
tomorrow for Spring Break. Aren’t you’re on vacation?”
Mr. McKenna closed the file.
“Technically I’m on vacation, but generally with this job I’m always available.
I’ll show up with my cousin Shane, his son Patrick and Gordon then make the day
part of a back-to-nature-tour for our Dublin side of the McKenna clan.”
#######
“I don’t know how I’m going to tell my
dad.” Mia Cho sat by the stone fireplace handing Hanna Gakis smaller pieces of
split firewood.
The main area of Hanna’s log house was
really one large room divided almost in half by a river-rock fireplace. The
kitchen and dining area was on one side of the fireplace with the great room, sitting
area on the other
The bedroom Hanna slept in was off the kitchen
and her mother’s bedroom was off the great room side with a small bathroom
between. Both of their bedrooms had once been part of a wide open porch that
was closed in. Now, what was left of the original front porch ran just across
the east side and part way around the south side.
Hanna struck a long match and held it
low to ignite the crumpled newspaper. “Two weeks! Mr. Bain really banned you
and Gordon from the airport for two full weeks?”
Mia nodded close to tears. “I wasn’t
thinking at all this morning. Learning to fly a plane isn’t the same as
learning to drive a car, but that’s how I acted, right there on the runway! I
can’t believe I was that foolish.”
Flames of tangerine and lemon shot up
and around the wood stacked on a metal grate. Hanna tossed in the match then
slid the fire screen closed. “Did you tell Joey?”
“No just you. I haven’t even called
Joey, but with everyone coming to the inn tomorrow to meet the McKenna cousins
from Ireland, I should tell him. I
feel sick.”
“Someone is sure to ask how my flying
lessons are going. And until this morning I was proud of how well they were
going.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I’m such an idiot!”
Hanna tucked a section of her thick
curly brown hair behind one ear. She leaned forward to give her friend a hug.
“Unfortunately I’m sure someone will ask, like my mom for one.”
“Guess you need to be ready with some
kind of story. If everyone shows up – like your Aunt Yin, all of Philip’s family,
both his older brothers are in town for Spring Break, Sheriff Howard and his
wife and Mr. Bain – over forty people will be there.”
“Perfect, then no one will notice I’m
missing.” Mia lifted her head.
“Except for Joey, who officially asked
you to be his girl. And Gordon who’ll
be left to explain your adventures in flying – alone, he’ll miss you.”
Hanna tried to distract Mia. “Your mom
brought the most amazing bouquets from her shop. She helped my mom and me get
the Gathering Room ready. It looks like spring - at least in there.”
She glanced out the front great room
window of the one hundred year-old log cabin originally built for the Grant
Ranch cattle foreman. “We may never get a spring. It’s been overcast for over a
week!”
#######
“Philip! Leif! Joey! I can’t move my
hand it’s glued to my kite!” Eric Molosky panicked.
Leif Anderlund clamped the stretched
fabric over his kite frame then rushed to Eric’s end of the barn’s twenty-foot
work bench. “How’d you do that?”
“The cloth slipped when I reached for my
clamp.” Eric’s sandy brown hair fell across his forehead. “So I grabbed it and squirted
more glue to hold the fabric to this part of my frame.”
“But I squeezed too hard and some shot
all over then down these fingers,” he pointed to his left hand, “and they got
attached too.”
Leif had no idea how to get Eric’s
fingers unstuck from each other or the kite. Just like the advertisement
claimed PowerGlue dried in seconds
and held anything together.
Curious Philip Peters had followed Leif.
“Yup, ya used too much.” Philip looked over Eric’s right shoulder. “Gosh ya
gotta be real careful with that stuff.”
“That’s because you already learned the
hard way, remember your bike handlebars?” Leif rolled his eyes.
“Oh yeah.” Philip returned to were Joey
Salas helped him assemble his kite. They worked at the shorter eight-foot
workbench by the barn’s stairs to the upper loft.
Leif headed for the double barn doors. “Joey
watch’em I’ll get my dad.”
Carefully Leif weaved his way between
sawhorses that supported half a dozen canoes the kids were getting ready for
the annual spring canoe race.
Joey helped Philip spread his cloth out then
trimmed the edges. “I hate ta tell ya Eric, but Philip smelled like my granddad’s
fishing boat motor for days, cause I think gasoline is the only stuff that
works on PowerGlue.”
Outside, Leif reclosed the right double
door of the barn that had once stabled horses, harnessed to pull the water
wagon for the town fire department. When Mr. Anderlund bought the abandoned 1909
log and river rock train station for his general store, the barn was included behind
it on the one acre site.
