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The Monday Blog – This is a step on your toes blog

Something my daughter told me the other day had me stopping in my tracks. A customer coming into the restaurant where she works said the following to a fellow server: “Women and colored people are meant to serve white men. It’s just the way of the world—but I’m not racist.”

I had to ask her to repeat what the guy had said, because it took me a second, once my jaw had dropped, to get past my shock and understand that it had really happened. Truly horrifying! What’s worse is that it was said by an older white man who wasn’t embarrassed in the least. The server he said it to happened to be not white, yet she swallowed her indignation and continued to serve him. Can you imagine having someone of a certain class say that to you and then just having to swallow it? As well, hearing that must have been absolutely embarrassing for any white man in the restaurant who didn’t hold those beliefs.

Apparently, the customer even continued, saying, “The island is meant for the wealthy, those who own it, and everyone who can’t afford it should leave.” Now, my first thought was anger that something like this had happened on a Gulf Island, in a country where you’d expect people would behave better—and honestly, most do, but there are always one or two who try to dig in their heels and push back against the kind of change we need to have.

This was an unfortunate reminder that talks about racism and bias and inequality must happen in every household. More often than not, in white households, parents are adamant that they’re raising non-racist children, yet they never talk to their kids about race, bias, inequality, or the horrific acts of the past and present against different minorities. They even refuse to talk about what is still happening today because they don’t want to upset their kids.

It was Malcolm X who said, “If you stick a knife in my back nine inches and pull it out six inches, there’s no progress.” We’re at six inches now, and the only way to make the kinds of changes that have to happen is to shine a spotlight on the issues and talk about them, to have all those uncomfortable talks that everyone needs to have.

We’ve come a long way from the eighties, where it was only a sea of white men holding positions of power. But unfortunately, even when minorities come into power and you think change will happen and inequality will be wiped out, events don’t unfold in the way we expect. What happens more often than not is that minorities who attain power and leadership positions in companies and institutions simply maintain the status quo rather than diving deep and shaking up the deeply embedded poisons that keep bias, inequality, and racism alive. Many discover that to hold on to their positions, their jobs, they have to conform, because that’s how it’s always been done.

Institutions were built and still thrive on inequality.

How long ago was it that a woman couldn’t get a loan to buy a house and her father would have to co-sign and approve the loan with the bank?

Then there was the truly appalling nightmare that an indigenous grandfather experienced not long ago when he took his young twelve year old granddaughter into the bank to open an account. According to the bank, the grandfather had a large chunk of cash deposited in his account as a result of a government settlement, a settlement that was long past due. The teller at the bank went to her manager about the ID the young girl produced, and about the grandfather’s account, and the police were called.

Now, this is where it gets murky. Citing questionable documents, and why the grandfather would have that large deposit in his account. This was despite the fact that the payment was not much by today’s standards. Then what did they do but the police handcuffed both the indigenous grandfather and his twelve-year-old granddaughter? Humiliated, the two were forced to stand outside the bank while it was sorted out. In the end, it was all because of a misunderstanding by the bank. Apparently, the teller or bank didn’t know about the Aboriginal rights settlement package.

I can’t imagine what that experience did to that grandfather or his granddaughter, the humiliation. Let’s be clear: That situation would never have happened if they were white.

We have to talk about what happened here.

Behind the scenes, in the institutions of power, in the deep state, men in suits control the political power that exists in everything, that operates in the background. They create our policies, our laws. They are leaders in the police, in politics, in big corporations… I could go on.

This became clear to me when I was having to fight for funding for my autistic son, going up against the kind of power I didn’t understand. I joined up with a group of mothers who navigated the courts and fought the government for six long years, a battle that emotionally kicked the shit out of each of them. The government then in power refused to fund medically necessary autism treatment, instead throwing a bottomless pit of money into an endless legal battle.

Even the opposition stood up and said, “Pay the money! You have to fund help for these kids.” But then an election came, and the old party was voted out, and the new one was voted in, and what happened? Instead of providing the promised medically necessary funding for our autistic kids, the new political party took up where the old party had left off in the court battle and refused to pay.

Something one of those mothers said made it all sink in: She told me the problem is that even when seemingly progressive politicians get voted in, behind the scenes are the same career politicians, and they are never voted out. They just keep running things.

When you learn that, it makes you see things differently.

The only way to make a change is to understand the perception that for a white man, the door is open. It always has been. They walk through that door, and how many of them turn around to see what is happening to everyone else? Minorities, people of color, and the marginalized have to fight every day at the same door, which is closed to them. Some are able to open it, while others find it locked and realize they will never have the key.

Many understand that they have to find another way in, through a window after climbing a twelve-foot ladder—and they do get in. They don’t let obstacles stop them. Instead, they overcome. The problem is that if you see an open door and take the easy way, if you don’t see or understand how the same door could be locked for someone who doesn’t look like you or have your resources, how can you change anything?

This is a step-on-your-toes blog. The conversation has to happen. Parents have to talk to their kids, and schools have to teach kids not the glossed-over and edited version of history but the uncomfortable truth of what really happened and still is.

**Audio Production now underway for Nothing As It Seems, Hiding in Plain Sight & The Cold Case!**

Recent Release

“Mystery, suspense and danger keep you sitting on the edge of your seat.” ★★★★★ buzymomof2, Amazon Reviewer

The Cold Case

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: Billy Jo McCabe Mystery, Book 3
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Women's Fiction
Tags: hard-boiled, mystery thriller, small town and rural

What happens when you stumble across a case that should never have been closed?

Detective Mark Friessen uncovers a disturbing mystery: A little girl was taken, but when evidence disappeared, the case was closed.

More info →

Great Giveaways

Enter to win the NEW KINDLE PAPERWHITE WITH AUDIBLE–simply click here to vote for your favorite audiobook.
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Free Audio Codes

If you haven’t had a chance to grab a FREE US or UK Audible code for these Friessens titles, be sure to claim yours below. First come, first served. And if you’re able to leave a review, I’d greatly appreciate it as well. Thank you & happy listening! *Codes are valid for 48 hours only.

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The Monday Blog

It’s Preview Friday

If you haven’t had a chance to read Book 3 in the Billy Jo McCabe mystery series yet, you can preview Chapter 3 here!

“I know that when I start a book by Ms Eckhart I am in for a real treat with a gripping storyline and wonderful characters who burrow their way in my heart and soul and I find it very hard to say good bye. Loved this book so much…” ★★★★★ Carmela D., Amazon Australia Reviewer

The Cold Case

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: Billy Jo McCabe Mystery, Book 3
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Women's Fiction
Tags: hard-boiled, mystery thriller, small town and rural

What happens when you stumble across a case that should never have been closed?

Detective Mark Friessen uncovers a disturbing mystery: A little girl was taken, but when evidence disappeared, the case was closed.

More info →

Chapter 3

“There are people on this island who don’t talk to the police, no matter what they see,” said Crazy Carla as she turned the burner off under the whistling kettle in her old yellow kitchen. Why had he pictured an old woman with curly gray hair and pop-bottle glasses, not the dark-skinned woman with shoulder-length wavy hair and big eyes staring back at him. She was plump in the middle, likely early forties, and was filling two mugs that already held teabags, mugs that had been resting on the counter when he showed up at the door.

