Her Stolen Past
A STOLEN BABYWhen Sonya Daniels finds a kidnapped baby's birth certificate hidden in her late mother's home, she's shocked. What was her family's connection to the child, still missing for over two decades? And what happened to the little girl? Sonya hires detective Brandon Hayes to help her get to the truth. But someone doesn't want the truth to come out and will stop at nothing to keep them from investigating. Sonya knows the guarded cop won't rest until he unravels the mystery–but the answers could be more than she can bear alone.Family Reunions: Bringing loved ones back together
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A STOLEN BABY
When Sonya Daniels finds a kidnapped babyâs birth certificate hidden in her late motherâs home, sheâs shocked. What was her familyâs connection to the child, still missing for over two decades? And what happened to the little girl? Sonya hires detective Brandon Hayes to help her get to the truth. But someone doesnât want the truth to come out and will stop at nothing to keep them from investigating. Sonya knows the guarded cop wonât rest until he unravels the mysteryâbut the answers could be more than she can bear alone.
Family Reunions: Bringing loved ones back together
Brandon escorted Sonya to her car, his nerves alert, senses sharp.
She started to slide in the driverâs seat when he noticed a small square of paper about the size of an index card under her windshield wiper. âWhatâs this?â
He handed it to her and leaned in to read along with her. âStop looking for Heather Bradley. She doesnât want to be found.â
Sonya gaped. The baby kidnapped twenty-eight years ago. âWell, I guess weâre making someone kind of nervous.â
A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at the note.
âSo what do we do?â she asked.
Brandon lifted a brow. âDo you want to stop looking for her?â
âNo way.â
She glanced around the parking lot, wondering if the person whoâd left the note was watching. Shivers slid up and down her spine.
Spooked, she stayed close to the person who seemed to represent the only security she could find in a world that had shifted on its axis once again. First the death of her father, then her mother. Now someone was sending her threats.
LYNETTE EASON
makes her home in South Carolina with her husband and two children. Lynette has taught in many areas of education over the past ten years and is very happy to make the transition from teaching school to teaching at writersâ conferences. She is a member of RWA (Romance Writers of America), FHL (Faith, Hope, & Love) and ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers). She is often found online and loves to talk writing with anyone who will listen. You can find her at www.facebook.com/lynette.eason or www.lynetteeason.com.
Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out,
that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.
âActs 3:19
To my wonderful, crazy family.
I love yâall so much. I couldnât do this without you. Thank you for being willing to put up with my deadline frenzies and take-out food.
To my awesome editor, Emily Rodmell.
Itâs been a while since I said thanks in a dedication, so here you go. Thank you for pulling me out of the slush pile back in 2007 and giving me a shot at my dreams. :-)
To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I love you more every day. Thank you for my gift of writing. Thank you for letting me do it for you. May you continue to bless me with stories and ideas so I can reach others for you.
Contents
Sonya Daniels heard the sharp crack and saw the woman jogging four feet in front of her stumble. Then fall.
Another crack.
Another woman cried out and hit the ground.
âShooter! Get down! Get down!â
With a burst of horror, Sonya caught on. Someone was shooting at the joggers on the path. Terror froze her for a brief second. A second that saved her life as the bullet whizzed past her head and planted itself in the wooden bench next to her. If sheâd been moving forward, she would be dead.
Frantic, she registered the screams of those in the park as she ran full out, zigzagging her way to the concrete fountain just ahead.
Her only thought was shelter.
A bullet slammed into the dirt behind her and she dropped to roll next to the base of the fountain.
She looked up to find another young woman had beaten her there. Terrified brown eyes stared at Sonya and she knew the woman saw her fear reflected back at her. Panting, Sonya listened for more shots.
None came.
And still they waited. Seconds turned into minutes.
âIs it over?â the woman finally whispered. âIs he gone?â
âI donât know,â Sonya responded. âLetâs just stay here for a while longer.â
Screams still echoed around them. Wails and petrified cries of disbelief.
Sonya lifted her head slightly and looked back at the two women whoâd fallen. They still lay on the path behind her. Oh, Lord, help me help them. She reached for her cell phone. Had anyone called 911? Surely they had, but one more call wouldnât hurt.
Her trembling fingers refused to hold the device and it fell to the ground in front of her. She curled her hands into fists, desperate to control the shaking. Sheâd done this before. She could manage the fear. But never before had she been caught by surprise like this.
