Fostered Identity Chapters 1, 2 & 3

Fostered Identity suspense thriller read the first few chapters

Fostered Identity is available May 25, 2021. New Release

Writing Fostered Identity was an interesting journey. It was one of those stories that wouldn’t leave me alone. Actually, it was the series idea that wouldn’t leave me alone. It started with some real life event, throw in my imagination and the story took off. If you haven’t read what sparked the idea, click here.

Here is Chapter 1, 2 & 3 of Fostered Identity, for you to read.

I thought this would be a great way for you to get to know my work and read some of my latest book. You’ll know right away if it’s for you.

It is available for Pre-Order.

Fostered Identity Book Blurb

Her teenage sister has run away. It’s her fault. And on her watch.

Shyla thought she was doing the right thing in helping her younger sister get a little freedom but she never expected she’d bolt on her. Desperate to keep their mom from discovering she has a missing daughter, Shyla sets out to find her sister.

A fluke encounter gives Shyla a clue. Only she gets a lot more than she bargained for. Not only does she find her sister but she finds herself pulled into doing an impossible heist. And not just any heist but that of stealing her mom’s million dollar jewelry. Ones that recently arrived, with no explanation.

Damien will do whatever he has to protect his brother but when his brother ends up in the hospital, Damien will stop at nothing to take down their father, the man who destroyed their lives. And continues to try to do so. Damien will break all of his promises and will even steal, if it will take down his father.

Shyla and Damien find themselves thrown together, not trusting each other but not having any choice. They will have to work together, if Damien is going to stop his father for once and for all, and if Shyla is going to protect her mother’s jewelry.

An impossible crime that will bring them surprises they didn’t see coming.

Emerald grew up in a foster family. It wasn’t an ordinary foster family. She was the first of eight girls to move in. The jewels that she was given to play with as a teenager, that she was told were baubles, are now resurfacing thirty-five years later. They are worth millions. And it appears worth stealing.

 

Chapter One

Emerald reached under her pillow and pulled out the necklace and earrings. They weren’t supposed to be there, but she couldn’t help herself. Soon she’d be eighteen and she’d be leaving. Although she was fairly sure certain that wasn’t supposed to be the plan.

She just needed a last night with them, with the jewelry. They were so beautiful and sparkly. Not something she’d ever expected to have in her life.

She’d tried to follow the rules and not touch them. At least, outside of her allotted time caring for them. But the urge had been too much. She’d only borrowed them. Not stolen them. And she always returned them. She wasn’t harming them. She just wore them once in a while. Okay, maybe a few times a week. So far, she hadn’t been caught but she’d always been smart enough to return them by morning. And not tell anyone what she was doing.

She held the beautiful jewelry in her hand. They were heavy. Her bed was the safest place for them. The one rule she and her foster sisters seemed to abide by was that each other’s beds were off limits. As were their real names. She wasn’t sure who came up with it, but none of them used their real names. She was known as Emerald.

Closing her hand tight around the jewels, she grabbed the small flashlight, also hidden under her pillow. She slowly climbed out of the narrow single bed and tiptoed to the door. She had to return them. Getting caught was not something she wanted to experience. Mrs. S had a temper. She yelled. A lot. And sometimes she threw things. She never hit, though. At least, not that Emerald had seen. There were some whisperings. All Emerald had for punishment, when she hadn’t done her chores properly, was to have privileges taken away. But the threat of physical abuse was always there.

Emerald waited a moment to ensure that her two foster sisters in the room with her hadn’t awakened. Their breathing was quiet, peaceful. She carefully opened the door and peeked out. There were no lights on, it was very dark. She turned on her small flashlight. The scraping of the tree branch on the back side of the house was the only sound. It was so constant, she ignored it. She waited an extra moment. Sometimes Mrs. S liked to lurk in the hallway, as though waiting for one of them to leave.