The majority of Anderlund’s Market was
groceries including local produce and bake goods. A smaller section in the back
had been taken over by Mr. Anderlund’s second wife Laura, for her gallery.
Leif’s stepmom displayed local prison art for sale as well as crafts, and weavings
by Powel County residents.
Inside the rear loading dock door, Leif
followed the sound of his father’s voice talking to customers at the front of
the store.
Carl Anderlund was behind the old ticket
counter bagging fresh bread and produce for the mayor’s wife, who was Philip’s
mom, Mrs. Peters and Dr. Howes’ wife.
Mrs. Peters smiled and Mrs. Howes nodded
to Leif as they walked by him.
Mrs. Howes flicked the bell outside a six-foot
metal birdcage to the right side of their front door. Inside their parakeets Penny and Nickel
chattered, squawked, and dropped more small feathers and seed husks on the
floor around their cage.
“There’s been a glue
accident Dad.”
Mr. Anderlund scowled.
“Philip again?”
“No, this time it’s
Eric.”
“Okay. I’ll need you to
watch the store. Heather and your stepmom left to shop in Helena for the gathering tomorrow night.
Stephen headed over to the ranch to help Hanna’s mom set out tables and
chairs.”
CHAPTER 2
Cousin
Patrick…
“When are your cousins getting here?”
“Philip!
“When did you get here?” Wearing a robe over flannel boxers Gordon had made
his way down to the McKenna kitchen from his attic bedroom using the narrow rear
stairs.
He wasn’t startled to see Philip in their
kitchen. Philip basically lived at several houses in Mosquito Creek, besides
his own. Gordon was just startled to see anyone at all before sunrise.
“I came with Grandfather and Grandmother
Sullivan.” He munched on toast, flipping through an old comic book of Gordon’s.
“My grandparents are here too?” Gordon
checked the wall clock above the wide gas stove - it was twenty-eight minutes
after six.
“Ya, your grandmother brought two big
pots of stew. I’m definitely staying for that! Grandma Sullivan’s beef stew
smells so good I could eat the lid. Oh yeah, and she brought you guys extra
towels and pillows.”
“What’s the brown stuff you have on your
toast?” Gordon was almost afraid he asked. Every once in a while Philip became
an experimental chef combining odd food groups.
“Cinnamon with peanut butter, try it.”
He tore off a corner of his toast. “You never answered my question.”
“Hey, this isn’t bad.” Gordon headed for
the toaster. “What question?”
“Your cousin Patrick and aunt and uncle
or whatever they are.”
“Oh, yeah right. Their plane landed in
Calgary last night about 6PM. They were picking up their rental car at 9AM this
morning then driving from Calgary, Alberta to Helena, then here.” Gordon’s
toast popped up.
“A-n-d?” Philip extended his arm still
holding half a chunk of toast.
Gordon joined Philip at the small round
kitchen table. “And what?” He bit into a corner of his own toast.
“When will Grandma Sullivan be serving
her stew?”
Gordon smiled and swallowed. “I think
we’re eating late afternoon. My dad guessed our cousins would arrive around
5PM. It’s 432 miles from Calgary, Alberta to Mosquito Creek, Montana.”
“They gotta go across the border,”
Gordon took another bite, chewing and talking. “Customs might be busy and
they’ll need to stop somewhere for lunch, likely Great Falls.”
Philip closed his eyes so tight his lids
looked like folded paper. “I don’t know where Calgary or Dublin is.” He opened
his eyes again. “I need a map. I need Grandfather Sullivan.” He finished his
toast.
#######
The man was nervous. He stood alone in his
lab studying a raw ore sample the size of a softball. He turned it over and
over on the shelf in its’ hiding place.
The valuable element this sample
contained was rare and it was his entire future if the quality was as good as
early testing showed. He was certain it was not just an extension of Absaroka,
but its actual source.
With the amount as vast and historic as he
expected, keeping extraction a secret was their first worry. But to get rich
they needed to find a buyer for their ore in places where people were deceitful
– like they had become – which was their second worry.
#######
When the rental van
stopped at the front curb of the McKenna two storey Victorian, house most of
the family rushed off the porch. But Gordon didn’t follow his grandmother, or his
parents, or two younger sisters Gillian and Alyson, he held back.
Even from across the
width of the front lawn their long awaited guests looked beat. They had travelled
back-in-time slightly, across seven time-zones between Ireland and Alberta, due
north of Montana. So Gordon waited.
Grandfather Sullivan’s
knees bothered him when the weather was overcast which meant he wasn’t about to
hurry anywhere. “Your dad hasn’t seen his cousin since Shane was twelve and
your dad was ten. Your grandfather McKenna returned to Dublin for a brief visit
just before your great grandmother died.”
