Welcome to Book Readers Heaven! Find Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... "Books, Cats: Life is Sweet..."
Dear Lord, This day as I again look out my window to the snow, the cold, another day of winter that comes and goes like always... Or is it? It seems these days that I have no basis of balance... Is climate control a problem? Or not, as many may say... Where is Truth that we can count on? Even about the weather?
I find that I am not even sure I can find "Me..." The Me that took one day at a time, moving through each day to tackle what needed to be done... Have I changed so much in these later years, or has the world itself changed so much that we find ourselves turning around and around, searching, for that "something..."
that made me "Me..."
It's not really that I am more alone than I ever was--that never bothered me, because, of course, YOU were always with me... I could walk through life, through a day and find you somewhere... Monday, the forsythia was blooming all around me, I could feel spring coming so that I could walk outside into the sunshine again, enjoying each new bloom that pops out each day... By Tuesday, everything was covered with snow--the forsythia burdened with the weight of packed white pieces of cold rain that has grown too heavy, the plants drooping...
I watched a bird land on a metal pole--it shivered, lifting its tiny clawed feet one at a time from the chill that shook its body, finally flying away, hopefully to find some bit of food that somebody had thrown to the ground after eating... We had earlier stopped for lunch, picked up KFC bowls, neither of us feeling like it tasted right... They've stopped added spices to food? Surely that is not where we are headed... Yet... prices have gone up, higher than ever... companies are changing in so many ways...
Rachel had picked me up to go pick up my glasses. I have them on now and am feeling better than I have in over a year to have some visible improvement... I had finally decided to seek a consultation--a second opinion about what had evolved after cataract surgeries on both eyes... I went back to my former eye doctor, preparing to be apologetic that I had chosen to go to WVU rather than have him perform the surgery. He was kind, when he learned that it was really part of a series of surgeries that I'd had during the past five years, which I'd had to prioritize in order of urgency.
Bottom line was that I received verification that the surgeries looked fine, but that the prescription that was found in the glasses did not reflect what I had previously required. Yes, the prescription lens had been inserted correctly, but the planning for my normal eye use had not been considered. In fact, I revealed that there had been no discussion about how I routinely used my eyes for daily living... Reading...
As a reader, I had been struggling ever since... The glasses were changed based upon a tight review of the eyesight chart based upon that inserted lens. I came out of that office, looked around and saw clearly for the first time... The doctor explained that I would still need to deal with very small print such as on my meds containers, but I was relieved to begin to feel that the most important part of me had been reviewed and improved...
Mistakes happened and, normally, most of us are at least able to receive assistance from one person or another. Right now, however, the world as we knew it just a decade ago has changed, not by normal evolution based upon new advances such as AI which most of us are against for the initial period at last...
But there are people--far too many people--acting based upon, shall we be kind and say, bad judgment. Now, for many who have been lied to, manipulated, and, worse, threatened, and have voted into our government a group of people who are so caught up in personal prejudices, desires, or who have been absorbed into a cult-like environment that, many, are just now opening their eyes to the reality of where we are today. A dangerous time that we have not seen for decades...
Worse, it has come about by lies and manipulations of those who are rich and powerful that have corrupted the majority of our country's life at large, that it could be years before we survive just what has been destroyed in less than two years!
I had opened with the above video, only to find I needed to vent a little before I was mentally able to deal with the corruption and, yes, loss of rational, competent thinking by the majority of individuals who are now in government office. Trying to make some type of rational process out of the mess we are in now is just plain impossible... But it seemed to have developed with those in the republican party who were aiming for a major reversion of control within America. Project 2025 was one of the results. However, as anybody who has worked in a "service" organization knows, there is ALWAYS more than the average individual can see or know about by being within that environment.
I lucked out a little on this area of experience, given that my nearest area of employment when I graduated from high school was West Virginia university. And, with my training, I was able to immediately step into an administrative office. first in Personnel, and then into various academic administrative support offices, that resulted in my becoming knowledgeable about the entire group of people who not only worked there, but knowledge of what their individual units were responsible for. You might think about it like this, a state-wide university system is very similar to the duties and responsibilities of a major nation-wide government--only bigger and more in-depth in breadth and scope...
