Free The Abduction of Mary Rose by Joan Hall Hovey Page A

and clicked off.
    Yeah, right, Naomi thought, allowing herself a small smile. She had almost forgotten how irreverent Charlotte could be, and how much fun. Tall and athletic with kinky wild blond hair, she'd always been something of a tomboy, which had irked Edna to no end. Charlotte was a fitness instructor at the Aerobics centre. They might have been friends had Edna allowed it. She wanted to call her back, but it seemed to her getting between Edna and her daughter could only invite more trouble, which she definitely didn't need and neither did Charlotte.
    Uncle Harold, with his quiet, peace-loving ways couldn't have been much help to Charlotte growing up. He sure was no match for Edna. Naomi liked him though, and as a child, sensed he liked her too, though he was careful not to let it show when Aunt Edna was around.
    The third message was from her publisher. Angela Haines spoke in her clipped, New York accent, friendly but no-nonsense. She had a new assignment for her.
    Being in New York City, it was unlikely the editor would have any knowledge of happenings here in Naomi's neck of the woods, which was just as well. The River's End Tribune wasn't exactly well-known in the Big Apple. Naomi called her back and accepted the new assignment. She couldn't afford to be without a job. And her work was important to her.
    The last message was a hang-up. She replayed it twice. In the background, she could hear country music. Only a fragment, three or four seconds at most, and then the click. Cranks, she thought, but she didn't dismiss the call altogether. She replayed the message half a dozen times, listening for some clue as to who her caller might be, but the connection was too brief. Someone trying to get up the nerve to talk to her? A neighbour who perhaps lived on the street at the time and saw something out her window?
    Another possibility was that there was another woman out there who had suffered at the hands of these monsters, but survived the attack, and now decided to come forward,   chickening out at the last minute.
    Whoever you are, please call back. But she tried not to let her hopes get too high. It was well she didn't. For the next day she received no calls at all, or in the days following. When a week passed and still there was nothing, her disappointment came close to despair. Had it all been for nothing? She stared at the mute phone. Please, please, call back, she pleaded silently with her mysterious caller.
    Not that she received no other responses to the write-up. She did, as well as numerous emails, mostly from other adoptees eager to share their own stories. A few from anonymous sources, but nothing relevant to Mary Rose's case.
    And then, out of the blue, while Naomi was washing the kitchen floor, Lisa Boyce called. "I used to be Lisa Cameron," she said. Even before she related that information, Naomi knew instinctively who it was. Perhaps it was the warmth, the kindness that came through the line that made her so sure. A voice belonging to a woman who, as a girl, would be the one to reach out to another child, one who stood outside the hallowed circle and needed a friend.
    Naomi went to bed that night eagerly looking forward to meeting Mary Rose's old school pal at her home the next day. There were so many questions she wanted to ask her about the girl who gave birth to her.
     
     
    Chapter Thirteen
     
     
    Lisa Boyce was a pretty woman with warm coffee-coloured eyes and streaked blond hair. The few extra pounds she complained about, as far as Naomi was concerned, just added to her appeal. Her husband died three years ago of a sudden heart attack, she told Naomi, and she lived alone. Their four grown children were scattered around the country, with children of their own, she said.
    It wasn't hard to see Lisa through Mary Rose's eyes. To see her as a trusted friend, someone to talk to, to share secrets with. She exuded warmth and compassion, along with a sense of fun. At the moment she was explaining that