They watched from the
porch as the doors of the van opened. “Shane’s eighteen
months older than your dad, just as Patrick is eighteen months older than you
are.”
Philip’s voice startled
them both from behind the screen door. “A lot of cousins is kinda confusing. Since
I’m adopted, I don’t think I have any.” He joined Gordon, beside his grandfather
on the porch.
Park Sullivan put an
arm around Philip’s shoulder. “Oh you have cousins of all kinds. Family is
family Philip adopted or not.”
When a tall lanky youth
emerged from the van’s side door, Gordon leaped from the top porch step. After Gordon
reached Patrick there was an awkward handshake then a guy hug. And they stood
together while Patrick’s mother took photos.
“Wow, they are cousins?” Philip squinted. “They
look a lot alike. That’s so cool.”
Both boys had the
McKenna deep hazel-brown eyes, fair skin lightly freckled and dark auburn hair.
Older, Patrick was slightly taller, with the same large bone frame. But Gordon
had the square Sullivan chin of his grandfather while Patrick’s chin was more
pointed like his mother.
“Interesting.” Grandfather
Sullivan studied the differences and similarities that each cousin had
inherited. And he knew they’d be lifelong friends.
“I don’t get all the
cousin stuff, and the aunt and uncle stuff.” Philip watched as groups of
relatives shuffled and changed for each photo shoot.
Grandfather Sullivan
pointed toward the chattering collection of nine people. “Shane is Paul’s first
cousin. They’re first cousins because their dad’s were brothers. Patrick and
Gordon, and Gordon’s sisters too, are second cousins.”
“Cause they came second,
huh?”
They watched Patrick
and Gordon open the back of the rental van to unload luggage. Allison and
Gillian ran over to help then everyone started toward the house carrying bags
and suitcases.
“When first cousins
have children they’re called second cousins. But for Gordon calling Shane uncle
and Helen aunt seems less confusing.”
When the visitors
reached the top of the porch, Grandfather Sullivan was hugged by the newcomers
and then Gordon introduced Philip.
“Aw, so this is the
famous Philip Peters, you wrote about.” Patrick extended his hand to Philip,
winking at Gordon.
Rarely lost for words,
Philip looked at Gordon then back to Patrick uncertain.
“It was all good stuff
Philip cross-my-heart.” Gordon grinned.
Gillian nudged Philip,
who shook Patrick’s hand.
Alyson opened the
screen door, holding it open for the crowd to come in and out of the chilly
late afternoon air.
“I’ve seen many of the photographs
you took Philip.” Patrick walked backwards through the doorway facing him. “Ya
do good stuff there.”
Philip looked up at
Grandfather Sullivan who nodded smiling, messing up his hair.
On the right side of
the main floor, of the ninety-year-old house, the wall between parlor and
dining room had been removed. But instantly the twenty-two foot room seemed crowded.
The new comers
instinctively headed toward the aroma of home cooked stew, between baskets of
fresh baked bread at the nine-foot dining table.
#######
“Y-e-s.” Even with the
door closed the man knew he should keep his voice
low. He quickly opened his lodge room door checking the hall. It was empty. “I’ll
be there tomorrow of course.”
The cloud glare from
his window had triggered another tension headache and he shielded his tired
grey eyes.
“But don’t ever call me
here unless it’s an emergency. When we
meet at the mine it should appear as if we have never met and we’re naturally
suspicious of one another.”
#######
With a sharp turn west
the gate at the south entrance of historic Grant Ranch came into view. The visiting
McKenna cousins were impressed. After sunset the lights
from the inn and the out buildings was an inspiring sight. Gordon’s dad drove the
van with Aunt Helen in the front passenger seat while Uncle Shane and Patrick sat
behind them in the second row.
Because it was dark Paul
McKenna took the shorter, less scenic drive. From town to the ranch with its’
famous guest lodge Mosquito Creek Inn, it took them twenty-five minutes.
Footlights illuminated
the gate opening framed by a massive base of river rock that supported two
pillars of rough cut pine logs. The logs towered fifteen feet, with a third log
as cross piece, completing the arch.
“Maureen and I will
bring you back sometime during the day, Helen, Shane,” Gordon’s dad acted as
tour guide. “It’s too dark to see the
grazing cattle and the Rocky Mountains.”
“Oh, my.” Aunt Helen
couldn’t help expressing awe. Mosquito Creek Inn was a massive building from the
same river rock and pine logs as the entrance gate.
Paul McKenna continued
as guide. “Where I’ve parked is the front of the inn. Those wide double doors
were originally the entrance to the first barn. Two huge hay wagons could fit
in the lobby.”
