News at Eleven - A Novel (Copyright 2015 Doris Gaines Rapp - 3rd serialization segment)

“Jake!” Clisty called in relief as Detective Davis jumped out of his car in front of her parents’ house. ”You remembered the story about my childhood clubhouse!”

“Of course I did.” He gathered her in his arms. “Clisty, who was that?” He pointed back to the person who had darted past him.

"Did you see her?” She gasped breathlessly.

“Her?” he questioned. “I saw him, the guy who beat it out of here as I pulled up.”

“Then, you didn’t see Faith?”

“No, I was watching the man.”

“I wish I could have watched him!” Rebecca growled as she rubbed her shoulder. “He hit me.”

“Are you okay?” Clisty asked and gently touched her. “Jake, you know Becca, my news producer.”

"Right,” he said. “You need to have that shoulder looked at.” Then he asked, “Aren’t you two supposed to be at the station right now? The news is on again at eleven.”

"It’s a long story.” Clisty said as she put her arm around Becca. “Are you okay? Can you walk down to the corner coffee shop so we can fill him in?”

Becca flexed her arm. “I’m more angry than hurt.” She raised her arm over her shoulder. “You fill him in. I’m still trying to catch up to what’s happening.”

“How is the bank teller?” Clisty asked. The snow started falling again and tiny ice flakes stung Clisty’s nose and cheeks.

“She’s conscious. Doctors say she’ll mend,” Jake said.

“You had better put your hood up, or your hair will have to be done again before the late news,” Becca cautioned.

“If I put my hood up, I’ll need a major overhaul, not a touch up.” Clisty slipped a little and looked down. She had forgotten she was still wearing on-camera heals. Her feet were cold and had started to hurt. “These shoes weren’t made for chasing criminals or ghosts.”

“Ghosts? Here, you can hold on to me,” Jake offered as he held out his arm. “What is going on?”

“Wow, arm and arm. Now, that’s sweet,” Becca cooed.

“Here, Becca, grab hold of my other arm,” Jake offered.

• • • • •

Clisty stepped into the small, warm coffee emporium and rubbed her gloved hands together. “It feels good in here, Sharon,” she said, smiling at the waitress. The wall-mounted TV whispered dialog, but she was too cold to pay attention. She scanned the menu above the serving counter. “My favorite is café mocha. I’d like an extra half shot of café and a double shot of mocha.”

“Wow, with all that, it’s my hips that would be shot,” Becca moaned. “Coffee, black and a double shot of hot.”

“Let’s sit here by the window,” Clisty suggested as she walked a few feet to a small table with four chairs clustered around it. “It’s homey here.”

“Hey, I thought I told you to get along home,” Sharon snapped at a scruffy girl who slipped in behind Clisty and her friends.

“I’m cold,” the child whispered.

“Then, sit right there,” Sharon pointed to a bar stool in front of her. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’ll be here soon.”

Clisty watched the frightened girl and smiled, but gave her the space she needed to warm up to her and the other strangers inside the Emporium.

At the table, Becca gulped as she leaned into the cold glass of the window. “Is that the guy in the hoodie again?”

The child gasped in fear and pulled her wet shoes up onto the seat and hugged her knees. She looked like a small turtle with every vulnerable part hidden.

“That’s my husband on his way home from work,” Sharon laughed and waved a full cup of coffee in his direction.

Clisty watched the child pull a tight, shabby coat around her. Sharon brought the steamy cups to the table and Clisty’s focus shifted.

“I wondered about that guy too.” Jake agreed.

“I’ll hug the cup for warmth.” She put her gloves in her pocket and blew across the surface of the coffee. “I’m warming my face with the rising, deliciously sweet steam.” She closed her eyes and let the rising vapor warm her cheeks.

“I’d be happy to keep you warm,” Jake offered.

Clisty looked at Becca to see if she had heard him. Becca raised her eyebrows. Over at the counter, big round, hollow eyes watched her sip the warm brew.

“Do you like cocoa?” Clisty asked the child.

“I think I had it one time.” Her voice was as thin as she was, and as distant.

“Did you like it?” Clisty asked. The girl smiled. “Sharon, get her a big cup of your best hot chocolate.” She smiled at her. “Will that be okay with your mama?” The child nodded a firm yes.

“When will your mother get back?” Jake asked. He lowered his voice. “I can’t let a seven or eight-year-old run around town at night all alone.”

“Probably when my cocoa’s done,” the girl said as she took tiny sips. “She’ll meet me here.”

