Write a Mystery with Me: the Complete Story

After taking turns collaborating on a mystery this entire month, author M. Liz Boyle and I can now post the finished story. If you’ve never done this kind of writing, you should give it a chance. It really exercises your imagination by forcing it to work with what the other author as plugged into the story. If you don’t like a particular turn in the plot that the other writers have thrown in, see it as a challenge to make it work for you. And now … “Write a Mystery with Me: the Complete Story”. And Happy Halloween!

The chilling fall breeze flung the ends of my hair against my cheek and I brushed them away as I stared at the vacation house across the lake. I hadn’t expected the site of a murder-suicide to look so … cheery. Painted bright yellow with smoke curling from its chimney, it didn’t look any different from the other vacation homes nestled between the shore of the lake and the steep hills blazing with autumn colors.

I shook my head. My imagination had run away with me. After the crime, the house wouldn’t have turned black and had vultures circling it. 

Two people stepped out on the little deck that ran along the front.

I gasped.

Ducking behind a tree, I held up my camera and zoomed in for a clearer look. My heart thumped wildly when I recognized the faces. The coroner and the victim’s father. In this small town, everyone knows everyone, and even the tourists that rent these hunting lodges are as regular and predictable as the sunrise. I stare for a minute longer, but it’s definitely Mel Teak and Mr. Dunham, the dad of Jer Dunham, who everybody knows died here last week with his dad. Except, not, apparently. I flick my camera to ON, but before I can start snapping pictures, the screen alerts me that the battery is dead. Again. It only got cold two weeks ago, so I haven’t adapted to my winter practice of keeping a battery charged and in my pocket. Drat. What next? Call 9-1-1? Follow them myself?

I yanked my phone from my pocket. No reception out here at the lake. And the camera on the phone wouldn’t zoom enough to take a photo. 

An engine caught, and I looked up. A black van, just barely visible through the brilliant yellow leaves, rolled up the drive behind the house

Scrambling up the bank, I raced for my car. If I followed them, I had to drive into an area where I could get reception. I threw open my door, fell in, got the motor started, and tore onto the road.

By the time I roared around the lake, I was so far behind that I almost missed the black van turning right onto a gravel road. I kept my distance as I followed the vehicle through the windy woods.

The van turned into the abandoned factory that had rotted and rusted away for twenty years on the edge of the county.

Slouching down in my seat, I peeked through the steering wheel and watched the van pull into an oversized garage door. Noticing a side door, I left my car in the shade of a big, haunting looking tree and hurried along the perimeter of the property until I could make a discreet beeline to the side door. No window, no answers. Should I open the door? Would it open? Thoughts swirled through my mind as my hand hovered above the rusty doorknob. I gave a quick twist and a fast, smooth tug on the door. I paused and held it open about two inches. When I didn’t hear any explosions or curses, I eased it open far enough to poke my face inside.

The huge building covered an open area with a broken glass roof. Plants, now dying in the cooler fall weather, had sprouted everywhere–in the cracked concrete floor, from crevices in the wall. 

I stood still. 

Someone was calling. From very far away. 

I tiptoed in.

The door at the far end of the enormous room burst open and a man–young man–burst through it. Jer Dunham. 

He pounded into the room. He didn’t look anymore dead than his father.

I stepped under some rusty, wrought-iron steps. This made no sense. The coroner said the bodies they’d pulled from the lake near the home belonged to Mr. Dunham and Jer. And the note found in the house seemed to be a suicide note, written by Mr. Dunham.

I barely dared to breathe as Jer ran closer. He stopped only yards from me, looking every which way.

The person was still calling.

He happened to glance in my direction. Our gazes locked, my blood pressure shooting up.

Then Jer raced over to me.

I spun to the door, but he grabbed my arm. 

“You’ve got to help me,” he said between pants. “My father’s gone crazy.”

His face had a desperate, pleading look, and his hair stuck out like it hadn’t been washed in all these weeks that he’d supposedly been dead. The distant voice called again, with an urgent tone. “Jer, get over here! The plane will be here soon.”

Jer tugged my arm and quickly led me down the wrought-iron steps. He motioned with his free hand for me to keep my steps quiet. We hurried down three flights into a cold, drafty room. A mouse scurried along the far wall, and the hairs on my arms stood up. “What’s going on?” I whispered. Jer flipped off the light switch on the wall. Like most girls from here, I’d once had a crush on Jer, but now I was completely freaked out and could only hope that he wasn’t the one going crazy.

