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Seeds of Evidence
By Linda J. White
Abingdon PressCopyright © 2013 Linda J. White
All rights reserved.
The beach is time, liberated. Sand escaped from an hourglass, water freed from a pipe, wind unhindered by concrete or glass, Kit without a calendar or timesheet or meetings, her life measured only by the rhythmic pounding of waves and the sun's bold stride across the heavens.
The bright blue, cloudless sky prophesied the day would be hot. The morning sun warmed the side of Kit's face as she jogged. Each receding ocean wave cast a mirrorlike sheen on the wet sand. Ahead, a tiny band of sandpipers skittered, while behind, the waves washed away her tracks, slipping her past into the great, gray ocean.
At first, she thought the object she saw in the distance was driftwood covered by seaweed. Still, something about its shape roused her curiosity. She quickened her pace.
She saw a group of teens, four—no, five—of them, approach the object, then jerk back, shock evident in their action. Kit's heart jumped. She ran faster, her heels flinging up sand, her mind racing. Sweat broke out on the back of her neck. At the small of her back, the nylon fanny pack carrying her gun and FBI credentials—she was on duty 24/7—slapped her, urging her on.
The kids began shouting, jumping up and down, waving at her, and as Kit grew closer, she saw why: at their feet lay the body of a child.
"He's dead! Oh, God! He's dead!" a girl screeched. She huddled with her friends, their shoulders hunched, clutching beach towels like shields. The young men, two of them, stood arched over the body, peering at it like curious colts.
"Don't touch him!" Kit commanded. "Did you call 911?"
"Yes, ma'am." The boys shifted back.
Kit's eyes fell on the body. The little boy, clad in long, loose pants and a long-sleeved green shirt, was most certainly dead. One big roller of the incoming tide had deposited him up on the smoothly packed sand. Now, lesser waves lapped at him, fluttering his clothes, like fingers trying to grasp him and pull him away. It wouldn't be long before the sea reclaimed him.
Dread washed over her. She needed to secure the body. She didn't want to touch it with her bare hands; neither did she want it sucked back out to sea. She looked at the teens. They seemed frozen, unable to move. "Give me your towel," she said to a young woman, but the girl just hugged it closer to her chest. Nearby, a laughing gull planted his three-toed feet on a dune and chortled.
Another big wave hit, knocking Kit off balance and floating the boy's body. "No!" she breathed, watching the body drift. Germs or no germs, she had to do it. She grabbed the boy's shirt.
"Hold on! Let me help!"
Kit looked up. A thirty-something man with brown hair threw his surfboard down on the sand, put his iPod on top of it, and rushed to her side. "I got it." The man grabbed one side of the boy. Kit took the other, and together they gently moved the body to dry sand, beyond the reach of the waves. The teens shied away.
"Scrub off your hands," the man said as he rubbed wet sand on his hands and arms and dunked them in the surf. "Did you call it in?"
"He did," Kit nodded toward one of the teens. "Where'd you come from?"
"Did you see anybody up there?"
Kit squinted and shaded her eyes as she studied him. Midto late-thirties, she figured, about 5'10", short brown hair, brown eyes, tanned, and fit. Very fit.
"Here comes your help." He nodded toward two four-wheel-drive pickups approaching from the south. "You OK now?"
"Yes. Thank you."
Kit looked down at the boy. His skin was pale, a sort of dusky gray. His large eyes stared into nothingness and his mouth hung open. Sand filled his nostrils and spilled out of the one ear she could see, and there were bruises on his neck. Ligature marks? Had he been murdered? Kit's breath caught. How long had he been dead? Already the flies were gathering. She wanted to shoo them away, to protect him from the ravages of natural decomposition. The body looked fresh. Would the water have preserved it?
By the time she looked up, the man had picked up his surf-board, and was walking on down the beach. "Hey! What's your name?" Kit called, but the man didn't respond, and the white wires running down from his ears told her his iPod had claimed his attention again. "That was a mistake," she muttered.
"Ew, gross!" A girl pointed. A seagull had landed on the boy's chest.