One key difference, however, between a single entity and the government is that, We The People, hire our representatives... Therein lies a problem. Not one that cannot be resolved however--that which has been "played" with one way or another for about 250 years, as of now has gone through similar situations before, though not as devastating.
The answer, of course, is what we already do. But with no major overall oversight... What do I mean by that? Well, think about it with yourself as a small business owner. You want to succeed, right? But you KNOW you can't do it alone... Right now, most of America has seen what has happened when a president decides he is able to handle anything without help... We are NOW in war that was started on no immediate need! In fact, a major resignation was announced this week stating that clearly...
But I don't want to go too far on the reality of TODAY..." We are all suffering through it, to a lesser or greater exteent, as best we can...with no help from our government...
But let's go back to "a business" of some kind. Most businesses will have one individual at the top. WVU had a president... but also a Board of Regents which was over all the educational institutions in the state.
So, as we look comparatively, we see that, because of the scope of our nation, more than a Board of Regents is needed. In fact, the scope of the government is the reason why we needed MULTIPLE oversight agencies:
House of Representatives, a Senate, a comprehensive legal agency (Justice), a Supreme Court. Key difference is that, as it turned out, each state turned out to be "mini-United States."
Uniformity began to be lost at this point. Once Power was attached to the title of Governor, an immediate competition began... Once that was lost, political parties began to evolve... People chose many times based upon only a political party affiliation... With no concern whether the individual was qualified for the position in question.
Key, however, is that at some point, all people must realize, if they are wise, in my opinion, that what is good for the nation itself, must lead to the final decision making...
That point of:
consensus/agreement/unanimity/concurrence/
accord, acceptance, or a meeting of the minds
MUST OCCUR!
Instead of the negotiation that normally has occurred, right now, for I think the very first time, one party has initiated a takeover for which not one individual can have seen what has actually happened... Why? using terms
Overview. Antisocial personality disorder, sometimes called sociopathy, is a mental health condition in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong and ignores the rights and feelings of others.
that are and have been used during the past decade, we now have an individual in charge who doesn't play by the rules--any rules--nobody's rules, often his own based upon no ratiionale--which can change from day to day...
I've read two of Mary Trump's (and one by her brother) books, who turned to a career in psychology, I imagine, to gain a needed perspective of her family.
One of the reasons I moved from writing about job burnout, to one that reflects a daily journal in a much more complex situation, now, than I personally had at work but which provided the knowledge and experience which led to what I began to see in 2015.
Suffering through the constant vigilance and necessary fear of contamination from Covid played a significant part in seeing just how incompetent DJT was during his first term. Now, only to be forced to watch as statistics about a measles epidemic increases due to, another, similar personality who was placed in charge of the nation's health issues, and all the other actions that has evolved with our health since the overturn of Roe, has proven my concerns and left me angry. Although as of this morning, I'm feeling more relieved as, actions by Kennedy have been stopped at the first level of court action!
Which leads me back to the devastation of living one day at a time, with death caused by ignoring the vaccines that have been available... deaths caused by removal of important health care to poor countries that were formerly helped by USAID, and which has led to more deaths that could have been prevented... On to murder on our streets as ICE go after people on the streets of the United States "for the fun of it..." Or because of the fanatical leadership to remove all but white males from power and government activities... Only to finally use WAR as a distraction seemingly, by one man's choice... Or many choices by many people seeking their own personal desires...
A democracy cannot live in the environment that has been created by those in government and those behind the scenes funding a collapse of the one constant democracy that has existed from the very beginning of immigration to our country...
Must we lose the One Thing Earned
That Called to all People?
Millions have lived and died here... Millions were brought as slaves here... Millions were indigenous people already living on this land...
Do you REALLY BELIEVE THAT ONE POLITICAL PARTY WITH LOTS OF MONEY BEHIND THEM DESERVE TO DESTROY WHAT ALL OF US BUILT?
Yes, they lived as outcasts; but they had the prize.
They saw the glances, the looks and the hatred.
They sensed the meanness that pure envy inspires. Then each would look in the eyes of the other
And they would smile, knowing they had the prize.
Each day they thanked their Creator and Maker, While enduring the pain from the meddlesome lies. Each gained more strength from the love of the other; Still sharing a smile, knowing they had the prize.
