Crashing Through the Windshield , livre ebook

Archway Publishing - Kathryn Tokar Haidet

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

152 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

FBI Agent Jack Jurlik’s wife and infant son go missing, but as the search deepens, Jack discovers secrets he never suspected that threaten to tear his family apart.
Family man and FBI agent Jack Jurlik has gone through life on cruise control. Now that his wife and infant son have mysteriously disappeared, he is driving as fast as he can to find Gloriann and Martin while protecting his other children, Emma and Will. He soon discovers that the road ahead is taking him where he never thought he’d go. Crashing Through The Windshield is a story of one family’s quest for the truth and their determination to live with the consequences of actions that will change them forever.

Sujets

Detective

Mystery

Fiction

Informations

Publié par	Archway Publishing
Date de parution	21 décembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781665734783
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

CRASHING THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD

Kathryn Tokar Haidet

Copyright © 2023 Kathryn Tokar Haidet.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.archwaypublishing.com
844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3479-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-3480-6 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-3478-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022922592

Archway Publishing rev. date: 12/20/2022
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part II
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part III
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Part IV
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
For my husband,
Mark.
We are better together
than we ever could have been alone.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No one goes through life alone. I certainly haven’t. There were people who helped, guided, refined, encouraged, supported, and loved me, and those who didn’t. All those people and the encounters I’ve had with them afforded me the life experiences I needed to write Crashing through the Windshield .
My parents, Hedwig and Stephen Tokar, were the offspring of Eastern European immigrants. Both struggled to find their place in a neighborhood that spanned two worlds, a neighborhood in the shadows of Cleveland’s steel mills, a neighborhood in which I was born and raised. Although neither graduated from high school, each had a deep respect for education and the opportunities it provided. Together they were determined that their children would have a better life, and they sacrificed to ensure that my siblings and I were able to attend college. For that gift, I am deeply grateful.
My husband, Mark Haidet, and I have been together since our freshman year at Mount Union College (now the University of Mount Union). He has driven me across great swaths of the United States, sharing his knowledge of history and enjoying our mutual fascination with nature. I’ve seen more battlefields, forts, museums, historic sites, and state and national parks than most people. He’s the love of my life and my best friend. Without him, this book would not exist. From discussing every aspect of the book, reading numerous drafts, cheering me on, and helping pick a publisher—he’s been there for me. Thank you, Mark!
The author of a crime novel requires a general knowledge of the criminal justice system. I was neither a criminal nor was I in law enforcement. But I was blessed to know law enforcement personnel who were patient with my questions and generous with their time in answering them. A special shout-out to Patrick Clark, a man I never met in person but one who gave me the building blocks I needed to do the research to write Crashing through the Windshield . Thank you, Patrick, for your good will.
I always had the desire to write a novel. God gave me the talent to do so, and numerous people encouraged me, but I needed someone with credentials to nag me. How blessed I was to meet Nadia Christensen! She is a writer, educator, editor, Scandinavian translator, and Fulbright Scholar, and she has published more than twenty books. Better yet, she is my friend. Thank you, Nadia, for giving me confidence and for keeping me on task.
Mark and I have been blessed with three children: Jessica Hill, Jonathan Haidet, and Adam Haidet. Thank you, kids, for continuing to be there when I need you; thank you for keeping me young at heart. You have brought wonderful people into our family and have given us the most beautiful grandchildren. Such precious gifts are priceless!
I am also indebted to my two older sisters, Virginia Pirrotta and Susan Jarden, who saved me from succumbing to our childhood and have been my continuing emotional support.
In 1991, my friend Rosemary Spielmann bought me a sweatshirt from Universal Studios that had an image of a typewriter and the word “Writer.” How often she told me, “You can do this!” Rosemary, it took over thirty years, but I’m wearing the sweatshirt now, and it feels great! Thank you for being there through my cancer diagnosis and treatment. Thank you for your caring, loving, generous spirit—you make the world a better place.
Thank you to those who ministered to my spiritual and emotional needs: Reverend Clarence Korgie, OFM; Reverend Francis R. Kittock; and Most Reverend Frederick F. Campbell, bishop emeritus of Columbus, Ohio. Yes, there were others over the years, but these three men were my teachers of life and the North Stars in it. I am eternally grateful.
Finally, to all those who were a positive force in my life, and there were many, thank you. To all those who read the drafts of my novel and offered suggestions, thank you. To Mark Haidet, Jessica Hill, and Virginia Pirrotta, who helped with the final galleys, thank you. To all those at Archway Press who brought my dream into reality, thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you!
CHAPTER 1
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15
Elizabeth Edwards sat in the white wrought iron chair outside of Clementine’s Creamery watching her two charges, Will and Emma Jurlik, jostle each other for the best position on the adjacent bench. Will, a big-for-his-age five-year-old, was loudly protesting Emma’s coveted spot near the empty chair. Emma, a quiet ten-year-old, sat like a stone statue with arms crossed and eyes staring straight ahead. Elizabeth had met these children for the first time less than four hours ago. They were ignoring her.
The orange pink of the setting sun on the far horizon gave hope to the end of a wretchedly sweltering day and momentarily soothed her uneasiness. She mused that this day had not played out as she anticipated. She had thought that when Gloriann picked her up from the train station, they would spend a relaxing evening at home getting to know each other. But Gloriann had other plans—a picnic supper in Lafayette Park, a walk around the swan pond and fountain, time at the playground, then a quick jaunt to get “the best ice cream ever” at Clementine’s.
The early evening held on to the day’s heat. The temperature had hit ninety-one degrees, and although some relief came with the mellowing shades of darkness, Elizabeth was still uncomfortable.
“I want to sit there, Emma! It’s my turn to sit next to Mommy. It’s no fair,” wailed Will.
“Will, your mother will be out in a minute,” Elizabeth said as she got up to look through the shop window. Clementine’s was crowded, but Elizabeth could see everyone waiting in the small store, and Gloriann wasn’t among them. She looked for the stroller with the sleeping Martin but didn’t see that either.
“OK, kiddos, let’s go and help your mother with the ice cream.”
Once inside, Elizabeth made her way to the counter and asked if a woman with a baby had ordered ice cream. Before the gal at the counter could answer, someone pointed to a side door and said, “She went out to the patio.” Will and Emma ran out the door, with a relieved Elizabeth following close behind. Several couples were sitting in the horseshoe of park benches, and a family of four had claimed the only patio table.
“Where’s Mommy?” Will asked as he scanned the people.
Elizabeth approached the family. “Excuse me, have you seen a woman with a baby in a stroller?”
“Ah, yeah. She left,” the man said, pointing at the gate that led out to the street.
Emma, Will, and Elizabeth walked out, stood on the sidewalk, and looked in each direction. Gloriann was not in sight. They walked around the wood fence that enclosed the patio and eyeballed the adjoining parking lot. There were only two cars and just a few empty spaces. Since the parking lot was adjacent to an alley, Emma bolted ahead to see if her mother was hidden by the nearest garage. As Elizabeth and Will caught up to her, she turned to face them, alarm overtaking her face.
“Don’t worry. Your mother must be around here. I’ll call her. She has got to be here someplace,” Elizabeth said, fumbling for her cell phone. When Gloriann didn’t answer, Elizabeth swallowed down her panic and began to search the phone for walking directions back to the house. She really did not know where she was in relation to Gloriann’s