“Quick. There’s a tunnel in the corner. Please. Help me escape!” He said in a hushed tone. 

“Everybody thinks you’re dead. Where are you going?” I shivered in the dark, again hearing the urgent voice upstairs.

Jer gently but quickly pulled my arm, apparently toward the tunnel. He whispered, “The coroner. He set it up. Says flying us out of the country is the only way to live again. New identities, new location. But I don’t want to go. Not like that. People need to know the truth. He’s gonna hurt more people. I have to get out and warn them.” 

My toes bumped into the brick wall and I choked down a scream. Jer released my arm and sayid he’d find the hatch to the tunnel. I listened to noisy footsteps clamoring down the stairs, my heart rate picking up again. “Why’s the coroner faking your death?”

“Cuz he knows that I know about his side job in the drug circle. He needs me dead. And now I think he brainwashed Dad. And just so you know, the coroner knows you’re onto him too. Said he’s seen you and your camera snooping around and you’re next on his list. Heard him with my own ears. Got it!” Next to my shoulder, I felt Jer move and I heard a rusty squeak sound, like an old door creaking open. The steps on the wrought-iron stairs got louder and closer. Faster. Jer says, “It’ll be a long crawl, but we gotta go. It’s the only way.” 

He tugged me toward the sound of the squeaky door and as I ducked down, light filled the room. 

Mr. Dunham’s voice, with the same energy he always announced football games, shouted, “Jer! Who- What’s going on? Doc! You better get down here!”

Jer slammed the door shut and the darkness swallowed us.

“Get on your knees,” he said.

“Wait a minute. You have to lock the door or block it or something or they’ll just come after us.”

“I-I don’t know if it locks from this side.”

Brilliant. We couldn’t die in this hole.

“Stand behind the door.” I flattened against the opposite wall. “Your dad’ll see me first. When he opens it, smash him.”

“You want me to attack my dad?”

“Or you can watch him murder me.” It came out as a scream. “You’re bigger. You have to.”

The rusty door squealed open, and Mr. Dunham stood in the frame, shining his light in my face. “I know you, don’t–“

I grabbed Mr.Dunham’s wrist, and Jer threw his weight against the door, slamming his father between the metal door and the frame. 

As Mr. Dunham sank to the ground, I snatched up his light and listened. 

“Where are you?” a voice called. “Where’s Jer?”

I whispered, “We can go know, but we can’t close the door and risk alerting Dr. Teak.”

“And leave my dad?”

I clenched my teeth. “Then I’m going. Where does this lead?’

“Under the road and into the woods somewhere.”

I stooped into the low tunnel and in a second, Jer followed me.

The crawl wasn’t as long as Jer said or my adrenaline gave me speed. The end of the tunnel was blocked by a mass of bushes that I shoved myself through, the tiny branches tearing at my leggings.

As we clambered to our feet, with no sound of anyone behind us, I said, “Do you know exactly where we are?”

The woods were dark, the sunset only a red trace along the hills.

“I only know we’re across the road from the factory.”

“Then I think I know where we are.” I broke into a run. “We can’t go back to my car. But we can head to the Haunted Hollows. It can’t be far. There’ll be a ton of people since it’s Halloween, and someone should be working security.”

Something crashed into bushes behind us.

We sprinted into the night.

“I’ll get you!” Mr. Dunham shouted behind us. A bang echoed, and I didn’t want to think too much about whether it was a firework from the town festival or a gunshot behind us. Jer and I numbly sprinted and stumbled our way through the woods until we bordered a corn field. The corn maze. Just what I’d hoped we’d find. We were close to help.

“Let’s disappear in the corn,” Jer suggested. It was tempting, but it wouldn’t get the truth out. 

I grabbed his arm and kept running. “No. You said yourself that people need to know the truth.” I gasped for a full breath. “Slow down a little so Dr. Teak can catch up. When he’s close, we’ll run through the back of the amphitheater onto the stage.” Mom’s on the Haunted Hollows planning committee, and if I remembered right, I’d overheard her tell Mrs. Scott that Officer Kip was happy to join Deputy Key as a judge for the pie contest this year. With sunset filling the sky like a spilled paintbox, I knew the pie judging would start any minute now. If we could lead Dr. Teak into the public eye with two cops present, we’d have a good chance of stopping his evil plans.

