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Cynthia E. Hurst Mysteries
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Lilax Books
Type: Fiction
Pages: 195
Copyright: July 22, 2019
ISBN-13: 9781082019821
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
From 2018 to 1588 -- a tale of time travel, mystery and romance.
Spain threatens to invade England, and the people of Plymouth are understandably fearful. They watch for enemy sails on the horizon and worry about spies and traitors in their midst. But one person in the city already know how events will unfold, and she has more on her mind than a potential invasion. A tear in the curtain of time has stranded Alexandra Barton in 1588, with no idea of how she got there or how to return to the present. If that weren’t enough, she has to decide whether the handsome adventurer she meets is a spy, a murderer, a figment of her imagination – or all three. He may hold the key to her safe return, but will she be the same person when she arrives back in the present day?
Excerpt
"Pray tell us who you are." It was the man with the patronising manner.
I searched my memory. I knew I had a name, but I couldn't think what it might be.
"I don't remember," I said.
"Do you know where you be?" asked Meg.
I shook my head, which was a mistake. It felt like a block of concrete was clunking from side to side between my ears.
"Are you alone, or with a companion?"
I didn't know that, either. I was beginning to panic. In a minute, I hoped, a police cruiser would come by and take me back to wherever I belonged. Then someone would tell me who I was and what had happened to me.
Ah, I had an idea. I groped in my jeans pocket, looking for the slim fold I carried, which held my driver's license and a couple of credit cards. They'd have my name on them. There should be some money there, too, twenty pounds or so. Maybe I could buy my way out of this.
But the pocket was empty. I felt in the other one, which should have had my mobile phone in it. It was empty, too.
Brilliant. I'd not only been knocked unconscious, injured and lost my memory; I'd been robbed as well. Now I really was beginning to panic, but tried not to let it show.
"Where am I?" I asked, as politely as I could manage.
That brought startled looks all around.
"Plymouth, to be sure," Meg said. She seemed to have appointed herself as my guardian, and I wasn't going to argue.
"Plymouth," I repeated. Some distant memory tried to work its way into my brain. "The Barbican."
"She knows that much," Mr Patronising announced. "She's a spy."
I stared at him. "I'm not a spy."
Who would I be spying on? A bunch of actors taking a break from a period drama? Not likely.
"Leave off, sir," Meg told him. I decided I liked her. "You can see she's fallen, struck her head and lost her wits. They may return in time."
I certainly hoped so.
"You take her in charge, then," he said. "She can't be let to wander about Plymouth. Not in times like these."
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