Sadly, by moonlight, some bigots attacked them, Thus, leaving the couple to face their demise. Weakly, each searched for the eyes of the other. Tho’ dying, they smiled, knowing they had the prize. . . .
Water hastened to the corners of his eyes. The music ended, returning the group to its isolated nocturnal surroundings, where silence captured the indescribable. Try as he might, Doug could arrest the tears no longer. He turned away to wipe them.
He turned on the radio. “Let It Snow” fit neither the sunny day nor his mood, so he jabbed the power button. Enough of Johnny Mathis.
Thirty years of loyal service and hard work have come to this?
A few days ago, when you were at work, she told me again how much she was looking forward to heaven.” The pastor’s pause allowed Doug to digest what he’d said. He didn’t want to hear any of it. What made Rev. Long the gatekeeper to heaven? Doug would rather choose life for Ruth. What would he do without her?
Carmen, his half-sister seemed to be the only other person that kept in touch with him... His beloved wife had died, he'd lost his job after 30 years, and money problems began to grow and grow. Doug Zimmer was at the edge and often wondered just what he had to live for...
Until he found the letters... Carmen had come to help prepare for the funeral and while they were busy, Doug remembered that Ruth had mentioned that she'd left something for him... Right then he needed to find whatever it was! Hands shaking, he pulled out a cover letter:
Dearest Douglas,
I’ve not felt well in quite some time, but only last week was I diagnosed with cancer. It’s so sad to think of leaving you. Though life is ending for me, that doesn’t mean it is for you too.
Inside this envelope you will find notecards, each labeled with a destination. When you’re ready, I want you to travel to each place, unseal its envelope, and read what’s inside. Please don’t read them beforehand because they’ll lose all meaning. I wrote these notes to encourage you after I’m gone.
I’m so thankful for the years we spent together. May you find this “scavenger hunt” liberating. I love you so deeply.
Affectionately, Ruth
A tear dropped from Doug’s cheek onto Ruth’s stationery. He pressed the sheet of paper against his pant leg to absorb the moisture before placing the note and unopened envelopes back into the drawer. Traveling was the furthest thing from his mind. Then he burst into sobs.
It would take quite some time for Doug to again think of the packet that Ruth had left for him. How could he even think of just taking off, on his own, at the age of 60... And on a bike!
The thoughts just kept coming back and finally he went to a bike store to consider and learn what that type of adventure would actually require. And while he considered what was ahead for him, he began to again enjoy taking his bike out for rides on a routine basis... In fact, riding had become the only joy that he had left, it seemed...
~~~~
My brother was the only one of four children in my family who had a bike. He had won it at an annual company picnic which we all attended as invited by our favorite uncle... We were too poor to actually buy a bike. For me, I'd rather enjoy long walks anyway, where I could stop and read a little, LOL, before I headed back home. But times were different back then and I lived in a small town where it was safe to be out roaming the hills or walking along the Monongahela River near the New Geneva lock...
Doug, too, had a regular bike like my brother but when he started thinking about riding long distances, he wasn't sure his age would allow it for him, so he bought a new one just for the trip! He refused, when he finally decided to go, to tell anybody where he was going or what he would be doing--after all, his plans were all concealed from even him. He had a new bike which he felt he could manage and so he was ready. And opened the first destination to discover the destination toward which he would start his adventure! And arrived at the Santa Monica Pier toward evening!
That afternoon Doug cycled toward the Santa Monica pier. He and Ruth had enjoyed a sunset ride on the Ferris wheel there several years ago. A resurgent longing for his wife wrestled with the anticipation of breaking free from his sorrow. He crossed the busy street and entered the pier parking lot. The glistening waters of the Pacific Ocean lapped the beach, seagulls cawing overhead. From the seat of a bicycle, the ocean seemed more spectacular than he remembered. Adrenaline shot through his body. He could wait no longer. After leaning his rig against a concrete abutment, he dove into a pannier, pulled out Ruth’s first card, and fumbled to tear it open.
My Dear Douglas,
Our first date. I remember vividly how the Ferris wheel stopped when we were at the very top, rocking back and forth as we looked out over the ocean, the full moon’s reflection twinkling on the waters. When you put your arm around me and pulled me close, my heart leaped for joy. It was the beginning of a beautiful journey.
Thank you for that special beginning, Douglas.
