By Lauren Kelly
From Lauren Kelly, "a author of bold expertise" (Scott Turow), comes the page-turning tale of Merilee Graf, whose earlier and current mysteries converge in a revelation too painful, and too surprising, for her to simply accept. 16 years in the past, a vivacious fifth-grade classmate of Merilee Graf was once kidnapped from a park in Mt. Olive, manhattan. Haunted by way of the reminiscence of the eleven-year-old "gypsy-looking" lady whose disappearance hasn't ever been defined, Merilee returns domestic to maintain a vigil on the bedside of her death father, a filthy rich importer of unique items and a former, well known mayor of the upstate manhattan city at the Chautauqua River. After Mr. Graf's dying, Merilee unearths herself an "heiress" in additional methods than one as she turns into concerned, with either dread and fascination, with very diverse males from her Mt. Olive earlier -- the elusive older brother of her lacking classmate and her personal seductive "Uncle Jedah," executor of her father's property. prior and current mysteries converge in a revelation too painful, and too surprising, for Merilee to simply accept, and in a surprising act of reckless braveness she frees herself of the terrifying obsessions of the earlier.
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From Lauren Kelly, "a author of ambitious expertise" (Scott Turow), comes the page-turning tale of Merilee Graf, whose previous and current mysteries converge in a revelation too painful, and too surprising, for her to simply accept. 16 years in the past, a vivacious fifth-grade classmate of Merilee Graf used to be kidnapped from a park in Mt.
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Extra info for The Stolen Heart: A Novel of Suspense
Merilee? Is that you . ” I told him yes. I explained I’d been in his room since that morning, I’d been here all along. It took a few seconds for this information to sink in. I wondered what the poor man saw, seeing 38 The Stolen Heart me; the blurred ﬁgure of me seated in a chair close beside this strange cranked-up bed in a too-brightly lighted room. Yet a crafty look came into my father’s face. A signal he meant to say something funny. Maybe it would be cruel, maybe it would be cutting, but it would be funny and I should be prepared to laugh.
If the black man hadn’t seemed to like me, I mean me. I mean, he’d seen me, and he’d come over to me. Tall and lanky and loose-jointed and with that burnt-ginger skin and big horseeyes it didn’t matter if he was good-looking or what. If he had bad intentions or what. So earnest saying, You were in Lilac’s class, huh? Your father’s Mr. Graf? Wanting this wild lurching ride never to end. Thinking Whatever happens between us. 32 Vigil “ Merilee! Is that you . ” He’d nodded off and had now wakened abruptly.
44 The Stolen Heart Needing comfort myself! For I could not imagine in which direction my life would swerve, if my father died. I’d left New York City abruptly. When my aunt called to summon me home, I had come immediately. I’d used the opportunity to resign from a job that bored me, and to break up with a man who’d begun to bore me. The job had been assistant to the executive director of an arts foundation that gave away millions of dollars in fellowship grants each year, and the man, in his ﬁfties, a quite nice man, had been the executive director of the foundation.