Sierra Girls

By Richard Ewald

When budding computer programmer Michelle Quinn disappears from her quiet Santa Cruz neighborhood, the police find no evidence of her kidnapper and seem to give up almost immediately. Her father Gabriel, a private charter pilot, believes Michelle is still alive, but he knows that her time is short. Unwilling to sit idly by and wait for the police to solve the crime, Gabriel sets out to find his daughter himself.

A handful of friends close to the Quinn family join Gabriel, including Michelle's godfather Matthias, a Russian Orthodox monk, and newspaper reporter Lisa Miller. They believe Michelle's kidnapping is related to the three unsolved disappearances in the Sierra Nevada mountains the previous year. When Gabriel himself becomes a suspect in the police investigation, he and his friends press forward with abandon, taking the law into their own hands as they desperately search for any clue pointing to Michelle's kidnapper.

Meanwhile, Michelle finds herself trapped in a broken down house in the mountains, surrounded by razor wire. At first, her kidnapper, Roper Lund, does not show himself, and Michelle struggles to clear her mind from the sleeping drugs he gave her. Gradually she remembers how he tricked her into getting into his car, and she understands that she is in mortal danger. She has no idea whether her father or the police are searching for her, or if they even know that Lund kidnapped her. Michelle decides that her only hope is to rescue herself. So she sets out on her own desperate adventure to find a way out of Lund's custom-made prison for little girls.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Ewald
• Release date: Oct 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301130528

Richard Ewald

Richard Ewald grew up in the small towns of northern California, from central valley farming communities to the snowy outposts in the northern Sierra Nevada Mountains. He learned to drive a car on winding mountain roads when he was eight, began playing guitar at nine, and started programming computers at ten. In his early teens he fell in love with the fantasy stories of J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. They inspired him to create his own worlds and tell his own stories. He began crafting a fantasy world in junior high, and even wrote out the beginning of a novel, which he eventually completed after college. The other big influences in his childhood were endless video games at the local arcades and television sitcom reruns.Richard spent most of his early adult life in the Silicon Valley and the San Francisco and Monterey bay areas. He studied Classical Greek and software engineering in college and grad school, and he got married and started a career in the tech industry. He squeezed some writing time in occasionally, but did not make it a priority. During this period, he began quite a few books, and finished a handful. He had become a life-long fan of Stephen King in college, and he spent a lot of time learning from the master, especially King's book On Writing, a great book for all aspiring writers.When his long-awaited daughter finally arrived, Richard was ecstatic and suddenly very busy. He took a long break from actively writing, but he continued his lifelong habit of creating worlds and peopling them with characters that would grow to take on a life of their own. He finally left California and moved across the country to Atlanta. The "South" was like a foreign country to him, but he quickly grew to love it. The land of sweet tea, peaches, and Palmetto bugs has an undeniable charm all its own, but deep down inside he'll probably always be a Californian.

Book preview

1. Bowl of Grapes

Michelle and Amy stepped into the afternoon sunshine. The front steps of Lighthouse Middle School overlooked the beach, but building sandcastles was the last thing on Michelle's mind. Although Mr. Cooper hadn't exactly grilled her, she always felt irritable after visiting the counselor's office. She hadn't meant to tell Cooper about the fight she'd had with her dad that morning, but he'd dragged it out of her, effectively ruining her mood.

Sorry about your dad, Amy said. I love to fly. It's so much fun. And Tahoe is the best.

Yes. Her voice sounded sad in her ears. I asked him to take me for three days, but he just wouldn't budge. He can be so stubborn sometimes. Mom would've let me go. As soon as it was out of her mouth, Michelle regretted it. Even a year after her mom's death Michelle's grief still lingered, always threatening to break through.

So why wouldn't he let you go with him? Amy asked. He could've got you out of school for one day, and you guys would've had so much fun.

Michelle stopped and turned toward Amy. They'd put about half a mile between them and the school. The walking path along the shore wasn't crowded, but they had to dodge bicycles, joggers, and random dogs every few minutes.

That's just it, Amy. He could've got me out of school today, but he said school's more important than a weekend at Tahoe. I'm sure he's right. He's always right. But he could've been a little less stoic about it.

