By Sarah Graves
Again within the day, Jacobia “Jake” Tiptree became gains coping with the fortunes of Manhattan’s so much lucky. Then she fled the rat race for a stately previous fixer-upper in easygoing Eastport, Maine. yet now a rat from a fair darker nook of Jake’s previous has became up…a killer with a blueprint for demolishing her new life.As a house fix fanatic, Jake understands that not anything lasts forever—not home windows or doorways, no longer plaster or plumbing. and never sturdy fortune.After greater than 3 many years eluding justice, the guy who murdered her mom is eventually approximately to face trial—until he vanishes into skinny air. Jake has a negative foreboding of the place Ozzie Campbell will happen subsequent. And whereas the neighborhood police leader is certain she’s overreacting, the fact is a long way worse than even Jake’s worst fears.With her quite often complete apartment empty for a minimum of one other week, Jake has been anticipating the unaccustomed peace and quiet. Now her comfortable, well-loved domestic feels extra like a major empty loss of life capture able to snap close. First a couple of out-of-towners basically now not in Eastport for holiday occur asking questions about her. And if she has any doubt they’re attached to Campbell, these doubts are erased whilst he calls her with a grim caution. yet precisely what Campbell desires from her isn’t transparent, in simple terms that he’ll cease at not anything to harm these closest to Jake. And his first sufferers are the main defenseless of all. unexpectedly Jake can’t aid yet suppose that her house—and her life—has some distance too many home windows. And in anyone of them she may perhaps see the face of her killer.
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Extra info for A Face at the Window (Home Repair Is Homicide Mysteries)
This better be right," Marky growled threateningly, spewing out a stream of smoke while casting another evil look at Anthony. " Anthony was pretty sure he was already in trouble. Coming up here with Marky had been a bad idea, and not only because of the gun. The money was good, though. He decided his best course now would be to concentrate on the money. He rolled his window down to let some of Marky's smoke out and got an unexpected faceful of ocean smell, cold salt water and what he guessed must be seaweed mingled with a hint of wood smoke.
Well, not a real intersection like he was used to. More like a crossroads. Intersections had street signs. Stop lights. And traffic. Other cars and people, neither of which were in evidence here on this empty, tree-lined road out in the middle of nowhere. This crossroads only had an old stone mile-marker. No wonder there were no cops. " Marky demanded. " "Turn," Anthony said quickly. "Right. Or no, left. " Marky sighed heavily. " But he took the turn. Despite his map-reading inexperience, somehow Anthony had managed so far not to steer them wrong.
No surprise there, either; car versus deer incidents were a dime a dozen around here. " He spread his hands. "Only the deer. Venison for the food pantry. And the car's totaled, belonged to a guy staying out at the campgrounds for a week. " He glanced heavenward as if praying for relief from visitors who thought they'd be swaddled in cotton wool here, just the way they were at home. "They're still clearing up the broken glass on the road and so on; guess I'd better have a look," Bob said. Then another thought occurred to him.