Kit reacted quickly. "Shoo!"
Behind the teens, the pickups jerked to a stop, and a man and two women in U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service uniforms climbed out. Kit's mind raced: her vacation. Two weeks of no responsibility. She could simply identify herself as an FBI agent, tell them what she knew, and walk away.
But before her lay a little boy ... possibly murdered!
But Fish & Wildlife could investigate it. And why would the FBI get into a simple murder case?
Kit shifted on her feet. The sun blazed on her shoulders. An unidentified body, a child, no less. A child. A little Latino boy ...
She didn't miss the half-smile on the man's face as the officers approached. She had on a bright blue two-piece swimsuit and athletic shorts. No T-shirt. Sweat beaded on her skin.
"Where'd that come from?" A stocky, plain-looking woman with close-cropped brown hair stopped in her tracks, about eight feet away from the body.
"Kit McGovern, FBI." She flashed her creds at the woman. "Are you the officer in charge?"
"Yeah. Brenda Ramsfeld, Fish & Wildlife."
"Kid fall off a boat?" The leering man strode up to the body and nudged it with the toe of his boot.
"Don't touch him!" Kit's anger surged. She turned to Ramsfeld. "Do you see the marks on his neck?"
"Like somebody killed him? Cool!" the man responded.
"We've never had a murder here," Ms. Ramsfeld said, glancing at her coworker, a woman with blonde hair.
The man laughed. "You've seen CSI, Brenda. You know what to do."
"You think he died here, on the beach? What about those kids?" Ramsfeld gestured toward the teens.
"They found the body washing up in the surf. I saw them."
"So maybe he was murdered at sea and dumped overboard," the blonde suggested.
"Quite possibly," Kit said, her heart jumping. If the murder didn't happen on land, the FBI could rightfully claim the case. Thoughts of vacation slipped away like sand. "The lifeguards didn't report anything?" she asked Ramsfeld.
"They're just now coming on duty. Besides, look at the way those waves are coming in."
Kit turned. The Atlantic was in fine form today, the three-foot gray-green waves coming in at a slant, breaking about five yards out, sending sea foam sliding up over the hard-packed sand in a gentle caress, then sliding back. She squinted into the sun, scanning the horizon, but saw nothing—no boats, no surfers, no dolphins. She turned back to Ramsfeld. "From the northeast?"
"Right. The littoral current would be from the same direction. So why would you think lifeguards to the south would have seen anything?" Ramsfeld's voice dripped disgust.
She still kept her distance, Kit noted, standing nowhere near the body. "So he probably did die at sea. The Bureau would have jurisdiction."
Ramsfeld threw up her hands. "All right, look. You want it, you got it." She shook her head. "Just my luck," she said, shooting a look toward the others, "something major happens and the Bureau gets here first." She put her hands on her hips. "I'm guessing you'll need the medical examiner."
"Right," Kit said, "and identification from those teenagers. And photos of the body. Do you have a camera?"
"You want photos with or without the ghost crab nibbling at his ear?" the creepy guy joked.
Kit glared at him. "Just get the camera."
The onshore breeze stiffened a bit, sending a spray of saltwater over the scene as a breaker crashed onto the beach. Kit licked her lips, tasting the salt. "Until the ME gets here, we'll need to secure the scene."
"It's July and in an hour I'm going to have a beach full of vacationers. You're not expecting me to provide staff long-term, are you?" Ramsfeld said.
"If you could spare one person until they get here, I'd appreciate it." Kit hoped against hope it wouldn't be the man, who returned with a small digital camera in hand.
Ramsfeld shot her a look, then she turned to her blonde staff member. "Pat, you stay with her. Joe and I need to get back to work."
* * *
Kit took all the pictures she thought she'd need. Then, waiting for the ME van, she listened to Pat complain about the way things had changed on the job since Brenda Ramsfeld had become their chief. After a while, even Pat wearied of that talk and wandered off, climbing the dunes in search of shade. After she left, Kit had only the sand and surf and sun and one dead little boy to keep her company.