Leaving wasn’t an option. At least, not one that was discussed. The way Mrs. S talked, this was a lifetime thing. She seemed to think the girls were going to stay and run the place. Forever. It wasn’t perfect but there was at least a hint of safety. Something she, and she had to assume her foster sisters, hadn’t experienced in a while. If ever.

Breathing out slowly, she made her way down the stairs, avoiding the squeaks on the sixth and ninth steps and the chipped board on the last one. The moon shone through the skylight, changing the pitch blackness to a dark grey. She turned off her little flashlight. Shapes were visible, but it was having made this trek many times that kept her nimble on her feet and not slamming into anything she shouldn’t have.

Night was her favorite time. Everyone else was asleep and there was nothing but silence. She craved the quiet, the alone time, night gave her.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, she turned left into the sitting room. The door was closed, as always, but she reached for the knob and slowly turned it. It was a room she wasn’t supposed to be in. And during the daytime, she never was. It was Mrs. Stephanos’s private room, off limits to the girls.

Closing the door quietly behind her, she counted to ten and then turned on the glass menagerie lamp at the end of the ornate couch. They weren’t cheap items, which is why Emerald had to guess the girls were forbidden from being in there.

The soft glow was perfect. Taking the necklace and earrings out of her hand, she laid them carefully on the glass coffee table. The diamonds and emeralds sparkled, even in the muted light. It was hard to believe they were just baubles. She carefully lifted the double strand necklace and put it around her neck. It was heavy and hung down to mid-chest. It didn’t lay flat like she was sure it was supposed to. It was a bit big on her. She picked up the earrings and clipped one on each ear. Even though they pulled her down with weight, she stood tall and regal. Well, as tall and regal as a seventeen-year-old, five-foot-five teenager could.

Keeping her chin high and walking with grace, like she’d seen Queen Elizabeth do on TV once a long time ago, she strode across the room to the window. With her left hand, she pulled back the heavy drape and looked at her reflection in the window. With her right hand, she pulled up her long, straggly, black hair and held it behind her head in a bun.

Turning her head from side to side, she admired not only the beauty of the set she had on but the twinkle they gave off in the soft light. She could just imagine if she wore them in a big hall with tons of lights. They’d blind everyone.

Her life was going to be so different. She was going to have things like this in her life. Her hand touched the necklace and imagined it was real. That it had been given to her by her boyfriend. Not that she had one, but one day Tommy would notice her. He would if he knew she had something like this. He was the cute deliveryman and the only man she’d seen in the four-plus years she’d been there.  He stopped by once a week and left their groceries at the end of the driveway. No one was ever allowed to drive up that driveway, except Mrs. S.

Sighing, her shoulders sagged and her face drooped. Her life wasn’t even close to this. She tried to shut out the memory of her mom dropping her off at the hospital, leaving her with a small cloth bag, with one set of clothes in it, saying she was just going to get some groceries. But was never seen again.

It was just as well; Emerald knew that her life was way better now. Her mom had often left her alone to fend for herself. At five, she knew how to use the stove. Not well and she had burned a few things, but she knew how to turn it on, how to put bread in a pan to toast it.  Sometimes she forgot to shut it off. That final time had started a small stove fire. If her mom hadn’t come in … but that’s when something changed. And it wasn’t long after that, she’d found herself in the system.

Six foster homes in the first year would have destroyed anyone. It was tough for a shy girl who’d never had much of anything to do with others and had never been to school or taught how to read and write to come out of her shell. In fact, in many ways, it hardened her and sent that young girl into hiding.

It wasn’t until she was thirteen and Mrs. Stephanos took her in that she finally felt like she had a safe place. And clothes to call her own. And the chance to dream of something more. But all of that came with hard work.

It didn’t come cheap or free but at least she never felt like she was going to be moved again. But then maybe she should have been.

