By Brandilyn Collins
The noises, faint, fleeting, whispered into her awareness like wraiths passing within the evening. Twelve-year-old Erin Willit opened her eyes to darkness lit in simple terms by means of the dim eco-friendly nightlight close to her closet door and the faint glow of a road lamp via her entrance window. She felt her brow wrinkle, the hands of 1 hand curl as she attempted to parent what had woke up her. anything was once now not correct . . . Annie Kingston strikes to Grove touchdown for defense and quiet---and comes nose to nose with evil. while neighbor Lisa Willet is killed via an outsider in her domestic, Sheriff's detectives are left with little facts. Lisa's daughter, Erin, observed the killer, yet she's too traumatized to provide an outline. The detectives develop determined. as a result of her history in paintings, Annie is requested to question Erin and draw a composite. yet Annie is familiar with little approximately forensic artwork or the delicate interview strategy. A nonbeliever, she reveals herself begging God for support. What if her loss of adventure leads Erin off track? The detectives may turn out looking for a face that does not exist. Leaving the genuine killer loose to stalk the local . . .
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Extra resources for Brink of Death (Hidden Faces Series #1)
I poised the pencil over my drawing paper, still stymied. Long and pudgy made sense, proportionally speaking, but when you couldn’t see the rest of the picture . . ” My heart fluttered. I was about to put Erin through these terrible memories again for nothing. “And, um, his eyes were kind of big. ” I hesitated, then sketched a rough outline of a long face. Added some sag in the jowls. Then outlined large eyes. Erin’s eyes remained closed, her fingers wrapping around the arm of her chair. “There was one thing.
I prompted her through explanations of eye shape, size of nostrils, skin condition. What was his chin like? His ears? As Erin filled in details, I sketched more rapidly, still focusing on the individual parts. But as time went on, my narrow focus became more and more of a barrier. Without the ability to check one aspect proportionally against another, I had no idea what this face would look like when it was finished. I began to dread viewing the result. It’s going to be so wrong. Erin’s words ran out.
Calculating . . # 115 # Chapter 10 Erin stared at the drawing, mute. In the great room the grandfather clock chimed. Fortyfive minutes after the hour. Which hour, I could not say. Time was ticking, ticking away. ” Her voice sounded tinny, relief mixing with disappointment. “Can you tell me what parts aren’t quite right? ” She pulled in her shoulders. ” Pain for her swept through me. Reaching up, I ran my hand down her cheek. ” “No. I just . . ” “Well, I don’t know if I can, either. But I’m willing to try if you are.