Sharon wiped a cocoa ring from the counter. “Did that guy find you, Clisty?”

She froze inside and looked up slowly from her chocolate laced coffee. “Who? What guy?”

“He was tall and tattered, in a dark sweatshirt. I didn’t tell him anything about you, Clisty. We’ve been friends since kindergarten. I’ve got your back.” She slowed as she dried a cup and several spoons. “I wondered how he could be warm in ...”

Clisty’s eyes grew large as she turned toward the darkness beyond the window. “When was he in here?”

“Was the sweatshirt a hoody?” Jake asked.

“Yes, he had it over his head but I could see his eyes. It was strange. He had the most beautiful brown eyes, sunk down in a face that belonged on an FBI most wanted poster.” Sharon shuddered. “He scared me.” She too looked out into the night. “He was in here just a little bit ago. I was glad when he left.”

“Which way did he go?” Jake asked.

“Down toward your parents’ place,” Sharon nodded in Clisty’s direction.

Clisty stiffened and Jake took her hand. She could feel his warmth caress her skin. She squeezed his palm and tried to relax. “Sharon, have you seen a young woman around here that isn’t from the neighborhood?”

“Yes, that was another strange thing. Before you got here, this woman slithered around the side of the door and slipped in. It seemed to me she might have been dodging someone. Her eyes darted around the restaurant and she shifted back and forth.”

Clisty’s heart pounded as she held her breath. “And ...?”

“She said she saw you come in here earlier today and asked me to give this to you.” Sharon reached into her apron pocket and drew out a pink plastic hair bow. “She said it’s yours.”

Clisty took the barrette from Sharon’s hand and rolled it over and over. Tears came to her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She blotted them with a napkin. “Yes, it’s mine,” she whispered. “Becca,” her voice cracked, “I gave this to Faith the morning of our last day together. Her hair kept falling in her eyes.”

“Who is Faith?” Jake asked.

“She’s your missing witness to the escaped bank robber suspect,” Clisty announced. “I recognized her in—“

“The ATM video!” Sharon squealed and pointed to the TV. “I saw her on your newscast and thought she looked familiar. She had the same scar above her left eyebrow. Clisty, I thought someone had killed her years ago.”

“That’s what everyone thought, except her parents ... and me. This proves even more, that she’s alive.”

The child at the counter hopped down and slowly approached the small table. “No, Ma’am. That clip is mine,” she announced.

“Yours?” Becca asked.

“Miss Sinclair said it belongs to her, Honey,” Jake chimed in.

But the girl shook her head in defiance while willful curls slipped to her eyebrows. “No, it’s not. It’s mine.” She grabbed the hair bow, wiggled back up onto the bar stool and took another gulp of hot chocolate with the barrette clasped tightly in her hand.

Clisty got up, slowly walked over and gently touched her small shoulder. “I had one just like it.” Her eyes glistened. “I gave it to my very best friend in all the world.” She started to reach out for it but stopped when the child pulled back. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Pooky.” She held the hair clip in both hands and drew it close in a caress. “My mama gave me the hair bow a long time ago.”

Clisty wrapped her arms around the girl. “My name is Pooky, too. I think I know your mother.” She looked over at Jake and Becca and smiled. “We have to hurry but I think we can find her before the eleven o’clock news.”

Length of Days Trilogy

I know — you have to wait until Friday for the next installment of News at Eleven - A Novel. For those of you who love to read, I have a suggestion. Begin reading my novels in the Length of Days trilogy: The Age of Silence; Beyond the Valley of the Keepers; and Search for Freedom. 

The Age of Silence: What might life be like 100 years from now if extreme political correctness continues? In this first book, the ruling elite must control the citizens by drugging their water and removing music and celebrations that might stir their emotions. They change Christmas to Gifting Day and they silence the songs of our culture by forbidding any expression of music. They manage the population by predetermining the number of years in an individual's life, limiting their Length of Days based on the person's use to society. Someone breaks the silence by contacting Christiana who elicits the help of her friend, Jason.

Beyond the Valley of the Keepers: When the furnaces under Howard Mountain are turned off until signatures can be secured for a Citizens' Referendum to over-turn the Length of Days Law, Christiana and Jason travel across closed Zone borders to establish a network for securing signatures from the entire country. The Hollow People of the west and the Underlings, those forced to live in the subways and sewers of New York City, help them.