The necklace and earrings had been dangled in front of her when she’d first arrived. It was just something Mrs. S did. Or at least that was Emerald’s take on it. Each time a new girl came into the house, Mrs. S seemed to watch until she knew what they liked and then she’d kind of offer this extravagant-looking piece of jewelry, which she said was fake. Each girl was then responsible for making sure that the piece of jewelry was always perfect—shiny, clean, locked up. But not to touch it. At least not in the beginning.

Emerald hadn’t been able to do that. She had no idea if the other girls were like her, always sneaking their piece of jewelry out of The Can. That’s what she called the large railway-looking car box in the backyard, half buried in the hill behind the house, The Can. It’s where the jewelry was kept. And who knew what else. Emerald was only ever let into one small area inside. The Can was divided into at least eight rooms. Each piece of jewelry had its own room. The girls were to go into the room with their jewelry, check on it, clean it if need be but never remove it. Emerald had tried to leave it there, but she couldn’t. At times, she would sneak it out. Like that night.

Sometimes she just needed to be with it.

The jewelry had been the trinket dangled before her. In fact, she got to try them on when she’d first arrived. But then they’d been removed and she hadn’t been allowed to touch them. For a long time.

Mrs. S would taunt her by wearing the jewelry around her, but not letting her touch them. Mrs. S would sometimes wear them while watching Emerald do her chores. Or sometimes Mrs. S would wear them while supervising the girls as they ate their supper. But there had been no more wearing it for Emerald. At least, not that Mrs. S knew.

It always made Emerald kind of sick the way Mrs. S dangled them in front of her. It was crazy. But Mrs. S had done the same thing to all of the other girls—letting them wear the piece of jewelry but only that once, then they were treated like it was too good for them.

Caring for the jewelry was only for when they had some free time. It was like their prize. That snippet of time they got to do something, away from everyone. They got some alone time. Which was almost never. They were self-sustaining. They grew their own plants. Raised their own animals. They made everything. They fixed everything. They never went to town. Everything was always delivered—the groceries they couldn’t grow, the jars for canning, the bags for freezing, the animals when butchered, the material for clothes, and whatever items they needed to fix anything that got broken or wore out on the house.

Mrs. Stephanos had said she was shaping them to be smart, capable young women. Women who would go after what they wanted. But not to covet those things that men or partners liked to give as gifts. They were to be admired not owned.

Emerald had never understood what Mrs. S was trying to teach them, but she’d loved the necklace and earrings.  They were truly the only beautiful thing that she felt was hers. It hadn’t mattered that Mrs. S told her they were only hers to look after. They didn’t belong to her. And they were fake. To Emerald, they were the most precious things anyone had even let her touch. And she wasn’t about to give them up.

Emerald was the first of eight foster girls. They all reminded her of when she’d first arrived, shellshocked and hard. But slowly, like her, they had started to believe. It had taken two years, but she’d finally felt like she wasn’t going to be moved again. This had become her home.

The light glinted off the large diamond and the large emerald teardrops that hung down from the necklace. She pressed her hands to her chest as though framing the gorgeous jewelry and imagined that she deserved these. And that she could have them one day. Her mind immediately told her that that would never happen for her.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Looking defiantly at her reflection, she whispered, “Why not me?”

There was a creak on the floor outside the room. Stepping carefully across the floor, she shut off the light and scurried back to scrunch down at the far end of the sofa behind the heavy drape. Making herself as tiny as she could, something she’d learned to do many times in the past. There were voices. Loud whispers. Harsh. They came closer. Both were men. Men were never allowed on the property. Who were they? Should she scream?

“We’ll steal …”

“She’ll never … get rich …”

She only heard snippets of the conversation but knew she couldn’t stay there. There was a secret door to this room, not something she was supposed to know, but it had come in very handy on many occasions. Staying low, she made her way along the wall, staying behind the curtain. Reaching up, she felt around until she found the indent in the wall. She slid her fingers into it and pulled on the lever. The door swung outward. It entered a narrow hallway.