“Henry Grant was only
eighteen and his cousin Lester Kohrs was nineteen when they laid claim, to
homestead the original 150 acres. That modest start grew to over 18,000 acres.”
“They built a barn as
their first task when they arrived in the spring of 1861. The two young
bachelors slept in the hayloft while chickens, pigs, horses and cattle were
kept sheltered in the stalls and pens below.”
When everyone got out
of the van, Paul McKenna pointed skyward. “That far chimney vents one of the
most imposing fireplaces I have ever seen. It has two hearths. The pioneering cousins
not only used the entire structure for heat, but one hearth was for cooking and
the second was used to forge many of their own tools.”
“This has always been a
working ranch. The original barn was added onto several times as the cousins
married and their families grew. Then it became the main house and finally an
inn.You’ll meet my wife’s
niece Zara. She’s the great, great granddaughter of Henry Grant. She inherited
the ranch twelve years ago and began running it on her own almost five years
ago.”
They walked under a
twenty-foot high portico connected to a long two-sided covered porch. The porch
was also connected to a series of open decks furnished with several heavy pinewood
chairs and outdoor tables.
Tall wide double French
doors that opened into the lobby had replaced the original solid barn doors.
Inside the brief description of the stone fireplace didn’t prepare the Irish visitors
for actually seeing it. The fireplace was a three-tiered, triangle shape that
narrowed toward the roof. The twenty-six foot tower of river rocks – most the
size of cantaloupe – seemed to grow up through the floor in the center of a
forty by forty foot room.
At the opposite end of
the converted lobby, Gordon pointed out where the hayloft had once been. It was
still a loft, but above the check-in desk, bookshelves and comfortable chairs
invited guests to relax. Beyond the equally
massive dining room to the left of the lobby was a smaller room Zara Grant
named the Gathering Room.
Inside the smaller room
each of eight round tables were set for six. Apple-green colored table cloths
were offset by gleaming white plates and linens with stunning white and green
bouquets of fern leaves, babies-breath, and Gerber daisies mixed with fragrant
lilies.
A long narrow snack
table of hot and cold appetizers with hot and cold beverages was set against one
wall.
Aunt Helen and Uncle
Shane looked at each other. Helen spoke first. “You did all of this for us?”
Gordon’s mother Maureen
put an arm through Helen’s. “For the two weeks you’re here we thought this was
the easiest way for you to meet most of our closest friends.”
“Besides,” Paul McKenna
winked. “I’m pretty sure that if we came to Dublin, we’d be hauled to your favorite
pub.”
“So true, so true you
are.” Uncle Shane grinned, relaxing.
They remained close to
the door so they could greet people as they arrived, seating themselves at the
first two tables by a wall of windows.
Gordon sat at a third
table, hoping the Anderlund family would be the next to arrive. They were, but barely
five minutes before Sonia Molosky’s family.
All Sonia saw when she
walked through the Gathering Room door was Gordon McKenna smiling and pulling
out a chair for Stephen Anderlund’s stepsister, Heather Meeker.
At the sound of Marc
Molosky’s excitement over the buffet table, Gordon looked up and smiled as
Sonia approached. He hoped the evening didn’t become awkward. Sometime that
evening, he knew he needed to take Sonia aside and tell her of his growing
feelings for Heather.
Gordon introduced his
Uncle Shane and Aunt Helen to Mrs. Molosky, Sonia’s Grandpa Molosky then her
sister Salina with Salina’s twin brother Eric and youngest brother Marc.
Patrick who had been
deep in conversation with Grandfather Sullivan, sat on the opposite side of the
second McKenna table partially hidden by his mother and Grandmother Sullivan.
“Patrick? Where are
you?” Gordon looked around.
When Patrick stood to
meet the Molosky’s – the shift in Sonia was immediate. But her astonished
expression was noticed by the only three people who knew her best. Grandpa
Molosky when he shook Patrick’s hand. Hanna Gaikis as she reached the Gathering Room
doorway carrying a basket filled with more folded napkins, and Mia Cho just as she arrived
with her family.
Two hours later time had caught up with the Irish
relatives, even Patrick…
$1.00 for an eBook copy of this [MG] MYSTERY-BOOK 7: https://www.amazon.com/WingMan-Mosquito-Creek-Detective-Club-ebook/dp/B018RH0I0E/ref=sr_1_19?crid=3U247Q9XULL5T&keywords=sherrie+todd-beshore&qid=1579466991&s=books&sprefix=sherrie%2Cstripbooks%2C230&sr=1-19
http://www.patchworkpublishing.com/
Comments
Post a Comment