Book Excerpt
Okanagan Bliss
A police cruiser sat outside the house as I
pulled into the garage. All kinds of thoughts entered my mind, none of them
pleasant. Had my investigation ruffled some feathers? I quickly made my way
inside, not bothering to remove my helmet. I breathed a sigh of relief when I
heard laughter coming from the kitchen. From the doorway, I spotted Mom and
Hannah sitting at the table, sipping tall pink concoctions. On the counter,
beyond them, stood the blender, a bottle of Bacardi, a cutting board and the
remnants of chopped fruit.
I stepped into the room.
“Hi, honey,” Mom said. “Look who stopped by to
see you.”
Hannah waved, and though she was still in her
uniform, the open collar without tie and hat made her seem much more casual.
“Hi, Hannah,” I said, removing my helmet and
shaking out my hair. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
“My shift ended at eight and I came right over.
I wish I’d gotten here sooner,” Hannah laughed. “Your mom is a hoot.”
Another tall glass magically appeared on the
table before I had managed to sit down. The nectar of the gods slid across my
tongue. The look on my face caused giggles from my tablemates.
“Good isn’t it?” Hannah’s question was an
understatement.
“What is this?” I asked after a larger sample.
Mom raised her glass. “I call my little
concoction ‘Okanagan Bliss’. I throw peaches, plums, pears, ice and rum into
the blender and this marvelous mixture is the result.”
“To bliss,” Hannah said, then we clinked our
glasses together.
“I can use some bliss right now,” I said, after
swallowing another mouthful. Then while we polished off our Okanagan Bliss and
another blender full after that, I told them about my frustrating afternoon. My
serial killer theory had turned out to be a lot less fruitful than our drinks.
“Don’t be so certain,” Hannah said. From next
to her chair, she retrieved a leather satchel and pulled out a one-inch-thick
ream of paper. “I ran a nation-wide missing persons search this afternoon.”
“There are that many missing people in Canada?”
Mom asked, her voice filled with alarm.
“Oh, heavens no,” Hannah responded.
Mom patted her chest and breathed a sigh of
relief. “Thank goodness, you had me worried.”
Having been in law enforcement for all those
years I knew what was coming. I reached over and took Mom’s hand.
“This is just the tip of the iceberg,” Hannah
informed her. “For our purposes, I didn’t include missing children, older folks
or men.”
“Oh my,” Mom said. “I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t,” Hannah told her, then
turned to me and slid the stack my way. “These are the women between eighteen
and forty who are missing and/or presumed dead.”
“How many are there?” I asked, giving Mom’s
hand a final squeeze before thumbing through the missing women.
“Over the past ten years, 182 women have gone
missing and are, as of yet, unaccounted for.” Hannah informed us.
“That’s awful.” A look of horror swept across
Mom’s face. “Those poor women.”
“I assure you that some of these women are
alive and well,” I told Mom, hoping to make her feel better.
“Some of them are hiding,” Hannah piped in.
“Hiding?” Mom asked.
“Escaping abusive relationships,” I told her.
“A few are hiding from the law, to avoid prosecution.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Mom said.
“But most are likely dead,” Hannah said.
“Hannah!” I said, indicating with my eyes to
tone things down, for Mom’s sake.
“Many of them are possibly,” Hannah hesitated
trying to find the right wording, “in heaven by now.”
“Really?” I laughed.
“I tried,” Hannah giggled. I laughed, she
laughed and even Mom joined in. Guilt over the subject matter sobered us
quickly, though.
“To the ones that got away,” Mom said, raising
her glass. “Stay safe ladies, wherever you are.”
“Hear, hear,” Hannah and I added. We drained
our glasses.
About the Book
Title: Framed – A Black Swann InvestigationAuthor Bio
Canadian
author, Wayne Kerr, was born and raised in the small town of Biggar,
Saskatchewan (New York is big, but this is Biggar). He married his high
school sweetheart, Marlene, thirty-nine years ago and has lived happily
ever since. They resided in the United States for the past twenty
years, but recently returned to Canada and now call the beautiful
Okanagan region of British Columbia home. The writer honed his
story-telling skills while keeping his five younger siblings and later
his daughter entertained during long cold winters. When not reading or
writing thrillers, Wayne is probably hiking, biking or playing tennis.
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