Maybe she’d been expecting someone. Mark hated tea, but he didn’t see anyone else there.

“Something could happen right there, right in front of them,” Carla continued, “and they’d turn away and pretend it didn’t and refuse to be involved because that’s been drilled into them. Yet here you are after all these years, on my doorstep, after I made so many calls.”

What the hell was he supposed to say to that reprimand? She was right, of course. And why hadn’t Detective Singer made a record of her calls coming in?

“You know, I watch all kinds of crime shows,” she said, “and one of the things they talk about when looking for a missing child is how critical the first twenty-four hours are. I assume that part’s real.”

He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right about that. The first twenty-four are everything.”

As the clocked ticked down, so did the chances of ever finding the kid, which was not something anyone wanted to hear. Again, why did it seem as if very few resources had been devoted to this case?

“Then I’m at a loss, Detective, as to why you’re here now after so many years. Why didn’t you return all my calls?”

“The detective you talked to worked here before I arrived, Detective Singer,” he said. “It was before my time.”

She frowned and waved her hand as she put the kettle back on the stove. “Before your time… I’ll have you know I called that detective the minute I heard that little girl had gone missing. It was all over the island. She went to the daycare across the way.” She nodded toward the window, then pulled a spoon from the drawer and jabbed it in that direction.

He could see a white doublewide across the way. He looked around at the old rundown singlewide Carla lived in. This was one of the only trailer parks on the island.

“There’s a daycare here?” he said. He had left the file in his Jeep, but he could remember the notes, and there had been nothing in there about a daycare. He found himself looking over his shoulder, spotting his Jeep through the door, parked right out front behind an old red Chevy.

“Mavis runs the only daycare here for the little ones. She has fifteen kids every day, babies to school age, and little Gabriele was one of them, dropped off that morning by her mother.”

She lifted the teabags from the cups. “Come, Detective. Let’s sit at the table with Jesus.”

He paused, watching her walk the two steaming mugs over to the table. “Jesus…?” He found himself glancing up the hall, waiting for someone else to appear. When he turned back, she was watching him and gestured to an old kitchen chair.

“Yes, Detective. Will you join us, please?”

Again he hesitated, wondering what meds she was on.

“Why, I told that other detective I saw that baby girl over there,” she said. “I was sitting here with Jesus, having tea like I do every day. I see everyone who’s coming, going, walking by,

driving in. I know the cars, the colors, the faces. I remember everything, and I told the detective that.”

He strode over to the table, taking in the chair again. He wanted to look up the hallway, but he heard nothing. “Does anyone live here with you?” he said. Like Jesus? He hoped he was an actual person and not imaginary.

“No, Detective, just me.” She was already sitting, holding the mug of steaming tea between two hands.

He took in the perfect view out the window, then the tea in front of him, wondering whether he was supposed to drink it or it really was for Jesus. He made himself look across the table at Carla. “So you’re saying the day Gabriele disappeared, you saw her here at the daycare?”

“She was dropped off in the morning. I remember it well. It was only forty degrees out, and the baby didn’t have a coat on.”

Mark glanced back outside as an old Pontiac drove past. “That was four years ago, and you remember?”

“I remember everything, Detective.”

“So you see the kids who are dropped off every day.”

She tapped the table. “I see everything from here, Detective—just like I told the other detective when I called in. I know the vehicles, the kids, who drops them off and picks them up. There’s the gray minivan that brings the twin boys, the white Subaru that brings the angel with the pigtails, but she’s in school now…”

“So you saw Gabriele Martin being dropped off,” he said, sensing she could’ve gone on and on. “Did you see her father pick her up?”

She put the steaming mug down in front of her without taking a sip. “Not that day, I didn’t. I remember that day well. I was sitting here with Jesus, having tea, and I can tell you the father did not pick her up. It was a blue hatchback. I’d never seen it before.”

He took in the woman and then dragged his gaze over to the door, realizing that the name Crazy Carla made sense. He wondered if it was the mention of Jesus that’d had the detective writing “Crazy Carla” and underlining it in red, dismissing everything she said and ignoring her calls. There was nothing in the file about a blue hatchback, a daycare, or anything.

“You sure about the car?” he said.

Carla stood to retrieve the sugar bowl, then set it in front of him with a spoon. He again wondered whether he was expected to do something with it, to add it to the tea. Or maybe this really was for Jesus and not him. Maybe he should let Billy Jo know the woman was off her meds or something. He pulled his hand over his face.

“I know my cars well, Detective,” Carla said, “and the people coming and going around here. At one time, trouble found a way in here, but watching keeps it out. Now, why do you suppose that other detective never bothered to follow up with me?”

What was he supposed to say? Even for him, the jury was still out on her reliability. He took in the still steaming tea in front of him. “I wish I knew, Carla. Sorry, but I’m following up now. So you said it was a blue hatchback that picked her up, and it wasn’t her father. Was it her mother?”

What was her name? Nia, and Brice was the father.

“It wasn’t the mother, either. She drives one of those fancy silver cars, you know, with the star on the front.”

“You mean a Mercedes?”

Carla jabbed a finger his way and reached for the steaming mug again. “A Mercedes, yes. I saw the mother drop that baby off only a time or two. Not exactly mother of the year. Always had that phone to her ear, talking and walking. Thought she was someone important, the way she didn’t get off that phone as she handed her baby over. Never kissed the child goodbye or hugged her, not like the other folks who drop off their kids.”

Yet it had been four years ago, he thought. “You’re sure about the details, the day? That was a long time ago, and if you’re watching every day, it’d be easy to get the days confused.” Mark finally reached for the mug and the sugar bowl.

“Detective, that tea there is for Jesus,” Carla said.

He lifted his gaze, taking in her dark eyes, and pulled his hand back.

“And I remember it well. She wore a red and white striped T-shirt and red pants, the same as on the local news. I listened to that mother cry about her lost baby, saw the father was arrested, heard they never found her, and here I sit, waiting every day for that detective to call me back, to come here. Now here you are instead so many years later.”

He could feel the admonishment. At the same time, as he took in the tea, he knew her credibility was nonexistent. “Well, thanks for your time, Carla. I’ll leave you to finish your tea.” He gestured to the two mugs as he stood, knowing he’d be calling Billy Jo the minute he pulled out of there.

“So tell me, Detective, are you planning on talking with the driver?”

He wondered whether his confusion showed in his expression. “The driver? Which driver are we talking about?”

She let out a sigh as if she’d just told him. For a moment, something about the woman made him believe she was completely sane and lucid. The next moment, the feeling was gone. “I already told you, in the blue compact,” she said. “The one who picked up that little girl, carried her out of there, and drove away. I had never seen that car, but you should know all this, because when I called the other detective, I told him.”

Mark pulled in a breath and then lifted his gaze to the window again, seeing the white doublewide across the way. Why had Singer omitted all of this from the report? “Okay, Carla, let’s start at the beginning again. Tell me everything about this blue compact and the person who picked up the little girl,” he said.

Then he’d track down this Detective Singer and have a talk with him about all the holes he was seeing in this case.