Search for Freedom: Christiana's grandfather, Oliver Richly, agrees to run for president in an open and free election that hasn't taken place in those same 100 years. Political figures simply filled open positions by right-of-succession. Kidnapped, Christy and Jason must search for Richly. Will they find him in time?

All three books in this trilogy are available in paperback and eBook form on line at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

News at Eleven - A Novel [Segment 2 of serialization - © 2015 Doris Gaines Rapp]

“Let’s go.” Clisty placed her coffee cup on the table and grabbed the envelope with the precious four-leaf clover inside. “Hurry, Becca. The news will be back on at eleven.”

“I know. I’m the producer.” Becca fumbled with her yogurt container. Her spoon teetered on the saucer. “No, don’t fall on the white area rug,” Becca moaned.

“Don’t worry about it.” Clisty brushed it off, crossed the room and pulled her coat from the hall tree.

“Don’t worry about it?” Becca questioned. “This, from the girl with a sterile home, except for the picture of two rag-a-muffins?”

“Okay, okay,” Clisty agreed. She fished in her pocket for her gloves and car keys.

“Where are we going?” Becca asked. Outside, she slipped on the fresh powder of spring snow as she hurried behind. “The time is flying. You have to be behind the news desk before eleven.”

“I know, Becca. But, I also know that was Faith in that ATM surveillance video. She’s the bank robbery witness everyone is looking for and she’s been missing for years.” She fumbled with the remote entry button. The buzzer squawked and the two women jumped into the SUV.

The leather seats had grown cold. She shivered as she tried to force the key into the ignition.

Becca interrupted. “Wait a minute. I need to know where we’re going.” She patted Clisty’s hand. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

Clisty let the motor idle. Her hand trembled on the floor shift. “Becca, the image in the ATM video was my friend, Faith.”

“Honey, she was nine years old when she was kidnapped. That was eighteen years ago.”

“I know,” Clisty pounded on the shift knob. “But, I know Faith Sterling’s eyes. That was her.” Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.

“Don’t mess up your makeup. You may not have time for a touch up before the late-night news.” She patted Clisty’s hand again. “Now, where are we going?”

“First, we’ll stop at police headquarters and hope Jake is there.” She looked right and left. It was early in the evening. On-coming lights sparkled on the windshield’s frost patches. “I think I know where Faith is, but I don’t know if it’s safe to go there alone.”

“Okay. With Jake along, I’ll feel better.” Becca buckled her seat belt. “Why didn’t you just call or text him?”

“I’m a little scattered.” Clisty pulled her phone from her pocket and pushed a button.

“Speed dial?” Rebecca teased.

“Never mind ...” Clisty put the receiver to her ear. “It’s ringing ... pick up Jake.” She disconnected and looked out at the road ahead. “He’s on duty. Why doesn’t he answer?”

“Leave a text message and let’s go,” Becca said urgently.

• • • • • 

Clisty pulled into the police parking lot and had her hand on her seat belt clasp before the engine stopped. She flung the door open and dashed toward the door when Becca slipped a little as she stepped from the car.

“Becca, are you okay?” Clisty turned back quickly.

“Just trying to catch up. I’m wearing the wrong shoes for a hot pursuit.”

Clisty waited at the door for her. “I’m sorry. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“I’m fine,” Becca assured her.

Outside, the daylight had slipped into early spring-evening darkness. But, inside the station, lights beamed in every corner. The smell of freshly popped corn penetrated the room. An officer jumped to his feet when Clisty walked in.

“Clisty Sinclair ... pardon me, Miss Sinclair,” Jeremy Rhodes blustered. “What may I do for you?” He blushed as a few corn kernels fell from his uniform to the floor.

“That’s alright. Call me Clisty.” She paused and glanced around. “Is Detective Davis here?”

“No, Ma’am. Jake’s been out since the bank robbery.” He paused. “But, you know about the robbery. You broke the news at six.”

“Yes ...,” she frantically checked the room. “He hasn’t come back?”

“No, Ma’am. He’s interviewing the bank teller at the hospital. She was shot-up pretty bad.”

 “The hospital?” She turned to Rebecca. “He probably has his phone off if he’s in the E.R. We’d better hurry on.”

“Clisty, I don’t know.”

“I do,” she snapped. Her texting thumbs flew over the phone’s keypad. “Now, where are my keys?” she asked as she fumbled in her pocket. “I just had them.”

A woman in a frayed coat scooped keys off the floor and handed them to the officer. He thanked her and turned the keys over in his hand. “Initial—P? And ... they’re yours, Miss Sinclair?”