After sidestepping a particularly feisty Chihuahua, Amy said, But doesn't your dad have to carry passengers in the plane? Maybe there weren't enough seats.

There would have been one extra seat that I could have ridden in. I mean, he owns the plane. He could have let me go. That's why I kept badgering him about it. I feel kind of bad now. I should've just let it go. I wouldn't even kiss him goodbye this morning because I was pouting. Now I won't see him for two days.

They walked to the intersection of Swift Street where they usually parted company. Amy had to go to the Guardian offices where her mom worked.

Sorry, Michelle. I wish I could help.

I'll be fine. It's nice just to talk to someone about it. You're a good listener. They hugged, and Michelle watched Amy walk away, marveling at how much better she felt after talking to her friend—especially considering how crappy she'd felt telling the same story to Mr. Cooper. He was always trying to fix her, but Amy just enjoyed being with her. Like her mom.

Michelle rounded the last corner before her house. She loved the little bungalow in the Circles district of what she thought of as uptown Santa Cruz. Their house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, Sea Lion Circle. Most of the neighboring houses were summer rentals, and most of the renters were sun worshipers who spent most of their time a few blocks away at the beach.

The street was deserted. No cars. No SUV's. No kids running in the front yards. It had been this way ever since she'd started summer school. Michelle thought it meant that mostly old people had rented the houses, but she really had no idea. She rarely met any of her neighbors.

Mrs. Henchly—the babysitter who always wanted to teach Michelle to knit—wasn't due for a couple hours. Michelle planned to spend that time surfing the Internet. She loved computers. Her dad's best friend, whom she used to call Uncle Nathan when she was a kid (she'd since dropped the Uncle part), had been teaching her computer programming for the past couple years. She was currently working on a C# program. It was a game, but she wasn't sure exactly what it would do just yet. Before she could finish it, she needed to look up some programming tips on the Internet about how to read the joystick controller properly.

But first things first. Once inside, she headed straight for the refrigerator. Michelle was a grape fanatic, and that was the first thing she always thought of when she walked in the front door. She'd just sat down in front of the computer when she heard a car pull into the driveway.

She looked out the dining room window, but didn't recognize the white AMC Hornet in the driveway. Maybe Mrs. Henchly got someone to drive her here early. A man stepped out and Michelle knew instantly that she'd seen him before, though she couldn't quite remember where. She had a good memory for faces, and by the time she walked out the front door, she'd placed it.

Roper Lund?

He looked a bit startled at this greeting. She was used to that. He was wearing the same hairpiece he'd been wearing the only other time she'd seen him. It was a dead give away.

Michelle, he said. You're looking good. I'm surprised you remember me.

She smiled but forbore telling him how she'd recognized him. Of course I remember you. It wasn't even six months ago. What are you doing here? Are you back at the university?

No. I graduated last month, and I've started a new job in Aptos.

It had all come back to Michelle now. She'd met Lund in February when she'd participated in a counselor-training program at UCSC. Mr. Cooper had arranged for her to go, and Lund had interviewed her. It was like an exchange program for wannabe school counselors. Lund had been studying at Sac State, and he and the others in the program had come to Santa Cruz to conduct supervised counseling sessions with real live kids. She'd been one of the guinea pigs. At first, she'd feared it would be an unpleasant experience, but Lund had been so nice that she'd ended up having a great time with him. Mr. Cooper and one of Lund's professors had been there observing, and Mr. Cooper told her afterward that they'd given Lund an excellent mark on the assignment.

That's great, Michelle said. Maybe we can get together sometime.

Lund's expression changed. Actually, Michelle, that's why I'm here. He looked at her for several seconds without speaking. There's been an accident. Your father's plane crashed in the mountains.

Michelle's world collapsed. Her vision began turning black and fuzzy around the edges.

He's alive, Lund said, but he's in the hospital in Tahoe City. Tears rolled out of Michelle's eyes and down her pale cheeks. She barely noticed. Lund came to her and put his arms around her. It's all right, he said. She knew he was trying to soothe her, but the words sounded flat and meaningless in her ears. There, there, he said. He'll be all right. He was injured, and he's in the intensive care unit. The doctors are very hopeful though.

