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Inspiring Voices - Jayne Bath Sybil

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134 pages

English

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At her bed and breakfast in Lake Placid, NY, Wendy Baily, her brother and friends confront criminals determined to force her to give them Canadian gold coins they feel were stolen from them during Prohibition by Wendys grandfather. She finds the coins, sells them and gives the funds to aid an local ecumenical charity group. She makes friends with local Adirondackers, who try to protect her when she is threatened. Her commitment to God grows throughout her ordeal. She realizes that her business is in reality a mission to win others to God.

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Thriller

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Publié par	Inspiring Voices
Date de parution	06 septembre 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781462400027
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0540€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2011 Sybil Jayne Bath

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 publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Inspiring Voices books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Inspiring Voices
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.inspiringvoices.com
1-(866) 697-5313

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.

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

ISBN: 978-1-4624-0002-7 (e)
ISBN: 978-1-4624-0001-0 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011935649

Printed in the United States of America

Inspiring Voices rev. date: 8/29/2011

I must first thank my loving husband Dale for putting up with a writing wife for years. His wonderful encouragement has filled my heart to overflowing. Thanks to Gloria Graham for her insightful critiquing. I must also thank all the wonderful women of the LAMBS group and those of the Adirondack Community Church who have encouraged me for years. This book is the culmination of years of thinking, “I can’t possibly get a book published,” followed by years of listening to encouraging Christian women who repeatedly said, “You can do it!” I finally adopted Habakkuk 2:3 as my mantra;
“Slowly, steadily, surely,
The time approaches when the vision will be fulfilled.
If it seems slow, do not despair,
For these things will surely
Come to pass,
Just be patient!
They will not be overdue a single day!”
I thank my Lord Jesus Christ for living up to His promise that He would stand by me if I only believed in Him. My commitment to Him has fulfilled my writing life in a manner that would have been impossible without Him. Thank you, Lord!
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

PROLOGUE
“Some trust in chariots, and some in horses; But we will remember the name o f t he Lord our God. (Psalm 20:7, NKJV)
Lake Placid, New York - 1922
The man’s scream tore through the night air. Then the flash of gunfire shattered the night. The smell of sulfur and a halo of smoke were soon lost in the tall trees that surrounded the yard. A dapper young man dressed in the latest fashion of trim black suit and crisp white shirt returned his new 1922 Smith and Wesson into its embossed leather holster.
“You shoulda let me try to persuade him some more, boss,” a huge man muttered. His lumpy pugilistic face leered at the dead body on the ground. He ground the brass knuckles on his scarred right hand into his left palm. “He woulda come aroun’.”
“No, he was determined not to give away the location—Now we have to find it! It has to be on the property somewhere.” The youthful boss spoke with conviction; he knew everything and expected everyone to agree with him. He pulled out a white handkerchief and swiped it across the white spats on his shiny black shoes.
“What about this no-good garden?” a thin man asked.
The boss glared at him, and said, “Notice how neat it is? Not a weed in sight. He’s even got labels at the head of each row. He wouldn’t of messed that up to bury nothin’. No, it’s in the house. Let ‘s go. Too bad his wife ain’t here. She might of been persuaded easy. Women got weaknesses.” He headed for the house, and then paused to snarl at the other two. “Bring those crowbars. No telling how much we gotta tear this place apart.” He entered the house. The other two shouldered the tools and followed.
The still night air resounded with the sounds of crashing wallboard, interspersed with the men’s curses. They smashed dishes to the floor and wrenched kitchen cabinets from walls. Hammers pounded the floor, but they heard no hollow sound that would indicate a hiding place underneath. The boss didn’t give gave up, but decided to search the cellar.
The small cellar contained only a cold coal furnace and a few shelves lined with glass pickle and vegetable jars. These were crashed wetly to the floor, their contents smashed into slime underfoot, as the three men futilely pounded the firm stone walls. Finally, the boss signaled that the hunt was over. “Guess he left them with someone else. We’re done here.” With the shallow vanity of youth, he fastidiously dusted off his trousers and climbed the stone steps to the first floor.
“How ‘bout this glass place?” the big man asked. He peered at the greenhouse that was attached to the house as if staring at a structure from another world.
“Nuthin’ to it. Just a table, crummy flowers, poured cement floor, glass walls ‘n roof. No place to hide nuthin’ in there.” The boss sneered as he shone his flashlight around the long glass room. The delicate scent of orchids in bloom drifted from the dark room. None of the men noticed their perfume.
“We could smash it up good,” the big man said. The boss noticed how his eyes lit with the desire for destruction, and decided not to allow him the pleasure.
“Why bother? We got liquor comin’ in from Canada, an’ I want to be on time to meet the guys runnin’ it down Lake Champlain. No moon tonight. They should make good time, an’ nobody can see ‘em. I wanna be there before dawn. Let’s go!”
They left the house, carelessly passing the body that lay near the garden. The boss shuddered superstitiously when he noticed the dead man’s hand stretched out to the rows of plants as if even in death he wanted to be near his carefully tended garden. The three men approached the new Hispano-Suiza. Under the callow boss’s gaze the two thugs each pulled a cotton handkerchief from a pocket and wiped their shoes. Their boss, Gentleman Jack Dennehy, gave an approving nod before they climbed into his newest kuxury car. Jack knew that his previous car, a Studebaker-Packard, had impressed the thugs, but he wanted them to salivate with envy. They sprawled on the soft leather seats in the back. When Jack nodded, one removed a bottle of their latest haul from the built-in bar. He poured a clear liquor into a cut-crystal glass and handed it to the boss in the driver’s seat. Only then did the thugs pour their own drinks.
CHAPTER ONE
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5, NIV)
April 2006 – Manhattan, New York City
Wendy Bailey glanced up at her older brother Todd before they crossed the narrow street to the brownstone that housed the lawyer’s office. Suddenly she heard the screeching of brakes. At the same moment, Todd caught her up in his arms and leaped across the street into the scant gap between two parked cars. A dark limousine with black tinted windows just missed them and tore down the block away from them.
“Phew!” Todd gasped. “That was close. I think he was trying to hit us!” Then he saw Wendy’s white face and assured her, “I’m sure it was just an accident. Let’s go in.” Wendy pushed herself off the trunk lid of the sleek Cadillac that she was sprawled on. Todd held her trembling arm as they went inside the building. By the time they entered the elevator, she was no longer shaking. On the top floor, the elevator opened onto a lushly carpeted reception area decorated with large original scenic paintings. Ceiling spotlights were angled to show off the stunning paintings. The spots supplemented the light from the only window. Wendy caught a fleeting glimpse of a young man as he dashed through a door on the far side of the room. She wondered, What’s his hurry?

Tony leaned against the door and tried to catch his breath. He hoped she didn’t see him. Don’t make no difference anyway. Those hoods want to know she’s here, that’s all. They know she’s inheriting. They paid me well for that info. Now, I got to find a private phone and call them, let them know she’s here. I bet they already know. I’m sure I’m not the only one they have watching her. I wonder why they’re so interested in her. That old place she inherited can’t amount to much. Hardly seems worth the trouble. Oh well, who cares as long as they pay me.

The siblings entered the office of their grandparent’s old friend, Styvesant Powers. Wendy glanced around to see one wall covered with leather-bound books; another was solid glass with a view that overlooked spring-green Central Park. She was impressed, but clenched her hands tightly. She was nervous about the will they were about to hear read. She thought, What might Gram have meant? In her last letter she said that I’d be excited to hear her new will, and that I mustn’t lose courag