Beautiful things in life have a beginning but also an end. Yet they can live on in your memory. Savor them but don’t allow them to hold you hostage. Let the wheel before you represent your inner circle. Sometimes the wheel stops, and someone gets off. In time more will climb aboard. Welcome your new passengers. Carmen is a wonderful person already occupying the next seat down. Cherish her—and others who are forever connected to you, even though they may be several seats away. You’re not alone, Darling.
Yours always.
Lovingly, Ruth
Lord, thank You for the loved ones You have given and will give Douglas. May he embrace them with joy and appreciation. Amen.
I had thought, at first, that I might take the entire trip on my blog for all of you, but decided that was too personal a story to be revealed unless you read the book. This was such a thoughtful and meaningful act for Ruth to make, don't you think? I remember in th past, at least with one friend, I got little note cards and wrote something for everyday that he would be away on a trip. There are so many ways to show your love for others, isn't there? Does it really have to wait until a farewell of death? I don't think so.
“I’m not sure. I know God is real, and He does love us. The Bible says ‘God is love.’ I read it every day. It helps me understand God and what He expects of me.
He looked in his mirror and doubled down on his grips. The accompanying pickup truck approached quickly, its blaring music getting louder and louder. The driver goosed the accelerator as he passed within a foot of Doug, leaving him coughing in a black cloud of noxious fumes. The driver waved in his rearview mirror before his head flew back in laughing hysteria, his right arm flailing. Doug vented with a few choice words for the idiot. Trailing up the hill behind the pickup were echoes of “Flirtin’ with Disaster” by Molly Hatchet, one of Doug’s party songs from yesteryear. Rather than give in to fear or anger, this time the near miss reinforced a call to vigilance. Doug squeezed the handgrips and checked his mirror frequently for whatever vehicles would overtake him.
And that proved to be true for Doug because as he started traveling further and further, he learned that there were many bicyclists on all kinds of bikes that he would routinely meet in placed where biking was allowed and of interest. I must admit that I help my breath as Doug encountered his first big rig flying by him while he was riding near a main road. This adventure can, actually, be very dangerous and will occur before the end of the book...
But the first friend he found was a young woman who carried her violin on her bike with her... So, of course, when I found her playing a song I love, I had to share it! Apparently there are many bikers who take off as a single or in groups and Doug was to meet this young lady several times as they traveled either together or moving on and meeting later... But nobody expected the accident that would occur as the book near its ending... And the violin was part of the rescue work. And Doug was right there helping...
If you are a individual who is a bicyclist, enjoys watching reality shows, or are sentimental about somebody you love, this just may be a book you'll enjoy! Do check it out! Me, I was in to it for the memories of lost love.
The killing of Renee Nicole Good in Minneapolis has already become a national flashpoint, not only because of the violence itself, but because of what it reveals about the fragility of truth when power feels threatened.
My own experience in Hancock County, Georgia, nearly thirty years ago, taught me that this fragility is not new. It is woven into the American legal fabric, appearing whenever authority senses a challenge and the system feels compelled to choose between accountability and self-protection.
But if the first essay was about what happened, and the second about how the law bends, and the third about why escalation occurs, then this companion piece must ask a different question:
What must we do now?
Because the story cannot end on a note of outrage, it cannot end with analysis. It cannot end with grief.
This moment demands something more complex: reform, accountability, and civic courage, not as slogans, but as commitments.
Reform is needed to change the structure that enables abuse. Reform is not a matter of tweaking policy. It is a matter of restructuring the conditions that allow violence, distortion, and impunity to flourish. Independent investigations must be just that, independent and non-negotiable.
When federal agents kill a citizen, the investigation cannot be controlled by the same agency that pulled the trigger. Minneapolis exposed the danger of allowing federal authorities to seize evidence, restrict access, and shape the narrative before facts can breathe.
Reform requires:
independent state-level investigative
automatic recusal of involved agencies
transparent release of evidence
Without independence, justice is a performance, not a process. Local courts must be insulated from local power. Hancock County taught me that justice collapses when law enforcement and the judiciary share bloodlines, alliances, or political debts. Reform must address:
conflicts of interest
judicial selection processes
small‑county vulnerabilities
A courtroom cannot be a family reunion. It must be a forum for truth.