Next to me Jer mumbled something and picked up speed. I glanced behind us and saw a flashlight beam close. Too close. Something, probably Dr. Teak’s fist, hit my back and knocked me to the ground. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of beating me up out here, so close to help. Jer pulled me up, and with a fresh surge of adrenaline, we ran the last hundred feet to the amphitheater’s backstage clearing, Dr. Teak shouting swear words at us the whole way. Dr. Teak was blinded by anger and followed us right onto stage, right in front of old Mrs. Zeller who, from the glow on her face, won the contest. The spotlight lit Dr. Teak’s face and the crowd gasped. I’d apologize to the pie bakers and Mom later for wrecking the contest. Jer and I grabbed Dr. Teak’s elbows as Officer Kip and Deputy Key, both looking shocked and confused, stepped forward from the judge’s table. “Don’t believe anything that boy tells you!” Dr. Teak yelled. 

Officer Kip reached us first. “Jer Dunham?” he sputtered. “Looks like you have quite a story to tell.”

Jer’s story came out in fits and starts as Dr. Teak tried to outshout us, but the fact that a dead guy was speaking in front of the whole town kept all the costumed ghosts, superheroes, ghouls, and fake celebrities, including the officers, rooted to the ground.

Once back up arrived, Officer Kip said, “Jer, can you show us where he has his drug operation?”

He nodded. “And we need to find my father. He was chasing us at one point.”

Officer Kip said, “Maggie, go to the station to fill out a report of what you witnessed.”

“Can I get my car first?”I said as Mom put an arm around my shoulders.

“One of us will drive it back if you give us the keys.”

I dug them out of my pocket. As the officers escorted Dr. Teak, whose protests of innocence were verging on hysterical, Jer turned to me. “Thank you. That sounds so lame.”

I said, “Not when it’s sincere.”

Mom said, “We’ll wait for your at the station. You can stay with us.”

The right side of Jer’s mouth cracked in a brief smile. Then he walked with Officer Kip past still gawking witches and Star Wars characters as the orange fairy lights strung across through the trees cast their Halloween light.

If you’d like to read more collaborative fiction, click here.

Find Settings that Help Your Mystery

Many articles and books describe how to create characters and plots for mysteries. But settings are just as important. If you’re writing in this genre, you need to find settings that help your mystery.

Settings to Meet People

In a mystery, the detective meets people, observes them, questions them. The plot can’t move forward without the detective performing these activities. In a novel where the detective is part of law enforcement, the author has an easy time getting his detective to the characters he needs to meet. In a cozy mystery with an amateur detective, the author has to invent opportunities.

My teen detective Rae Riley works in a library in a rural county in Ohio. As a check-out clerk, she can meet anyone I want to push through the front doors of the library. Rae works mostly at the main branch in the county seat, so she’s in the biggest town in the county, where locals would have any number of reasons to visit.

In a rural community, holiday and civic events provide Rae a chance to meet people. These events also allow me to make people who are unlikely to bump into each other otherwise to rub shoulders with one another.

Of course, Rae can meet just about anyone online, but if that person is going to be a significant character, he or she will have to make a physical appearance. A soley online presence limits character development. But to get the characters to meet, I’m faced with obstacles of how to plausibly introduce this character into Rae’s physical world. If Rae’s supposed to be smart, she wouldn’t just tell the person online where she lives.

Settings that Add Suspense

Isolating the detective is the best way to create suspense in a mystery, but these day, when it seems like help is just a phone call away, mystery writers have to work harder to create suspenseful scenes. And a writer can only use the phone battery dying so often. Finding settings that isolate the detective in a plausible way is crucial to adding suspense.

I have the advantage of using a rural county as my main setting. I’ve lived and traveled in enough rural locations to know that reception can disappear at any time. That’s perfect if I want to throw my detective into a dangerous situation in which he can only count on his wits.

Othering settings that add suspense are ones with a time element. The detective is trapped in a car that’s slowly sinking into a lake. Or she is being chased through a deserted part of an unfamiliar city, so that when she calls 911, she can’t tell them exactly where she is.

Any setting that’s been abandoned automatically adds an ominous mood to a story, whether it’s a quarry, a hospital, a school, or a farm.