“In here.”

Scurrying through, she pulled the door closed just as she heard the one to the room opening. Knowing she had to be quiet, she stood still. Her body shook with fear. She squeezed her eyes closed as hard as she could. There was scrambling and more talk, but she couldn’t make out what they were doing or what was being said.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. She didn’t know who it was or what they were doing or why there were men in the house, but she also wasn’t going to be the one to tell. Men were never allowed in the house. She took in a shaky breath and focused her thoughts on a song that she thought her mom used to sing to her. At least that was what she told herself.

My little baby. So beautiful and bright. My little baby. My true delight. My little baby …

It was more a sensation than a sound. She blinked open her eyes. It was still darkish and dingy in the hallway, although now it was more grey. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and were visible thanks to the sunlight peeking in through the cracks near the top of the poorly built wall.

Her head snapped up. The night before came back in a flash. At some point, she’d sat down. And fallen asleep. She stood up. The weight of the necklace and earrings drug her down. She gasped as she slapped her hand to her chest. If she got caught …

Were those men gone?

She reached for the door. It was the quickest and still the safest way for her to make it back to her room. Carefully listening, she slowly opened the door and slipped through, still hiding behind the curtain. Peeking around the edge, the room was empty. It looked the same, but something was different. Frowning, she didn’t stop to wonder what was wrong and she didn’t have time to figure out what it was.

 Quickly yanking off the earrings and undoing the necklace clasp, she tucked them into the hem of the curtain. It was one of her many secret hiding places. She’d get them later and put them back. The others might steal them if they saw them. And Mrs. S might be mad enough to send her to jail if she found them missing.

That couldn’t happen.

Tiptoeing, she quietly left the room and ran up the stairs, avoiding the hole in the first one and the center of steps six and nine, and made her way back to her room. The other girls were gone already. Getting dressed, she raced downstairs and snuck out the backdoor. She was often outside early in the morning, so no one would question it. But as she arrived in the garden, her favorite place, Mrs. Stephanos and all the other girls were there. Mrs. Stephanos wasn’t a tall woman, maybe five-foot-six, but when she got mad, she looked like King Kong. And today she looked ready to beat her chest. Or that of someone else.

 Shaking, Emerald stopped, not sure whether to run or explain.

“About time you got here. Get in line.”

She slowly walked over to the other girls whose eyes were trained on Mrs. S. No one blinked. Standing at attention, she waited for the punishment to start.

She made a promise that when she got the chance, she was running and never turning back.

 

 

Chapter Two

 

“Shyla?”

“Hannah? What are you doing calling so late?” The clock on her bedside stand said midnight. Shyla flipped on her bedside lamp as she propped herself up on her forearm. Thankfully, she’d just crawled into bed and hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

“How was your thing?” Her voice was sullen, uninterested.

Shyla smiled. Her thing was work. “Good. Boring. Why are you calling?”

“You have to make her stop.” Her voice broke.

“I take it you mean Mom.”

“After you dropped us off the other day, she went into this long lecture about what I can and can’t do. She gets home tonight and tells me I should be sleeping, not playing games. She acts like I’m dying.” Her voice went quiet. “I’m not, am I?”

“No! You are not dying, Hannah. Mom is just a little scared.”

“I don’t care. She’s ruining my life.”

“Oh? Why?”

“She won’t let me go to the dance at the end of the month. Said it’s too much.”

Shyla got why her mom was scared. Hannah had a heart murmur. Or had one. The doctor had said, though he was fairly certain she’d grown out of it. She just needed to pay attention to what her body was telling her—if she was feeling sluggish, tired, fatigued, or noticed a change in her heart’s rhythm. He also suggested she could go ahead and do what she wanted but be aware. What that meant to her mom and what that meant to Hannah were two different things. Shyla could also relate to how Hannah was feeling. She’d have gone crazy if her mom had hovered over her like that.