The use‑of‑force standard must be rewritten for the 21st century. The legal standard of “reasonable fear” has become a loophole wide enough to drive a tank through. Reform must redefine:
What constitutes a threat
When deadly force is justified
How officer perception is evaluated
Fear cannot be the sole arbiter of life and death.
Accountability is the most challenging work in a system built to resist it. Accountability is not punishment. It is the recognition that power must answer to the people it serves.
For instance, there must, of necessity, be narrative accountability. We must understand that before legal accountability comes narrative accountability; therefore, the willingness to confront falsehoods, distortions, and official stories that collapse under scrutiny.
In Minneapolis, the rush to label Renee Nicole Good a “terrorist” was not just rhetoric. It was an attempt to foreclose accountability before it began.
Accountability requirements include, but are not limited to:
challenging official narratives
elevating eyewitness accounts
refusing to let the state define the victim
Truth must not be outsourced to those with the most to lose.
Also, narrative accountability must be followed closely by institutional accountability. Institutions, like all entities, protect themselves. They always have, and perhaps, always will.
Accountability requirements include, but are not limited to:
civilian oversight with real power
consequences for obstruction
transparency in disciplinary processes
A system that cannot discipline itself cannot be trusted to discipline others. The inability to discipline itself is a guiding principle and trumps all others.
Lastly, there must be a sense of cultural accountability. Law enforcement culture must be confronted, not with hostility, but with honesty. The warrior mindset, the group loyalty, the reflexive escalation: these are not individual failings. They are cultural norms.
Accountability requirements include, but are not limited to:
training that prioritizes restraint
leadership that models humility
a shift from dominance to service
Culture is the soil from which behavior grows. As an old farm boy myself, bad soil makes cultivation a waste of time and a no-hope proposition for a productive yield.
There is one overriding salient fact. Civic courage is the ingredient without which reform fails. Reform and accountability are structural. Civic courage is personal.
Reform is the willingness of ordinary people to:
speak when silence is safer
question when obedience is expected
stand firm when power rushes toward them
I learned a lesson about standing firm when power rushes toward you in Hancock County when I turned around on that courthouse staircase. I am certain the Sheriff and his posse would have pushed me down that staircase and lied about having no choice but to send me tumbling down three flights of stairs.
The people of Minneapolis are learning it now as they demand answers amid federal resistance. Civic courage is not dramatic. It is steady. It is persistent. It is the refusal to let fear dictate the boundaries of justice.
There must be courage to follow the example of James Baldwin and bear witness, to be willing to tell no better than one has seen. The videos of Good’s killing exist because several people dared to record it. The truth survived because law-abiding citizens refused to look away.
There must be courage to challenge military action on U.S. soil. Reform begins when citizens challenge the systems that claim to serve them. It starts when lawyers file motions that anger sheriffs, when families demand transparency, when communities refuse to accept official stories that contradict what they saw with their own eyes.
Notwithstanding the above, the United States citizens must have the courage to imagine something better. Civic courage is not only resistance. It is imagination. The belief that a different kind of justice is possible. A justice not built on fear, not built on dominance, and not built on institutional self-protection. A justice built on truth.
There is much work ahead. The killing of Renee Nicole Good is not just a tragedy. It is a test. A test of whether we will allow the old patterns to repeat, the escalation, the narrative distortion, the institutional shielding, or whether we will insist on something better.
Reform is the blueprint. Accountability is the mechanism. Civic courage is the fuel. And if we commit to all three, then perhaps the next time power feels threatened, the reflex will not be violence, but restraint. Not distortion, but truth. Not impunity, but justice.
This moment, this precious liberty, demands nothing less.
You know folks, I will be eternally thankful that I met and became friends with Harold Michael Harvey through his books. He is one of the most knowledgeable, intelligent, and caring individuals I have ever known... He has much to teach each of us who come into his sphere of legal coverage--this time, it's murder... I refuse to call it anything but the real meaning of what has been happening during the last months in the United States... Discrimination, threats, DEI mandates, and more has already costs millions of lies. I, of course, include the very first act of selfishness when the USAID part of the government was eliminated and money transferred to destructive actions initiated by this president... The cruelty has been outstandingly obvious and aimed directly to those he hates most. We all know who they are, don't we?