She sat on a piece of driftwood, watching the tide come into her beloved Assateague. A barrier island off the coast of Virginia, Assateague cradled its smaller sister island, Chincoteague, in the crook of its arm, protecting the humans who lived there from the brunt of the ocean's force. Kit had been coming to the area since she was a child, drawn by her love for her grandmother who lived there.
Kit had been on the wild, wind-swept island in the fall when snow geese by the thousands gathered on brackish ponds, honking and calling, and in the winter, when the wind whipped up sea foam and deposited it in mounds well beyond the dunes. She'd been there in the spring, when migrating birds came again, so many different kinds she couldn't keep track of them, and the Sika deer fawned, and the wild ponies gave birth to their foals. And in the summer, when long days on the beach called her to an eternal perspective, the timeless pounding of the waves and the endless vista reminded her that her temporal troubles were but a passing phase.
She needed to hear that reminder again. That was why she'd come.
* * *
The medical examiner, Dr. Scarborough, was a fifty-something, burly man with snow-white hair and a brusque, businesslike manner. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Kit dressed in a bathing suit and shorts, and she felt her face grow warm. Thankfully, he didn't say anything.
She watched while he took pictures with a digital camera, and then snapped on gloves and gently examined the body while dictating into a digital recorder. His assistant, a young, thin man dressed in khaki pants and a white shirt, looked on.
When he finished, Dr. Scarborough stood up and faced Kit, fixing his piercing blue eyes on her. "The boy was strangled. Autopsy will tell us whether that killed him or he drowned."
Kit's gut clenched. "How long ago?"
"As much as thirty-six hours."
"Cold salt water preserves the body. Again, the autopsy will narrow it down." The ME looked down at the boy again. "I see no other injuries, except for a few sea-life nibbles. He didn't bleed out."
"Why is he so gray?"
"All his blood has gone to the center of his body." Scarborough pulled off his gloves. "My preliminary finding: homicide by strangulation, twenty to thirty-six hours ago."
* * *
Kit drove to her rental cottage. Scarborough's words tumbled over and over through her mind. Someone murdered the boy. Strangled him. Sometime in the last thirty-six hours.
Who would kill a little boy in that way? By strangling him? She tried to imagine it. A mother? She couldn't see a mother wrapping a cord around a child's neck and choking him until he died. A mother's boyfriend? Much more likely.
So why didn't she protect him? Kit knew the answer to that without thinking. All too often women were too emotionally dependent on their men to protect their kids.
She showered, spread an aloe-based cream that smelled like coconut over her sunburn, then dressed in work clothes—khaki pants, a white shirt with a small, stand-up collar, and a Navy blue blazer, necessary, even in summer, to cover her gun. While she laced her highlighted, light brown hair into a French braid, her mind worked hard, calculating how she would sell her involvement in the case to her boss.
Sweat moistened her hand as she pressed her cell phone to her ear. At her boss's gruff "Hello," she described finding the child on the beach.
"I thought you were on vacation," Steve Gould responded.
"Yes, sir, but I think this warrants our attention."
"I think we're the best agency to investigate it."
"One kid? Who cares about one kid?"
She knew he meant that the FBI generally got involved in more complex cases. "If he were kidnapped, we'd care."
"He's not. He's dead."
"Yes, sir, but ... but his body ... his body was found on a federal reservation. We can assert jurisdiction."
"We don't want to."
"I want to."
Kit heard him sigh.
"Why, McGovern? Just tell me why."
Kit squeezed her eyes shut and pictured the little boy on the beach. She realized she was trembling. Why did she care so much? "It's all about justice, sir. Somebody wrapped something around this little boy's neck and choked him until he died. Who did it? We have the best resources to figure that out. Otherwise ... otherwise I can almost guarantee this'll become a cold case."
She could hear Steve tapping on his desk. "This is the way you want to spend your vacation?"
"Oh, for crying out loud," he grumbled. "Call the Assistant U.S. Attorney. If he won't prosecute, then drop it," he ordered her. "Otherwise, you have two weeks to convince me you're not wasting our resources."
