Poison heart: a novel of suspense by Mary Logue
By Mary Logue
Fall involves Pepin County with a vengeance as Deputy Sheriff Claire Watkins confronts a brand new evil festering underneath the placid floor of the Wisconsin farm group. A refugee from the dual towns, Claire has slowly tailored to small-town life–especially now that she loves and lives with wealthy Haggard. yet during this rural region, people are dangerously restless.One is Daniel Reiner, a prosperous part-time resident who’s been paying for up an excessive amount of land–at least so far as the locals are involved. one other is playing addict and getting older gold digger Patty Jo Tilde, who lately married a widower two decades her senior. Patty is itching to inherit her husband’s estate, promote it to Reiner, and depart the geographical region in the back of. the single stumbling block–her husband needs to die.Add to the combination a suspicious goat-herding daughter-in-law and a wounded elk, and issues fast achieve a boiling aspect. As Claire Watkins delves deeper into the secret, she believes she’s exposed a perilous background of lies, deceit, arson, and poison. Her challenge is to turn out it–and then she learns what occurred to Patty Jo’s final husband. . . .Evoking the robust group values and the normal fantastic thing about the Mississippi River Valley, this new Claire Watkins novel is Logue’s most fun but. Poison middle is a riveting story of these who dwell off the land–and those that prove six ft below it.
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Additional resources for Poison heart: a novel of suspense
She found the tray that they put over his wheelchair when they wanted him to work on something. When the tray was in place, she set the paper in the middle of it and took his hand and put it in the middle of the paper. He started writing. She was so excited, she thought of running out in the hall to tell someone. Her dad could write. But when she looked at what he had written, she couldn’t make any sense out of it. If it was a word, all the letters were written one on top of the other, making it illegible.
She cried every day. Sometimes it was just a small dribbling sniffle. Once in a while it erupted into wholehearted sobbing. However it overtook her, she tried to hide it from Mark. He couldn’t stand to see her cry. It affected him the way puppies got to her—he went weak in the knees and could barely talk. When the crying jags had first hit her, she’d thought she was going crazy. She had never behaved so erratically in all her life—the weeping, the crabbiness. Anxiety racked her body. She had considered going to a therapist.
Jenkins went on. “Reiner’s stud elk. Tame as a dog. Bottle-fed. Probably just standing there waiting for something to eat. ” Rich walked into the house to get one. Bridget picked up the phone to call her sister, Claire. She was hesitant to make the call because it would seem so final. Just as she was about to punch in the number, she saw her daughter, Rachel, holding on to the table leg. Rachel looked over at Bridget, let go of the table leg, and took a step all by herself. Her first step. Bridget hung up the phone to watch her daughter.