I started with this first murder so that I could move forward from it to the set of almost 180 teachers and female students who were murdered in Iran. Let's be clear. I do not see those children any differently than those children who are being separated from their parents or used to capture their parents, or thrown into "death" camps for no legal reason. We have also lost citizens by this war that was called for No Reason... No Reason that is accepted by anybody other than those MAGA that still supports a man who...has...no...heart...
The first video shown above illustrates exactly what happens when he is caught--he lies... He claims that he knows nothing about the death of those children through the use of out-of-data maps for Iran! Yet, it is very clear to all of us that on another whim he decided to set another war in motion! A war that evolved since Trump, himself, pulled out of the Iran Accord that had been in existence during his first term...
People like DJT think that we do not remember all of his sins... We do... So don't even think that anybody else made the decision to add to the ongoing war between Israel and Iran/Hamas et.al. When he changed the Defense Department to War, we all feared what was to happen... And it didn't take him long to move into destruction in parts of the world as well as in the United States...
I wonder, really wonder, did the Supreme Court Justices and others who supported Trump in his madness, know what was to happen? But then there is this...
And, of course, ending with another Last Word
So...why does Trump continue to support Putin who has supposedly been giving Iran the location of the Americans...who have been killed or are now in the hospital from injuries!?
Tori held up the newspaper article. “This is an invitation. My sister’s killer wants to play a game, so… game on.”
“You may have broken off contact with everyone here, but someone kept track of you. Watch your back.”
The massive stack of mail had collapsed and fallen to the floor. “Naturally.” Exasperated, Tori walked over and dropped down to her knees. She started pulling all the pieces of mail together, finding miscellaneous bills, junk mail, a donation solicitation for Boston College, her latest Vanity Fair and Vogue magazines, and then a yellow envelope that she flipped over to make sure it was addressed to her. There was no return address, but the postmark was for Manchester Bay. Tori exhaled. She hadn’t received a piece of mail from Minnesota, let alone Manchester Bay, in years. Pushing herself up from the floor, she went to her desk and reached for her letter opener.
She sliced the top open, reached inside, and pulled out a single piece of paper. “What the…?” It was a photocopy of the front page of the Manchester Bay Chronicle, dated July 5, 1999, and the headline read: Hunter Girl Missing. In the lower left-hand corner, secured by a paper clip, was a typed note that read: Check the Manchester Bay Chronicle. It will look familiar. She’d seen the clipping before, although it had been years. A copy of it was stored in a box in the closet. “It will look… familiar.” Tori went to her desk and powered up her laptop. She typed ManchesterBayChronicle.com into the search bar. On the home page the first headline was blunt: Genevieve Lash Missing. The sub-headline read: On Twentieth Anniversary of Jessica Hunter Disappearance.
As Tori scanned the article on the website, she learned that Genevieve Lash was last seen by a friend she dropped off at home early in the morning of July 5. In his press conference, Shepard County Sheriff Cal Lund reported that Lash’s car was found abandoned and locked along the side of a county road with a flat right front tire. “Cal…” Tori murmured.
Manchester Bay always went big on the fireworks for the Fourth. Synchronized to music, they were launched from the end of the long fishing pier at the opposite end of the beach. A massive crowd gathered in lawn chairs or on blankets on the beach and in the park and then along South Shore Drive, which was barricaded for several blocks to allow for more seating. A flotilla of speedboats and pontoons were anchored in the placid waters of the bay, as well as in front of Mannion’s on the Lake, a restaurant farther northwest up the shoreline. As they settled into their seats on the bench, Jason casually put his right arm gently around Tori’s shoulder. Self-conscious to a fault, she almost always held back her emotions and affection. Yet, in this moment, she was… content. For once, she stopped caring what anyone else thought or saw. Instead of keeping just a little distance between them, she snuggled closer to Jason and then turned her face to his. Rarely the initiator, she almost surprised herself as she leaned up and kissed him, first just a little peck on his lips and then a second, softer kiss that she held for an extra moment as the fireworks show began. It was a long show, lasting nearly forty-five minutes before there was a rapid-fire launching up into the sky. “I think this is the grand finale,” Jason observed as one rocket after another shot up into the sky, exploding loudly into a kaleidoscope of colors over the waters of the bay. With his arm wrapped lightly around Tori’s shoulder, he pulled her a little closer and then leaned down and kissed her again. “Do you want to get out of here? Just you and me?” Tori froze. She knew what this question meant, to go off alone with him, and where it was leading. She’d talked about this with Jessie, who’d already taken the plunge. Tori had openly wondered whether she was ready. It had been a frequent discussion topic between the two of them. “You are,” Jessie had assured her. “You’re ready.” “How do you know? How do I know?” “Because you’re asking the question. If you ask the question, this question, the big question, then you know—” “—the answer,” Tori finished the sentence. Her body was a jumble of nerves at the thought of… sex.