As she hung up the phone, Kit wondered if her new boss was naturally tough or if he had heard the rumors about her. She was not a loose cannon! She didn't care what her old supervisor said.
* * *
Kit drove to a vacation-property rental office in town. The agent, Connie Jester, was Kit's friend, Chincoteague born and bred, a sixth-generation islander who knew every native, transient, and come-here who had wandered over the high, arched bridge and ended up settling down. Her position made her a pipeline for a rich storehouse of information.
Kit told Connie about the body on the beach. "Well," the redhead responded, "that makes sense. When I heard the FBI was involved, I knew it had to be you. But aren't you supposed to be on vacation?"
Kit shrugged. "I can't just ignore a dead child." Momentarily, in her mind's eye she saw faces, Honduran faces, Salvadoran faces, faces from an adoption website. "Connie, what can you tell me about the local Latino community?"
"Oh, they come in at times, big groups of them, going over to the beach. Families, mostly, although there always seems to be a bunch of unattached young men."
"Where do they stay?"
"Most of 'em are day-trippers. When they do stay, they either camp or pile people in a motel room." Connie's blue eyes flashed. "You know, there are a lot of migrant workers on the peninsula, picking tomatoes and melons, green beans. Some of 'em stay on, working in the poultry processing plants or picking crabs. A few try their hand at making a living on the water, but that's something few natives can do, much less newcomers."
"Is it likely they'd go out on a charter boat?"
"Have you checked those prices lately?"
Kit bit her lip, buying time to think. In all the years she'd been coming to Chincoteague, she'd never been out on a fishing boat, never seen Assateague from the ocean. "Who's the commander of the Coast Guard station now?"
"Well, that would be Rick Sellers. Nice guy. From New York, but a nice guy, anyway."
Kit wrote his name down. "If a child disappeared, why wouldn't somebody report it?" she mused out loud.
"Running drugs," Connie suggested. "Either that or illegal. Nobody's gonna raise a flag when they're doing something wrong."
That made sense. Kit heard the sound of the office's door opening.
"Here's David O'Connor," Connie said. "He's a D.C. cop. Y'all ought to get along just fine."
Kit looked up. Coming in the door was the thirty-something man from the beach.
The man grinned as their eyes met.
"David took your grandmother's house for six whole months," Connie said. "That's why I couldn't give it to you."
Six months, Kit thought? What was he doing on Chincoteague for six months?
"It's a great place," he said.
Kit felt the color rising in her face. Her grandmother's house was now a rental property. She wished she had the money to buy it.
Connie smiled at him. "Kit here's a Fed."
"I met her this morning." Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Why were you up on the beach so early?" Kit asked.
"You don't surf, do you?"
She blinked, put off by the response.
Excerpted from Seeds of Evidence by Linda J. White. Copyright © 2013 Linda J. White. Excerpted by permission of Abingdon Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
In Seeds of Evidence, author Linda J. White transports the reader to the idyllic Virginia seashore locations of Chincoteague and Assateague Islands for a fast paced intriguing mystery thriller that will keep them sitting on the edge of their seat in suspense. Written in the third person narrative, this riveting story follows FBI Special Agent Kit McGovern and D.C. Homicide Detective David O'Connor as they investigate the mysterious death of a young Latino boy whose body washed up on the beach while both were vacationing on Chincoteague Island. In his pockets are half a dozen acorns, and rolled up in his sleeves are tomato seeds. These small seeds of evidence are the key that leads Kit and David on a search to solve the mystery of the young boy's death, which ultimately takes them into the tawdry underground world of human trafficking. This complex and gripping tale is simply spellbinding! You can't help but become captivated by the mesmerizing flow of the story. Author Linda J. White has a wonderful way of weaving a tale with amazing attention to detail, whether she is describing the beautiful shores and landmarks of Chincoteague and Assateague Islands, to the well researched investigative techniques and forensic science, the reader will feel like they are right beside Kit and David as they investigate the murder case. Kate and David are a wonderful pair of characters who are realistic, down-to-earth people who have flaws and issues that are easy for the reader to relate to. Both are struggling with their faith and painful pasts, yet find themselves attracted to each other as their relationship develops. Their journey will take them to the edge and challenge their professional experience as well as their faith to overcome their own personal struggles. Seeds Of Evidence is a compelling mystery thriller that has a little bit of everything: intrigue, suspense, drama, action, and romance. This thoroughly engrossing and enjoyable story takes the reader on one heck of an exhilarating thrill ride, it simply is a must read!
