By Billie
A. Williams
Mystery/Suspense 298 pages
Cover art by Richard
Stroud
Blurb:
Leona buttoned herself against
the cold. Hat pulled close over her ears and neck. Turtle pulling into its
shell, she recoiled into her coat against the December chill. This December was
different than others. This December felt especially frigid. Thoughts of
leaving security, family, familiar…thoughts of not just new neighborhood, not
just new job, but a new country, the big unknown all assaulted her as if part
of the frigid December weather. Leona's
thoughts frozen in December's chill refused to budge from the worry path she
was on. Frozen in the chill of dread. The dread of what if? The dread of where
to start. Why? Why didn't they question the absence of Alka's letters earlier? Why didn't Leona question when Alka's style, her voice in the
letters changed? Lovely cursive hand
writing became static printed letters. Black ink on white paper. Words devoid
of personality. Words Leona couldn't
feel, empty of soul and voice and warmth. It was not Alka. Why hadn't she
questioned and demanded, and worried then?
Crunch of bitter cold snow reminded Leona,
her quest was milk and eggs. Puffs of breath suspended midair marked her trek.
Like Hansel and Gretel's bread crumb trail, they would disappear. She wouldn't
need to follow them back home. Her path was clear. Or--was it? If she went to America,
if she went to House On Rime Falls, if the answer was there, what would it be?
Wind whipped the tails of her coat against her. The coat stung her legs like a
harsh leather strap. Punishment, she wondered. Punishment for her selfish
thoughts for her own comfort and safety. Punishment for putting herself first
perhaps?
Excerpt:
Leona was glad to
see Benton
return. “I came to take down the scaffolding unless you aren’t finished with it
yet. I didn’t mean to startle you. Is Mr. Jolly
cooperating?”
Leona pushed a
stray curl that had worked its way free from its tether behind her ear back
where it belonged. “I’m fine. I just didn’t hear you approach.” She paused and
smiled at Benton.
He certainly was a handsome man. She couldn’t help but wonder about him and his
life outside of The House on Rime
Falls. “Mr. Jolly
has been a perfect gentleman.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed Mr. Jolly’s
new wardrobe. “Well, he looks more presentable, but something is missing. I
can’t figure out what it is, though.”
Benton scrutinized Mr. Jolly.
“He looks fine to me. Oh, wait... his musical instrument...”
Leona hit her
forehead with the heel of her hand. “Of course! I moved it to fix the neckline
of his shirt, and forgot to replace it.”
“Let me get
that.” Benton
climbed the scaffolding and moved to replace the instrument. As he did, a gust
of air from the huge figure nearly blew him off the scaffolding. He slid down
from the scaffolding without climbing down the stair-like end. “Guess he
expected you to replace it for him, since you moved it.” Benton laughed,
but Leona didn’t hear any joyfulness
in his laughter.
“He would
have certainly been able to blow me off that contraption if he tried.” Leona doubted the mechanical man would have anything
so sinister in mind. Indeed, he had no mind. He wasn’t alive.
A sour look
came over Benton’s
face. His eyes seemed to grow darker. “You be careful around these exhibits.
Things aren’t always as they seem.”
“What do you
mean?” Leona felt her sense of unease
return.
“Just be
careful. I better get this contraption taken apart. Then I’ll get you back to
your quarters.”
Leona sensed what Benton
said was the only answer she was going to get. He didn’t seem ready to reveal
anything else. Or, perhaps it was the cameras and listening devices he hinted
at earlier that stopped him from commenting further. She decided not to pursue
her questions. She would, however, heed his warning. She busied herself putting
her ingenious cabinet sewing room back together as a square box rather than an
array of pieces of a sewing room.
Would she be
able to keep it with her, or would someone take it to wherever it was stored?
Would they also load their idea of what they thought she needed next? She
wished she could plan the job and pick out her own yard goods and notions. She
heaved a heavy sigh.
“You okay?” Benton’s
face crinkled with concern. He must have heard her exasperated sigh.
“I’m
fine. Just doing too much thinking, I think.” That elicited a laugh. Leona felt better. It was good to laugh. She must do
it more often. She promised herself she would find a way to just that.
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