Tori was aware as she came home from another case completion that the annual holiday that haunted her each year had come and gone. She'd never forget that it was during that celebration she had lost her virginity, but, worse, lost her twin sister... Sure, they had talked about it before going to the town event; but, now, it was a heavy load of regret, knowing that she had not been around her sister, as she normally was, when she had, for some reason, disappeared... Not ever discovering what happened was part of the reason she had become a FBI Agent, specializing in lost children...
Nothing, however, could have prepared her for getting a notice in her mail postmarked from her home town--a place she had not visited since she had buried her father. That was now twenty years ago!
Traveling back to where she had lived for most of her life was hard. But when she checked in with the local police, she was pleased that she knew the now chief and one of the officers was still there. She was sure that the new detective, who was handling the death of Genevieve Lash, would not easily welcome her desire to participate, so she went to Cal first and let him know she was back and showed him the message that she'd received. There was really no choice, having an FBI agent with expertise in tracking missing people, would be an asset to the case that could not be ignored.
“Yeah, but then you showed up with that article and note,” he replied. “We either have a situation where they are connected, and your sister’s disappearance was not random, or someone is using the disappearance of your sister to deflect and hide some other agenda.”
Tori was surprised and grateful that she also was able to reconnect with quite a number of her high school gang. It was to prove an advantage as they all realized that with the message that was sent to Tory, which had spotlighted the 20th anniversary of her sister's disappearance, a merge of the two cases would be required to investigate where Genevieve might have been taken...
Interestingly, the two cases which were the first to be pulled together showed many parallels between the two... And, it was a natural assumption to believe that if somebody was still active 20 years later, that there were more victims between this period and possibly even before... But what they discovered to be the reality was shocking. Soon Tori was seeking help from a friend from the FBI...
But right in the middle of the investigation, Tori was called by her boss at the FBI to travel to where a two-year-old child had been kidnapped... Another case within the larger case!
Tori tried sleeping in an easy chair in the office of the Taylors’ home. With the number of times she’d done this in various houses, buildings, and offices over the years while working a kidnapping, she ought to have trained her mind and body to be able to sleep anywhere and on anything, no matter its size or level of comfort. Yet every time it was a struggle. And now, while loath to admit it, especially with a two-year-old child kidnapped, her mind was elsewhere. No matter the lengths she went to bury it, the memory of her sister and her disappearance was always there, lurking in the back of her mind. Thoughts of Jessie were ready to be triggered by the littlest thing from 1999, like if she heard “Scar Tissue” or “Californication” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Or if she happened to stumble across a Friends episode,
something she and Jessie always watched. If Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me was on, the last movie they’d gone to before she disappeared, it would all come flooding back. They’d spent three weeks
saying: Oh be-have and Not if I can help it or Felicity Shagwell. Shagwell by name. Shag-very-well by reputation. It was the little moments and memories like that which, in a flash, brought her sister’s case out of the dark corners of her mind. That memory was no longer the lurking, occasionally painful distraction that would appear and then fade. Now it was once again all-consuming. She had the taste of reopening her sister’s case—of Manchester Bay, of walking the stretch of highway where Jessie was abducted, cruising the streets of their old hometown knowing, knowing that somewhere nearby the killer was skulking, maybe even watching, and even possibly hunting her. More than anything, that was why she was wide awake in the pitch-black of the night. Instinctually she reached for her phone and checked her text messages and emails. There was an email from Tracy Sheets from late last night indicating she was working on the project and thought she’d have something to share later tomorrow, which was now today. Later in the day—how much later? How long would she have to wait? And if Tracy had something, what did she have? And even if Tracy did have something, Tori wondered what she could then turn around and do with it. She’d considered calling Braddock but then thought better of it. They were on good terms now and she didn’t want to do anything to distract or, knowing herself, annoy him before she heard from Tracy. Besides, she had no idea when she’d be able to get back to Manchester Bay. Trying to sleep in the chair was worthless. As if her own insomnia wasn’t enough, it was a cloudless