“Let me talk to her.”

There was silence for a moment, before she said, “If you knew something about me, you’d tell me, right?”

Shyla’s mind quickly clicked into gear as she thought about the things she knew about Hannah. Things Hannah didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“I just … uh … wanted to know, like if you knew my heart was bad, you’d tell me.”

She blew her breath out slowly as she tried to think how to answer that. “As far as I know, your heart is good. Why? Are you having problems?”

“No. No. Not with that.”

“Oh? Then what?”

“Nothing.” Her voice was sullen. There was a moment of silence. “Mom’s fifty-two, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Not many women have babies in their thirties, right? And not sixteen years after their other babies?”

Shyla felt her heart crushing. “Not many have their kids that far apart. But it happens.”

“I haven’t had any problems in years. But she won’t give me any freedom. I cut my fingers slicing onions and she freaks. She keeps telling me I have to be careful. I’m either with her or Sam all the time. Or, I have to call her when I’m out of her sight. It’s not fair. I don’t have a life.”

Shyla nodded but wasn’t going to agree out loud with her. “I know it seems that way. I’ll talk to her.”

“I’m so mad, Shy.” Hannah started to cry. “She doesn’t have any right.”

Shyla consoled her sister as best she could over the phone.

At one point, she was sure that Hannah said, “She’s lying to me.” But she was ranting, and Shyla didn’t want to interrupt. She wasn’t sure she’d get a straight answer anyway.

Her sister was starting to figure things out.

It resolved one thing for her, Hannah needed to hear the truth. There was only one person who could do that. Their mom needed to tell her everything. Not just about the heart murmur that Hannah had as a child, but about how she came to be. The secret that her mom had sworn them all to.

Shyla dropped back onto her pillow. How was she going to get her mom to tell Hannah the truth?

 

 

Chapter Three

 

“I beat you.” Shyla laughed as she let herself into their mom’s house, closing the door on Kal, her brother. It didn’t take long, though, for him to rip it open and come flying in after her. She dodged sideways as he leapt at her, wrapping his arms around her. Tickling her was his favorite way to get back at her. Laughing, she dropped down under his arm and raced into the kitchen.

Her mom’s head snapped up, her eyes round. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a package in front of her. One that looked like she’d just opened it. “What are you doing here?”

She seemed surprised. Her hand immediately went to close the case, but Shyla was too fast.

“We wanted to welcome you home. What is that?” Shyla said, as she reached past her mom to open the box in front of her. “Wow.” Inside the velvet box was a beautiful set of necklace and earrings. The diamonds and emeralds sparkled in the late-afternoon light.

“Where did you get this? It’s gorgeous.”

“Shyla finished work and, since I needed a break, we thought we’d come and say hi,” Kal said at the same time.

“It’s nothing—”

“Are you going to wear this to your gala this weekend? It’s in downtown Victoria, right?” Shyla picked up the necklace, evading her mom’s hands. It was heavy.

“Have a secret admirer we don’t know about?” Kal leaned across the table.

“Put them back, Shyla.” Her voice was firm and bridged no argument.

Shyla frowned but carefully set the stunning necklace back in its case. Her mom immediately closed it, stuffed it into the packing box, and placed the stuffing on top. Her mom avoided looking at either of them for a moment before her gaze slid from one child to the other.

“They aren’t real. So, don’t get your hopes up. They’re just baubles.” Her head bowed, the box clenched tightly in her hands. Her hands shook slightly.

“Good thing they’re fake. Victoria doesn’t have a lot of crime, but it still happens. Did you hear that the Bensons had their house broken into? Or I should say someone tried to. I don’t think anything was stolen. The security was too good. Two Rottweilers.” Kal chuckled. “Big surprise for the idiots who chose that place.”

Shyla chuckled before sobering. “Mrs. Carson had some jewelry stolen last week. I think there have been a few others as well. The media is saying the police have no clue as to who’s behind it.”