Also any setting that is unfamiliar to your detective can add suspense. Hoping to find her missing sister, a woman who has lived her whole life in L.A. follows clues to a remote town in the Appalachian mountains. Or hoping to find her missing sister, a woman who has lived her whole life in the Appalachian mountains follows clues to L.A.

For more posts on writing mysteries, click here.

Which authors have found settings that help their mysteries?

Write a Mystery with Me Part 4

If you’ve ever wanted to write a mystery, here’s your chance. Put on your deerstalker and use today’s photo prompt to write a mystery with me part 4. Read the latest additions below and then add your inspiration in the comments. To read last week’s installment, click here. Now I’m adding the next part of the story. Anyone can contribute. By the end of the month, we’ll have a mystery!

His face had a desperate, pleading look, and his hair stuck out like it hadn’t been washed in all these weeks that he’d supposedly been dead. The distant voice called again, with an urgent tone. “Jer, get over here! The plane will be here soon.”

Jer tugged my arm and quickly led me down the wrought-iron steps. He motioned with his free hand for me to keep my steps quiet. We hurried down three flights into a cold, drafty room. A mouse scurried along the far wall, and the hairs on my arms stood up. “What’s going on?” I whispered. Jer flipped off the light switch on the wall. Like most girls from here, I’d once had a crush on Jer, but now I was completely freaked out and could only hope that he wasn’t the one going crazy.

“Quick. There’s a tunnel in the corner. Please. Help me escape!” He said in a hushed tone. 

“Everybody thinks you’re dead. Where are you going?” I shivered in the dark, again hearing the urgent voice upstairs.

Jer gently but quickly pulled my arm, apparently toward the tunnel. He whispered, “The coroner. He set it up. Says flying us out of the country is the only way to live again. New identities, new location. But I don’t want to go. Not like that. People need to know the truth. He’s gonna hurt more people. I have to get out and warn them.” 

My toes bumped into the brick wall and I choked down a scream. Jer released my arm and sayid he’d find the hatch to the tunnel. I listened to noisy footsteps clamoring down the stairs, my heart rate picking up again. “Why’s the coroner faking your death?”

“Cuz he knows that I know about his side job in the drug circle. He needs me dead. And now I think he brainwashed Dad. And just so you know, the coroner knows you’re onto him too. Said he’s seen you and your camera snooping around and you’re next on his list. Heard him with my own ears. Got it!” Next to my shoulder, I felt Jer move and I heard a rusty squeak sound, like an old door creaking open. The steps on the wrought-iron stairs got louder and closer. Faster. Jer says, “It’ll be a long crawl, but we gotta go. It’s the only way.” 

He tugged me toward the sound of the squeaky door and as I ducked down, light filled the room. 

Mr. Dunham’s voice, with the same energy he always announced football games, shouted, “Jer! Who- What’s going on? Doc! You better get down here!”

Jer slammed the door shut and the darkness swallowed us.

“Get on your knees,” he said.

“Wait a minute. You have to lock the door or block it or something or they’ll just come after us.”

“I-I don’t know if it locks from this side.”

Brilliant. We couldn’t die in this hole.

“Stand behind the door.” I flattened against the opposite wall. “Your dad’ll see me first. When he opens it, smash him.”

“You want me to attack my dad?”

“Or you can watch him murder me.” It came out as a scream. “You’re bigger. You have to.”

The rusty door squealed open, and Mr. Dunham stood in the frame, shining his light in my face. “I know you, don’t–“

I grabbed Mr.Dunham’s wrist, and Jer threw his weight against the door, slamming his father between the metal door and the frame.

As Mr. Dunham sank to the ground, I snatched up his light and listened.

“Where are you?” a voice called. “Where’s Jer?”

I whispered, “We can go know, but we can’t close the door and risk alerting Dr. Teak.”

“And leave my dad?”

I clenched my teeth. “Then I’m going. Where does this lead?’

“Under the road and into the woods somewhere.”

I stooped into the low tunnel and in a second, Jer followed me.

The crawl wasn’t as long as Jer said or my adrenaline gave me speed. The end of the tunnel was blocked by a mass of bushes that I shoved myself through, the tiny branches tearing at my leggings.

As we clambered to our feet, with no sound of anyone behind us, I said, “Do you know exactly where we are?”

The woods were dark, the sunset only a red trace along the hills.

“I only know we’re across the road from the factory.”

