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Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: H.B. Kirk Publishing
Type: Fiction
Pages: 200
Copyright: May 17, 2017
ISBN-13: 2940155241638
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
The kidnapped daughter of an Amish woman grows up to be an amazing woman who brings healing to her strained family.
Sometimes to find something right, you have to live through something wrong. Very wrong. Once upon a time, Janet and Doreen left their Amish sect in Lagrange County, Indiana to experience the world outside for the first time. One year later, Doreen returned to Lagrange with a baby girl she named, Melanie. The father, Mr. Bontrouver, was a wealthy, married man.
Excerpt
“Jake, line two,” shouted Alec, “it’s your girlfriend.”
Setting his tattoo machine down for a moment, Jake told his client, “I’ll just be a second.”
He rolled his chair a few feet away to the shop phone and asked, “What’s up Candy, why are you calling the shop?”
“Hi Jake, I just wanted to let you know I’m in Miami. We just landed. I called this number because you always pick up and I wanted to tell you I’m thinking about you, babe. Don’t forget to feed Josey Kitty.”
“Not a problem. Is his food and stuff still in the same place under the sink?”
“Yes, and he is a girl cat. Why can’t you remember that? I’ll be home on Monday night, but I’ll call you before then.”
“Sure. You don’t have to, I mean, I’ll just be working, but have a good time.”
“Jake, you’re not mad that I’m on this little cruise by myself, are you? It’s just the way Cannon Bank set up this award cruise, not me,” defended Candy.
“Have a good time, seriously, get a great tan. See you soon!” Jake pushed the phone into the cradle, irritated.
“TGIF?” the client in Jake’s chair asked.
“You bet. From a purely business standpoint, Fridays are good but Saturdays are great,” he informed. “Now let’s get back to your arm band tats so you can be on time for your concert, Troy.” There was no way Jake was going to break his cardinal rule and talk about his personal life with a client.
Jake’s dad, Pat, opened the shop thirty years ago, then gave the business to Jake as a college graduation gift, two years ago.
He graduated in the top three percent at Washington State University. Headhunters representing powerful businesses looking for sharp minds approached Jake, but he wasn’t interested in the suit and tie life. Nope. Jake was strictly custom jeans and combat boots—quite an intimidating look on his six-foot three-inch frame. A silver chain secured Jake’s Moroccan leather wallet to his belt. He owned more than fifty t-shirts; accumulated free of charge from tattoo machine ink vendors and soft drink representatives. As a uniform and protective cover for his t-shirt collection, he sported a black leather vest.
When Pat Brennan retired from the tat business, he could frequently be found fishing for bass and crappie from his chair on the dock. Pat was proud of his son and the way he handled the tattoo business. At twenty-four years of age, Jake Patrick Brennan had made a name for himself with Pat’s Tats shop on Third Avenue in Tacoma, Washington.
Pat’s Tats was recommended to Troy, lead singer for the rock band, Shame. They were on tour, and had a two-week gig at Maxes, down the street. They were the headliner band and the bar manager expected a full house that night.
“Dude,” Troy commented, “this arm band is way cool. You do good work, Jake. We go on stage at ten tonight. Will you have enough time to finish?”
Examining the four-inch-wide bicep cuff tattoo, Jake pursed his lips and concentrated to finish the final color fill-in on the first tat. “It’s almost eight and we should be done in less than two hours so, yeah, you should make it just fine.”
“Bye Maria. Jake, I’m leaving now. I’m going to make two stops before going home. You’re opening tomorrow, right?” asked Alec.
“Yes, I’ll be here at noon. I’ll see you at three, Alec,” Jake acknowledged.
Maria glanced to wave bye, as she continued with her tattoo appointment confirmation phone calls for the next business day.
The ‘stops’ were supposed to stop. All of it was supposed to stop. Pat had promised his son. Apparently, that was not happening because Jake’s parents had re-stocked the fridges with ounce packages of weed. He was going to talk to his parents—it was long overdue. Even though pot buyers did not come to Pat’s Tats, the police had been sniffing around lately, which added to Jake’s irritation.
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