First of all, thank you so much for having me! I’m thrilled to be here with my new release Prodigal, the first in the Lost and Found trilogy. Prodigal is set years after the disappearance of a child in Cutter’s Gap left the town, and the people left behind, shattered. In ‘Feet of Clay’ I revisit Cutter’s Gap in the years between Sammy Calloway’s disappearance and the start of Prodigal.
I hope you enjoy it
$10 Dreamspinner Gift Card
“What about Hill?” one of the parents demanded. Her son was six foot three and a block of muscle, he’d had to be sedated before the paramedics could work on him when he had a panic attack. His mom clutched his hand–that Mac had seen palm a football on game night–in both of hers like he was still a child. “Do you know where he is? What if he’s back.”
“Fuck Hill,” a father interjected. He jabbed a work-thickened finger toward Shay. “What the fuck is he doing here? We all know what he did to his brother.”
The only one who didn’t have accusations to throw around was Lottie’s father, who stood with his arms crossed and an expression of exhausted shell-shock on his face. He’d gone through this so many times already, he didn’t have the energy for the group hysteria anymore.
“From what we’ve been able to gather, Lottie left the party on her own,” Brennan said. “We have a search party–”
“Much good that’ll do,” someone spat. “Your men couldn’t find a cow in a field.”
The angry father pulled away from his daughter and started toward Shay, his fists clenched and face reddened.
“I’ll beat it out of him,” he snarled as Shay stumbled backwards away from him. “Do your damn jobs for you.”
Mac grabbed him by the collar to pull him back, and twisted one meaty arm up behind the man’s back. There was no point in trying to reason with him. After ten pm on a Friday night Kev Butcher was usually drunk. Since he’d been laid off he could technically get drunk on any day of the week, but old habits.
“That’s enough, Kev,” Mac said. “We’ll find Lottie. You take care of your own kid.”
Kev tried to wrench away, but most of his bulk was flesh not muscle these days. He didn’t get far and when he didn’t stop Mac kicked him in the back of the knee to make the joint fold under him.
“What do you care if I give the bastard a hiding?” Kev blurted out angrily. “You thought he was as guilty as any of us. What’s changed? Are you fucking him now or something?”
“My boyfriend wouldn’t like that,” Mac said dryly. He grabbed Kev’s other wrist and had his hands cuffed behind his back before he remembered that was a lie. As of last weekend he did not have a boyfriend anymore. It just hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Mac dragged Kev back to his feet and shoved him toward one of the patrol officers. “Stick him in the back of a car, see if he calms down. If he doesn’t he can cool his heels at the station overnight.”
He got a quick nod. “Sir.”
“What are you going to do?” the football player’s mother asked harshly.
“Our best,” Mac said. He didn’t know if she heard because Brennan talked over him, all promises and reassurances they really couldn’t follow up on. Mac dragged his hand down over his face and muttered, just to himself, “Again. It’s all we can do.”
TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. As her grandmother always said, ‘she’d laugh at a bad thing that one’, mind you, that was the pot calling the kettle black. TA Moore studied History, Irish mythology, English at University, mostly because she has always loved a good story. She has worked as a journalist, a finance manager, and in the arts sectors before she finally gave in to a lifelong desire to write.
Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.
TA can be found at the following locations: