Whirlwind

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 47 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 48 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 49 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 50 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 51 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 52 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 53 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 54 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 55 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 56 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 57 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 58 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 59 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 60 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 61 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 62 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 63 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 64 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 65 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 66 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 67 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 68 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)

1

Wildhorse Heights, Texas

Death was near but Jenna Cooper was not aware.

No one was.

Like the thousands of other people at the Old Southern Glory Flea Market, in the southeastern part of the Dallas– Fort Worth Metroplex, she was hunting for bargains.

Jenna liked coming here. With more than nine hundred vendors in buildings and open-air sections spread over forty acres at the Hawn and LBJ freeways, Old Southern was one of the biggest flea markets in Texas.

Whatever Jenna needed, she could always find a deal on it.

“Can I make you an offer on these?”

Jenna touched the folded baby clothes she’d selected and piled on the vendor’s table. The fleece hoodie, the footed pajamas, a romper, T-shirts, bibs, the lace tops and the skorts, which were so cute.

The vendor was wearing a Cowboys ball cap, rose-tinted sunglasses and a T-shirt that read: Verna’s Clothes for Kids. Jenna guessed her to be in her late sixties.

“What’s your offer, dear?”

Jenna figured the clothes would cost fifty to sixty dollars if she were to buy them new. But the items, as tagged on the table, would run about thirty-five dollars. She was not very good at negotiating, but these days she had no choice. For her, Blake and the kids, money was an issue.

“Would you take twenty-five for all of them?”

The woman took stock of Jenna’s daughter, who was holding on to the stroller where her baby brother was waking up from a nap.

“How old are your little ones?” she asked, weighing Jenna’s offer.

“Cassie’s four, almost five, and her baby brother Caleb’s five months.”