Welcome to Rockland
County, Georgia
Small
towns are patchwork quilts, woven with threads from all residents’ lives. Maggie
Kincaid’s Scales of Justice of Café is prime real estate in Turkey Creek,
Georgia, right across from the Courthouse and right next to the local grocery
store. That's where all the threads entwine, where you go to be in the know – if you live in
Rockland County.
Everybody knows everybody else’s business in Turkey Creek. At least, they think they do. The town knows
Maggie Kincaid hasn’t spoken to her father in twenty-five years. It knows Billy
Brayton was killed in basic training after Big John Kincaid railroaded him out
of town and into the army. Nobody was
surprised. For sure, Big John wasn’t
going to let his daughter keep time with the local bad boy. Not for long.
But the town’s missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Billy Brayton’s not dead. He’s back.
He’s home. And it’s payback
time. Sometimes you can go home again.
Excerpt:
The quiet county night disintegrated into a
cacophony of squealing wheels and flying gravel. The patrol cruiser careened
down the driveway of the old church, Alec Wimberly’s terrified eyes glued to
the road in front of him.
He knew if he looked in the rearview mirror he
would still see the silhouette of the little girl with banana curls, backlit in
windows that should be dark. Echoes of pounding organ music reverberated in his
brain.
Brakes screeched as he slowed just enough to
negotiate a wide turn onto Highway 96. Backon the asphalt, he could pretend it
never happened. His hands, still shaking on the wheel, didn’t believe him. He
checked the speedometer and eased off the gas. For a moment his foot, lead on the
pedal, wouldn’t obey. He wasn’t in shock, but he wasn’t in good shape either.
He reached to his shoulder to hit the send button on his radio phone.
“Rockland 19, back on patrol from property check at
Clayton Chapel.”
“Ten-four Rockland 19.” Aileen Sanders, the
dispatcher on duty, paused and asked, “You okay, Nineteen? You sound kinda
funny.”
“Fine. Nineteen out.” Alec Wimberly felt his heart
rate begin to slow. I didn’t see anything. I
didn’t see anything, I didn’t hear anything, and I’m never gonna see it again.
Because I ain’t goin’ back there alone. Ever.
Gail, you always amaze me with your creativity...looks like another great story to read:)
ReplyDeleteCongrats on Down Home's release.
Thank you, darlin'!
ReplyDeleteOh boy. Time for another great read! Best wishes on Down Home!!
ReplyDeleteHey, darlin'! Thanks for stopping in!
ReplyDeleteIt IS a great read! just finished Down Home...Gail you are an accomplished storyteller and love that Southern flavor. Best wishes on your new release!!
ReplyDelete