By Sarah Graves
Again within the day, Jacobia “Jake” Tiptree grew to become earnings handling 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 an excellent darker nook of Jake’s previous has grew to become 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, now not plaster or plumbing. and never strong fortune.After greater than 3 many years eluding justice, the fellow who murdered her mom is ultimately approximately to face trial—until he vanishes into skinny air. Jake has a bad foreboding of the place Ozzie Campbell will take place subsequent. And whereas the neighborhood police leader is bound she’s overreacting, in point of fact a long way worse than even Jake’s worst fears.With her often complete condominium empty for no less than one other week, Jake has been awaiting the unaccustomed peace and quiet. Now her comfortable, well-loved domestic feels extra like an incredible empty loss of life capture able to snap close. First a couple of out-of-towners sincerely now not in Eastport for holiday take place asking questions about her. And if she has any doubt they’re hooked up to Campbell, these doubts are erased whilst he calls her with a grim caution. yet precisely what Campbell wishes from her isn’t transparent, in basic 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 support yet think that her house—and her life—has a ways too many home windows. And in anyone of them she may possibly see the face of her killer.
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Additional resources for A Face at the Window (Home Repair Is Homicide Mysteries)
Clip a safety line to the cable, it would keep you from getting washed away. Or worst case, you could go hand over hand… Watching the waves batter the rock and fall back again, geysers of white foam hurling themselves skyward and subsiding, Anthony was glad he didn't have to get out to the survey marker. Meanwhile, Marky made a point of examining a small red-and-white replica of a lighthouse set a dozen yards back from the cliff's edge, walking around it, frowning and looking from the lighthouse to the water and back, as if fixing their relationship in his mind.
Marky glanced over at him in contempt. "Never saw the ocean? What're you, a dope? " Anthony shook his head. "Uh-uh. " Not as a little kid, anyway, and by the time she died he'd been in the juvie home six months already. From there, visiting the boardwalk was about as likely as visiting Mars. Marky grimaced, showing small, even, white teeth. He was a good-looking guy with thick, curly black hair, a small, tightly constructed body, and what the girls called bedroom eyes. Anthony didn't call them that, though, not even in his head.
Marky let out a high shriek and jumped back fast, glaring furiously at Anthony as if to say it was his fault. Anthony knew Marky was mad because of the shriek, which had sounded like a little girl's. But he also knew better than to say anything about it, or to let his face betray anything. "C'mon," he said quietly, stepping past Marky. The key had been right where the guy who'd hired them said it would be, under a certain rock. A bunch of dark, many-legged insects had been squirming under there with it when Anthony first looked, but these hadn't bothered him.