Click here to read Chapter 1

Click here to read Chapter 2

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Keep Me In Your Heart

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The Friessens, Book 32
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense, Sagas, Western Romance, Women's Fiction
Tags: contemporary romance, hard-boiled, mystery thriller, new adult & college, romance series, romantic suspense, sagas, small town and rural, western romance

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Free Audio Codes

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The Monday Blog

Grab these eBook & boxed set bargains

Don’t miss these eBook and boxed set bargains!

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The Visitor

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The Friessens, Book 28
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Sagas, Western Romance, Women's Fiction
Tags: contemporary romance, romance series, sagas, western romance

New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Lorhainne Eckhart returns with a Friessen family character who must come to terms with unfinished business and long-buried hurts—not just for her family but for herself.

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The Family Secret

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The O'Connells, Book 9
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Romantic Suspense, Sagas, Women's Fiction
Tags: hard-boiled, legal thriller, mystery thriller, police procedural, romance series, romantic suspense, sagas

Just what is the mystery behind Raymond O'Connells disappearance? NY Times & USA Today bestselling author Lorhainne Eckhart brings you The Family Secret, an O’Connell family novel, when a body is discovered at the edge of town, rumors, circumstantial evidence and a chance for revenge lead to one family members’s arrest, and an all out effort to take several other O’Connells down as well.

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Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The O'Connells Box Set, Book 1
Genres: Romantic Suspense, Sagas, Women's Fiction
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Join the O’Connell siblings as they deal with the dark and deadly side of love in small-town Livingston, Montana. A heart-pounding collection of romantic thrillers!

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Great Giveaway

Enter to win the NEW KINDLE PAPERWHITE WITH AUDIBLE! Simply click here to vote for your favorite audiobook. Contest ends April 12, 2021 at 3:00 a.m. PST. Good luck!

Free Audio Codes

Get a FREE US or UK Audible code for these Friessens titles. First come, first served. Please take only if you intend to listen as the number of promo codes are limited. Codes are valid for 48 hours only; after this time, the code may be reissued to another requester. Honest reviews are appreciated. Happy listening!

***Before claiming your audiobook code please make sure you are signed into your Audible account. You do not need to have a paid membership to have an Audible account or claim FREE audiobook codes.

The Monday Blog

Get a glimpse of the next Billy Jo McCabe mystery

Happy weekend, all! It’s Preview Friday, and I’ve got your first peek at the next Billy Jo McCabe mystery, THE TRAP! This upcoming release is due out at the end of May, but you can read Chapter 1 here today. Also, be sure to enter the Fantastic Fiction multi-author giveaway and grab some free Audible codes, too. Stay safe & be well– Lorhainne

The Trap

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: Billy Jo McCabe Mystery, Book 4
Genre: Mystery Thriller
Tags: military suspense, mystery thriller, police procedural, small town and rural

On a cold and rainy night, Billy Jo McCabe receives a troubling phone call about a child in trouble. But when she shows up alone, things quickly go sideways, and she realizes her mistake.

More info →

Chapter 1

What was that sound?

The ringing came from a distance as Billy Jo stared at the arrogant redhead. He seemed to look right through her…

When she jolted awake, she realized it was her phone ringing from somewhere in the apartment.

Mark Friessen had been in her dreams.

She tossed back the covers, and her bare feet hit the icy floor in the pitch black. She flicked on her bedside light and hurried out of the bedroom. Her cell phone was on the island in the kitchen, and the screen was lit up when she landed on it.

“Hello?” she said, then cleared her throat, still feeling the cobwebs of sleep and her anger at how Mark had looked at her. The red digital clock on the stove read 1:10 a.m.

“Ms. McCabe, this is the program director from DCFS. I’m filling in for Grant. I apologize for calling at this late hour, but we have an emergency.”

She didn’t recognize the voice. What had he said his name was?

“I’m sorry, who is this?” she said, shivering as she strode back to her bedroom, where Harley was curled up asleep on the bed, half under the covers she’d tossed back. He didn’t stir.

“Lane Fuller,” the man said. “Again, I apologize for the late hour, but a report has come in about a child in trouble. I need you to immediately pick up the child and arrange for emergency placement.”

Her hand went to her head, and she brushed back her hair, which she knew was sticking up everywhere. She grabbed her ratty plush gray housecoat and shrugged one arm in as she hurried back into the kitchen, then flicked on the bright overhead light. She blinked, her heart thudding with the familiar warning that came at her every time she woke in the night.

“What happened?” she said. She spotted her bag and juggled the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she pulled out the pen and notebook she always kept tucked inside. She instinctively rolled her shoulders, feeling the chill of the night.

“Not sure on the details. All I know is we’re to pick up the kid. The name here is…” The sound he made was cold and unfeeling, and she couldn’t shake the suspicion that he possessed the familiar trait of too many in this business. She’d become accustomed to the desensitization, just something it seemed came with this job. Otherwise, it could eat people up. She, though, still saw the eyes of all the children, the hope that dimmed there, every night before she slept.

Maybe that was why she felt haunted now.

“Ah, here it is,” he said. “Whitney Chandler, and here’s the address.” He rattled it off, and she scribbled it down, wondering whether this job ever got easier.

“And how old is the child? Did something happen? The parents…?”

“I told you this is all I have. It’s just an emergency placement. Go get her, find a bed for her tonight, and you can iron out all the details in the morning,” he said. Then he hung up, and Billy Jo just stared at the disconnected phone, glancing at the time again and wondering why it seemed emergencies only happened in the middle of the night.

She hated this. Worse, she hadn’t even met the child but could already feel her anguish.

She pulled on thick socks and opted for sweats and a sweatshirt, then ran a brush over her hair, hearing the rain pattering on the roof. She reached for her heavy warm raincoat and shoved her feet into her lined rainboots, then quickly searched up the address. It was a part of the island that she knew was rural and dark.

Great, just perfect for a late-night visit!

“Seriously, why does the bad kind of shit have to happen after dark?” she muttered, pissed off. There was something about the night that always had her on edge.

Billy Jo reached for her phone, seeing Mark’s name in her contacts, and could feel the unease. It was just a dream, she reminded herself as she thumbed past his name. She opened Pam’s contact and dialed, then put it on speaker and listened to it ring once, twice. Then it went to voicemail.

“Ah, dammit… Pam, it’s Billy Jo. I need you to get up. I got a call from some guy filling in for Grant, and I’m doing an emergency placement. There’s a kid in trouble. Not sure of any of the details, but I need you to find me a bed for her tonight…” She heard the beep and knew she’d just been cut off.

She reached for her bag and then opened the drawer in the kitchen island to pull out a flashlight to tuck into it. As she strode to the door, the phone to her ear, dialing Pam again, she held the notebook open to the address.

“What!”

At least this time she answered.

“This is Billy Jo. I just left you a message. Sorry to call in the middle of the night.” She pulled open the door and flicked on the outside light. The rain was heavy, pounding down, making everything impossible—seeing, driving, just being out in it. “I just got a call from the program supervisor. I think he said his name was Lane. I have to pick up a kid in trouble.”