“These are worthless. No one will be stealing them. So that’s enough.” Her tone was sharp. “Besides, more bicycles and motorbikes are stolen than jewelry.”

Shyla exchanged a look with her brother that was loaded with questions. What is going on? She’s grouchy, unlike usual. Where did she get them?

“Sit down. Both of you.”

Kal sat down across the table. Shyla took the seat at the end.

“I got these from a … relative.”

“What relative? I didn’t know we had any,” Shyla said. “I mean aside from Dad’s side who we have nothing to do with.” She ignored Kal’s sharp head shake that she not go there.

“No. It is not from one of your dad’s siblings. I haven’t heard from any of them since the funeral.” The tone in her voice left no room for questions. There was definitely no love lost between their dad’s family and their mom. They hadn’t liked her at all. They’d felt she was a gold digger. Shyla hadn’t heard anything so ridiculous, ever. First off, their dad didn’t have much money, but he’d made a good wage as an accountant. When their dad got sick thirteen years before and died suddenly, they blamed Sally, their mom.

“Then—”

“I think that’s enough questions.”

“How was your trip? You got back last night, right?” Shyla couldn’t take her eyes off of the box. Was there a connection between it and her mom’s mystery trip?

“Yes. Good.” The hardness in her tone said that was all they were getting on that subject.

Kal frowned at Shyla. “Where did you go? It seemed to come up suddenly.”

“It did.”

“Sam must be glad you’re back. I’m sure Hannah gave him a hard time.”

“She was good. Sam did fine.”

End of that conversation, too. Since when had their mom been so uncommunicative? Shyla couldn’t remember a time that she’d been this abrupt and this unwilling to talk.

“Where’s Hannah?”

“School just got out. Which, as a teacher, you know. She’s on her way home.”

Shyla caught the questioning look Kal gave her. She did a tiny head shake. Even though her original plan had been to steer the conversation to Hannah, her mom’s mood told her that was a bad idea. “You’re going to wear that jewelry to the gala on Saturday night, right? They’d look gorgeous with your dress, the one with the white bodice and greeny-blue skirt. Oh, and then next month, you could wear them to your awards night for Volunteer and Change Maker of the year.”

“I hadn’t planned—”

“Mom. You always told us to use the things we are given, not to put them away for that one day. Well, you have that one day, actually two, so you don’t have an excuse.” Shyla got up and hugged her mom. Her body was rock hard with tension. Shyla leaned back. “Mom?”

Her mom attempted a smile before touching her hand. “I’m okay. And you’re right, I should wear them.” She got up holding the container tight against her ribs.

“Give me a moment and I’ll make some coffee.” She quickly left the room.

Shyla waited until she was out of earshot. “Those don’t look fake.”

“I agree. And who is this mystery relative?”

“And since when does Mom keep secrets?” As soon as she said it, she knew of one that her mom had sworn them to secrecy with. Were there more?

A few moments later, their mom came back into the room. Kal stood up. “I have to go. I’m meeting some friends for supper.”

“Ooh. Is Melanie going to be there?” Shyla smirked at her brother.

“None of your business.” As he turned to leave, he looked at Shyla and tipped his head in their mom’s direction. She mouthed, ‘thanks a lot.’

After he left, Shyla sipped her coffee, unsure how to break the air of awkwardness. “So, are you going to ask Sam to the big gig?”

Her mom chuckled. “Big gig. I like that. I don’t know.”

Shyla rolled her eyes. “Ask him. He’ll be flattered.”

“I doubt that. He hates those kinds of things.”

Oh? Had she asked him before? They’d been neighbors and friends for years. But lately they’d been dating. Or at least finally letting her kids know they were an item.

Brrrriiinnngggg. Her mom got up to answer the landline phone. “Hello? … oh no! … I’ll be right there.”

