Listen to the Silence (A Sharon McCone mystery)
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In the aftermath of her father's death, Sharon McCone uncovers a family secret - she was adopted. She now faces her most urgent quest - to find her birth parents. To her dismay this takes her to the heart of a feud where murder, undisturbed for years, is now overlaid with fresh violence.
color. A hopper truck full of grapes was turning onto the road from a driveway, and I had to swing wide to avoid it. Harvesttime in the Salinas Valley. The gate across the drive stood open, so I turned in and followed the blacktop to a cluster of metal sheds where workers, mostly Hispanic, milled about. A tall gray-haired man in Levi’s and a Western-style shirt was waving for another truck to leave. I pulled the MG to one side and got out. As the truck departed, the tall man noticed me and
impatient. The last thing I needed now was a fond reminiscence about his youthful travels. He noticed my impatience and hurried on with his story. “Anyway, after five months the car broke down in Fort Hall, Idaho, and while we were stuck there waiting for parts, I met your mother. She was seventeen—pretty, smart, and had a wild streak. Her parents didn’t want her to see me, but she’d sneak off and meet me at the auto court where my friend and I were staying. When the car was fixed, he bought out
night’s sleep?” “Just one favor, Mick. One little favor. Did you locate any material on DeCarlo Enterprises’ Spirit Lake development?” “Yeah. It’s on your desk at the office.” “Oh.” “What’s wrong?” “I need you to fax it to me at my motel in Monterey. Right away.” Sigh. “Okay, I can do that pretty quick. What’s the fax number there?” I read it to him. “I suppose you dragged the motel clerk out of bed to get use of their machine?” “Not exactly. He was dozing in front of the TV.” “Someday
we aren’t meeting under the best of circumstances—” “Circumstances? Circumstances that you created! You’re the one, aren’t you? The one who tried to kill my mother?” DeCarlo frowned. “Kill Kia? Why would I—?” Robin made an enraged sound, half grunt and half scream, and hurled herself at him. Her fists pummeled the air, and then his chest. DeCarlo fended her off, his hands on her shoulders, while I grabbed her from behind. “Robin, calm down!” I said. “He wouldn’t’ve come here if—” “He
flickering behind the glass door of the stove. In a moment he said, “Bad timing.” “What d’you mean?” “She left a message for me at my rooming house in New York, saying it was an emergency and asking that I call her. But a month earlier, I’d met the woman who later became my wife, and I was spending time at her place. When I finally picked up the message and called, the number turned out to be a phone booth at a truck stop. Kia, of course, was long gone.” “Did you try to locate her?” “No.”