She rattled off the address and then tucked the notebook in her coat pocket as she stood in the open doorway, her hood up. Then she stepped out and pulled the door closed, the rain pelting down on her. “Look, I’m driving out there now, so find me a bed if you can. Call me back and let me know where to take her.”

The way Pam sighed on the other end summed up exactly what she was feeling. “I’ll see what I can find. Why is it that it seems these calls happen only in the middle of the night?”

Hadn’t she just thought the same thing? She didn’t answer, remembering her nights in foster care, lying there in the dark. That was when everything bad could and would happen.

“Oh, and Pam, whatever place you find, try to make sure I won’t have to worry that I’m pulling this kid from one bad situation and sticking her in another.”

“I’ll do my best,” was all she said.

Billy Jo hung up and tucked the phone in her bag, then made her way down the steps, the rain making everything difficult. She splashed through the puddles to her new Nissan and yanked open the door, then tossed her bag in across to the passenger side and climbed in.

She should have brought a towel, as the water dripped off her. She stared at the outside light and started her car, letting it warm for a second before flicking on the heat and pulling down the darkened driveway to the road.

The wipers were on high, whirring back and forth so fast as she gripped the steering wheel, trying to see, but the rain came down so hard that they couldn’t clear it fast enough. Worse, the fog had settled in, and she white-knuckled the steering wheel.

“Damn, I hate nights like this,” she said as she struggled to see, searching for the faded white lines on the road as she rounded a bend. The road was treelined on both sides now, and she slowed as the water splashed under her wheels. She turned right and had to flick on her high-beams, seeing darkened driveways, some with numbers, some without.

“114, where are you?” she said over and over, slowing to a crawl, seeing trees and driveways, only two with numbers by the road. “Sometimes I really hate this island.”

She slammed on the brakes when she spotted a small sign with an address in white letters, realizing she’d gone too far. She pulled out her notebook and flipped to the page with the address, remembering the directions she’d pulled up, feeling uneasy because of the night and the quiet.

With her foot on the brake, the car idling, she reached for her phone in her bag and saw that it had only one bar of battery left. How had she managed not to charge it when it had been plugged in and supposedly charging in the kitchen? Or had it?

“Stupid, stupid, Billy Jo.” She made a rude noise and tapped the phone to her forehead. Her frustration only added to the unease in her stomach, that sick feeling she didn’t think was ever far away. “Come on, keep it together,” she muttered as he rummaged through her purse for her charger, which wasn’t there. “Shit! Idiot!”

She slapped the steering wheel, then forced herself to pull in a breath and put her car in reverse. She flicked on the rear wipers and backed up until she stopped at a rutted treelined driveway she was positive had to belong to the house she was looking for. She flicked off her high-beams when the fog had her seeing a sea of white—and then she saw it, a darkened house with what looked to be an older pickup parked out front.

She squeezed the steering wheel with both hands and pulled up beside the truck, then took in the house, a small two-story. She thought she saw a light on upstairs. At the same time, she’d expected someone to be there already.

The police? That would be Mark, who she again reminded herself was both arrogant and unhealthy for her wellbeing. The dream had been a reminder that she was depending on him in ways that would end up breaking her.

She turned off her car and picked up her phone, but when she went to call Pam again, the phone flashed from one bar to no service. She lifted it and moved it until she saw the bar again, then pulled up Mark’s number and wrote a quick text: Got a call to pick up a kid in trouble. Wondering if you received anything? Here now, but no one else is…

Her thumb hovered over the send button. She wanted to kick herself for doing exactly what she shouldn’t be. “Nope, nope, not happening,” she said as she deleted the message. The battery was now in the red.

“This is just great, Billy Jo,” she said under her breath. “Pam can’t even call you now to let you know where to take the kid, and where are you but in between crazytown and creepyville?”

She opened her door and gave it a shove, then reached for the flashlight in her purse. She stepped out right into a puddle, the rain still pouring down. She closed the door and flicked on the flashlight, her breath fogging as she started past the truck to the three wide steps up to the front door. Solid wood and no doorbell.

Her hand was wet and cold. She fisted it to knock, feeling the hair rise on the back of her neck and that same sick feeling she’d had as a kid, when everything had always gone from bad to worse. It was the strange doors she remembered so vividly: old, worn, dirty, marked up or scraped and patched. Strange doors leading to strange people and houses, and a feeling of desperation and anger that never went away.

Billy Jo forced herself to knock on the wooden door and took another second to see where she was. There was no one around. Rain was the only sound she heard as she pictured her uncharged cell phone in the car. Then she knocked again, and this time she knew someone was on the other side of the door. It was just a feeling.

“Hello? Can you open the door, please? My name is Billy Jo McCabe, with DCFS. We got a call about…”

She heard the click of the door being unlocked, then the squeak as it opened. She was suddenly aware of a faint light on the other side—then a clang of metal. She focused everything on that sound of a gun being cocked, a sound she knew too well. She stared in horror, seeing everything and nothing as she reminded herself to breathe.

Someone with a raspy voice said, “Well, then I guess you’d better come in.”

Recent Release

The Cold Case

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: Billy Jo McCabe Mystery, Book 3
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Women's Fiction
Tags: hard-boiled, mystery thriller, small town and rural

What happens when you stumble across a case that should never have been closed?

Detective Mark Friessen uncovers a disturbing mystery: A little girl was taken, but when evidence disappeared, the case was closed.

More info →

——–

Now for Presale

Keep Me In Your Heart

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Multi-Author Giveaway

Enter the BookSweeps Fantastic Fiction Giveaway for a chance to win a prize pack of 50+ women’s fiction titles plus an eReader! Click here to enter. Contest ends March 17, 2021. Good luck!

Free Audio Codes

***Before claiming your audiobook code please make sure you are signed into your Audible account. You do not need to have a paid membership to have an Audible account or claim FREE audiobook codes.

The Monday Blog

The Wednesday Box & eBook sale

Check out these Wednesday boxed set & eBook bargains!

99Cents

It Was Always You

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The Friessens, Book 15
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Sagas, Western Romance, Women's Fiction
Tags: contemporary romance, new adult & college, romance series, sagas, western romance

Katy and Steven were the loves of each other’s lives until a tragedy and the fallout of Steven’s injuries drove the couple apart.

They share a son, but Katy and Steven have moved on with their lives, dating other people, and neither has seen the other in five long years. But when Steven comes knocking on Katy’s parents’ door after learning she’s back in town, Katy is forced to face her estranged husband and the love that broke her heart, and his intentions regarding their all-but-over marriage are soon made very clear.

The only problem is that as simple as it would be for them to walk away, seeing just what it means to move on and start a new life may not be as easy as they once thought.

More info →

****

Welcome to My Arms

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The Friessens, Book 17
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Sagas, Women's Fiction
Tags: contemporary romance, romance series, sagas, western romance

Everyone in Columbia Falls, Montana believes that Chelsea Friessen is a spoiled princess who is more trouble than she’s worth. They’d be wrong though, considering that tale was spun by a scorned high school crush and two years later is still the first impression everyone has of her.

