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APPALACHIAN MOUNTAIN MYSTERIES

"A real treat, highly recommended for its fine attention to both detail and the psyches of investigators who confront themselves as much as the threat at hand." ~Diane Donovan, Midwest Book Review

“GREAT !! BOOK Lynda McDaniel can write. This is one fine read. Reads like a literary piece.”  ~Wooley, Amazon Vine Voice Reviewer

“The most satisfying mystery I've read in ages.” ~Joan Nienhuis, Top 1% Reviewer Goodreads

“FIVE STARS! Lynda McDaniel has that wonderfully appealing way of weaving a story, much in the manner of Fannie Flagg. The tale immediately drew me in, into the town, into the intriguing mystery, and into the people. A real treat to read and made me anticipate meeting the characters in yet another installment.” ~Deb, Amazon Hall of Fame Top 100 Reviewer

A Life for a Life is one of the most satisfying books I’ve read this year. Everything about the book delighted me. A Life for a Life has also been compared to To Kill a Mockingbird. Both are character-driven and back a strong message of forgiveness, redemption and acceptance.”  ~Ana Manwaring, writer, blogger

“Thoroughly enjoyable and intriguing with descriptive powers and beautiful mountain scenery. Intense family and friend dynamics with character vulnerabilities and complex relationships that steal the reader’s heart and make this mystery a must-read.” ~Pam Franklin, international bestselling author

“The story has a wonderful balance of drama, mystery, and suspense that easily left me wanting more. What made the story that much more appealing is that it is more than a just a cozy mystery, as the author interweaves Della’s personal journey of self-discovery and sense of community that she finds along the way in the small Appalachian town.” ~Kathleen Higgins-Anderson, Jersey Girl Book Reviews

“Marvelous read! A compelling story told through the eyes and voice of two remarkable narrators [who] possess the same hopes and dreams for a new life. They describe their home life in such great detail that you feel like you have been transported to a small mountain town and are fortunate enough to catch a stunning glimpse into living and working in the deep woods.” ~Yvette Klobuchar, author of Brides Unveiled

“McDaniel's mystery novel delivers a pair of unforgettable crime-solving characters. Using her keen knowledge of the charm (and less than charming features) of life in the North Carolina mountains, she lured me into her story and kept me there. I hope Della, Abit, and the gang will be back!” ~Virginia McCullough, award-winning author of Amber Light

Your free book is “Waiting for You”

Get your free copy of the prequel, Waiting for You and meet the stars of the Appalachian Mountain Mysteries series—Abit Bradshaw and Della Kincaid.

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I’ve pulled back the curtain on their lives before they met in Laurel Falls—between 1981 and 1984. You’ll discover how Abit lost hope of ever having a meaningful life and why Della had to leave Washington, D.C.

If you haven’t started the series yet, Waiting for You will get you started in style.

Get your free copy of Waiting for You here:

https://www.lyndamcdanielbooks.com/free

A Life for a Life

A Mystery Novel

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Lynda McDaniel

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and are used fictitiously. All others are products of the author’s imagination.

Published in 2016 by Lynda McDaniel Books.

A Life for a Life. Copyright © 2016 by Lynda McDaniel

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.  For permission request, please write to the publisher at LyndaMcDanielBooks.com.

ISBN: 978-0-9977808-1-9 

Printed in the United States of America

Dedicated to all the Appalachian people who changed my life for the better.

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image September 2004
  Prologue: Abit
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My life was saved by a murder. At the time, of course, I didn’t understand that. I just knew I was having the best year of my life. Given all the terrible things that happened, I should be ashamed to say it, but that year was a blessing for me.

I’d just turned 15 when Della Kincaid bought Daddy’s store. At first nothing much changed. Daddy was still around a lot, getting odd jobs as a handyman and farming enough to sell what Mama couldn’t put by. And we still lived in the house next door, though Mama banned me from going inside the store. She said she didn’t want me to be a nuisance, but I think she was jealous of “that woman from Washington, D.C.”

So I just sat out front like I always did when Daddy owned it, killing time, chatting with a few friendly customers or other bench-sitters like me. I never wanted to go inside while Daddy had the store, not because he might have asked me to help, but because he thought I couldn’t help. Oh sure, I’d go in for a Coca-Cola or Dr. Pepper, but, for the most part, I just sat there, reared back with my chair resting against the outside wall, my legs dangling. Just like my life.

I never forgot how crazy it all played out. I had forgotten about the two diaries I’d kept that year. I discovered them while cleaning out our family home after Mama died in April. (Daddy had passed two years earlier, to the day.) They weren’t like a girl’s diary (at least that’s what I told myself, when I worried about such things). They were notes I’d imagined a reporter like Della would make, capturing the times. 

I’d already cleaned out most of the house, saving my room for last. I boxed up my hubcaps, picking out my favorites from the ones still hanging on my bedroom walls. (We’d long ago sold the collection in the barn.) I tackled the shelves with all my odd keepsakes: a deer jaw, two dusty geodes, other rocks I’d found that caught my eye, like the heart-shaped reddish one. When I gathered a shelf-full of books in my arms, I saw the battered shoebox where I’d stashed those diaries behind the books. I sat on my old bed, the plaid spread dusty and faded, and started to read. The pages had yellowed, but they stirred up fresh memories, all the same. That’s when I called Della (I still looked for any excuse to talk with her), and we arranged a couple of afternoons to go over the diaries together.

We sat at her kitchen table and talked. And talked. After a time or two recollecting over the diaries, I told Della we should write a book about that year. She agreed. We were both a little surprised that, even after all these years, we didn’t have any trouble recalling that spring.

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image April 1985
  Chapter 1: Della
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I heard my dog, Jake, whimpering as I sank into the couch. I’d closed him in the bedroom while the sheriff and his gang of four were in my apartment. Jake kept bringing toys over for them to throw, and I could see how irritated they were getting. I didn’t want to give them reason to be even more unpleasant about what had happened earlier in the day. 

“Hi there, boy,” I said as I opened the door. “Sorry about that, buddy.” He sprang from the room and grabbed his stuffed rabbit. I scratched his ears and threw the toy, then reclaimed the couch. “Why didn’t we stay in today, like I wanted?”

That morning, I’d thought about skipping our usual hike. It was my only day off, and I wanted to read last Sunday’s Washington Post. (I was always a week behind since I had to have the papers mailed to me.) But Jake sat by the door and whined softly, and I sensed how cooped up he’d been with all the early spring rains.

Besides, those walks did me more good than Jake. When I first moved to Laurel Falls, the natural world frightened me. Growing up in Washington, D.C. hadn’t prepared me for that kind of wild. But gradually, I got more comfortable and started to recognize some of the birds and trees. And wildflowers. Something about their delicate beauty made the woods more welcoming. Trilliums, pink lady’s slippers, and fringed phacelia beckoned, encouraging me to venture deeper.

Of course, it didn’t help that my neighbors and customers carried on about the perils of taking long hikes by myself. “You could be murdered,” they cried. “At the very least you could be raped,” warned  Mildred Bradshaw, normally a quiet, prim woman. “And what about perverts?” she’d add, exasperated that I wasn’t listening to her.

Sometimes Mildred’s chant “You’re so alone out there” nagged at me in a reactive loop as Jake and I walked in the woods. But that was one of the reasons I moved to North Carolina. I wanted to be alone. I longed to get away from deadlines and noise

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