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Where the Firethorns Grow
Marilyn Nichols Kapp
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There is a hole in Maggie Dawson’s memory the size of a year. She has relocated all the way across the country and knows no one except the charming Federal Agent assigned to protect her from friends of the powerful man she helped send to prison. So who is tormenting her with phone calls, mysterious sounds, and smells? Who delivered a dead kitten to her doorstep? Could it be the agent, Brad Phillips? Has Justin Dykes made good on his promise to find her? Or is it all in her mind as the authorities believe?

Her forehead seemed to be the source of all her dis­comfort. Maggie struggled to move, to rise on her hands but they were numb and wouldn’t cooperate. They were tied at her sides, her feet bound together, and a piece of cloth gagged her mouth. Her eyes opened then. Wide. She couldn’t believe the scene before her.

A ring of wavering light felt like fever on her skin. Shadows danced among the cobwebs dripping like stalactites from un­sealed rafters. An attic!

Ignoring the pain movement caused, Maggie raised her head. She was on a table of sorts. The coat she had worn had been replaced with a tight-bodiced garment of ageing white satin and lace. Lighted votive candles surrounded her. Lilac scented candles.

A wave of nausea engulfed her and she held her breath to keep from retching.

Where is Brad? Where is Kane? Blinding pain filled her skull as she turned her head too fast. Maggie groaned and slumped back, closing her eyes to listen.

The room was so quiet she imagined she could hear dust motes swirling in the air. The smell of decay, of aging wood and rotting fabric rose above the permeating odor of the candles. Maggie slowly rolled her head to the left.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

On the wall, illuminated by dozens of slim tapers, hung a silver-framed portrait of--herself. Impossible! She squinted and strained for a closer look. The woman in the painting had the same oval face, straight thin nose, and high well-defined cheekbones. The hair was the same pale gold, but the style was bouffant, teased up and out like she had seen in pictures of the sixties.

And the eyes were different. Remarkable eyes. A soft sky blue, they seemed to have a serene, mystical life all their own.

Maggie shuddered. She had the sensation of being part of an eerie drama she didn’t understand. The craziest thing about it all was the wedding gown the woman was wearing. From what Maggie could tell with her limited mobility, the dress in the painting was the one she was wearing now. Maggie shivered in spite of the heat from the hundreds of candles.

Her gaze searched the room with growing panic. Where was Brad? She could see only toward her feet and a little to the right. She didn’t dare try to sit up or move around. Tied the way she was, she was sure to knock over at least one of the lighted candles. With the yards of material swathing her body and the looks of the age‑dried wood, one tiny flame was all it would take to turn the attic into a raging inferno.

Tears welled in her eyes. It was infuriating to be imprisoned by a two‑inch fence topped with sporadic half-inch flames.

Maggie turned her attention back to the portrait. A two-inch plate of silver fastened to the bottom of the frame was engraved, Lisa Barrett. The tears dried unshed in Maggie’s eyes as realiza­tion spread through her body like liquid fire. The whole room was a shrine! A monument to the dead! Lisa Barrett, Jason Barrett, Willy Byers, the names flapped through her mind like the wings of a startled bird. No wonder Byers’ lover had not joined him in Alaska.

Marilyn Nichols Kapp was born in Richmond and grew up in Madison and surrounding counties. Writing has been a lifetime passion

As well as a member of the Richmond Writers Group, she is a member of Romance Writers of America, Futuristic, Fantasy & Paranormal and Sisters in Crime writing organizations. She is a member of the Madison County Historical Society and Madison County Civil War Roundtable.

Ms Kapp resides in Richmond, spending most of her time with writing related activities.

Ms. Kapp’s talent as a storyteller amazes me as she cross genres as easily as crossing the road. Readers buy this book: you will not regret it! --- *****Five Stars Reviewed By Jewel Dartt, Midnight Scribe Reviews November 1999

The twists and turns the author takes you on from here will amaze you and the end results are surprising. This is definitely a good book for those that don’t care for the heavy psychological thriller books. -- Review by: Tracy Eastgate, Tracy’s Book Reviews, (http://www.geocities.com/t_eastgates_reviews) **** Highly Recommended

A spine-chilling page-turner from a writer who knows how to scare the reader with suggestion, a rare talent. It’s almost anti-climactical that she also has the ability to create a very satisfying romance. What a thrill to read this great book on my Rocket Ereader! But whether or not you own a Rocket to read it on, don’t miss Where The Firethorns Grow.-- Reviewed by Jane Toombs --4 Stars

Fiction Books :: Romance Books :: Suspense Books

ISBN: 1590889290
ISBN(13-digit): 9781590889299
Copyright: 2008
Book Publisher: Wings ePress
Binding: Perfect
No. of Pages: 246
Paper Weight (lb): 10.6

If you like this book, you may also enjoy:

Port Of Fear              Retreat To Danger              Dark Legacy             
Sherry Derr-Wille Carol McPhee Christine Janssen

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