But when she meets a man whose personality is as arrogant as he is drop dead gorgeous that if Chelsea was in her right mind should have her running away from him. The only problem is that this badass stranger walked into her life knowing he saved her from humiliation, a stranger and a kiss she couldn’t resist where he pretended to be her fiancé. The only problem with pretending is it suddenly becomes far too real.

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$2.99 Boxed Set

The Friessens Books 9 – 11

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The Friessen Legacy Box Set Collections, Book 5
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Sagas, Western Romance, Women's Fiction
Tag: contemporary romance

IN THE MOMENT: What happens when you meet a man you can’t take home to meet your parents?

IN THE FAMILY: Those we love always come home.

IN THE SILENCE: In the silence love hears everything.

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Free Audio Codes

***Before claiming your audiobook code please make sure you are signed into your Audible account. You do not need to have a paid membership to have an Audible account or claim FREE audiobook codes.

The Monday Blog

Driving lessons during a pandemic… What could go wrong?

Honestly, I never expected to be the one sitting in the passenger side of a vehicle, giving driving lessons to my kids, two of whom are now in the middle of learning. Remember once upon a time when you hired someone to teach your kids to drive? Those driving lessons are much needed before a teen finally earns that coveted license and is free to set out on the road and hopefully not create mayhem.

This really has been an eye opener for me. Several driving schools are cutting their lesson offerings or are closing their doors, but why? Not from a shortage of kids trying to book lessons. According to one driving school I had a conversation with, the demand is so high that their problem is finding driving teachers! They can’t find them and can’t keep them. My son was able to book three lessons only by doing so months in advance because of the backlog and demand.

“What?” was my response. But everything comes down to economics, and when you add in a pandemic and the accompanying social distancing rules, it’s no wonder driving teachers don’t want to be in a car with students. Also, businesses can’t expect to keep staff who can’t even afford to keep their jobs, with the cost of housing having skyrocketed during this pandemic. Housing just isn’t available, and that’s driving away the workforce that would fill those low-paying positions, such as driving instructors.

Nevertheless, here I am now, sitting in the passenger side, and let me tell you that when you’re teaching out in the middle of traffic with another driver behind the wheel, you see a lot of things you may not when you’re driving. I’ve lost count of the drivers that far exceed the speed limit, driving up and riding on my son’s bumper to intimidate him. He’s had to pull over too many times to count. I also notice the sheer number who don’t use their signal lights, or their brake lights don’t work, or their headlights are burnt out. There are those who cut my son off, too.

I could go on, but the short of it is that I often find myself white knuckled in the passenger side because being in a car where someone is actually following the traffic rules is a rare occurrence. Worse, he’s a new driver with just a learner’s license, which means he has to have a neon L decal on the back of the vehicle so every driver behind him can see it. I just didn’t expect the aggression that has come at him from so many other drivers.

I remember a trip with my sister last June, when the world had opened up a bit. She was in the passenger side of my SUV as we were driving from Calgary to a resort community just over the BC border, in Invermere, where she has an RV at a small campground. I was driving on a narrow highway, which, believe it or not, I had never driven before, only heard stories about. It was a single lane in the mountains, and the speed limit was 90 km an hour, roughly 45 miles, give or take.

It was a gorgeous drive until I had a line of cars right on my bumper because I wasn’t speeding! When I say on my bumper, I mean I could see the red and white Alberta plates each car had, inches behind me, and it was terrifying. It wasn’t as if I could pull over, because there was no place to stop. It was narrow and winding, with only slight breaks where a smart driver wouldn’t try to pass, as doing so would put anyone coming the other way in grave danger.

I counted in horror, really looking at the drivers, the makes and models of their high-end cars, and their plates as they rode up on me and weaved side to side behind me. If I had slammed the brakes, every one would have rear-ended me. When they did get around me, it was done dangerously, passing me so fast it was as if I were standing still, only to be replaced by yet another driver riding up on my bumper, inches from it, as if trying to push me out of the way. If they could have gotten closer and nudged me, they would have.

I had never experienced that kind of aggression, and it went on and on for the entire drive. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight that when I finally peeled them off after that horrific drive, they ached. Did I panic during that drive? Yeah, a bit. My sister kept reminding me the same things I say to my son, “Don’t look at them,” “Ignore them.”

During that horrific drive, one thing I saw over and over was a sign I had never seen on any other highway: The speed limit sign said that drivers found going thirty km over the speed limit would have their vehicles automatically impounded. I mused to myself that apparently that highway had an issue with excessive speeds. It was the one time I had wished traffic cops were actually out there, doing something right, yet they were nowhere to be found. In theory, every one of those vehicles would have been impounded. They wouldn’t have had enough tow trucks. Not one vehicle was driving at a reasonable speed. Not one!

Like, what is your hurry? was what continued to go through my mind.

Now, I sit in the passenger side with a completely different outlook. Where I live, the excessive speeds the likes of which I saw on that highway from Calgary to Invermere don’t happen, especially in such sheer numbers. But, having said that, going the posted speed limit seems to be something no one wants to do even here.

When you come up on a car with a neon L on the back, give the driver some room. It’s a scary thing for a new driver trying to get his or her license, getting behind that wheel. Remember that our kids need to learn how to safely navigate the road.

Recent Release

“Throw in some shady characters, hidden secrets, questionable legal decisions, and small town politics and you have an amazing whodunit. This book is well written and keeps you guessing.” ★★★★★ Reading Susan, Amazon Reviewer

The Cold Case

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: Billy Jo McCabe Mystery, Book 3
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Women's Fiction
Tags: hard-boiled, mystery thriller, small town and rural

What happens when you stumble across a case that should never have been closed?

Detective Mark Friessen uncovers a disturbing mystery: A little girl was taken, but when evidence disappeared, the case was closed.

More info →

March Giveaways

Enter to win this month’s Great Giveaway, the NEW KINDLE PAPERWHITE WITH AUDIBLE! Simply click here to vote for your favorite audiobook. Contest ends March 31, 2021 at 3:00 a.m. PST. Good luck!

And don’t miss the latest BookSweeps multi-author promotion–win THE THIRD CALL plus 50+ exciting Cowboy, Firefighter & Hero romances from a great collection of authors…AND a brand new eReader! Click here to enter.
Contest ends March 24, 2021.

Free Audio Codes

Get a FREE US or UK Audible code for these Kate & Walker titles. First come, first served. Please take only if you intend to listen as the number of promo codes are limited. Codes are valid for 48 hours only; after this time, the code may be reissued to another requester. Honest reviews are appreciated. Happy listening!

***Before claiming your audiobook code please make sure you are signed into your Audible account. You do not need to have a paid membership to have an Audible account or claim FREE audiobook codes.

The Monday Blog

Box & eBook bargains for you!

Grab these box and eBook bargains!

The Secret Husband

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The O'Connells, Book 3
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Romantic Suspense, Sagas, Women's Fiction
Tags: hard-boiled, legal thriller, mystery thriller, romantic suspense

Small-town lawyer Karen O’Connell believes that all of her clients who have found themselves recklessly embroiled in scandal and trouble have done so foolishly because of love. She has heard far too many times that the heart wants what it wants.

But one night, Karen receives a call from Jack Curtis, her vengeful ex-husband, whom she’s never told anyone in her family about. He’s found himself in a world of trouble, arrested and in jail, charged with murder.