“Yes,” Clisty allow a smile to lighten her face. “Grandma called me Pooky.”

“Pooky?” He raised his eyebrows. “Where did your grand-parents live?

“Over on Norman Avenue.”

“Six-twenty-four Norman Avenue, right?” Rhodes smiled.

“How did you know?”

“My parents bought their house when your grandparents moved to Florida. We lived there for seven years. When Mom and Dad had more kids, we moved. There was a little angel in the kitchen window. On the bottom was a name. Mom told me it was a Christmas Prayer Angel and we should pray for the person. Each person in the prayer partner exchange wrote their name on the bottom. It was Pooky.”

Clisty gasped. “Grandma said she lost my angel, but she prayed for me every day anyway.”

“Pooky,” Rhodes whispered, “I’ve prayed for you since I was a kid.” He paused then asked, “What happened about ten years ago, in the spring?”

“My boyfriend and I were in a car accident after the Senior Prom.” She rubbed her finger over the initial on the key chain. “I was in a coma for two weeks.”

“I could feel it,” Rhodes whispered again. “Something seemed wrong. I prayed twice a day during that time.”

Clisty took the officer’s hand. “Thank you.” Tears again threatened to drown her resolve. She looked away. “Becca, we’d better hurry.” She gathered her keys and spoke again to Rhodes. “If Jake comes back and hasn’t gotten my message, tell him I was here and to meet us at the clubhouse.” She hurried out the door with Becca matching her steps.

“Maybe we should wait for Jake until he can be reached. He’ll turn his phone on soon,” Becca warned.

“We’ll be fine,” Clisty brushed off her concern and pulled her coat more tightly around her. The spring air had taken on a bitter chill.

• • • • •

 Clisty reached for the car radio. “There may be more news about the robbery. Maybe they’ve found Faith.”

“We just came from the Police Station. There was no news about the witness or the robber.” Becca lowered her voice to a soothing whisper. “Clisty, Faith was kidnapped. If she’s alive, where has she been and how did she get away?”

“I don’t know. But, I’m going to where she directed.”

“Directed?”

“Yes, the four-leaf clover. We kept the treasures we found at the clubhouse. I’m sure she’ll try to meet me there.”

“Where is it?” Becca asked.

“In my parents’ back yard,” Clisty said as she turned the corner and headed to the north side of town.

“I thought your parents were visiting your grandparents in Florida.” Becca spoke slowly. “No one will be there.”

“But, that has nothing to do with the clubhouse.” Clisty downplayed the caution she heard in her friend’s voice. “I can always get in there.”

“I’m not thinking about ease of entry. I’m wondering how safe it will be to poke around in a dark backyard and shed.”

“We’ll be fine. It’s my parents’ yard.” Clisty eased onto Keystone Avenue and followed the winding road into the next block. The street light in front of her parents’ home was out.

“It looks dark,” Becca gasped.

“Come on fraidy-cat.” She popped the door open, jumped out and hurried toward the back of the house. A dog’s bark in the distance hung on the crystal air. The cold gravel crunched under their feet.

“Clisty ... wait,” Becca called in a hoarse whisper. As she tried to catch up, a dark figure approached them from behind.

Clisty strained to see into the darkness behind her. Dim light filtered through bony trees a few houses down. She saw something piled on the ground and gasped. She had just walked from that direction and there had been nothing there. “Becca?” she called into the darkness. There was no answer.

Fear gripped her chest as she crept closer. “Becca?” she whispered. Her eyes darted frantically from bush to each dense hedge around her.

“Oh ...,” Becca moaned as she rolled over on her elbow. “What happened?”

Crack! A noise shattered the blackness around them. A large, burly figure about ten feet away staggered and fled from the yard. The shape of a woman wielding a large branch darted off in the opposite direction.

“Faith?” Clisty shouted frantically after her. The bells of the church on the corner chimed. It was eight p.m. News was at eleven.

News at Eleven - A Novel (Back-cover Copy) © 2015 Doris Gaines Rapp

With the interest in News at Eleven - A Novel, I thought I had better post the back-cover copy. The second in the serialization will be posted tomorrow.

