Bones of the Innocent: A Mason Collins Crime Thriller 3 by John A. Connell

Author:John A. Connell [Connell, John A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nailhead Publishing
Published: 2019-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

Donna Nivens was having a good day. Despite the stifling heat and buffeting crowds at the market, she smiled. She had convinced her fifteen-year-old son, Eric, to come out shopping with her. Normally, it was impossible to pry him away from his favorite radio shows, or a book from under his nose, but he’d finally conceded after she told him he needed fashionable clothes to impress his new girlfriend. He even seemed to be enjoying himself, as he’d agreed to accompany her to the Grand Socco to get some fruit and a bouquet of flowers. Donna had bought her son a beer at the cervecería, and she’d had a cup of tea. She’d only taken a sip of the wretched stuff. She should have known not to order tea at a Spanish pub.

This was their last stop before heading home. She picked out just a few flowers, as she felt a headache coming on, along with a queasy stomach. Never order tea at that place again, she told herself. She paid the man, tucked the bouquet under her arm, along with the shopping bags full of clothes, and turned to look for Eric.

Eric was gone. She had left him two booths down, at a leather craftsman’s booth selling belts, bags, and hats. He had grown quiet and unresponsive, but what teenage boy didn’t have wild mood swings? “I’ll be a minute,” she had said, and asked him to stay put. Otherwise finding him in this crowd would be impossible. But now, of course, he had wandered off.

Donna negotiated the crowd of shoppers and returned to the leather craftsman’s booth. She asked the craftsman if he had seen which direction Eric had gone, but the leather craftsman just shrugged. Her insisting he could do better just elicited a scowl from the man.

With an exasperated sigh, she pushed her way through the shoppers. Frustration, then a growing sense of uneasiness, gnawed at her stomach. Eric could be stubborn and sullen, but he had a protective streak when it came to his mother and would never just walk off in a place with so many foreigners and unsavory characters. She called out his name, while trying to catch a glimpse of his red hair through shoulders. Her gentle pushing turned to shoving. She felt short of breath, and suddenly the heat of the afternoon threatened to cause her to faint. She found it hard to concentrate, making her panic grow.

She yelled his name this time. Heads turned; people stared at her. She broke through the crowd to the street circling the plaza. People asked if she was all right, but she didn’t hear them. She surveyed the area in ever-growing panic. She cursed the endless stream of cars, trucks, and donkey carts.

Then, through a gap in the traffic, she saw him. His back was to her, but she could tell immediately it was her son. Panic turned to hysteria when she saw two Moroccan men in hooded djellabas on either side of Eric, holding his arms.

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