Michelle tried to speak, but no words came out. She pulled out of his embrace and sat on the stone bench near the entryway.

Lund loomed over her, casting his shadow across her face. Your father keeps asking to see you. The doctors told him you'd come. They couldn't get him to calm down otherwise. Mr. Cooper just got the call a few minutes ago. They asked him to drive you up there, but he can't. He's got some family thing tonight. He called me, and I came right away. I'm sorry that we have to meet again under these circumstances.

Michelle could hardly think straight. I don't know, she said. I'd better ask Mrs. Henchly. She's supposed to be watching me tonight.

Mr. Cooper already called her, Lund said. She thought it best that you go see your dad. He paused. Just in case.

Michelle stared at Lund's face for nearly a whole minute. She was trying to decide what to do, but her brain was floating in molasses. She thought of her father lying in a hospital bed then thought of how unkind she'd been that morning. If he died before she could apologize, before she could tell him how much she loved him—

All right, she said. I need to grab a few things from the house and lock up. The words came out of her mouth. She heard them but didn't know how they'd managed it.

You'd better bring a sweater, Lund said. It gets cold in the mountains at night, even in the middle of summer.

For a moment, she sat immobile. Then she took a deep breath and walked into the house. Five minutes later, she was sitting in Lund's car, speeding over the road toward her dad.

2. Highway 17

Roper Lund was glad the excitement of the morning was over. He'd been wired on caffeine since about five a.m., constantly afraid something would go wrong. But now, with Michelle safely in the car, he was certain everything would work out fine.

When they got on Highway 17, Lund offered Michelle a drink. I didn't have much time so I just picked up a six pack of Pepsi and one of Diet Pepsi.

I'm not thirsty.

It'll calm your stomach down. This road's pretty curvy. He looked at her with genuine concern. Her face had turned sallow, and she was starting to look a bit carsick. If you want one, they're on the floorboard behind your seat.

Michelle relented and reached behind the seat. She grabbed the first can she felt, and pulled it from the plastic ring. Lund didn't think she even read the label to see which one it was. He watched her open the tab. His heartbeat pulsed faster in his chest. She drank the whole can in about five gulps. When she opened her mouth, Lund feared for a moment that she was going to hurl it all back up onto the dashboard. Instead, she let out a long, sonorous belch that would have made a professional football player proud. She smiled at him. He thought she might laugh. Then the moment passed, and her face grew despondent once again.

Don't worry, Michelle. I have a good feeling about this whole thing. I'm sure everything will work itself out.

She didn't speak.

He glanced at her every minute or so. How about some music? He turned on the radio and found a station playing pop music. Is this okay?

She bent her head down so her chin was touching her chest.

That seat leans back, Lund said, if you want to rest a bit. Michelle complied. Let me know if you get hungry. By the time they reached San Jose, Michelle was out cold.

Lund reached under his own seat and pulled out a small black case. He unzipped it and removed a thin syringe. His heart jumped nearly into his throat when the car hit a bump and he almost stabbed himself with the needle. Smoothly and quickly he stuck it in Michelle's left shoulder and depressed the plunger. That would keep her soundly asleep for the next several hours. Good. He slid the syringe back into the case, next to the larger one he'd used to drug the Pepsi cans. His soldering had been so perfect that morning that even he could hardly see where the punctures had been.

He flipped the radio station to classic rock, and drove generally north and east. He had to stop at Dunnigan to fill the Hornet's gas tank. His bladder almost emptied itself when he saw Michelle crawl out of the car and drop to the concrete between the gas pumps. A gust of wind caught his hairpiece when he bent over to pick her up, but he caught it just in time before it flew off into the night. He set her back in the passenger seat and gave her one more shot before continuing, just to be safe.

Well after midnight, Lund pulled the Hornet into the U-Store-It lot just outside Chester. He'd leaned the passenger seat back and draped a blanket over Michelle. No point in taking unnecessary risks. The lot attendant barely glanced in Lund's direction however when he drove by the tiny office building at the entrance.