News at Eleven – Part One appeared as a novelette in Glo Magazine: - serialized January - April 2015. Reader interest prompted an expansion to a full novel.   Doris Gaines Rapp

• • • • •

News at Eleven – A Novel

Clisty Sinclair, a young Fort Wayne, Indiana TV News anchor, is stunned on camera. The picture of a childhood friend, missing for eighteen years, appears on the monitor during the early evening news. Clisty will have to overcome her own fears and nightmares to find her friend, Faith. To track down and capture Faith’s kidnappers, will require all of Clisty’s investigative journalism skills. If she is successful in bringing all to justice, a surprising opportunity may threaten her new and growing relationship with Detective Jake Davis. Will Clisty be set free to find her own dreams as she searches for Faith’s captors?

• • • • •

“Hi Doris,                                             (3/16/2015)

I just finished your novel! I enjoyed it very much! Compassionate and likable characters and a quick pace! You did a good job of capturing the feel of a career in broadcasting. Well done!”

Melissa Long, News Anchor, 21Alive-TV, Fort Wayne, Indiana 

• • • • •

Length of Days - Beyond the Valley of the Keepers (© 2014 Doris Gaines Rapp)

Tomorrow I'll post the second installment of my serialization of News at Eleven - A Novel. While you wait, enjoy the back cover description of the second in my Length of Days trilogy, Length of Days - Beyond the Valley of the Keepers. These are important books in today's world. They may describe what our society could be like in 100 years, if political correctness is not challenged.

I am Christiana Applewait, a legacy citizen of the Central Zone. It’s late in December 2112, after Gifting Day. Jason and I are still running from the Blue Guard. I must wear a gypsy mourning dress and veil, in order to speak to a large gathering in the Western Zone and not be recognized. Though I’m in line for a seat on the Council of Twelve, my position has not protected me from obsessive stalking by Chief Inspector Ward Stoner. But, we cannot stop. We must fill petitions to place a Citizens’ Referendum on the ballot at the next election in order to overturn the Length of Days law. If not, my dear grandparents will reach the age of extermination. They will enter the never-ending-sleep, thus ending their Length of Days.

A judge in the Central Zone placed a two-year stay on final-sleep travelers while we gather petition signatures in the other three Zones. We will have to cross Zone borders, closed for many decades.

Now we have just those twin years of hope to canvas the rest of the country, secure the signatures and then, pass the bill and implement it before our time runs out. We must succeed. God will be with us.

Lady Christiana Applewait

~~~

Length of Days - Beyond the valley of the keepers  is the second in the Length of Days trilogy. In the first book, Length of days - the age of silence, someone in the Central Zone broke the silence and exposed the terrible atrocities under Howard Mountain. Now the race has begun, to reclaim the country they love. All novels are available on Amazon.com and www.barnesandnoble.com.                          

Politically Correct No More (© 2011 Doris Gaines Rapp)

Here it is, Book One: Length of Days- The Age of Silence back-cover copy. The Age of Silence (politically correct speech) is upon us already but some have finally said, "No More." I posted the back-cover for Book Three in the Length of Days trilogy yesterday. Enjoy a glimpse at the beginning as you wait for the second in the News at Eleven - A Novel serialization on Friday. All novels are available on Amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com.

It is the year 2112, and the emergency policies established during the crises of the previous century are still in place. A Reverence for Life has vanished with the passage of laws and the passage of time. The evil beneath Howard Mountain can no longer be buried. Will someone be brave enough to break the silence?

As a Legacy Citizen, Lady Christiana Applewait comes of age at twenty-four. She begins the detoxification process that will restore her emotions, a privilege and responsibility awarded only to the elite. But, experiencing feelings will make the loss of her grandparents, members of the Council of Elders, even more difficult to bear. Their Length of Days will soon be up.

Doris Gaines Rapp

Length of Days - Search for Freedom

While you wait for the second post of News at Eleven - A Novel on Friday, I thought I'd share the back-cover of my newest book, Length of Days - Search for Freedom. It's the third in my Length of Days trilogy.

It is 2113 and our country is now a nation where the ruling elite select the president by right of succession. My dear grandfather, Oliver Richly, the presidential candidate in the newly formed 1787-Constitutionalists Party, has been kidnapped. My heart is breaking. Dr. Jason O’Reilly will help in the desperate search to find and rescue him. Is he alive? If he is, will we find him before the presidential election? My grandmother is in constant prayer.

Hired assassins make the journey very dangerous. I am exhausted from running. Threatened by a lack of precious time together, I even doubt my relationship with Jason. Will we find Oliver Richly before he is disqualified; protect his life; return freedom to the country—and save our relationship?

Lady Christiana Applewait

Book Three, Length of Day - Search for Freedom