He says he’s innocent, and he needs her help.

Her first response is to say no, but Karen knows Jack isn’t the kind of guy to ask for help from anyone, especially not from the ex-wife he openly despises and hasn’t seen in years. She knows there must be more to the story—but what she doesn’t know is that the mysterious circumstances surrounding the murder could be the reason her hasty marriage ended so badly.

More info →

The Parker Sisters: The Complete Collection

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: The Parker Sisters, Book 7
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Sagas
Tags: contemporary romance, sagas

SAVE 15% on digital format WHEN YOU BUY DIRECT FROM AUTHOR - Enter coupon code at check-out: GQMMOVM02N

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Multi-Author Giveaway

Enter the Authors XP giveaway for a chance to win up to 25+ Women’s Fiction eBooks or paperbacks from top authors! Click here to enter. Contest ends March 8, 2021. Good luck!

Free Audio Codes

Get a FREE US or UK Audible code for these Parker Sisters titles. First come, first served. Please take only if you intend to listen as the number of promo codes are limited. Codes are valid for 48 hours only; after this time, the code may be reissued to another requester. Honest reviews are appreciated. Happy listening!

The Monday Blog

It’s The Monday Blog

Imagine a scene: Two young teenage boys walk into an outhouse at the ferry terminal. Shortly after, there’s a boom and some smoke. What do you think could possibly have happened?

Yes, this really occurred on the island, where kids have to take the ferry to school every morning and then wait with all the other kids on that same ferry in the afternoon to go home. It can be a tedious, boring ride, so crowded that no one can social distance, and then there are all the adults sitting in their cars, parked in line, also waiting to get on. One ferry worker is standing there, and his only job is to direct traffic onto the ferry when it’s ready to load and make sure no one cuts into the line. (That has happened, and I wrote about it in another post.)

But as far as bathrooms at the dock on the island, you’re looking at one of those portable outhouses—not exactly the kind of bathroom anyone is lining up to use. In fact, it’s a last resort. The daily commuters comprise the twenty to thirty kids dropped off by the school bus, a few teachers, and the minimum-wage frontline workers who commute because the island no longer has affordable housing. Among this bunch are two teenage boys who walk past the line of cars to the outhouse. At this point, you may be wondering what they’re doing, but instead everyone waiting to walk onto the ferry or sitting parked in their cars carries on with their own business, looking at their phones, playing games, or staring off into space.

Then something catches your eye. You’re not sure—a waft of smoke? This is followed by a loud boom. Now everyone is looking, staring in horror, watching as smoke wafts up from the outhouse. Yet the two teenage boys aren’t running; they’re casually walking back down to the ferry dock as if nothing is wrong. Would you expect anyone to do something, say something, call someone? There’s no fire, only smoke, and the nuisance bomb that was set off has likely only created the kind of mess no one wants to clean up. Now the ferry is docking, and no one wants any disruption in getting on and back home or wherever they’re going.

When I heard this had happened, hearing a blow by blow of the shenanigans of those two teenage boys, I had a good chuckle. “Hey, guess what? Two boys blew up the outhouse at the ferry today,” I was told. Of course, I thought, You mean the disgusting, dirty one no one wants to use? I could really imagine two teenage boys walking to the outhouse together and then walking away five minutes later as it blew up.

Now, if any of you have read The O’Connells, you’ll know that sort of prank is something Marcus O’Connell would have been all over during his teenage bad-boy years. In fact, his name would have been graffitied near the incident, marking him as the mastermind behind it. And he wouldn’t have done it alone, instead roping his brother Ryan in as his sidekick and partner in crime. Where the two of them were concerned, trouble was something to get neck deep in. Though Marcus never got caught, Ryan was a different story. Marcus was wily, smart, and as he says, that’s likely why he’s such a good cop today. When you understand that kind of trouble, having gotten up to it yourself, you have a pretty good idea of who might be behind it when a similar incident occurs.

But back to those boys and the outhouse on the island. There were adults in their cars, even a few teachers, and island workers waiting with the crowds to board the ferry to go home, yet no one said anything. My response was, “You mean no one called the police, the fire department? No ferry worker walked over to see what had happened? No one got out of their car?”

Apparently, no one did. There were just a few headshakes and a few looks at the boys. As the ferry docked and unloaded, the boys made their way into the crowd of walk-ons, and the cars boarded, and the only thing that happened to that outhouse was that a worker taped it off. No one said anything, no one did anything, and no one seemed to care.

New Release

The Cold Case

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: Billy Jo McCabe Mystery, Book 3
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Women's Fiction
Tags: hard-boiled, mystery thriller, small town and rural

What happens when you stumble across a case that should never have been closed?

Detective Mark Friessen uncovers a disturbing mystery: A little girl was taken, but when evidence disappeared, the case was closed.

More info →

Free Audio Codes

The Monday Blog

Get another glimpse of THE COLD CASE

Who wants another sneak peek of THE COLD CASE? The next installment in The Billy Jo McCabe mystery series will be released this weekend, but you can read Chapter 2 now!

The Cold Case

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: Billy Jo McCabe Mystery, Book 3
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Women's Fiction
Tags: hard-boiled, mystery thriller, small town and rural

What happens when you stumble across a case that should never have been closed?

Detective Mark Friessen uncovers a disturbing mystery: A little girl was taken, but when evidence disappeared, the case was closed.

More info →

Chapter 2

Mark sat in his Jeep, the engine idling, taking in the white cargo van and storage unit.

Of the fifty storage lockers on the island, he knew only two were used legitimately for storing personal effects, one by a family man who couldn’t part with anything, including the rusted-out ’75 Gremlin that had been his first vehicle, stored under what he suspected were boxes and boxes of memorabilia anyone else would have thrown out, and the other an old-timer who was a hoarder and had been ordered to clean out the aisles of garbage that filled his house.

If anything, Mark had learned that storage lockers held the kinds of things people couldn’t keep at home.

He was at a loss for words after realizing the Roche Harbor police department had a locker in which to store police case files, which should never have been handled by anyone who wasn’t a cop. The van driver was yet another friend of the chief, Bill Burke, the son of someone who delivered goods on and off the island.

Burke didn’t have the authority to handle the personal, private, and confidential case files the average person was never meant to have access to. Mark just sat there with his takeout coffee, counting the twenty-five boxes as the young driver stacked them one after the other into that storage locker.

Case files were never willingly turned over to the public, though he knew police departments and DAs loved to cite exemptions. Yet there he was, staring at a young man who had no link to the department, whom the chief had tasked with shoving boxes of old cases, closed and cold, into a locker anyone could access. Worse, no one else had any idea the chief had ordered this done.

He dragged his gaze over to the passenger seat and the file he hadn’t bothered to tuck back into the box. Instead, he had sat at his desk, reading the two pages over and over while watching the young delivery guy carry boxes of files out the front door.

The only interviews regarding the missing toddler, Gabriele Martin, were conducted with a bitter ex-wife and a former business partner, both of whom pointed the finger at the father.

The body was never found.

The father was charged and convicted.

The case was closed.