The next to last row contained the garage-sized lockers. Lund left the engine of the Hornet running while he opened his unit and backed a brown Buick Skylark out. He checked to be sure no one was watching. Satisfied, he transferred his precious cargo into the other car, still shrouded by the blanket and took off once again into the night.

3. Where's Mr. Takahashi?

Gabriel Quinn barely needed to touch the flight controls this morning once his Cessna Turbo Stationair reached altitude. The sky was clear, the sun brilliant. It was one of those flawless morning flights pilots dream about. Michelle would have loved it.

His eyes fixed frequently on the photograph taped to the top of the instrument panel. Three people standing inside a giant redwood tree—his wife Laura on one side, daughter Michelle on the other. In the middle stood the Gabriel of one year ago. He studied the man in the photo. Jet-black hair, sharp blue eyes, not-too-bad physique. He glanced in the large rearview mirror overhead. His hair was more than speckled with gray now, and his eyes looked hollow. He could feel the growing beer gut under his belt.

He got lost for a few moments in the long, luscious curls falling from Laura's neck. He could still smell the lavender shampoo she'd always used. The old pain came rushing back in force. He shut his eyes hard and held them closed for ten seconds. The radio crackled.

After assuring the tower in Tahoe City that he would arrive on schedule, Gabriel went back to studying the picture. He remembered that day so vividly. They'd been hiking through Big Basin State Park. Michelle had run ahead and burrowed herself in the hollowed out bowl of the massive redwood. Gabriel had asked a random passerby to snap the shot. Michelle had been all of eleven then, a thin but wiry girl, brown hair like her mother but straight like his own. She'd been wearing shorts and a San Jose Sharks tee shirt that day. The scabs on her knees stood out sharply against her white skin. Her smile had been so broad at that moment. Gabriel thought it was that smile which had made him tape the picture to his instrument panel. It filled his heart with joy every time he looked at it.

The tower intruded again over the radio. He needed to start the pre-landing checklist. The jewel of the lake shone on the ground ahead. His eyes glanced to the picture again. He put his fingers to his lips then touched the photograph lovingly, first Laura then Michelle.

The touchdown was perfect. Why were his landings always the best when no one was there to see them? He taxied the plane to the hanger and scheduled a refueling before doing anything else. These clients wanted to fly up and down the length of the Sierra Nevadas. Gabriel didn't really care why, as long as they paid good money.

He rented a car and drove to the hotel where he'd reserved a room for himself and where the clients were due to meet him.

I'm sorry, sir, the clerk behind the counter said. Mr. Takahashi left word a few hours ago that he and his party were running late.

How late? Gabriel asked.

He didn't give a time, but he said he'd call back when he knew for sure. He thought it would be several hours at least. He wanted us to assure you that you would be paid the agreed upon amount regardless of how late they arrive and that if you don't hear from them by noon, you might as well enjoy the rest of the day yourself and plan on tomorrow morning instead.

Gabriel sighed.

The drive to South Lake Tahoe took almost an hour. Mr. Takahashi never called back so Gabriel decided to try enjoying himself. Now he really wished he'd brought Michelle like she'd wanted. She loved it up here at the lake. Well, he'd make it up to her next weekend.

After a few drinks in a random casino, Gabriel felt mostly numb. He was ashamed of himself for having fallen into the first bar he'd seen inside the casino doors. He checked his watch and decided to call the clerk at the Tahoe City hotel again. Mr. Takahashi had finally called, confirming that the group would not arrive till the early morning hours.

Gabriel wanted to call Michelle and see how she was getting along with Mrs. Henchly, but he feared his voice would betray the number of drinks he'd had. Michelle hated seeing him even the slightest bit tipsy, and she had an uncanny way of knowing when he'd had even a single beer. So much like Laura.

He sighed into his gin.

A voice from behind him said, Excuse me. He turned and saw a young lady, a girl really, looking at most nineteen. Is this seat taken?