“Then I think I know where we are.” I broke into a run. “We can’t go back to my car. But we can head to the Haunted Hollows. It can’t be far. There’ll be a ton of people since it’s Halloween, and someone should be working security.”

Something crashed into bushes behind us.

We sprinted into the night.

Mysteries are a Mystery!

After bringing to you several new authors over the last few months, I’m glad to welcome back an old friend, Carole Brown. Carole relates how mysteries are a mystery to write until you dig into understanding the genre. Welcome back, Carole!

It was a dark and stormy night.

Uh, huh. We’ve heard this one before. But what if you start your novel like this…

Lightning split the coal-black heavens into multiple pieces as the bullet-sized raindrops pounded Jason’s hood-covered head, encouraging a mammoth headache to split his head into confusion. 

Mysteries are said to be the hardest genre to write. I believe it, but I also find it fascinating to attempt it.   A few things you have to remember when attempting this genre are simple enough to explain but harder to do. But effort, study and a determination to succeed will put you in a good place to get that mystery book written. 

Investigate the different sub-genres of mystery diligently. Know what will resound with your writing before you begin, or write a few short stories as practice until you recognize which one fits you– classic/traditional, crime, police procedurals/hard-boiled, noir, gumshoe/private detective, cozies, and capers. 

Remember, you don’t want too write like so and so. You want to stand out on your own merits. Add a new element, that coincides with the mystery genre, but makes readers straighten in their seat. Do your diligent homework, study the genre and what is necessary, find that element that will cause you to stand out from the rest, then proceed (again and again) to write your mystery. 

Here are a few thoughts on what helps:

  • Pose your mystery question at the beginning as quickly as possible.
  • Choose an ordinary character who finds himself in extraordinary circumstances OR an extraordinary character who finds himself in ordinary circumstances. Create your characters to stand out, to be ordinary or not, abled to be labeled as: 
    • a reflection of society
    • someone with a bit of sassiness
    • serious with a bent to boredom and over-thinking
    • one who is callous to murder
  • Research and pick your setting with purpose.
  • Red herrings
  • Suspenseful dialogue
  • Set the mood with descriptive language
  • Chapters that keep your reader turning pages, trying to figure out who is the antagonist, what will happen next..

I have two mystery series I’m working on, although one of them is on hold for awhile:  

  • The Denton and Alex Davies series (cozy). A fun, adventurous married couple (even if Denton is a bit grumpy) who travel the U.S. and constantly find mysteries that seem to pop up everywhere. 
  • The Appleton, WV Romantic Cozies series. (A town filled with colorful characters who find their own mystery in each book.)

There is lots more to learn about mysteries, all of it fascinating and helpful. Do your due diligence in studying about mysteries. And if you proceed, you’ll find it’s one of the hardest but most rewarding genres to write in. 

Wishes for great success to you mystery book authors! 

To read more posts on writing mysteries, click here.

*****

BUY AT AMAZON

Toni DeLuca, the Italian owner of DeLuca Construction, finds herself confronted with doubts about her father and his possible deceptions—all because of the mysterious pink notes she’s been receiving.

Relations with Perrin Douglas who has a troubling history—but the first man in years who’s interested her—is building to a peak. Yet Perrin’s own personal problems and his doubts about women and God, keep getting in the way.

Gossip, a Spanish proposal, an inheritance, and a sabotaged construction business may ruin Christmas for Toni’s employees as well as her own happiness.

Will a mysterious person succeed in pulling off the biggest scam Appleton, West Virginia has ever seen? And will this culprit destroy Toni’s last chance at happiness with the man of her dreams?

*****

Besides being a member and active participant of many writing groups, Carole Brown enjoys mentoring beginning writers. An author of fourteen, best selling, award-winning books, she loves to weave suspense, mystery and tough topics into her books, along with a touch of romance and whimsy, and is always on the lookout for outstanding titles and catchy ideas. She’s also published one children’s book and is in two anthologies. She and her husband reside in SE Ohio but have ministered and counseled nationally and internationally. She has found that the traveling and ministering has served her well in writing her novels. Together, they enjoy their grandsons, traveling, gardening, good food, the simple life, and did she mention their grandsons?  Connect with Carole on her personal blog, Facebook, FB fan page, Amazon, Bookbub, IG, Pinterest, Twitter, Goodreads, and LinkedIn.