He had to be missing something. Maybe there was more to the file, to this case. He was starting to think that Carmen may have led him right to the file. The woman knew more than she was letting on.

He heard the rattle of the storage locker door and looked back over to the chief’s family friend, who padlocked the unit, climbed in the van, and pulled away. He wondered what any good defense lawyer would do with this kind of information.

Apparently, he still hadn’t learned to look the other way.

Maybe that was why it seemed to him more and more every day that the line between the good and the bad guys wasn’t as clear as he’d once believed.

He should go back to the station. What was he doing with this case, anyway? It was closed. The man was in jail. The contents of the file were likely lost.

That thought had him pulling out his phone, scrolling through his contacts, and dialing. He heard the ring, and then she answered.

“Billy Jo McCabe.”

How long had it been since he’d talked to her?

“Hey, it’s Mark. You have time for a coffee?” He could hear rustling in the background, maybe paper. She had to be at work still.

“Coffee? I’ve had enough for today,” she said. There it was, the type of snarky response he thought they were past.

“Fine, then I’ll have coffee and you can just listen. I want to ask you about a case.”

“An open case? Who?”

He took in the file, wondering if she’d think he was crazy. “Not recent. Listen, are you at the office?”

“For another half hour.”

“Then I’ll be there in five,” he said, then hung up before she could say anything else, tell him no, or avoid him just because she could.

He started his Jeep and pulled back out onto the rural island road. Nothing was around, even just outside the downtown area, around the corner, and up a hill. Then he was pulling up in front of the agency and parking beside a brand-new Nissan Rogue. He knew it was Billy Jo’s and wondered when she’d tell him that her dad had footed the bill for the car.

He knocked on the locked door and then spotted her in black slacks and a loose baggy brown cardigan. She flicked open the lock, and he took in her unsmiling face, the freckles, the blue eyes. Their awkwardness seemed to linger.

“You didn’t say what case this was about on the phone,” she said, so he held up the file, and she shifted her gaze to it, then back to him. She inclined her head. “Come on in.”

He followed her back and heard another lady on the phone. Billy Jo gestured to a room with dim lights, a couple of chairs, and a navy sofa. He wondered if this was where families and kids sat.

“So what’s the secrecy, and who is the case about?” She closed the door and pulled her cardigan in front of her as she sat down in the chair.

He knew the source of her unease now, all those layers she’d unwillingly pulled back, allowing him to see the deep scars she’d hidden from everyone, that vulnerability. But he’d seen it, and he knew she wished he hadn’t.

He held the file out to her. She hesitated only a second before reaching for it and taking it. She opened it on her lap and flipped the two pages, and he could see her confusion.

“A toddler on the island, Gabriele Martin. Her parents went through a nasty divorce. Says there the father took her in the midst of a bitter custody dispute and killed her so the mother couldn’t have her. The parents’ names are Brice and Nia.”

“And what are you looking for, exactly?” she cut in quite sharply. He could see her confusion when she looked up to him. “This is sad. A kid’s dead, and the father is in jail, so what more do you need?”

“Can you just look in your system and see if a complaint was ever filed about them—maybe about the father, the mother, or anything about the baby? It’s just a hunch I have.”

“You’re serious?” she said. He swore Billy Jo had mastered that heavy gaze better than anyone.

“Clearly. I can tell by your expression that you think this is a long shot, but come on, just humor me. Was a complaint filed? Anything in the system about this family?”

She hesitated only a second before turning in her chair and tapping the screen of her computer. “So tell me, Mark, what is it you’re really looking for? What is this really about? There’s a tragic ending to this story, but it has ended.”

“Maybe,” he said. She hadn’t turned to face him, and he found it easier to talk to her back.

When she swung around, he didn’t miss the alarm in her expression. Her eyes reached out to him. “What’s really going on, Detective?”

He found himself shrugging. “Just doing my due diligence, is all. Humor me. Anything there?”

She shook her head. “No official reports or investigation under that name. So level with me. This is more than routine curiosity.”

If he could level with anyone, he knew it would be Billy Jo—maybe. “Look at the file, a closed case with two pages and very little information. Doesn’t it seem odd to you that that’s all there is to the case? A couple interviews, open and shut. A little toddler disappears, and the dad is arrested and charged in a matter of days, yet there’s no body. How did she die? All that’s in there is that the mother and a former business partner pointed the finger at the father, citing a custody dispute, saying the father had uttered threats that he’d rather see the kid dead than with the mother. No other suspects.”

She was still giving him everything as he sat there on the sofa. There was a tap on the closed door, and she lifted her gaze when it opened and a dark-haired woman leaned in.

“What is it, Pam?” Billy Jo said. Even to him, she sounded rather short.

“Excuse me, but Grant called to let you know that the Turner kid is going to have to be moved again.”

Billy Jo seemed so on edge. “I just placed him with the Lewises. What’s the problem with where he is?”

Mark leaned his arm over the back of the sofa and took in the exchange between the women.

“Seems he has too many medical needs,” Pam said. “They don’t have time for a weekly trip to the mainland, and they said you didn’t tell them about that. They said although he’s a nice kid, they didn’t sign up for this.”

He thought Billy Jo swore. “That’s such bullshit. The Lewises were well aware of his medical condition and his needs. Fine. Tell Grant I’ll handle it.”

Pam looked his way, then stepped out and pulled the door closed. Mark didn’t say anything, because he could see her frustration by the way she touched her hand to the bridge of her nose before looking over at him.

“Tough case?” he said.

She shrugged. “Oh, just a part of the job I never expected to have to do, convincing foster parents to take a kid. It seems more and more sign up wanting the paycheck without being inconvenienced in any way. Like, he’s a kid. Seriously, I wonder how any of these kids are ever supposed to turn out okay. You know, when I got into this business, I had that starry-eyed naivety, believing there were so many good people out there, looking to really make a difference, and I just needed to find them and…”

He wondered for a moment if that was really what this was about. “I take it you don’t anymore.”

She leveled her attitude his way. “No, long gone. Worse, it feels at times as if I’m selling my soul. There’s always that something, like they only want a kid they can park in the corner and not have to deal with. Other than that…”

He was pretty sure that was pure sarcasm. For a moment, he considered what she had to deal with, and he didn’t have a clue what to say.

She let out a sigh and then turned in her chair. “You know, Mark, it sounds like you’re trying to open a case no one wants opened. The father was convicted, and he’s in jail. Is it because of the lack of detail in the folder here? I can see it being an issue, but maybe it was lost or misplaced or destroyed. You said there was no body. Are you thinking there’s more here?”

What was he supposed to say? Yes and no. Why was he feeling as if Billy Jo wanted him to leave it alone? “All I know is that file is incomplete, and the former detective, Singer, conducted what looks like an ineffectual, sloppy investigation. There’s nothing open and shut about that case. Where’s the body of this little girl? How did the father kill her? How the hell did any judge convict him based on this? I’m just not comfortable with the way this was suddenly closed. I

guess I was hoping you had something in your system, like social services investigated a complaint, just something I could use to fill in all the holes I see here.”

She was shaking her head, and he didn’t think she was listening, just reading the file. Her brow furrowed, and she frowned. “There’s a name underlined here, Carla Nevitt. I know her.” She looked up and held the paper out to him.

