Release date: November 5th 2013
Publisher: Xlibris
Purchase: Amazon
Add on Goodreads
About the book:
Taylour Dixxon, a modern day small-town lawyer in the
beautiful hilly country of Central Texas, befriends Sarah Cockrell Baines, a New Jersey socialite and millionairess.
As their friendship begins, Sarah is arrested for the murder of her husband and is put into jail. When Taylour volunteers to defend Sarah, she has no idea that her struggling solo practice in the sleepy, fictional, small town of Marlinsville, Texas,
will be turned upside down.
Excerpt
Just as Taylour was about to pick up her fork and dive in, Sarah asked if she could say grace.
"Lord, we thank thee for this meal that thou hast provided, and the hands that have helped prepare it. We thank thee, Father, for all that thou hast given us this day. For old friendships, and new." She squeezed Taylour’s hand, and continued.
"Lord, we now ask thee to watch over us, to protect us from evil, and to keep us always on the path of righteousness." Taylour cleared her throat and swallowed. Sarah continued.
"Finally, Lord, we ask thee to--"
The front door slammed open. It rocked the foundation with such force that it nearly broke off the hinges. Men in black streamed in, guns pointing and sweeping the corners. Yells of "Texas Rangers, don't move!" reverberated off the walls. Taylour dived under the table, but Sarah remained seated, unmoving. The lead shooter aimed his weapon squarely at Taylour’s head, and then shouted, "Get up! Get up off the floor! Now!"
Taylour hastened to comply, her hands behind her head. "What is going on?"
Sounds of "Clear!" throughout the house, but no one answered Taylour’s question, which seemed to hang in the air.
"I demand to know what is going on here!"
"All clear!" yelled the lead shooter, and then a tall man with thick gray hair emerged. He was wearing a non-descript suit and tie, with a slight bump under his right arm. He had a small but distinctive scar on his right temple. He replaced his Glock 17 into his chest holster with his left hand and marched towards Taylour with his badge in his right hand, which he promptly put back in his pocket. Taylour’s blood boiled, and just as she was about to let out another protest, he stopped her with his index finger.
"Are you Sarah Baines?" he asked.
"What? There's no Sarah Baines--"
"How did you find me?"
They both turned to see Sarah, still seated. Her hands were flat on the table, and she sat unmoving, not from fear, but from acceptance of her fate. She finally pushed herself away and asked again, "How did you find me so quickly?"
The tall man pulled a photo from his suit pocket. He squinted at the photo, then back at Sarah.
"You changed your hair. It used to be platinum blond, if this picture is accurate." Sarah's hair was black, jet black, and she had it cut to the length of her shoulders. A feeling of dread came over Taylour. Who is this person?
The tall man motioned for Taylour to sit down. "Philip Davidson, Texas Rangers. We have been looking for a fugitive, someone by the name of Sarah Baines, a.k.a. Sarah Cockrell. She is sitting at this table, and I am here to arrest her."
"On what charges, Mr. Davidson?" Taylour said.
"Are you her lawyer?" he smirked.
"As a matter of fact, I am."
Sarah looked at Taylour with pleading in her eyes. Taylour gave her a curt nod, set her jaw, and leaned towards Philip Davidson, staring him straight in the eye.
He squinted right back at Taylour and gave her a hard smile. Without looking in Sarah’s direction, he said crisply, "Sarah Cockrell Baines, you are under arrest for the murder of Neal Baines, your husband."
"Lord, we thank thee for this meal that thou hast provided, and the hands that have helped prepare it. We thank thee, Father, for all that thou hast given us this day. For old friendships, and new." She squeezed Taylour’s hand, and continued.
"Lord, we now ask thee to watch over us, to protect us from evil, and to keep us always on the path of righteousness." Taylour cleared her throat and swallowed. Sarah continued.
"Finally, Lord, we ask thee to--"
The front door slammed open. It rocked the foundation with such force that it nearly broke off the hinges. Men in black streamed in, guns pointing and sweeping the corners. Yells of "Texas Rangers, don't move!" reverberated off the walls. Taylour dived under the table, but Sarah remained seated, unmoving. The lead shooter aimed his weapon squarely at Taylour’s head, and then shouted, "Get up! Get up off the floor! Now!"
Taylour hastened to comply, her hands behind her head. "What is going on?"
Sounds of "Clear!" throughout the house, but no one answered Taylour’s question, which seemed to hang in the air.
"I demand to know what is going on here!"
"All clear!" yelled the lead shooter, and then a tall man with thick gray hair emerged. He was wearing a non-descript suit and tie, with a slight bump under his right arm. He had a small but distinctive scar on his right temple. He replaced his Glock 17 into his chest holster with his left hand and marched towards Taylour with his badge in his right hand, which he promptly put back in his pocket. Taylour’s blood boiled, and just as she was about to let out another protest, he stopped her with his index finger.
"Are you Sarah Baines?" he asked.
"What? There's no Sarah Baines--"
"How did you find me?"
They both turned to see Sarah, still seated. Her hands were flat on the table, and she sat unmoving, not from fear, but from acceptance of her fate. She finally pushed herself away and asked again, "How did you find me so quickly?"
The tall man pulled a photo from his suit pocket. He squinted at the photo, then back at Sarah.
"You changed your hair. It used to be platinum blond, if this picture is accurate." Sarah's hair was black, jet black, and she had it cut to the length of her shoulders. A feeling of dread came over Taylour. Who is this person?
The tall man motioned for Taylour to sit down. "Philip Davidson, Texas Rangers. We have been looking for a fugitive, someone by the name of Sarah Baines, a.k.a. Sarah Cockrell. She is sitting at this table, and I am here to arrest her."
"On what charges, Mr. Davidson?" Taylour said.
"Are you her lawyer?" he smirked.
"As a matter of fact, I am."
Sarah looked at Taylour with pleading in her eyes. Taylour gave her a curt nod, set her jaw, and leaned towards Philip Davidson, staring him straight in the eye.
He squinted right back at Taylour and gave her a hard smile. Without looking in Sarah’s direction, he said crisply, "Sarah Cockrell Baines, you are under arrest for the murder of Neal Baines, your husband."
About the author
Stone
Patrick is a pseudonym for Taylor Stonely, who has a day job working
for a financial services company. He received a BS degree from Brigham
Young in 1991 and an MBA degree from the University of Phoenix in 2002.
He currently resides in north Texas with his wife and four children.
While he is a frequent blogger on his website,www.taylorsbookpub.com,
"The Fallen Body" is his debut suspense novel.
Giveaway
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