Three hours later Gabriel drove back to Tahoe City. He felt dirty and defeated. The girl—Tracy, he thought her name was—had been thoroughly impressed when he told her he was a pilot. It took only thirty minutes before they'd been in one of the casino's hotel rooms going at it like woodchucks in heat. Now—driving through the night, sobering up, and feeling like dog shit scraped off someone's shoe—Gabriel prayed to Laura for forgiveness. He hadn't betrayed his late wife, he supposed, but he felt like he'd failed both his daughter and himself.

The last edge of his mild drunkenness dropped away completely when he stepped back into the hotel lobby in Tahoe City and found two highway patrol officers waiting for him.

Mr. Quinn, the taller one said. We need to talk.

4. Press Conference

Lisa Miller arrived home with her daughter Amy a few minutes earlier than expected. The light on the answering machine greeted her as soon as she walked through the door of her condo. Great. She couldn't believe Herb could have got a hot lead on a story during the fifteen minutes between her leaving the office and now. Somehow though she was sure it was her untiring editor determined to ruin her weekend.

She ignored the blinking light long enough to get Amy set to work in the kitchen chopping vegetables. Tonight was their version of Chinese stir-fry. It wasn't entirely authentic, but she and Amy always had a blast cooking in the wok. Lisa flipped on the television set to the evening news. She hung her coat on the tree next to the front door even though she was fairly sure she'd have to leave again shortly if that message really was from her boss.

Lisa, Herb's voice said, don't take off your coat. This one is big. You'd better get a babysitter for Amy because I have a feeling you'll be out all night. Call me.

She pressed the delete key and contemplated for the briefest moment simply ignoring the summons. She'd put in more than her usual sixty hours this week already. But she was a professional, and journalism was what she lived for.

She headed for the kitchen to tell Amy she might have to go back to work. The television talking head caught her attention when it said, We don't have much information yet, but initial police reports indicate that a child abduction took place in Santa Cruz this afternoon. More details are expected later this evening.

When she heard the sound bite, Lisa knew why Herb had called. She entered the kitchen. Amy clearly hadn't heard the news report. Lisa grabbed the remote and flipped the set off.

Ah, mom! I was listening to that.

Honey, Lisa said. She tried to make her voice sound as normal as possible, but it was no use.

No, mom. Not tonight.

How did you know? Lisa was impressed by her daughter's intuitive observation skills.

"I've heard that Honey before, Amy said. Why doesn't Mr. Calvin let me spend some time with you. Your my mom, after all, not his."

If I let Jennie order pizza, will you let me go?

Amy scrunched up her face in mock consideration. I guess. I haven't got very far on these veggies anyway.

Thanks, sweetie-pie. I'll make it up to you. I promise.

That's okay, mom. I know it's your job. I just sometimes wish—

Me too, munchkin. I wish that too. Will you put stuff away here while I call Mr. Calvin?

Lisa arrived at the Quinn bungalow. The cul-de-sac was crowded with police cars, one television news van, and a smattering of other reporters from the local papers. She walked toward the yellow crime scene tape, but a young officer blocked her way. When she showed him her credentials, he directed her to the press area, saying that a statement would be given momentarily.

A man in a wrinkled brown sport coat called out to get everyone's attention. Lisa recognized him as one of the new police detectives, but she couldn't remember his name. The sun had just set, and an icy wind began blowing in off the sea. Lisa's nose involuntarily twitched at the sudden salty aroma.

People, please. I'm Detective Zondervan, and I'm only going to read this statement once. The small crowd quieted, and the man began reading from a notebook.

The police were called a couple hours ago by a counselor from Lighthouse Middle School to report a missing twelve-year-old girl, Michelle Quinn. The babysitter, an elderly neighbor, came to the girl's house around five. When she found the house empty, she called the school to see if the girl might still be there, but she wasn't. The counselor, Dion Cooper, reports having seen the girl leave the school around three thirty. The girl's father, Gabriel Quinn, is out of town. We're in the process of contacting him now. Due to the age of the missing person, we're treating this as an abduction case until evidence to the contrary is found. The Santa Cruz Superior Court issued a search warrant a few minutes ago. Police officers entered the premises and conducted an initial search. No signs of forced entry were found, and nothing in the house looks out of place. At this time, we have no suspects and very little evidence. We're asking members of the media to put out a general request that anyone with any information contact the police immediately. Lisa didn't bother jotting down the telephone numbers when he read them. She knew them all by heart.