night with a full moon, and the light filtered in through the six tall and lightly curtained windows of the office. Turning on a light was not required for her to inspect the many pictures on the shelves of the long, built-in bookcase. There were family pictures, several of the Taylors with Ava over her two years. A high shelf contained a set of photos of Jake Taylor with what appeared to be college friends, and on another lower shelf was pictures of Erica Taylor and what looked to be several of her friends. A shelf in the middle of the bookcase contained pictures that were perhaps ten years old, of Jake with three people, who Tori presumed to be his sister Cindy and their parents. There were also several pictures of just Jake and Cindy. She quietly made her way down the wide corridor dividing the main level of the house. To the left she glanced into the living room to see Jake, his back turned, sleeping on the couch. In the kitchen she could see a red light illuminated on the coffee maker. There was half a pot of warm coffee left. If she was going to be awake, she might as well do it with coffee. She took a ceramic coffee cup out of the sink’s drying rack and filled it halfway. Blowing to cool the coffee, she stepped to her right to look out the side window of the kitchen into the neighbor’s backyard. As she raised the cup to her mouth, she caught a flash of light and then looked up to the second floor of the neighbor’s house. In a narrow window, she saw a man who she recognized as the neighbor. She’d seen him in the driveway putting the garbage out earlier. He was holding his cell phone and appeared to be typing a message. After a moment, he looked up and to the Taylors’ house, waving the phone. Tori leaned forward over the sink, trying to peer out the kitchen window to look up to her right but she had no angle to see up to the second floor. She was aware of only one person being up there. Tori set her cup softly on the counter and walked back to the front of the house, quietly opened the front door, slipped out onto the front stoop, and then pulled the door gently closed. She turned to her right, stepped over some bushes and flowers that were planted along the sidewalk and front step, and then made her way around the south side of the house and into the backyard. Jutting out from the northwest corner of the house was an expansive deck. Crouching down low, using the spindled deck railing as cover, she picked her way along to the corner of the deck and then peered around it and up to the second floor of the Taylor house. As she’d expected, she saw Erica in the window with her phone, looking over to her neighbor.
Will Braddock, chief detective for the Shepard County Sheriff’s Department, had already done the onsite stop to where they have found evidence of Lash. At that time he had begun his routine lead of the two additional officers who would work the case with him. Readers learn more about Will as Tory does, later in the book, as she realized that she had given little notice to his credentials and background because of her intense desire to begin to compare the two cases. And, BTW, this book follows true on a romantic interest becoming a part of their lives, although, it was not a primary part of the plot.
“Cal, he can’t—” “Victoria, please sit down.” “Cal!” “Sit down and shut up, now!” Tori froze, stunned. In the entirety of her life, she’d never heard Cal raise his voice like that to anyone. Sheepishly, she did as she was told...
Tori mumbled, “What are we going to do?” “Go back to my place and strategize while we still have some time before we have to sing “Ave Maria” in five-part harmony.”
This became a personal favorite for me for a number of reasons. As the subtitle indicates, it is addictive even though I was unable, because of my fall, to read as long as I normally do. But perhaps, from that, I was able to ponder exactly what was so intriguing about the story--for surely abuse of girls is nothing new, sad to say... For one, the book was written by a man; I wanted to see how he treated the topic that was routinely covered by women writers. I found little difference, thankfully, because I don't think this is a topic that is in any way, sexist in nature, meaning that I believe that most men are as concerned about ridding our world of such terror as women are. It was, however, by reading at this time when so much news is in the headlines about the release of the Epstein files, it created a comparison of the villain in this book against those that have thus far been identified as active participators in this cult-like crime wave that has gone on for so many years and included a documented number of over 1000 victims, thus far.
The tenacity exhibited in those characters working on the cases within this book certainly supports the caliber and intensity of those congressional and other men (and women) who are working diligently to provide some semblance of justice for those innocents who were taken into a world in which they were forced to be involved. I, for one, continue to read such books in the hope that one day we can figure out just "why" some choose to use force against those who should be loved and cherished...
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