Start with the End: Leaving Clues in a Mystery

So happy to introduce to you, author V.L. Adams! In her guest post “Start with the End: Leaving Clues in a Mystery”, V.L. discusses the topic every mystery writer fears–writing a mystery that isn’t the least mysterious–and a way to tackle this problem. Take it away, V.L!

Anyone who’s read more than a few mysteries has probably read a story where they could tell you “whodunit” before the halfway point. When I started my mystery novel, The Source of Smoke, I was petrified that readers would figure out my ending, so keeping the mystery alive was always at the top of my mind. 

I wish I could say I had a beautiful outline when I wrote the book and worked off it as I made my first draft. Unfortunately, that’s not the way my brain works. I tried to plan but only had a rough idea of the novel’s middle. What I did have going for me, though, was that I knew the end.  

Once I established in my mind how and why the ending happened, I used that knowledge to determine what clues I would leave. When I thought about which hints to drop throughout my novel, I sorted the clues into two categories: motivation and logistics. 

Motivation

Why did they do it? Was it love, money, jealousy? Were they trying to keep a secret? A motive isn’t necessary to prosecute a criminal case, but prosecutors will tell you that it’s crucial to the jury. The same can be said for a mystery novel—if you don’t have it, you’ll leave your reader disappointed. 

Writing a mystery is also much easier when you know the character’s reasoning from the beginning. As you’re putting together your scenes and chapters, find the opportunity to show their motive to the reader. When done right, you can demonstrate motivation with as little as a glance or a few words in a conversation. It’s about dropping breadcrumbs. The reader doesn’t have to look down and see them immediately, but they’ll be disappointed at the end if you never dropped them at all. 

Logistics

Could A kill B? Are they strong enough? Do they have an alibi? Mystery readers are looking at every character asking these questions. There are many different ways to approach these possibilities; how you tackle them will vary with the story and character. You may create an alibi for every character but then drop clues that show how one character could have fabricated their statement. Does the corroborating witness have a reason to lie for this person? Did the person looking into the crime thoroughly check the backup details? 

Logistics is another excellent area to show your reader things. You don’t want to say, “She was so strong she could throw a grown man in the ocean,” but maybe you could show a photo of her winning her state wrestling championship in high school. 

It’s helpful to know not only how your villain committed the act but also where all your other suspects were at the time of the crime. That way, you can not only drop information as to the actual culprit, but you can also sprinkle false breadcrumbs, better known as red herrings. 

Conclusion

It may take a few passes through your manuscript to figure out which clues you want to drop and where, but that’s why you edit. If you know your ending when you begin, you can think about the different ways to leave breadcrumbs on logistics and motivation as you go. Beta readers (people who go through the manuscript prior to publishing for the purpose of giving feedback) are invaluable for testing the number of clues you use and the right places. You’ll know you’re there when your beta reader tells you they didn’t see the ending coming, but it all made sense once they were there. 

For more posts on writing mysteries, click here.

*****

Winner of a 2022 Firebird Book Award in the New Fiction category.

What if a convicted murderer is innocent?

Since Charlie’s sister was killed, Charlie has dedicated herself to being the perfect guardian for her niece — even if it means the painful sacrifice of moving back to the hometown she’d wanted to leave for good. Her sister was murdered by her boyfriend in a crime of passion; case closed — or so Charlie thought.

A series of letters ignites Charlie’s curiosity about the convicted murderer’s innocence. As she digs deeper, she sees things others may have hidden or ignored. She comes to an impasse where she has to decide what, if anything, she’s going to do about it.

Why won’t the universe let Charlie move on? How would someone like her catch a killer anyway?

We often think of heroes as martyrs, but ordinary people can make a huge difference in the lives of others when they’re willing to ask difficult questions. Lovers of small town murder mysteries will find themselves muttering “Just one more chapter, one more chapter…”

V. L. Adams earned her B.A. in photojournalism from the University of Central Oklahoma and her J.D. from the University of Oklahoma College of Law. A life-long lover of fiction, she always dreamed of writing her own book one day. No idea ever felt quite right until her debut novel, The Source of Smoke, a story about a possible wrongful conviction and an ordinary woman asking unordinary questions. She lives outside Dallas, works in non-profit, and spends her days with her best friend and husband, taking care of their three lovely children and nurturing her Harry Potter obsession. Connect with her on her website and on Instagram.

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