Dad had never been especially talkative, but this brooding silence, broken only by the occasional terse comment or grunt, was weird even for him. During the drive there, his father had been quiet, too. His father’s gaze rested on the tip of his rod suspended above the water, but his eyes were unfocused, as if he were deep in thought. A silver Seiko sports watch encircled his wrist, band glinting in the sunshine. He was a slender man with a mocha complexion, salt-and-pepper mustache, and wire rim glasses, dressed that morning in a Georgia Tech baseball cap, checkered shirt, and khakis. Seated across from him, his father sipped coffee from a steel thermos. It was June, a week after school had let out for summer vacation, and there was no better place to be in the whole world than out fishing with his father. Beneath him, their aluminum bass boat bobbed on the tranquil silver waters of Lake Allatoona. Untroubled by the sound, a familiar noise in these parts, Anthony Thorne tilted his face to the clear Georgia sky and let the morning sunrays caress his skin. The crack of a hunter’s rifle echoed across the lake, distant and brief. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.Įmail: site: “A life is not worth living until you have something to die for.” Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.Īll rights reserved. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The Ancestors (with Tananarive Due and L.A. Voices from the Other Side: Dark Dreams II

Nana brandon massey