As soon as Zondervan paused, several voices from the crowd yelled out questions simultaneously. One at a time, people, Zondervan said.

Has a search party been organized yet?

That's standard procedure. An S.A.R.T. has been convened, and they'll be handling the details of all search and rescue operations.

Why a sexual assault response team? Is there evidence that a sex crime has occurred?

No, it's just the normal procedure for abductions of minors, especially females.

Was the child left alone? Isn't that illegal?

No, it's not illegal. At the moment, we have no evidence of neglect or abandonment.

Could the abductor have communicated to the victim over the Internet?

All online communications will be thoroughly examined as soon as we get the information from the Quinn's Internet provider.

Are there any registered sex offenders in this neighborhood?

Yes. The police are contacting them. We have no information about them yet.

Lisa listened to all these questions but remained silent. Her heart had stopped when Detective Zondervan mentioned Michelle Quinn's name. Lisa knew Michelle. Not well, but enough. She and Amy had met Michelle and her father last year when Lisa had been investigating the disappearance of Tamara Sedova, the third of three girls who'd been abducted in the Sierra Nevada Mountains during 2005. And she knew that Amy thought the world of Michelle, even though they hardly saw each other.

A thought hit Lisa's mind, and she yelled out, Who was the last person to see Michelle?

The school counselor, Mr. Cooper, said that Michelle left the school in the company of another young girl. We're not releasing her name at this time.

Lisa's cell phone rang, and she scurried out of the crowd toward her car. The voice of Jennie the babysitter confirmed her suspicions. After assuring the officer, who was standing in her own living room, that she would be home in fifteen minutes, Lisa told Jennie not to tell Amy anything and not to let her watch TV.

Officer Maria Gonzales impressed Lisa from the beginning. She clearly had a way with children. When Lisa walked into the condo, she found Amy and the policewoman chatting casually at the dining room table.

Thanks for coming right home, Mrs. Miller.

It's Ms., Lisa said, more from habit than irritation. But please call me Lisa.

I'm sorry, Lisa. I need to ask Amy here a few questions, but I didn't want to start without you.

I appreciate that, officer. Amy, are you all right to answer a few questions?

Of course, mom. I've been bugging her to tell me what's going on, but she wouldn't budge till you got home. Lisa smiled at her daughter's forthright bluster. She was so much like Lisa herself.

Okay, I'm here.

Great, Amy said. Go ahead, Officer Maria. Fire away.

Amy's cheerfulness disappeared the moment she heard that Michelle was missing. She told them everything she could remember. She and Michelle had left the school at about three thirty, and they'd walked together for thirty to forty-five minutes. She thought it was closer to forty-five because they'd been talking a lot, and not walking very fast.

What did you talk about? asked the officer.

Michelle was upset because she wanted to go with her dad to Lake Tahoe this weekend, but he made her stay home because she had to go to school.

Do you know Michelle's dad?

Oh sure, Amy said. He's great. And I know Michelle adores him. Amy's eyes squinted a bit, a sign Lisa understood to mean that her daughter was thinking harder than usual. Maybe her dad came back and took her after all.

Lisa and officer Gonzales glanced at each other. Lisa thought the cop must have had the same thought she just did. But she found it hard to believe that Gabriel would have kidnapped his own daughter. She'd only met him once, but he'd seemed like a perfectly decent man. Quite decent in fact. She'd even spent a few lustful thoughts on him if her memory was accurate.

Whoa, Nellies, Amy said. I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure no funny business was going on. I would have known.

Maria and Lisa traded another glance.

Amy said, Hello! I may only be eleven, but I know all about lots of stuff. And I'm good at reading people's eyes.

I believe you, said Gonzales. You just read your mom and I like two cheap novels.

Lisa felt shocked and them bemused. She hadn't realized how sophisticated her daughter had become. Her mothering instinct kicked in then, and she said, Just what kind of funny business do you know about?