I am a mystery lover. I know a great story when I read it. I know good writing when I see it. And I know that whatever Linda J. White writes in the future, I intend to read it. Consider this a full endorsement of Seeds of Evidence. This is one of those books that pulls you in from the first page, whose pace requires you to read really fast to keep up, but you know that if you keep reading like the this the book will end sooner, and you don't want it to end. In Seeds of Evidence, the mystery rings of reality and the characters ring of authenticity. This is a book whose suspense level raises your heart-rate multiple times as you read. The setting is Chincoteague Island, sister Island to Asseteaugue which is home of the famous wild ponies. Linda J. White describes this beautiful island in all its wildness yet tranquility: the egrets stalking in the marches, the smell of grass and salt, the fierce thunderstorms that roll in in minutes and the rain that falls in sheets. The crunch of oyster shell parking lots, the purple and orange sunsets. The characters are superb and the spiritual theme is perfectly done. It makes me so joyful when a Christian book is written so well! The Main Characters: David, homicide detective who was told to take a six month break after a shooting incident when a teen boy was killed and he was injured. David is still waiting for the scar on his shoulder to heal, and he is convinced the ones in his mind never will. He is "resting" in an old house on Chincoteague, working to paint its siding to reduce his rent, listening to his Ipod to distract his wandering mind and trying to relax and enjoy the kayaking and surfing that the ocean offers. Kit is an FBI agent come back to Chincoteague on vacation, hoping to find peace if not answers after her husband divorced her in a particularly cruel way. Kit and David meet on the beach on the morning a little Latino boy is found dead, washed up on shore. In his pockets are half a dozen acorns, and in his rolled up sleeves are tomato seeds. Strange, small seeds of evidence, that lead to a mystery by no means simple. My review in two sentences? Read Seeds of Evidence. It is on my favorites list. Linda J. White is a journalist by day and a novelist by night. Seeds Of Evidence is her second book, and is published by Abingdon Press. I am now doing fist pumps, because her website says her next novel will Lord willing be released in early 2014. I am now waiting for Words of Conviction. Standing by my mailbox. Hoping it will somehow come sooner. And go, right NOW to her website and read about why she writes. Then go there again after you read this book and you will be agreeing heartily that she succeeded at her mission. To write great fiction.
Linda J. White in her new book, "Seeds of Evidence" published by Abingdon Press brings us into the lives of Kit McGovern and David O'Connor "on a windswept island where no murder has ever occured, someone has started killing". From the back cover: Tiny seeds, a passion for justice, and a desire for truth... From the back cover: Shaken by an unwanted divorce, FBI Special Agent Kit McGovern retreats to her grandmother s Virginia island home for a little R & R. But her vacation comes to an unexpected end when the body of a young Latino boy is found on the beach.Kit teams up with D.C. cop David O Connor to investigate the murder with the smallest of clues tomato seeds and acorns found in the boy s pockets. Using plant DNA evidence, Kit traces the young boy to a huge farm where more than a killer looms. With grit, determination, and a growing interest in David, Kit pursues her case and discovers that, to truly move forward in life, justice has to be tempered with mercy. Get ready for an up all night thriller. Kit McGovern needs a vacation but what she finds is a murder. Now she has to team up with Washington, D.C. cop David O'Connor to find the murderer before he strikes again. Let me say this right off, Linda White does not disappoint! Ms. White knows how to ratchet up the tension so that your nerves are strung tight as you work with Kit and David to figure out who the murderer is and stop him. "Seeds of Evidence" is filled with intrigue, deceit, mystery, and a deadly killer. On top of everything Ms. White manages to weave a romance into this story that just captivates you. She makes you care for all the characters and their journey. This is also just plain fun and exciting as well. Don't start this book late at night because it will cost you sleep. I look forward to more from this very talented author. Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Abingdon Press. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."
