BROWN GROVE

By Wanda Miller

Alecia is a teenager deeply engulfed in a world of politics and social media designed to tarnish her reputation by framing her actions for the murder of three working-class men in her neighborhood. When detectives uncover her secret, the evidence points to an unlikely suspect and could cost her family everything they've worked for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FoxHouse LLC
• Release date: Jan 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781737743224

Book preview

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

ALECIA

THERAPY: SESSION 3

1. Chapter 1

THERAPY: SESSION 5

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

THERAPY: SESSION 10

CYNTHIA

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. LOVING NOAH

BROWN GROVE

WANDA MILLER

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FoxHouse Publishing

Cover by FoxHouse Publishing, Hanover, Virginia

FoxHouse LLC

Brown Grove

A Winn Series

Copyright © 2021 by Wanda Miller

Published by FoxHouse Publishing Hanover, Virginia 23111

www.foxhousellc/foxhouse-publishing

Ebook ISBN 9781737743224

ISBN 9781737743231 (hardcover)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

BROWN GROVE

Wanda Miller

ALECIA

THERAPY: SESSION 3

Listen to the sound of my voice..

Okay.

Are you ready?

Yes.

Where are you?

We're walking down the street to the market.

Where is your brother? Where’s Frank?

Beside me.

What now?

They’re hurting me! I can’t scream.

Where’s Frank?

Where are you, Alecia?

In the alley. The monsters are here.

What are their names?

I don't know. I don't know.

Chapter 1

My therapist used the term dissociation where my vision narrows and I have a difficult time focusing.

Is that what it’s called?

How much are my parents paying her to talk about dissociation? I’d rather go to my room and listen to early nineties R&B.  Honestly, dissociation wasn’t even half of it. She should hear the screams in the middle of the night or see the mini panic attacks from being too close to men in public places. It probably would’ve made her prescribe me more than one type of antidepressant medication. The pills don’t really help or solve anything. I stopped taking them a month ago. They do however help the Billy goat named James Brown at Monroe’s Marketplace deal with his depression. He escapes from there on a daily basis and can be seen eating Mrs. Joyner’s plants in her front yard. Must be nice being a Billy goat.

Frank is the only one who saw what happened, the only one that could identify each man by face. My little brother, my saving grace, my current nightmare. Maybe I should’ve asked Frank how he felt that day. I never got the chance to, the guilt eating away at me was too much. Plus, the well-known fact was, I turned my brother into a serial killer.

The Summer before my senior year in high school changed lives forever. My father, Anthony Jones was running for the Virginia house of delegates. My mother, Cynthia was acting campaign manager slash devoted Stepford wife. My Aunt Nicole was becoming a famous journalist, and my Aunt Olivia was a big-time criminal attorney.

One big busy happy family. 

Frank spent a lot of time outside with the neighborhood kids, having fun at the playground which diminished the frequent bipolar outbursts, and kept his violent crimes well hidden from anyone suspecting. He was very protective of his friends when disputes arose and seemed to go into fits of rage only when he felt provoked. Frank's actions are really bad, but if anyone had seen us that horrible day they would understand why Frank chose to exact his particular form of revenge that included killing the men who hurt me.

It wasn’t my fault the abuse I mean. I was walking from Monroe Marketplace with Frank after purchasing new headphones along with our father’s weekly bourbon and cigarette order, to the dismay of some patrons who quickly noted my adolescents. The Monroe’s and our parents had a long-standing relationship since the store’s beginning. As long as our parent’s political luncheons were held at Monroe’s three times out of the year, they could have anything desired, including weekly alcoholic beverages.

So we’re listening to Boyz-to-Men coming through little metallic speakers on an iPad. Turning down the sound was