She hung up and hustled past Shyla. “We have to go to the hospital. Hannah’s been hurt—”

“Her heart?”

“No. I don’t think so. Let’s go.” She was already at the door, opening it before Shyla caught up.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. Once inside, they stopped at the admitting desk.

“Hannah Morrison.”

The nurse asked for Hannah’s medical information and then gave them directions as to where to find her.

Her mom went flying into the room. Hannah, who had just turned thirteen the week prior, was sitting up on the bed, with a big gauze bandage on her shin. “What happened?”

“We were playing Frisbee and I fell into a tree.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Shyla chuckled and hugged her sister. “Most people fall out of trees. Leave it to you to do it backward.”

Hannah laughed but sobered up under their mom’s hard look. “I’m fine. I just got a little cut.”

“It could have been worse.”

“But it wasn’t. I’m fine.”

“Has the doctor been to see you? Did he check your heart?”

Hannah looked imploringly at Shyla.

“Mom, why don’t you go see if we can take her home? She looks fine to me.” Shyla made a face. “Well except there might be a few screws loose.”

“Ha! Not as many as you.”

Shyla looked at her seriously once their mom left. “Kiddo, you truly okay?”

Hannah nodded. “Mom needs to chill. Was she this overprotective of you? Or Kal?”

Shyla didn’t want to answer that. No, her mom hadn’t been even close to this hovering that she did with Hannah. Shyla got it though. Hannah had a few heart scares when she was young, and their mom was petrified of losing her.

“It might be because of us that you’re getting the royal treatment. We gave her a few scares in our time. She’s just looking out for you.”

“I know. I wish there weren’t so many years between us.”

“Me too.” Hannah had come into their lives when Shyla was seventeen and Kal was sixteen. She was a surprise in more ways than one.

“Where were you playing Frisbee at?”

Hannah looked down and picked at the edge of the gauze. She shrugged. “The park.”

“I thought it was closed due to a cave-in from the last huge rainfall?”

Hannah got all huffy. “I’m not lying.”

Shyla frowned. Hannah wasn’t telling the truth. But why?

Their mom came back looking flustered. “We can go.”

Hannah jumped off the bed and bound out of the room.

“Slow down.”

But Hannah was gone, heading out of the hospital.

Shyla put her hand on her mom’s arm. “You can’t keep freaking out every time she does something.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“When are you going to tell her?”

“Let’s go before she walks home.” Her mom walked faster down the hallway.

Shyla trailed behind, feeling like she’d failed. Failed Hannah, who wanted answers, and failed her mom, because she didn’t know how to get her to tell Hannah.

The thing that made her feel queasy, though, was Hannah going to tell her what she’d really been doing?

 

 

Here’s what other’s are saying about Fostered Identity:

“Like the many other books, I have read by this author, I thoroughly enjoyed it! This one has twists and turns that result in a lot of intrigue and complicated entanglements… Suffice it to say all the following are included: foster children, thieves, budding and strained relationships and jewels…real or fake? Hmmmm…?”

Karla B

“A father that faked his death, two sons who were abused. Their father is a thief and wanted his sons to do the same… This is a page turner with many twists and turns. I had trouble putting this one down.”

Ken Ligenfelter

“Another brilliant book from this author. I have read all her books so far and would thoroughly recommend it. Once I started reading it, I could not put it down…”

MAP

Get your copy of Fostered Identity, today.

 

Maggie Thom

Multi-Award winning author, Maggie Thom. Author of The Caspian Wine Series – Captured Lies (Book of the Month - LAS Reviews and Reader's Favorite Finalist), Deceitful Truths and Split Seconds (Award Winning) – and her other published novels, Tainted Waters (2013 Suspense and Thriller Book of the Year through Turning the Pages Magazine) and Deadly Ties.

Her motto: Read to escape… Escape to read…

"Maggie Thom writes a fast paced thriller laced with romance that keeps the reader interested and on edge!" InDtale Magazine

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