Trying to get away from the pressures of being a FBI agent and after a recent divorce from her husband, Kit just wanted to get away. While on her vacation, Kit stumbles across the dead body of a young boy washed up on the sand. While at the discovery, Kit is also helped by off-duty cop David. The two of them become close, but not to close. Kit is a Christian and vows not to be with non-Christian man. Determined to find the killer, Kit is thrown into an investigation that brought on more questions than answers. This book is the first Christian/Suspense I have read. I only hope they are all this good. The book had me thinking about it when I was not reading it and I was able to read it in no time. It kept me interested to find out what would happen next. All of my questions were answered by the end of the book. A great read, I would highly recommend. Rating: 4.5 Heat Rating: Mild Reviewed By: Rae
FBI Special Agent Kit McGovern is taking some much needed, if not really wanted, vacation time on her childhood island. During her time there, she stumbles upon the body of a young boy. With instinct taking over, she commands the case over the objections of her boss, but she is sure that there is more to this case than what's on the surface. Policeman David O'Connor is exiling himself after a shooting in D.C. in which a young kid was killed. Though he was cleared in the case, he was ready to hang up his gun until his boss talked him into time off. David is staying in Kit's grandmother's old house, fixing it up in exchange for his staying there. The paths of these two law enforcement officers cross and nothing is the same again. David works his way into a job with some possible smugglers in an effort to find out how the boy was killed. As the case heats up, another body is found and David gets further undercover. What is going on on this island? Will David's undercover position be revealed? Who was the young boy and why was he killed? And the answer is..... PSYCH! Go buy the book if you're so interested. What a great story! I picked this up yesterday morning and by this evening I was finished. Ms. White has a terrific way of hooking her ready by putting action in each of her chapters. It gives you the feeling that, "I have to finish one more chapter to see how things end". I'm not much of a romance person, but Ms. White only put so much into this book to provide a deeper story line for her characters. She shows characters that struggle not only with their daily working lives, but with their relationship with Him as well. I love seeing characters that aren't cardboard, ones that have to spend time with Him in order to have a better understanding of Him. The story line is plausible and ties up nicely at the end. Is this a man's book? Exchange of gun-fire, drug runners, human traffickers, etc. all of the things that make a great story for any man to read. This definitely ranks up there as one of the best books that I've read this year.
This story takes place in the beautiful Virginia Chincoteague and Assateague Islands. The breathtaking beaches, and beautiful waters. I've read about the wild ponies from here, and we do see some in this book. FBI Agent Kit McGovern is here for some R&R, her Grandmother had owned a home on the Island. She is dealing with Job and relationship stress. We also meet David O'Connor a Washington D.C. Police Detective. He is here to decide whether he will return to work after being shot, and being involved in the death of a teen. The two main characters have a horrible chance meeting when they find the body of a young Latin boy, about 7 or 8, washed ashore on the beach. The boy has some acorns in his pockets and some tomato seeds rolled in his sleeves, along with a large amount of seeds in his stomach. Someone so young should not have died. Agent Kit is in turmoil after she has been dumped by her husband Eric, and Det. O'Connor is having a hard time dealing with killing a young man who had his entire life ahead of him. Together will these enforcement agents begin to heal? Will they be able to help each other. What are they in for trying to find answers to the crime they led them to each other. Be ready for a page turning, fast past, never a dull moment read. The story is fictional, but it reads so true, and really could be really happening. I received this book through Pump Your Book Virtual Tours, and was not required to give a positive review.
Just finished reading "Seeds of Evidence" by Linda J. White. What an exciting, compelling, suspenseful read. Once I began it I had a hard time putting it down. Loved how White gives the reader an inside look at the FBI conducting an investigation. I thoroughly enjoyed the integration of action, suspense, drama, romance, justice, forgiveness, and faith in the story line. Loved it and highly recommend it!