He reached for it, seeing the note he’d seen on the last page. “You mean the notation calling her Crazy Carla.”

She shrugged. “Carla has a way about her, but I’d say she’s anything but crazy. If I were you, I’d talk to her. Maybe she knows something. People can be cruel sometimes with the labels they toss out.” She closed up the file and held it out to him.

He wondered if her off expression was because of everything she was dealing with or if she was just tired.

“What exactly are you doing, Detective?” she said. “Are you thinking the girl isn’t really dead? Is that what this is about? Are you looking for her, looking to stir something up? Because I have to tell you, I don’t know anything about this case, and the last thing I want is more sleepless nights, knowing the kid has been abused for years or was dumped somewhere.”

She just had to say the one thing he hadn’t allowed himself to think about.

“I’m just trying to dot the Is and cross the Ts, find out why a detective did such a sloppy job on this case. One thing I do know is when you’re trying to find someone missing, it helps to know where that person started. So I’m starting with you, here. Family trouble is usually noticed by DCFS. You said there’s nothing, so I’ll talk to the mother, the business partner, and do all the due diligence my predecessor didn’t. Maybe I’ll fill this file with all the details a closed case should have.” Mark made himself stand up, holding the file, looking down at Billy Jo, who didn’t pull her gaze from him.

“Carla isn’t crazy, Detective. Start with her. I haven’t been here long, but I’ve had time to get to know the types of people here, the kinds who need services and see a side of the island no one else does. Carla is a good person, though maybe a little wacky and eccentric when she’s off her meds. I shouldn’t be telling you that, but if she knows something, if she saw something…don’t automatically dismiss it.”

He put his hand on the knob and pulled the door open, then looked back to the young woman he knew so well, who was more complicated than anyone he’d ever met. “Thanks,” he said. “If you need a hand with anything, you know where I am.”

She looked away and stood up, and he knew that was the end of anything personal. She wasn’t going back to that vulnerable spot he’d seen her in. “If you run into any problem with Carla, let me know. I’d be happy to tag along.”

He gave her a nod, then heard her pick up the phone as he strode out of the office. He tapped the file against his leg, and all he could do was wonder why the previous detective hadn’t put any meaningful notes in the file to justify why a man had been convicted, why the case had been closed although no body had been found.

Yeah, sloppy was an understatement. Maybe he should take a closer look at this Detective Singer.

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Free Audio Codes

Get a FREE US or UK Audible code for these Friessens titles! First come, first served. Please take only if you intend to listen as the number of promo codes are limited. Codes are valid for 48 hours only; after this time, the code may be reissued to another requester. Honest reviews are appreciated. Happy listening!

The Monday Blog

Read today’s Monday Blog here

Did you know that our brains are literally hardwired to see the negative?

It’s natural for our brains to focus on the threats in our environments, or rather the perceived threats, and it happens from our first waking moment of each day. We immediately go to that place of thinking about what’s not working in our lives, everything that’s gone to shit, instead of all the great things we have and that are working for us.

Seeing the negative is something that shapes our days, our lives. I had never thought much about it until my eldest son, who has autism, joined an outdoor wilderness program after I had to pull him from the public school system, in which things had become unworkable. I was angry about having to constantly battle an archaic mindset of bureaucracy that was unwilling to work with my son’s much needed autism consultant and trained professionals. That was the final straw. We were done.

Instead of instantly recognizing the valuable skills being taught in the parent-driven outdoor program, I was stuck on the question of why I couldn’t get the school district to recognize my son’s right to an education. But then something magical started to happen during those two years he was in the outdoor school, which focused on integrating children with the environment and teaching skills you’d never, ever see in the public school system. One of the most valuable activities has stuck with me from the moment I saw the kids sitting in a circle around the campfire: To begin their day, each child had to say one thing he or she was grateful for, and at the end of the day, they again came into a closing circle, where the kids once more had to recount their day and say one thing that had happened that they were grateful for.

One of the mentors told us parents the importance of gratitude, saying that once you engage that part of the brain, it doesn’t allow room for negativity, intolerance of others, and bullying. What a concept! But it’s more than that. Daily gratitude is in fact the antidote to fear.

All of us fall into another pattern when we have something new, when we experience that big WOW of something amazing happening in our lives—from that new relationship where you’ve finally met Mr. or Ms. Right, to that new car you’ve always wanted, to that new home you finally have. For a while, you’re excited and happy and grateful, and you’re over the moon with joy until it becomes your new normal. Then you go right back to focusing on the negative: what’s not working, who you’re angry at because of some perceived threat, and how crappy everything is in your life. Once again, you’re fighting the natural inclination that drives you away from gratitude in a cycle that’s destructive to you!

But did you know it’s also possible to retrain your brain to focus on what’s totally fantastic in your life as opposed to what’s not working? It’s as simple as starting your day. As soon as you get up in the morning, with a pen and paper, write out a list of things you’re grateful for, whether it’s that amazing deep dark roast coffee you’re drinking, or having shoes to wear on your feet, or the fact that you can actually get out of bed in the morning and walk without your hip or some part of your body giving you grief.

Now, the reason for a pen and paper is that writing is more effective than simply listing things mentally. It keeps your head, your focus, from drifting. When someone suggested I use a pen and paper for this activity, the difference was phenomenal, because as I held that pen and that paper and scribbled the words in my chicken scratch, my focus was on the tactile, on writing the words. My brain couldn’t go anywhere else.

Make it a practice every day, because by doing that you’re in fact retraining your brain away from bad news, drama, and destruction and letting it start spotting the magic, the extraordinary. You start seeing everything that’s great in your life versus everything that’s not working and all the problems you have. Something amazing starts to happen when you clean up the clutter of negativity. If you think about it, it’s similar to cleaning your glasses when the lenses are covered in grime and spots that have hampered your vision for so long. You suddenly start to see magic in those otherwise ordinary days—from a brilliant sunrise, to optimism in others. By training your brain to focus on the good things, on the wins, you open up a world of possibilities and start to break that cycle of negativity that every one of us was born with.

Recent Release

Catch up with Billy Jo and Mark in HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT before the next mystery novel is released this weekend!

“…fantastic story and so in depth about what happens to some foster kids. Amazing story.” ★★★★★ BevHarro, Amazon Reviewer

Hiding in Plain Sight

Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
Series: Billy Jo McCabe Mystery, Book 2
Genres: Mystery Thriller, Women's Fiction
Tags: mystery thriller, romantic suspense, small town and rural

A long-buried secret that was never meant to be uncovered could suddenly put a target on both Detective Mark Friessen and Billy Jo McCabe.

More info →

Win a Kindle – Last Days to Enter!

Enter to win the NEW WATERPROOF KINDLE PAPERWHITE by voting on your favorite O’Connell book! Click here to enter. Contest ends February 28, 2021 at 3:00 a.m. PST. Good luck!

Free Audio Codes

Get a FREE US or UK Audible code for these Saved Series titles. First come, first served. Please take only if you intend to listen as the number of promo codes are limited. Codes are valid for 48 hours only; after this time, the code may be reissued to another requester. Honest reviews are appreciated. Happy listening!

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