With her father's dilapidated motel crumbling around her in the slick
But Citra has more connection to the family than she lets on, and she hopes to uncover keys to what she believes was Hap’s murder. Now, careful Leanne must track her missing sister and piece together the secrets of her father’s life--and death--if she is to salvage what’s left of her tattered family.
I grew up in
I've included the first 250 words of my manuscript below.
Daddy tilted his head toward the vacant middle seat. “Come on.”
Leanne hesitated. She had no desire to witness this latest argument, whatever its origin. Claudette was pissed, Daddy too, though also jittery and tense.
Leanne would be off to college soon. She didn’t need them. The wind plowed her short bangs from her forehead and numbed her cheeks. She shook her head, started up the slope to the lodge. It was the one time she’d refused them.
And later this seemed the hinge on which the whole day turned. If she had just gone ahead and played her part, the good girl, the calm in all their bluff and bluster, none of the rest would have happened.
She was standing at the kitchen sink when she heard the shouting: tourists with high, frightened voices. “Holys***! Holys***!” honked over the lake, like the call of some strange bird.
She ran out to the stoop, but the canoe was nowhere in sight. Instead, a bass boat headed for the put-in. And Claudette hunched inside it, her face all fury and fear. The boat scraped up on the ramp.
Where was Daddy?