Amy just smiled at her.

Officer Gonzales cleared her throat. I have a couple more questions, ladies.

Lisa and Amy both looked at her and said Sorry at the same time.

That's all right. I have a daughter myself. I know how these things work. Lisa felt the tension in the air lighten just enough. Amy, can you tell me if Michelle had any boyfriends?

Amy squinted again. I don't think so. She didn't really hang out with very many people at all. I think that's why I liked her. Not into all that popularity crap. Amy's face flushed a bit, and she glanced sidelong at her mom. You see, this last school year was the first year she ever went to a public school. Before that her mom taught her at home. Then when her mom died last year, she had to come to Lighthouse. And she usually looks really sad and lonely so most kids don't bother getting to know her. Which works out great for me because I get to spend more time with her.

A wry smile crossed Lisa's face. Selfless as ever, she said.

All right, Gonzales said. Last question. Do you know of any men who are close to the Quinn family? Uncles or men from her dad's work?

Only Nathan, Amy said. That's her dad's best friend. But he's cool. He and Michelle were really close. He's the one who was teaching her to be a computer programmer.

Where does Nathan live, and do you know his last name?

Up in the mountains somewhere. I've never been there. And, no, I don't remember ever hearing his last name. But I have met him several times at their house, and I'm telling you he's not the type to kidnap a little girl.

Lisa felt uncomfortable with someone else asking all the questions so she butted in with the next obvious one. Why do you say that, honey? Amy looked a little peeved. Lisa thought she was enjoying talking to the cop, despite the content of the conversation. Is he gay, or what?

No, mom! The eleven-year-old-going-on-sixteen voice was at its overdramatic peak. He's a para- . . . para- . . . She screwed up her face into the most horrific grimace of self-annoyance. He's got no legs. He's in a wheelchair.

Gonzales broke in again. You mean a paraplegic?

Yes! Amy said. Thank you!

Lisa smiled. What a kid! Had she ever been that precocious?

Oh! Amy said. What does stoic mean?

Gonzales looked at Lisa, eyebrows raised. Lisa said, It means not showing your emotions. It's the opposite of you.

Oh, Amy said. Never mind then.

Lisa went back to the office to write up the story for the Saturday morning edition. She didn't have much to work with, but a simple just-the-facts-ma'am piece would serve for now. She would be busy tomorrow investigating and preparing for what she was certain would be the front-page story of the Sunday edition.

Before heading home, she placed two phone calls, and left two messages asking for urgent interviews tomorrow. One was to Dion Cooper, a man she rather disliked. She'd just have to suck it up and try to not show her lack of feelings for him tomorrow. She was used to that by now. The other call was to Father Matthias at St.

Reviews for Sierra Girls

[charles_ray_60 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Twelve-year-old Michelle Quinn is home alone. She’s angry with herself because of a fight with her dad, Gabriel, a pilot, over his not taking her on a trip to Lake Tahoe. She gets a visit from Roper Lund, a graduate student studying to become a guidance counselor, telling her that her father’s plane has crashed near Tahoe, and he’s come to take her there. Michelle wakes up a prisoner in Lund’s dungeon of death.In the meantime, Gabriel, when he learns of his daughter’s abduction sets out to find her. He has to contend, though, with being a prime suspect himself.This is actually two stories that proceed along parallel lines until; on the one hand we have Gabriel’s desperate efforts to find his daughter; on the other, Michelle’s decision to try and save herself after she discovers that she’s not the first occupant of the dungeon.Sierra Girls by Richard Ewald is an edge-of-the-chair thriller/mystery that, with the exception of a few typos, has all the elements of a best-seller. The reader anxiously roots for Gabriel as he discovers just how much danger his daughter is in, and that the clock is ticking as he seeks to find and rescue her. I haven’t been twelve years old for a long time, but Ewald got me credibly into the mind of not only a twelve-year-old, but a girl at that. The parallel stories whiz along like twin roller coasters, until they finally intersect in an explosive finale that will leave you both breathless and relieved.I received a free review copy of this book, which I predict will rise quickly in the ranks of the genre, marking Richard Ewald as an author to watch.